I joined the Poverty and Inequality Research Lab intending not only to gain research skills but also to become a better listener and advocate. During winter break, we traveled to a small town in Arkansas to map out the decision-making processes of families there. This experience helped us learn more about the voices of marginalized communities.
I usually like to decompress on plane rides at the end of each trip. But instead of my typical routine — donning my lavender-scented steaming eye mask and slipping on noise-canceling AirPods — I find myself reluctant to shut out the world on my flight back to Baltimore from our fieldwork trip in Arkansas. As I gaze down at the patchwork of landscapes below, each parcel of land seems to enshrine within it a silent testament to the stories and decisions of those who dwell there. The families we interviewed, the church services we attended, the donut shop that welcomed us — all of their narratives are interwoven into the fabric of transformative decisions, neighborhood choices, love stories and, perhaps most importantly, their genuine willingness to share their aspirations, resilience and identities with strangers from Maryland. I did not anticipate how deeply this short fieldwork trip would map its unique and invaluable imprint on my academic and personal growth.
My conversation with a participant — who I’ll call Hilton — was an insightful journey into the depths at which personal experiences are shaped by broader social structures such as race, sexuality and socio-economic status. He texted Kaylee (the post-doc fellow and primary interviewer) right before the scheduled interview time, as he was helping a friend and was now at a fast-food place without transportation to get home. She assured him that everything would be fine while grabbing her car keys.
Kaylee and I hopped into the red Jeep with an interview material package and the very important recorder. His relief at seeing us was evident, and he quickly warmed up to our presence. We started the interview while we were driving to his house. It was indeed quite odd to talk about life in a moving car with two strangers. But Kaylee nailed it. And even while keeping an eye on the road, she was always giving Hilton the nod or the “mhmm” that said, “I’m here, I’m listening, keep going.” It was this sort of magic mix of being present, but not pushy, that I picked up from her — something I’m definitely tucking into my own toolkit for future interviews.
The qualitative research method class did not tell me how to handle our rolling interview. The unconventional setting was, perhaps, something you would never find in a textbook, so it was like watching a masterclass in fieldwork on the go. Her approach was super casual but incredibly focused, turning it into a smooth ride — literally and metaphorically. It was a reminder that sometimes, the best conversations happen when you just go with the flow and adapt to whatever comes your way. The conversation eased into more serious topics about his life experiences as we approached our destination.
Hilton’s life story is truly a story of trying to balance life during a time of constant change. His story is one that truly offers a hallmark to what it means to be human, marked at one point by aspiration and another by romantic comfort. From his childhood years where he spent his time moving homes due to the changing dynamics of his family, to all his different enterprises in his quest for independence and love, every chapter of Hilton’s life had something new to add to the narrative of resilience.
After wrapping up an insightful day of interviews, we returned to our Airbnb, only to discover the heating had gone out — an unwelcome twist given Arkansas’ unusually snowy January evenings. It was a reminder of how fieldwork often threw unexpected challenges your way beyond just the research questions. Kendall — our always-prepared supervisor — quickly took charge. Recognizing that the weather and malfunctioning heating system could potentially leave us in a tough spot, she guided us on a snowy trek to the nearest supermarket. Her leadership turned a potentially stressful situation into a bonding experience for our team. As we wandered the aisles picking out essentials (and a few comfort snacks), we shared laughs and stories about fieldwork misadventures.
As I pen this concluding thought, I’m still “looking” out the airplane window and observing the intersectional experiences from our fieldwork. Like the landscapes I see stitched together, the stories from the beautiful people I heard were incredible. I am immensely grateful for the opportunity to have been a part of these stories and the fieldwork trip. This advocacy spirit carried me back to Baltimore as I resumed my senior year. Reflecting on my time at Hopkins, I stand at the nexus of theory and practice, academia and advocacy. I am eager to support marginalized communities. For the past summers, I actively contributed to two vital organizations in Baltimore. My work — centered especially on queer, displaced youth and queer undocumented immigrants and refugees — shaped the foundation of my vision.
These experiences have left an indelible mark, defining both my academic identity and inciting personal growth on how to be a better researcher and, more importantly, how to be a better listener as I head to University of Pennsylvania for my Ph.D. in Sociology and Demography. I will continue my flights to different cities carrying much more than my eye mask and AirPods. I will hear more stories and see diverse groups of people carrying the insights and stories from Arkansas, Baltimore and beyond.
Frank Meng from San Jose, Calif. and is graduating with a degree in Sociology and English.
