the desire to be dissolved

Ah – the ill-fated sequel of intellectual “labor” and the work that one undertakes when pursuing research. At this present moment, I am in the middle of refining my dissertation prospectus and have been teaching my students how research – like writing – is an ongoing, cyclical (and brutal) process. 

Case in point is my own experience: I am on the brink of chopping up my Previous Literature section this evening and I am not prepared to restructure it… at all. When I initially drafted this section, the plan was to address the information through the following set of questions:

1. What patterns emerge in the timing of performances within West Mexican festival calendars?
2. To what extent do these temporal features demonstrate interconnections among regional festivals?

Once I had started to structure the section, the question(s) were consolidated a bit more. It turned into “In what ways does the seasonal timing of performance serve as a unifying thread across West Mexican festival traditions, and what might these shared temporal patterns tell us about cultural relationships in the region?”  Partly this was from feedback from my husband, partly this was pressure to invest in where specific performances align and share features, but then also split apart. What I thought was complete wasn’t actually complete (as you might know already, I’m still in the revision process… I completely gutted the dissertation overview and strengthened the language in the chapter summaries). My advisor promptly gave me additional questions to think about in this section: “what are the broad themes, influences, and practices found in Indigenous and Colonial-era dance? How has Spanish colonization and the African diaspora impacted and blended with established performance cultures of Mexico? What are the origins, purposes, styles, and significance of masked performances in West Mexico? What are the broad masking traditions specific to West Mexican performance culture? What is the overall cultural importance and the unique characteristics of this performance tradition?” 

As you can imagine – it was, and is, back to the drawing board!

The first thing I always teach my students is a lesson I learned early but was a hard one. Writing is always a process. The truth is, there is always something that my research can benefit from: there is a publication I should have known about and synthesized in my methodology, the subclaims of my visual analysis aren’t sharp enough, there isn’t sufficient 1:1 evidence-to-analysis, there are some language choices that don’t convey how compelling this idea is, and so on. We regularly employ the “kill your darlings” pep talk, even if it means I sob quietly, deleting research that was motivated by specific propositions. Students seem to think that when ‘we’ (those who teach/instruct in writing, composition, rhetoric, literature, whatever you may call it!) were born with this innate ability to not only write brilliantly that our research remains steadfast to one specific end. Spoiler: I did not, in fact, write well my entire life. Another spoiler: if my dissertation topic had remained the same when I first applied to graduate school, I probably would have hated the rest of my academic career.

How does this relate to research questions? It partly doesn’t, really. When I veer off into a different direction, it’s typically because I am illustrating to students the kind of “stakes” that emerge when you are in this process. You often have to kind of lose yourself amidst the oscillating stream of thoughts and ideas, because it is only when you ‘wander’ in topics, concepts, concerns, or issues that you uncover things of interest, something fascinating, or a peculiar theory. I frequently remind my students that establishing a good research question often only happens when they are committed to pursuing a line of inquiry that they have some ‘stakes’ in digging into. When you undertake the research process, you are preparing yourself to comb through numerous publications, articles, books, chapters, conference abstracts, search engines, blog posts, reviews, critiques, databases… and depending on whether your research has an incentive – like a mandatory essay for a class – or not, students should know that this process has to have something in mind they want to answer.

When we announce to students that they are going to do research and need to develop their own argumentative-style question, the Greek chorus frequently harmonizes questions like: what is the difference between a topic and a question?¹ What makes a good research question (inquiry)? How do I narrow the scope of my question?

When I taught my first iteration of this, I was luckily teaching writing through speculative fiction and art. Their final project was a group effort, but it was fun to be able to frame their research questions parallel to how speculative fiction proposed their own question(s) as inherent to their world-building and narrative direction. I got to introduce students to Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis”² to build the foundation for how research questions look differently. 

For students who have never seen Metropolis (shameful, but I get it – students don’t watch ‘old’ movies… but these are also kids who were born post-2004 and only half know what Titanic is), I always give an overview of the film. Here’s the one that I use:

“Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927) is set in a futuristic city where wealthy elites live in towering skyscrapers and workers toil under the surface of the city. When Freder, the city master’s wealthy son, discovers the brutal working conditions underground, he joins forces with Maria, who the workers perceive as a prophet. The two interact to bridge the class division, but also confront chaos incited by Maria’s malevolent robot duplicate – the Maschinenmensch – who was created to provoke revolution.” 

I also showed them a few stills from the film – including the set designs that blended architectural styles like Art Deco and Gothic Revival with stylistic elements of German Expressionism and Futurism. I ask them to think about hypothetical sci-fi worlds they’ve seen in popular culture – television, films, books, visual works, etc. What we work through here is thinking through some potential questions that these hypothetical worlds were attempting to address: what might be the fundamental question that that specific, hypothetical world is attempting to answer? 

After giving students time to share their thoughts with classmates, I present two that I have thought about myself:

1. What would the world look like if unchecked capitalism was allowed to dominate our world?
2. What would society look like if ordinary people were subjected to literal physical displacement in a futuristic society built on socioeconomic inequities?

While these might not be the intended vision for what Lang imagined the film was addressing, they were generative questions that I offered to contextualize both the film and the historical conditions through which Lang was creating the film. Metropolis is grounded in that turbulent period of the early twentieth-century, one that shaped Benjamin’s writings prior to his death: the failure of “progress.” I always find it necessary to ground this context for students when it comes to Metropolis, because they think it’s an arbitrary example I picked from a hat; it’s not, and I always make this point explicitly clear when we have a conversation about speculative fiction, history, writing, research, and research questions. These choices do not happen in a vacuum, rather they are informed by lived experiences, possibilities, converging into a thought-experiment that often resembles a parable.³ We look at Metropolis and see social and economic instability, mimicking the tensions of the Weimar Republic (and its imminent failure through the increasing disparities between citizens); the flimsy confidence of socialism, revealing the vulnerabilities of determining between mediation vs. revolution; the clash of ‘warfare,’ illustrating the dehumanization, mechanization, and transformation of people, society and culture through devastating conditions. It’s really a beautiful film (and one of my favorites, alongside Pride & Prejudice (2005), Godzilla (1954), and Josie and the Pussycats), but it’s devastating in its revelation of the crisis of “modernity.” 

As I get back to the topic of differentiating – ah, yes… research topic, research question?

I give them an infographic (with examples) to show how these two relate to one another; scaffolding is so vital to teaching writing, that it’s certainly a priority when it comes to teaching research in this context. Here’s where I isolate:

A research topic is…	But a research question is…
… that area that you’re interested in pursuing.	… a narrowed, refined approach to that topic.
… the general ‘framework’ of the research question. It’s the foundation that helps support; it’s the springboard for more complex, specific ideas that you’re jumping off from.	… what you should be invested in, interested in exploring within that general research inquiry’s framework.
… often very broad. A topic is something that you ‘dig your teeth into’ – like cyborgs, climate change, or geopolitical issues (e.g., Soviet Union and the USA during the mid-twentieth century).	… what the foundational ‘concept’ that research is speculating on/toward/about.
	… built on pre-existing work and research within a selected field, study, topic, category.

Students need examples (yes – I give lots of them). So, I immediately address the example that I’ve outlined in that research topic & question. 

Cyborgs. These are a popular commodity within speculative and sci-fi works, because ‘augmentation’ is often attached to it. Human beings are fascinated with the process of augmentation, and we have fundamentally different relationships and connections to what this actually represents and means for us. Cosmetic surgery is a form of augmentation, but so are exoskeletons and cochlear implants. Augmentation often can be and are correlated with ideations of ‘enhancement;’ for many, this phrasing is ableist because the language signals dehumanization in the process of “improving” what might potentially be someone’s disability. This is the first dilemma that I present to students: research itself can transform depending on the input of the student. Their frames of reference can alter the results of what they seek to evaluate, analyze, criticize, explore, define, etc. 

 It is something that I inform students to be sensitive and mindful of; teaching is about leaving room for interpretation and recognizing that this process asks of us to be patient in the learning process. However, I always tell students that their perspective will ultimately dictate the direction their research question can and will go; what kind of information, data, research, questions are they seeking out? 

Like above, an example I always give here is how their frames of reference are and can be subjective and are interpretive depending on the perspective that is being used – for example, a bot fly. A bot fly is often defined as a ‘parasite’ because it infests the skin of mammals (like humans). However, this is from a human-centered perspective. Is this something that is important to what they want to do? How does this alter the kind of information or sources they will receive?

Back to “cyborgs” – I reiterate to students that this is the ‘general framework’ of what their research will sink into; cyborgs are just the roadmap to get a sense of direction to a final destination – their research question. Whereas cyborgs are their research topic, they need to form a specific inquiry that will allow them to imagine themselves ‘exploring’ through this environment.

So questions I often propose to them here are:

1. What are the consequences of defining humans as “cyborgs?”
2. If we elect to redefine ‘human’ by including cyborgs, what are the fundamental ideas/concepts of being human? 
3. How do the visual portrayals of ‘the cyborg’ in film interact or work alongside/against early representations of disabled individuals?

These are only meant to be generative for the students to see how each one leaves room for interpretation (open-ended!). Students often aren’t confident enough to recognize that research questions are meant to ‘fill’ a gap in pre-existing literature; however, I tell them that they should be interested in using their question to develop a relationship from their topic to an outcome/set of conditions – cause & effect is the easiest to model for them. Example: if the initial cause (interpretation) of including ‘cyborgs’ in the definition of human is X, then the effect can be consequential – but for what? Or who?

Research questions typically follow four guidelines, and students should know them! 

1. Focused
2. Clear
3. Specific to cover a sufficient/adequate amount of information (e.g., no “yes/no”-answer style questions)
4. Complex

To maintain focus, students should be motivated by something specific. Is it just the effect that cyborgs have on humans? Or should they be fascinated in the relationship dynamic that could develop between a techno-device based body and current human relationships with technologies? Something that would drive this research inquiry might be “uncanny valley.” What does our contemporary understanding of ‘uncanny valley’ and examples of interaction with these beings reveal about future connections and relationships? (this makes me think of Stephanie Dinkins, “Conversations with Bina48”) 

A clear research question is, quite literally, straightforward! Students should really be interested in investigating something that makes them think about something a little bit differently – that, simply, makes them fascinated. There is a clear difference between investigating why climate change threatens global relationships versus how corporate-based interests impact disabled people in communities in West Asia. 

When research questions are clear, they help to be specific. There should be something that really is worth exploring… what kind of research are they interested in following? And could there potentially be overlap between one field and another discipline? For example, I ask students if they are simply interested in pursuing general consequences in the future regarding engineering genetic mutation, or are they driven to highlight sociocultural (ideals, values, cultural systems) issues that become impacted or affected when humans proceed to construct specific genetic mutations? By having a particular purpose, students are entering research with key disciplines or studies they will be focusing on.

And lastly, research questions should be complex. This is to help them elevate their analytical and critical thinking skills; to accomplish this, they need to go beyond asking questions that will either simply be yes, that’s true OR no, that cannot happen. Why wouldn’t something be feasible? What kind of conditions will allow for something to be ‘true?’ These research questions should be… well, a little complicated. We could ask what an alternate-based history would look like if Nazi Germany had won decisive victories during WWII. But we could also ask ourselves to examine previous historical examples of ‘successful’ regimes that would allow us to ask: what are specific geopolitical issues – like political systems – that would affect a specific demographic of individuals in an alternate history landscape of the West? And what of individuals from the Global South?

In the end, I remind students that a really good research question forces them to look through lots and lots of different literature. A misconception that students have is that if they’re investigating human genetic engineering, they’re only looking at biological sciences’ publications – it’s often a shock for them to recognize that research often is interdisciplinary. Human genetic engineering affects social dynamics, it leans into ethical concerns; we are examining how altering genetic material will require us to think about legal policy considerations. For example, I tell students that addressing human genetic engineering requires insight into other fields – like sociology, philosophy, and legal/policy issues. We have to think about concerns of new forms of inequity if genetic modifications become available to only wealthy individuals – and developing independent, neutral committees to regulate regions where ‘genetic modification tourism’ could be a possibility. These hypothetical scenarios do have precedent, as we have seen through other forms of exploitation across borders. Similar to how companies outsource manufacturing to countries with weaker environmental regulations and to avoid strict standards, genetic modification tourism could migrate to countries that do not have policies implemented to deal with these new procedures. We have cosmetic surgery tourism, reproductive tourism, experimental medical treatments – these are all examples of regions with fewer regulations, less regulated markets, which can exploit ambiguous regulations, if there are any at all. Good research questions always have depth beyond one field of interest. 

To keep it simple, students should find an angle to their proposed research question:

• What is it within that topic that they find interesting or complicated?
• How can they approve this from a different perspective? Who agrees with it? Who disagrees with it? What kind of literature is out there about it?
• Why is this angle/nuance valuable to an overall project that is being pursued?

Here’s a hypothetical scenario that I have used to inform students how to approach their research topic and using this to develop a framework for a specific research question.

“I’m interested in the potential consequences of solar geoengineering.”⁴

Yay! Awesome. So: why are there consequences? This is where students have to think through their word choices (because these subtle distinctions matter!) but also determine the kind of data they would like to accumulate to develop their own argument. 

So…

• Why is it a negative for ‘us’ to hypothetically create clouds to deflect sunlight?
• What would solar geoengineering do in terms of geopolitical issues between nation-states/countries? (e.g., who would happily support these procedures and who would be hesitant to do so – why?)
• What happens when we reduce sunlight? Who is positively impacted (e.g., individuals with sensory issues)?
• Are we only interested in tangible, material consequences? What other kinds of impacts will emerge through these interventions?
• Why do we only consider the consequences as if they will equitably impact everyone? What about individuals/communities who are omitted from these kinds of conversations/legislative practices?

These questions are only meant to stimulate their own approach to building their own research approach. It takes plenty of fine tuning, lots of trial and error, and immense patience to guide them as they are learning how to not simply practice ‘research,’ but to develop their own unique approach to research. Research questions are tough – and it takes plenty of practice!

But as I always say: research is deeply personal; students should, on some level, care about what they are pursuing and seeking. If it wasn’t personal, what purpose does it serve? And for who?⁵ 

1. My favorite of them all, the students stare at me dumbfounded. “… There’s a difference?” they ask, petrified. Unfortunately, as I stand before them at the front of the classroom, I have to nod my head and say: yes. Yes, there is. ↩︎
2. I also have a very fun primer on visual analysis using Stuart Hall’s concept of ‘encoding/decoding’ with references to German Expressionism, The Simpsons’ interpretation of “The Raven,” and the Venus de Milo which I hope will see the light someday. Stay tuned! ↩︎
3. Sorry, it’s true. Speculative fiction, whether dystopian or utopian, hopeful or soul-crushing, reminds us that storytelling is a device to acknowledge patterns, to represent that which can guide us to – as Butler called it – ‘the kind of world we seem to be creating.’ These narratives can be wonderfully whimsical, surreal, unrealistic, but they still are instructional apparatuses that teach us something – it can be the complexity of experiences, the rich resonances of states of being, horrific and collective trauma, or a heroic journey of fulfillment and accomplishment. Whether we choose to yield or not to what they might reveal about ourselves is something that is debatable. ↩︎
4. This emerged out of some speculative projects I have read over the years, but this specific scenario was addressed after a conversation I had with a student who was from the UAE. They told me about ‘cloud seeding’ – a form of weather modification that was developed to combat water insecurity. I haven’t looked into it completely, but this was a very interesting discussion in class that we developed some research strategies around similar concerns. ↩︎
5. You can’t actually make students care about research. However, reminding them that their research can be a jumping off point for someone else after them can potentially be impactful. Or reminding them that it’s a requirement — and they can still find ways to make it fun (less soul sucking, in the words of students). My methods are not fail proof; your mileage will vary. ↩︎