"Self-Narrative" vs. "Life History"
I have chosen to label this project as a "self-narrative." While I feel that there are times when "life history" might be more applicable, especially in cases where the resulting material is extensive and covers much of the interviewee's life, "self-narrative" works to imply agency on the part of the interviewee. It allows for more flexibility in self-definition, as well as allowing for more specific foci in the interview process. Defining this project as a "self-narrative" is especially important with this particular project, in my opinion, because our focus is on Hollins women who have made change. In Cameron's case, much of her time has been spent in leadership positions, as well as positions of activism. Also, as is obvious by the full transcripts of our two interviews, the seemingly tangential material is helpful in understanding Cameron's personal philosophies regarding activism, justice, etc. This is important in defining a "self," especially if one is a self-labeled "freelance nonprofit board member," as Cameron calls herself.
The Process
Interviewing is just as difficult as I would have guessed, and it's not just because the actual process itself is a little awkward, even for the most extroverted of us. After having had an entire semester filled with learning about subjectivity, positionality, probe questions, and explore issues left unsaid, the last thing I wanted to do was ever put my interviewee in a position where my language shaped her answer. For instance: the difference between saying, "What do you like the best about ice cream?" and asking, "Do you like ice cream? Oh, really? Do you have a favorite? Which one?" is the freedom given to the interviewee to answer any which way she pleases. Still, that's hard to sustain, especially for amateurs such as myself. Nearly every time I asked a question, I would stumble over the words, trying to rephrase it to reflect everything I had learned all semester about the process.
This is, of course, impossible for me, with the very little experience I've had in interviewing. All I could do is learn from mistakes and keep practicing. Still, it was probably annoying on my part to continually apologize every time I forgot which question I was going to ask Cameron. It might have also been a tad annoying that I could not manage to ask a simple question without buffering the words with innumerable filler words (um, you know, like, it's hard, I mean, to talk, you know, sometimes, I don't know). The good news is I didn't discover these tiny embarrassments until after the process was over, and there I was, at my computer, typing up the particulars of my speech. It's a humbling and enlightening experience; I recommend it, sort of, in the same way that I recommend taking daily walks, rain or shine. It's good for you.
I tried desperately to keep control of the interview, to make sure I covered my pre-written questions and at least skimmed the surface of the facts and details that narrate a person. Well, that was silly of me to assume I could do that. First of all, in honor of a little thing called full-disclosure, I'm a big talker, and by being a big talker, I sometimes forget that what may seem to be a natural progression of the conversation is natural to me because any progression of a conversation is downright natural, whether it be discussing the weather or activism. Looking back, I was shocked by how many tangents Cameron and I went on; because she's a member of the Hollins Board of Trustees, and a curious, interested human being, she didn't mind knowing about my life or my views on issues related to Hollins. How embarrassing to think that I rambled on so long, but is it embarrassing? I put up the transcripts in their entirety because they provide the best form of context I could manage. It's all there, for better or for worse (or maybe neither good nor bad). The transcripts are a lot to plow through, and I make mistakes and can't decipher some words, but I know at the least they provide what I cannot provide in any form of a diluted narrative.