Abstract
A poem that explores the boundaries of what can be written in the social sciences and how far we can push those norms of social science. It addresses the discomfort many social scientists feel when writing in the active, first person singular, while raising questions about qualitative inquiry that plague those who choose to venture into literary writing styles that offer a greater expressive range and more emotive language.
If I start with “I,” can I use the big words? You know the ones: those locutions that thunder and convulse; those monumental lexemes that elevate emotions to extremes; those multisyllabic monstrosities that vivify the senses in technicolor, cacophonous decadence. Can my smouldering burn of envy claim conflagration instead of fire? Can I embody anger so immense and all-consuming it warrants fury? Can my mind survive the vertigo of not just freedom, but emancipation? Can my smallest, most timid, down-and-out self take up so much space?
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.
