What I think about when I think about the BSA

New post by our new blogger, Kristin Natalier

Just before Easter, I went to the BSA. This year marked the 60th anniversary of the BSA: the conference was big, big, BIG. There was a collection of big names. The plenaries explored big topics. I spent a lot of time feeling small: an antipodean, known only to a (lucky) few, wandering amidst the uncentered and alienating LSE campus.


Sitting on the edges is a salutary experience to those of us who have had a relatively good run in our professional lives. It gives time and space to approach taken for granted experiences in a different way. So this time I thought about about what I want and need from a conference, rather than simply having a fine old time while I am in it (although having fun at work is no bad thing in itself).


Conferences serve multiple purposes for me, as they do for most. There’s the possibility of building networks and a professional profile, opportunities for CV fattening, a trip somewhere new, catching up with friends, good food (hah!). But they are most valuable when they help me locate myself and my ideas within the field, and in so doing, I’m left with a new certainty about my own work and the possibilities of the discipline.


Sitting in the Families, Relationships and the Lifecourse stream, I was struck by how disparate the topics were and how very few of us have the opportunity to ‘speak’ to each other’s ideas and findings in a way that is meaningful. A vague theme orders a collection of speakers in a nominated room at a nominated time, papers are rushed through, some questions are asked, follow-ups often strictly policed by the Chair with an eye on the clock, and then it’s time for coffee and a biscuit. This is partly the result of the broad church that is ‘families’ or ‘intimate life’: there’s lots to write on – and the widening of definitions of ‘what counts’ in our area is an exciting thing – but our topics and approaches don’t always have very much in common, at least not on the first listen, and that’s all most of us get in a ninety minute session.


The big, generalist conferences can be great fun and their value is perhaps in the disparateness they can accommodate (and I’m not missing TASA-by-the-sea this year) but the BSA left me desiring more intimacy, depth and connection when I share my work with others. A few years ago, Jo Lindsay and JaneMaree Maher hosted a roundtable where ‘families’ researchers spoke about their work generally, but no-one presented papers from any specific study. I don’t know that there were any measurable outcomes from that day, but it gave me a sense of where I sat in relation to others, and initiated the growth of relationships that are increasingly meaningful in my academic life (thanks Jo and JaneMaree!). (I suspect the symposium on Fatherhood that is being organized by Belinda and Deborah, will have much the same feel.) My opportunities and contacts give rise to most the creativity when they develop between like minds or sympathetic challengers, and when they grow out of a basis of trust, and usually out of a chat.


This is not an argument for drawing tight boundaries around what or who we include, nor do I want to emphasise the differences between national sociologies (could ever be such a thing?). But after BSA I’m left with a hope of finding smaller spaces in which to converse and not only present, and quieter spaces in which I not only question, but listen carefully and respond.

by Kristin Natalier (kristin.natalier@utas.edu.au)