There are not any particular “forms” of autoethnography with which I’m uncomfortable (perhaps some that I’m not the most skilled to attempt . . .), but more so the unintended consequences of the content of autoethnographic writing on our future selves (as always in flux). On a paper I co-authored with my mom, we reflected on the problem of reifying our own identities in our autoethnographic work, making it ever so difficult to revise our identities or to even acknowledge our identities as always-becoming:
In her recent book Revision: Autoethnographic Reflections on Life and Work, Carolyn Ellis (2009) reflects and reconsiders autoethnographic narratives that she has written throughout her career. Her thesis underscores an understanding that personal stories are unfinished, shift and shape throughout one’s life, and are often in need of revision. To be sure, as Douglas Flemons noted in a published panel discussion on autoethnography and therapy, there is something reifying about publishing problem-centered stories that makes it difficult for us (and others) to revise them – and to ultimately live out a different set of stories (Flemons & Green, 2002). Thus, as autoethnographers we must ask ourselves, in what ways will our published narratives constrain our future selves? This invites us to not only consider the quality of our story, but the implications of our constructions – for self and other. (Aleman & Helfrich, 2010, p. 9)
So one of my concerns about collaborative autoethnography is less about the process – that’s where it’s really at for me, in the possibilities of the conversation – but more so about the finished project and how that situates and fixes our identities in time. I suppose this is not so different from writing an editorial or any other form of the personal essay, but there is a character somewhat different in the “professional” autoethnography that bears great risk of following us here on out – it becomes part of your academic, citational record. I’ve heard this regret spoken time and time again in panels on autoethnographic work at NCA – “I sure wish I wasn’t now labeled as that woman who [fill-in-the-blank with activity]!” I have no problem being labeled as a feminist, this is more a general observation about this kind of writing and the often (un)intended consequences – particularly as I have subscribed to a set of assumptions that gender, gender identity and positionality is always a process of becoming. When we publish an essay we fix identity in time – which is different from blogging and the processes of autoethnography (as writing ourselves into being), which is much more akin to becoming. Bear with me . . . my thoughts sound contradictory and they are. I’m writing to figure this out as it relates to my identities, performances, as a feminist teacher.
The other aspect of accountability for me right now is more positional. How is what I say/write “read” and “interpreted” differently because of my positionality – role in university, age, family status, etc.? Those questions bear weight for me and I feel both great responsibility to write and speak about women and gender in academia, while at the same time feel some timidity regarding concerns about how and what I say implicates me and others [even others I do not know] in ways that might be harmful. Perhaps not all that different from the ethical dilemmas when I write about my own family (which I take very seriously – and have a lot of essays that will never leave my computer) . . . That said, my approach to these concerns is really not to move forward bravely, as that can sometimes come without concern for other, but instead to move forward contemplatively and with an eye toward what is generative and how I/we might write narratives that are generative (and create fruitful legacies from which we can live and from which others can build).