Advantages and Challenges of Queer Scholars Doing Qualitative Queer Criminology and Criminal Justice Research

Abstract

Qualitative researchers encounter obstacles related to publishing, acceptability, research self-disclosure, rapport development, feelings of guilt or vulnerability, and opportunity that quantitative scholars often do not. Here we discuss our experiences with these obstacles related to one queer qualitative study in hopes that it will provide knowledge to the next generation of queer qualitative scholars. We begin by discussing the state of the field in terms of qualitative scholarship and queer criminology, then we discuss our own experiences doing qualitative queer criminology. Our goal is to show why qualitative queer criminology matters, that it can be done despite its challenges, and to encourage the field of criminology and criminal justice to become more inclusive of qualitative methodologies.

Keywords

queer qualitative research methods queer criminology

As the call for this special issue of Crime & Delinquency makes abundantly clear, the fields of criminology and criminal justice have undermined qualitative scholarship. In fact, in Crime & Delinquency, only 1.6% of all articles published between 2010 and 2019 were qualitative in nature, the lowest percentage among the top 5 journals in the field (Copes et al., 2020). While the field of criminology did not begin as an exclusively quantitative endeavor, there has been a strong shift to a quantitative research focus within the discipline (Copes et al., 2016; Duster, 2001; Ross, 1992; Tewksbury et al., 2005).

In this article, we discuss the state of the fields of criminology and criminal justice (CCJ henceforth) in terms of qualitative queer scholarship. Specifically, we examine how the queering of CCJ can open the fields of study to queer scholars and demonstrate the value of qualitative queer criminology. In doing so, we discuss the history of queer criminology, as well as the purpose of queer theory at large. Then, we discuss the lack of queer and qualitative criminological work in recent years and the consequences of that missing literature. To illustrate the importance of qualitative queer criminological work, we highlight a study conducted by the authors of this article (S. A. Rogers & Rogers, 2020), followed by a detailed discussion on the implications for public policy stemming from queer criminological research.

We end the article with a discussion of our own experiences as queer scholars doing qualitative queer criminology. Overall, our intention is to show why qualitative queer criminology matters, that it can be done despite its challenges, and to encourage the fields of CCJ to become more inclusive of qualitative methodologies.

Queer Theory and Criminology

Queer theory, a branch of critical theory, began to develop in the early 1990s. Since that time, there has been movement to incorporate queer theory into a variety of fields of study, including criminology. However, it can be argued that criminologists have been slower to warm up to these ideas than those in other fields, such as gender studies and sociology. While criminology has historically dealt with issues of sexuality and gender diversity, this has mainly been from a deviance model trying to understand how queer people could be “cured or controlled” (Dwyer et al., 2016, p. 1; Woods, 2014). As Buist and Semprevivo (2022) explain, “Criminology as a discipline has traditionally been focused on mainstream explanations of crime by mainstream researchers who contribute to maintaining the status quo. In general, this means there is a preponderance of research conducted by white cisgender males on white cisgender males” (p. 1). Or as Winters (2022) puts it, “The legacy of criminology paints the views of cisgender heterosexual white men in broad strokes as the de facto perspective” (p. 32).

In the Handbook of LGBT Communities, Crime, and Justice, Woods (2014) outlines three key oversights of criminological literature:

There is very little data on lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) people’s experiences of crime.

Criminological scholarship pertaining to gender identity has overwhelmingly been focused on sexual deviance (criminal or non-criminal).

There is little to no theoretical engagement with gender identity in the four major schools of criminology: biological, psychological, sociological, and critical. (p.17)

To address these pitfalls, queer criminology directly contrasts mainstream (i.e., largely quantitative) criminological literature by putting queer individuals and communities at the center of inquiry.

As Dwyer et al. (2016) point out in the introduction to Queering Criminology, despite some shifts in the field of criminology, mainstream criminology remains heteronormative. Mainstream criminology fails to recognize the diversity of gender and sexuality as it continues to rely on a binary (male/female, man/woman, and straight/gay) view of these identities. Mainstream criminology continues the marginalization of queer people and often even uses derogatory, inappropriate, and outdated language and theories. Overall, many criminologists continue to feel “considerable discomfort around where queer fits in criminologies” (Dwyer et al., 2016, p. 2).

Queer criminology “seeks to highlight and draw attention to the stigmatization, the criminalization, and. . .the rejection of the queer community” (Buist & Lenning, 2016, p. 1). Queering criminology “is about disrupting, challenging, and asking uncomfortable questions that produce new ways of thinking in relation to the lives of LGBTIA people and criminal justice processes” (Dwyer et al., 2016, p. 3). Despite some growing acceptance of queer theory in criminology, Buist and Semprevivo (2022, p. 2), maintain:

There is a lack of ‘real-world’ application of queer criminology, and this in turn continually reminds us that when there is lack of recognition, regard, respect, and inclusion in research and professional fields in the criminal legal system, it makes it much easier for our larger social systems to ignore LGBTQ+ populations.

The study of queer people and the expansion of “queer criminology is a necessary addition to the field; not only for the sake of knowledge, but also for the lives of those in the LGBTQ community impacted by injustice in the criminal justice system” (Buist & Stone, 2014, p. 37).

Therefore, along with Dwyer et al. (2016), we:

Hold criminology to account for its failures in this regard and offer new ways of thinking and speaking about LGBTIQ experiences within criminological frameworks, bending and stretching these frameworks in order to make queer criminologies thinkable, possible, and productive of better futures. (p. 4)

Queer criminology allows for a focus on the discrimination and criminalization of LGBTQ people, highlighting the blurred boundary between victimization and offending (Buist & Lenning, 2016; S. A. Rogers & Rogers, 2020; Tyler & Johnson, 2004; Winters, 2022). This is essential given criminologies historical depiction of queer people in ways that reinforced prejudicial and stereotypical views of victimization and offending. By omitting the LGBTQ community from analysis, criminological research does not allow for a deep understanding required to address discrimination of LGBTQ people in the criminal justice system (Peterson & Panfil, 2014). Due to the oversights of queer people in criminological research, the field of criminology has perpetuated the oppression of LGBTQ people (Woods, 2014). Further, queering criminology allows scholars to question entire systems as we know them, especially the problematic, heteronormative, cisnormative, racist, etc. criminal justice system.

Queer and Qualitative Methods

Since the conception of queer theory in the early 1990s, there has been heated debate about how to put the theory in practice, specifically: (1) What are queer methodologies? and (2) Can queer methodologies ever be compatible with the social sciences? (Ghaziani & Brim, 2019). According to Ghaziani and Brim (2019), social scientists argue that research should “emphasize the systematic, coherent, orderly, modal, normative, positivist, and generalizable while queer theorists in the humanities champion the fluid, flux, disruptive, transgressive, interpretivist, and local knowledges. Hence, conjoining “queer” with “method” can present a paradox” (p. 4). This seeming paradox, however, is not real. It is a holdover from social scientists who held power within their disciplines trying to “mimic the ‘real’ or ‘natural’ sciences by using words like ‘theory,’ ‘experiments,’ and ‘laws’” (Ghaziani & Brim, 2019, p. 5).

While women, people of color, and queer people have always done research that operates outside the bonds of the hegemonic devotion to the “scientific method” (see work by W. E. B. Du Bois, Dorothy Smith, Jane Addams, Ida B. Wells), until recently, “the hegemony of this model has stymied social scientific efforts to build queer methods” (Ghaziani & Brim, 2019, p. 5). Or, we would argue, the hegemony of the model and the power of those who promoted it (namely white, cisgender men) rendered much of the queer and qualitative work of the past invisible. In line with Tewksbury et al. (2005, p. 278), we agree that “criminology and criminal justice needs to engage plurality in scientific inquiry. . . [and] the social sciences have been hampered by efforts to emulate the physical sciences, instead of evolving into a field that incorporates, not ranks, methodological approaches.”

Criminologists’ acceptance (or more accurately lack of acceptance) of queer methodologies closely mimics that of sociologists, which makes sense as the discipline of criminology developed out of sociology. As Schilt et al. (2018, p. 4) explain in Other, Please Specify: Queer Methods in Sociology, sociology is:

A disciplinary context caught in a (very long) moment of quantitative hegemony, U.S. sociology has a tendency to push to the margins any work that problematizes (or, we might say, queers) the field by bringing to the forefront the experiences of people and groups consider too “indecent,” too “fringe,” or too “micro” to warrant attention from the established sociological center.

Further, social scientists continually face “positivist gatekeepers who evaluate the significance of research in terms of p-values and generalists who prioritize broad ‘so what’ claims” (Schilt et al., 2018, p. 5).

Although mainstream criminology sometimes includes the queer community in samples, gender identities are not incorporated and questioned as salient characteristics (Peterson & Panfil, 2014). That is, queer people have only been incorporated into criminology as objects of fascination and populations of study, not as subjects in our research or in ways that take their lived experiences seriously (Schilt & Lagos, 2017). One main tenet of queer criminology is to allow the voices of oppressed people to be heard and believed. To do so involves qualitative analysis through interviewing, listening, collaborating with organizations outside of academia, and providing the information and stories gathered to the public (Lombardi, 2018; Schilt & Lagos, 2017; Sumerau & Mathers, 2019). The dissemination of the collective voices of oppressed and marginalized people will allow for the inclusion of these populations in criminal justice policy and violence prevention.

While queer methods are not always qualitative, and qualitative work is surely not always queer, qualitative methods make way for queer theory and methods in ways that quantitative research focused on the “scientific method” within the social sciences has failed to do historically. For instance, specific to the history of social science research on sexualities, Gamson (2000) explains:

It is a history intertwined with the politics of social movements, wary of the ways “science” has been used against the marginalized, and particularly comfortable with the strategies of qualitative research—which at least appear to be less objectifying of their subjects, to be more concerned with cultural and political meaning creation, and to make more room for voices and experiences that have been suppressed. (p. 347)

Due to the political context of gender and sexualities, and the suspicion of positivist sciences, qualitative research has gained the “inside track” when studying queer people (Gamson, 2000, p. 348). Although qualitative methods may have a hold on studies of diverse genders and sexualities, the discipline of criminology at large still does not value this work in earnest. Just as quantitative methods continue to hold dominance in U.S. sociology (Schilt et al., 2018), so too do quantitative methods reign in criminology.

Here we use Gamson’s (2000) definition of qualitative research as:

A loose set of research practices (ethnography and participant observation, in-depth interviewing, textual analysis, historical research, and the like) distinct from quantitative methods and often suspicious of the epistemological assumptions of positivism, and a correspondingly loose but distinct set of research foci (cultural meaning creation and interpretive processes, collective and personal identities, social interaction, the practices of everyday life, and so on). (p. 348)

Tewksbury (2009) argues:

The superiority of qualitative research arises from the core differences in what qualitative and quantitative research are, and what they are able to contribute to bodies of knowledge. At the core, qualitative research focuses on the meanings, traits and defining characteristics of events, people, interactions, settings/cultures, and experience. (pp. 38, 39)

We believe that meaning and context always matter, especially within the criminal justice system, therefore, the lack of qualitative research within criminology is unreasonable.

This is not to say, however, that other queer criminological research methods such as quantitative (see Worthen, 2022 for a good example) and mixed methods (see DeJong et al., 2021 for a good example) aren’t needed. As Worthen (2022) says in her work on the victimization of bisexual and pansexual women:

quantitative findings point to the need for additional work to understand more fully pansexual and bisexual women’s violence and harassment using a more fully developed intersectional framework (Collins, 1999; Crenshaw, 1991; Davis, 2008). Indeed, the quantification of such experiences is only one piece of the puzzle, and while quantitative analyses help to contribute to an important conversation about pansexual and bisexual women’s experiences, more research is needed that is inclusive of other types of methodological investigations and critically informed conversations.

Therefore, quantitative and qualitative scholars can benefit from each other’s work to make the field of Queer Criminology more well-rounded and more widely utilized by scholars in other fields within the disciplines of CCJ and sociology.

The benefits of qualitative research are numerous. Qualitative research provides the ability to make meaning out of stories, interactions, and observations that would go undiscovered in quantitative analysis. The data that emerges from qualitative methods are rich and robust; often, many more discoveries lie in its depth. These found meanings and expansions on presupposed questions and ideas lead to new findings in the field. Qualitative research, especially when involving queer methods, also amplifies the voices of marginalized people. One critical challenge to influencing public policy is the lack of visibility of queer and trans issues in the criminal justice system. However, “those who have experienced discrimination speak with a special voice to which we should listen” (Matsuda, 1987, p. 324).

As Copes et al. (2016) explain, “The vast majority of classic and contemporary criminological theories have been developed or shaped by insights gained from qualitative methods. Despite this, research using such methods has seemingly been relegated to the margins in the disciplines’ journals” (p.137). Queer qualitative scholars within criminology continue to be ostracized and face obstacles publishing their research within the field (Dwyer et al., 2016). Because qualitative work and queer work is not highlighted in CCJ research, more justification for this work is required for publication. For instance, Pogrebin (2010) explains, “Qualitative researchers are often not provided with the opportunity to justify their methods. Instead, we have been forced to defend our work” (p. 541). Qualitative work often has implications and benefits for oppressed populations, yet it gets little attention because not many journals publish it. Without cited work, it is harder to get grants and funding to support your research. When we add that our topic is queer, the likelihood of funding all but vanishes.

Lack of Focus on Qualitative and Queer Methodologies in Criminology and Criminal Justice

The continued ramping up of credentialism in U.S. society, along with the changing status of academia, means that scholars must do more-and-more to stand out among their colleagues. This has led to a reliance on quantifying the number of publications scholars produce for admittance into graduate school, hiring of jobs, and tenure and promotion decisions. It is quicker to publish quantitative research, but this does not make it better research. As Pogrebin (2010, p. 588) argues, we must move toward a discipline in which “an academic’s research findings should be judged on the quality of the work produced and not only on the quantity of articles resulting in publication.”

Considering qualitative articles published in the 15 leading criminology and criminal justice journals in the United States between 2000 and 2009, Copes et al. (2011) found that less than 5% of the published articles used qualitative methodology. In 2008, Buckler found that out of 860 empirical articles, only 10% reported any data in qualitative form, versus 96.2% of the articles reporting some data in quantitative form. In the most recent examination of this trend, Copes et al. (2020) explore the use of qualitative research in the top 17 criminology and criminal justice journals between 2010 and 2019. They find that 11.3% of the articles used qualitative methodologies. Furthermore, in the top 5 journals only 5.3% of the articles were qualitative in nature, compared to 12.8% among the other 12 journals in the study.

While the number of qualitative articles seems higher in more recent years, Copes et al. (2020) explain, “Whether this is the start of a new trend, or a statistical anomaly is unclear. . . Hence, while the evidence supports the growth and increasing popularity of qualitative methods, it appears that the journals that are the most selective (at least in the United States) are those least likely to publish qualitative based analyses” (p. 1076). The extent of this disparity between published quantitative and qualitative work in CCJ journals is also not as pronounced internationally. A review of the three leading international criminology and criminal justice journals reveal that 27.7% of the published work used qualitative methodologies (Tewksbury et al., 2010). Of the articles published in the British Journal of Criminology, almost 38% were qualitative work.

In addition to the problem publishing qualitative academic journal articles, there are also the concerns of qualitative research being more likely to be published in books and edited volumes (Copes et al., 2016) and the issue of receiving funding for conducting this work in the first place. Copes et al. (2016) explain that publishing in peer-reviewed journals is important in order “to show the relevance and importance of qualitative methods for the general criminological audience” (p. 122). Because most criminologists are not reading the books published by qualitative scholars or edited volumes, especially in queer criminology, “publishing in mainstream channels can make the qualitative tradition more visible” (p.122). Furthermore, Wright et al. (2015) explain the lack of funding for qualitative projects “has served to entrench its disciplinary dominance” of quantitative methods. Funding agencies are increasingly concerned with accountability of spending, hard data, and vast publication of data, which often makes it easier for quantitative scholars to have their research funded (Wright et al., 2015).

The lack of presence of queer criminological work is brought to light at academic conferences as well. For example, preliminary data by the first author shows that less than 2% of all presentations, workshops, and plenaries from the American Society of Criminology’s (ASC) Annual Conference in 2019 included work about the queer community. The theme of ASC in 2019 was, “Confronting Injustice and Inequalities,” yet of the 4,417 entries in the program, only 59 (1.34%) were queer-centered.

The dominance of quantitative methods is also clearly seen in what we teach our students. The lack of qualitative research in the fields of CCJ should come as no surprise when we review what graduate education programs are teaching. For example, Buckler (2008) argues, “A potential contributing factor to the miniscule use of qualitative methodologies compared with quantitative methodologies in published research is that Ph.D. programs do not emphasis qualitative methods as a valuable and viable approach to generating knowledge” (p. 387). Hence, the disciplines neglect of qualitative methodologies replicates a cycle of distrust for qualitative methods, which are not made legible for many new graduate students, especially first-generation students, and students from disenfranchised background, as well as marginalized scholars more generally.

As of Spring semester 2022, there are only nine known CCJ graduate programs in the U.S. with a focus on Queer Criminology (DQC, n.d.). “The following graduate programs offer degrees in criminology and criminal justice and opportunities to work with scholars who study Queer Criminology and support the work of LGBTQ+ scholars”: Arizona State University, East Carolina University, Michigan State University, Northern Arizona University, Old Dominion University, Sam Houston State University, University of Arkansas (Little Rock), University of Oklahoma, and Florida International University. Perhaps this is not an exhaustive list, but no other schools in the U.S. are named by the Division of Queer Criminology (a division of members through ASC—American Society of Criminology) on their website.

Of the 25 CCJ doctoral-granting universities analyzed, only 5.5% of the required methods courses focused specifically and exclusively on qualitative methodologies, compared to 35.5% of courses focusing exclusively on quantitative methods. When looking at the elective methods courses, only 15.8% focused on qualitative methods, compared to 54.6% on quantitative methods. In total, only 4 of the 25 programs required that students take a qualitative methods course. And, in 11 of the programs, there were no qualitative methods courses offered at all (Buckler, 2008). The lack of available training and research available using qualitative methodologies meant that between 2004 and 2008 only 12.3% of criminology and criminal justice students who successfully defended doctoral dissertations utilized qualitative analysis (Tewksbury et al., 2010).

As we have seen some relative improvement in the number of published qualitative articles in the field, we have also seen some improvement in offerings of qualitative methodology courses in criminology and criminal justice doctoral-granting institutions. Nevertheless, for qualitative methodologies to gain acceptance in the discipline, doctoral-granting programs “must become more inclusive in their methodological orientation” (Buckler, 2008). It is important to remember that this is a circular problem though, which must be addressed from multiple points to create a solution. By this we mean, for graduate programs to be more inclusive, there must be more inclusive published qualitative and queer criminology and criminal justice research.

Consequences for qualitative criminology and criminal justice work

Overall, the lack of focus on qualitative methods in criminology and criminal justice has the “unfortunate consequence” of leading some scholars “to believe that qualitative scholarship is less important, less attractive, and less prestigious, which may then inhibit their ability to get a desirable academic job, make tenure, earn promotion, or simply keep up with ever increasing institutional and disciplinary expectations of productivity” (Cohn & Farrington, 2014; Copes et al., 2016, p. 121). Additionally, the amount of qualitative work published and education on qualitative methodologies, often leads criminologists to lack the skills needed carry out qualitative studies and present the findings and understand the quality of qualitative work that is published (Copes et al., 2011). Speaking specifically about ethnographic research in criminology and criminal justice, Copes et al. (2011) explain:

Even among those who favor ethnographic methods, there is little consensus about what represents a sufficient sample size to achieve saturation, where best to locate offenders, victims, or officials to interview, or whether and how much participants should be paid for their time. Additionally, there is no consensus among authors as to what tense and voice they should use to present findings, how best to introduce illustrative quotes, or whether they should acknowledge their influence on data collection and analysis. (pp. 341, 342)

Similar problems could arise in qualitative interviewing and focus groups. Further, the unique methods of data analysis and presentation of qualitative findings make it difficult to publish this type of research without proper graduate education and training.

Doing Qualitative Queer Criminology

As the editorial board of Crime & Delinquency has acknowledged, qualitative researchers encounter obstacles related to publishing, acceptability, research self-disclosure, rapport development, feelings of guilt or vulnerability, and opportunity that quantitative scholars often do not. Here we discuss our experiences with these obstacles related to one queer qualitative criminological study in hopes that it will provide knowledge to the next generation of queer qualitative scholars. We hope to fill a gap in the published work in the field by providing a case study that can be used to train the next generation of scholars. Taking an autoethnographic approach, this article discusses a study about the pathways to incarceration and the challenges with the criminal justice system faced by trans men.

The Study

While both authors of this article are qualitative queer scholars, this article will focus on one study which revolves around 27 in-depth, qualitative interviews with trans men. This study is an example on doing qualitative queer criminology. By describing our process of completing this study, we shed more light on the advantages and challenges of doing qualitative queer criminological research.

Of the 27 men in this study, 15 had experienced incarceration and 12 had not. The first author conducted all 27 interviews via telephone. The main goal of this study was to shed light on the varying pathways to incarceration, through discrimination and victimization, that contribute to involvement with the criminal justice system. The study examines how the pathways differ for the 12 men who avoided involvement with the criminal justice system. This comparative qualitative study allowed the authors to queer the criminal justice system, and criminological research, through the voices of the trans men interviewed.

Participant Recruitment and In-Depth Interviewing

Queer qualitative criminology often involves populations that are extremely difficult to reach. The first author experienced barriers gaining access to men who fit the study criteria, trans men over the age of 18 in the United States who had been previously incarcerated. This is an extremely difficult population to reach due to the transient nature of their work and housing situations following incarceration. Because of the lengthy recruitment period and only having five respondents, the first author was prepared to give up on the project, despite the money and time invested. Before giving up, luckily through snowball sampling a director of a non-profit agency received my call for participants and reached out.

The first author interviewed that director, who identified as a trans man and who was previously incarcerated. In turn, he vetted, and interviewed her. After receiving his “approval,” the author was contacted by 10 men who became respondents in the project. Without this crucial approval by a gatekeeper in the community, the author would not have been able to complete the project. After months, and several recruiting efforts—contacting scholars in the field of trans studies, reaching out to numerous nonprofit agencies, social media posts, listserv notices, and personal contacts—she found a second nonprofit agency that works with previously incarcerated trans men to help her recruit respondents. Still, despite reaching saturation in the data, and exhausting all avenues for respondent recruitment, the author was criticized for the low sample number by her dissertation committee. This led to the comparison sample of 12 trans men who had not been incarcerated and extending the dissertation defense process by another semester (which of course she had to pay for).

While conducting qualitative research as a queer person can often be difficult (Browne & Nash, 2010; Compton et al., 2018; B. A. Rogers, 2021), being queer while conducting qualitative research with queer respondents can also be beneficial. Still, “being queer while researching requires a lot of identity management and emotional labor” that often goes unnoticed and undiscussed in the field (B. A. Rogers, 2021, p. 32). A weakness of in-depth interviews can be that vulnerable groups (e.g., previously incarcerated trans men) might not feel comfortable sharing personal information with a researcher. However, as a queer-identified, feminist researcher, the first author was able to combat some of the hesitation respondents felt by relating to an overarching queer experience. The goal of qualitative research is to understand meaning. We sought to understand how and why trans men end up in the criminal justice system, as well as their experiences once incarcerated. As Tewksbury (2009) explains, “Qualitative interview-based data. . . provides the answer in an unlimited range of possibilities and with an accompanying context” (p. 44). Some strengths of semi-structured in-depth interviews include the benefit of building rapport with respondents and asking open-ended questions, which gives participants room to elaborate and bring in new concepts and ideas not addressed in my original inquiries. By doing so, we can address unknown social phenomena among previously incarcerated trans men, as well as among trans men who avoided the criminal justice system.

The Costs of Qualitative Research

The financial costs of the project in discussion—transcription costs, reference materials (because most of the available knowledge on the subject is in book format), and incentives for the respondents—totaled $3,410. The author was able to secure most of the funding from a grant at her Ph.D. granting institution. Not all queer qualitative scholars are privileged enough to have a supportive department and college. Without that funding, the author would have had no way to fund this project. In addition to the bias in graduate training, funding is part of the reason why many graduate students choose (or are forced) to complete quantitative theses or dissertations.

During the interviews, most of the respondents disclosed previous sexual abuse, with several men revealing the abuse started in childhood. Furthermore, most had experienced or were currently experiencing homelessness and/or family rejection. As a queer scholar interviewing queer people, stories can be reflective of personal experiences. Therefore, it is difficult to break away from those thoughts or feelings when the interview is over.

At the end of almost every interview, each of the respondents would say, “thank you,” “this means so much to me,” and/or “I feel heard,” or some combination of all those remarks. They felt tired, beaten down (figuratively and literally), oppressed, marginalized, or forgotten. That is why this work is so incredibly important.

In a recent guest lecture on this project, the first author was asked, “In what ways did you engage in self-care during this intense process?” Admittedly, self-care was not something that was prioritized by the author. As both authors can advise, based on several emotionally intensive studies, starting each project with a self-care plan is essential. If the first author could go back to re-do the project, she would have: (1) limited the number of interviews to one, or a maximum of two, per day; (2) had a daily meditation or relaxation technique before and after interviews (e.g., yoga or a short hike); and (3) acknowledged when things are too heavy and sought comfort from a colleague, friend, loved-one, or mental health professional.

Data Analysis

In terms of qualitative data analysis, the first author began by using sensitizing concepts that represent the larger themes in this study. Sensitizing concepts originally defined by Blumer (1954) are underlying ideas that are the basis of the research project. Sensitizing concepts are used as starting points (Charmaz, 2003) for analysis and can be used in conjunction with inductive analysis—allowing patterns and themes to emerge from the data (Patton, 1980). So, while research questions and prior literature suggests what we might find in interviews, open coding leaves us open to emerging and differing themes and concepts. This can be seen as a benefit over quantitative research, which “is limited by the variables which the researchers think to include” (Tewksbury, 2009, p. 54). Using two approaches (inductive analysis and sensitizing concepts) allows for the voices of the respondents to take center stage—a key component of queer qualitative criminologies—and provides a deeper understanding of social phenomena (Bowen, 2006; Nash, 2008).

After coding interview responses into initial sensitizing concepts, the first author moved to more specific coding, paying close attention to emerging themes (themes that had not been anticipated), such as coping mechanisms and support systems. All transcribed interviews were re-read, then coded by hand and with assistance from MaxQDA Qualitative software for reoccurring themes. Concepts included child abuse, homelessness, sexual harassment, and sexual assault. These concepts were based on existing theories and perspectives, specifically feminist pathways theory and intersectionality, as well as reoccurring concepts in early interviews that prompted the addition of follow-up questions in subsequent interviews.

Policy Implications of Queer Qualitative Research

The more we know about trans men’s pathways to incarceration (S. A. Rogers & Rogers, 2020), support systems, experiences within the correctional system, and reentry experiences, the more we can do to address these issues within society and the criminal justice system. This study is a clear example of how queer qualitative research leads to well-defined policy implications. Not surprisingly, many of the men interviewed had ideas for policy changes, several of which have incorporated into publications from this study. Overwhelmingly, policy implications in qualitative CCJ research are omitted (Copes et al., 2020). Specifically, in a content analysis of qualitative work in the top 17 criminology and criminal justice journals between 2010 and 2019, Copes et al. (2020) found that only “8.0% of the articles in the overall analysis sample offered up direct policy implications” (p. 1072). Therefore, amplifying the voices of vulnerable populations and offering concrete solutions to their marginalization is necessary in the field of queer criminology.

The first author recently published a chapter, “Policy Recommendations for Incarcerated Trans Men in the United States,” in Advances in Trans Studies: Moving Toward Gender Expansion and Trans Hope (S. A. Rogers, 2021). In this chapter she recommends four key policy changes for correctional facilities: (1) Allow trans men to choose the gender of the correctional facility in which they are housed; (2) Allow trans men to wear undergarments that align with their gender identity; (3) Provide trans men access to trans-appropriate healthcare; and (4) Implement harsher penalties for non-compliance of Prison Rape Elimination Act Standards. Overall, “These four policies would improve the life chances of trans men during their incarceration and post-incarceration” (S. A. Rogers, 2021, p. 109).

Publishing Qualitative Queer Criminology

At this time, nothing from the study discussed here has been published in a CCJ journal. Currently, we have an article from this data published in a regional sociology journal, an edited volume, and we are under contract with a queer book press (Transgress Press) to publish a book on the data. This means that other than this piece, this large, qualitative work of queer criminology will largely go unnoticed by most scholars in the fields of CCJ. This again moves queer voices and qualitative queer work outside of the discipline.

As queer scholars, we know the importance of sharing our work publicly and ensuring that the stories of queer people are available to contribute to knowledge and help our respondents and the larger community. This is one reason we find it especially problematic that so many of the works of qualitative queer criminologists are published only as expensive books. This is not to suggest that publishing in journals is that much better. Journal editors and editorial boards continue to act as gatekeepers of information who continue to be especially resistant to qualitative queer work. Journal costs and subscriptions are also expensive, far more expensive than books usually. However, publishing in academic journals often makes the research slightly more accessible, at least to academics and students, who can access articles through their school’s libraries.

Nevertheless, we must do more to be public criminologists, making sure this research is getting into the hands of non-profits for grant writing, policy makers for change, and others who need to know they are not alone in dealing with corrupt systems and practices. This could mean posting copies of our articles on our own websites or academia.edu profiles (watch out for copyright laws). This could mean providing copies of our books to non-profits and policy makers ourselves. This could mean writing op-eds, blogs, or publishing findings through other publicly accessible means. Either way, queer theory and methods history in social movements and activism demonstrate that this is a vital part of being a queer scholar.

Conclusion

“Qualitative research is often ‘journeying without a map’ (Rooke, 2010, p. 47); while this can be scary and overwhelming at times, it is also how we find new roads and new ideas” (B. A. Rogers, 2021, p. 35). Our goal with this article is to show the importance of queer qualitative research, but also acknowledge it’s challenges. As McQueeney and Lavelle (2017) discuss, we fail to help new qualitative scholars to succeed if we do not discuss the challenges of this work. Without discussing hardships in engaging in qualitative work, we leave new scholars feeling alone, which contributes further to the lack of qualitative and queer research in the field.

Our hope is for more criminologists and criminal justice researchers to take on the challenges and excitement of qualitative queer research, while also understanding it in a way that allows you to adequately prepare for the costs—monetarily and emotionally—this research requires. We hope this article will be part of the change that can occur within the field and that it will encourage other scholars to submit their queer qualitative work to criminological and criminal justice journals. We hope that Crime & Delinquency will lead the way in addressing the lack of qualitative work in the field and provide a new and improved outlet for qualitative scholars, especially queer ones, with their boots on the ground.

Footnotes

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

ORCID iD

Sarah A. Rogers

Author Biographies

Sarah A. Rogers (she/her) is an Instructor in the Department of Criminology and Criminal Justice at the University of South Carolina. Her research focuses on queer and feminist criminologies, especially focused on the blurred boundaries between victimization and “offending” among trans men; and gender and victimization, particularly focusing on sexual assault on campus, especially as it relates to prevention programming. She has published work in the Journal of Interpersonal Violence, Violence Against Women, and Sociological Spectrum.

Baker A. Rogers (they/them or she/her) is an Associate Professor of Sociology at Georgia Southern University. Their research focuses on inequality, specifically examining the intersections of gender, sexuality, and religion in the U.S. South. Their books, Conditionally Accepted: Christians’ Perspectives on Sexuality and Gay and Lesbian Civil Rights (Rutgers University Press); Trans Men in the South: Becoming Men (Lexington Books); King of Hearts: Drag Kings in the American South (Rutgers University Press); Advances in Trans Studies: Moving Toward Gender Expansion and Trans Hope (Emerald Publishing); Gender and Sexuality in the Southern United States (Cognella); and, Gender and Sexuality in the Classroom: An Educator’s Guide (Routledge), can be found online. Their work is also published in numerous academic journals including, Men and Masculinities, Journal of Interpersonal Violence, Gender & Society, and Qualitative Sociology.

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