44
No
Longer a Man: Using Ethnographic Fiction to Represent Life History Research
SAGE Publications, Inc.200410.1191/0967550704ab005oa
RossGray
Toronto Sunnybrook Regional Cancer Center, Canada, ross.gray@sw.ca
Address
for correspondence: Ross Gray, Psychosocial & Behavioural Research Unit,
Toronto Sunnybrook Regional Cancer Center, 790 Bay Street, Suite 950, Toronto,
Ontario, Canada M5S 2L7; Email: ross.gray@sw.ca
In this paper I provide a
rationale for the use of ethnographic fiction for representing research findings.
Then I tell a story, based on real people and real events, about an interaction
between an anonymous biologist with advanced prostate cancer and me, the
social scientist that interviewed him. Techniques employed in the writing
include the following: using scenes to show rather than tell; building interest
through character development; using plot to create dramatic tension; and
including authorial presence to heighten analytic possibilities. While the
overarching theme of the paper is gender and its disruptions, a variety of
topics are covered, including the following: biological versus social/psychological
interpretations of behaviour; the impact of male hormones; sexual function
and dysfunction; transgenderism; eunuchs today and in the past; and prostate
cancer treatment. Possible criteria for judging the merits of this story,
and other ethnographic fictions, are provided.
INTRODUCTION
In this paper I tell the story of an interaction between an anonymous biologist
with advanced prostate cancer and me, the social scientist that interviewed
him. This project is part of an emerging trend towards `new writing practices'
in the social sciences (Richardson, 2000a). From among the possible forms
for experimentation, a grow- ing number of social scientists are selecting
stories to evocatively reveal the understandings they glean from their qualitative
studies (e.g., Angrosino, 1998; Diversi, 1998; Dunbar, 1999; Ellis, 2001; Frank, 2000; Gray, 2003; Sparkes, 1997; Wolf, 1992). Stories, when well written,
allow the reader to be immersed into the immediacy
45
and
vividness of others' life situations, and to inhabit viscerally their world
(Rinehart, 1998). This is consistent with what Denzin calls an `evocative
epistemology', where readers can `imaginatively feel their way into the experiences
that are described by the author' (Denzin, 1997: 12). Using stories to represent
research can also resist prema- ture closure on understanding, conveying complexity
and ambiguity, and making space for alternative interpretations (Frank, 2000; Sparkes, 2002). The writing of stories can be especially useful for social
scientists trying to come to grips with relatively uncharted ter- rain (Frank,
2000); the process allows them to think about data in new, unpredictable ways.
There are two main types of fictional stories being written by social scientist~
ethnographic fiction (also referred to as creative nonfic- tion) and creative
fiction (Sparkes, 2002). The main difference be- tween them is that ethnographic
fictions explicitly draw on research data, whereas creative fiction eschews
any necessary reliance on his- torical interactions or documents. The story
presented in this paper is an ethnographic fiction, and like others in the
genre (e.g., Denison, 1996; Diversi, 1998; Frank, 2000; Nilges, 2001), is
based on real events and real people. Unlike creative fictions, where narrative
imagination is unbridled, the ethnographic fiction represents `events that
actually happened but the factual evidence is being shaped and dramatized
using fictional techniques' (Sparkes, 2002: 5). The techni- ques employed
in ethnographic fictions (like the story that follows) include the following:
using scenes to show rather than tell; building interest through character
development; using plot to create dramatic tension; and including authorial
presence to heighten analytic possi- bilities (Sparkes, 2002). The perspective
of the biologist in the story below was derived from transcripts of a series
of interviews (about 14 hours in total) that I conducted with him over several
days in the summer of 2002. While most of the words, phrases and sentences
are taken directly from the transcripts, their order and style of presentation
have in many cases been altered to maximize clarity and readability. Priority
was given for communicating his perspective articulately and evocatively versus
a detailed rendering of the actual conversation. Similarly, the events that
unfold in the story do not follow the actual sequence of our time together.
Time is telescoped, and events are selected from our inter- change to best
support the unfolding story. The biologist provided me with detailed input
on multiple drafts leading up to this manuscript. He was mostly concerned
with ensur- ing that the text reflected his perspective, and so elaborated
or chan- ged word-for-word excerpts from the interviews to better reflect
what
46
he had
intended to communicate. He also corrected my editing of transcripts that
had inadvertently altered meaning. Finally, he chal- lenged me to bring more
of my own perspective, including hidden thoughts, into the text so that the
reader could better understand my responses to his world view. THE STORY `The
key point is that I am no longer a man. I'm something different.' David's
lively hazel eyes scan my face, seeking my reaction. Trying not to show one,
I sip from the mint julep he's concocted. Right now I just want to listen,
not make judgements. `Look at that yellow bird at the feeder.' He leans forward,
adjusts his glasses, and points into the back yard. `It's a goldfinch. I've
become a lot more interested in bird watching since I started the treatments.
My whole relationship to colours and shapes and beauty has changed.' David
isn't his real name. He' s been worried about how going public might affect
his family, how it might bring unwanted visitors to his door. I nod in his
direction: a large, kindly body slumped in a deck chair. He' s stroking his
beard, which is partly why it's difficult to accept his evaluation of himself
as not being a man. But earlier he explained that if he shaved off his facial
hair, it might take forever to grow back. He showed me how he's lost the hair
on his arms and legs. Described how his breasts have grown, how his testicles
have shrunk, the way his body has rounded, how his thighs now rub together
when he walks. And the hot flashes, and all the ways he's learned to deal
with them. `If you're nonmale but you keep on trying to think of yourself
as a man, then you'll end up wallowing in despair. You don't have an option.
The worst thing to say to someone in my position is ``act like a man' ' .
I can't act like a man. It's absurd to ask me. If somebody asked you what
it means to be a man, I'm sure you would say that, first and foremost, it
means having erections and copulating. That's built into us, all the way back
to our reptilian ancestors. To lose that is to lose your maleness.' I raise
my eyebrows. I'm not comfortable with his definition of maleness. I want to
believe that there' s more to my masculine identity than getting laid. But
I'm not going to argue the point with him right now. And he's right that sex
is a powerful piece for men, for me. I shudder to imagine losing the capacity
to function sexually, sensing how it would reverberate throughout my life.
David continues. `I'm an evolutionary biologis~ a Darwinist. From my perspective,
and the evidence supports it, men are largely
47
driven
by testosterone. Testosterone is why men are aggressive, it's why they have
sex on their minds all the time.' He fixes me with a look part curiosity,
part dare, wondering if I'll contradict this estab- lished fact. I smile,
encouraging him to continue. I may not entirely agree with his perspective,
but it intrigues me. He intrigues me. I've come a long way to hear his story
and I want to get it all. At the air- port, when he picked me up, we joked
about our possible colla- boration, about the unlikely partnership of a hard-nosed
natural scientist interested in how biology shapes behaviour with a social
scientist who studies social and cultural influences on men' s lives. Listening
to him now, I'm struck again by David's strength as an advocate for men with
prostate cancer, and especially for greater understanding about the effects
of hormonal changes on men. We met when David stood up, after a presentation
I'd made about psychological and social impacts of a prostate cancer diagnosis,
to comment on the limitations of my research. (I work in a cancer hos- pital,
where I research and attempt to communicate the experiences of cancer patients.)
David observed that many of the points I'd made, while accurate, apply only
to the experiences of men at diagnosi men who are then treated, and who stay
cancer free. The issues are different, he said, for the men who do not fare
as wel~ men for whom the cancer spreads, and for whom anti-androgen hormones
become the next treatment of choice. David's critique was not entirely a surprise.
My presentation was based on research I'd conducted with men during the first
year fol- lowing a diagnosis; none had advanced disease. But his comments
reminded me that I needed to work more closely with that smaller group of
men whose prostate cancer resists treatment, and whose concerns extend beyond
erectile dysfunction, urinary incontinence and the fear of recurrence. My
limited exposure to these men made me receptive to David's argument that this
group was in serious trouble, many depressed and withdrawn from their former
lives. Many, unlike David, cowered by their failure to enact maleness. Over
the past year, David has assailed me with emails that included references
to academic papers I should read, issues I should consider, drafts of articles
he has written about his experiences. With some trepidation, I agreed to meet
with him during one of his per- iodic visits to Toronto. He talked for two
hours straight. I was struck by his upbeat tone, how well he seemed to be
doing with such a dif- ficult medical situation. And his story was so unusual; such a pro- vocative way of approaching life-threatening illness, so unlike
most of the men on hormone treatment I've met. I was hooked. Most of all I
was impressed by his argument that there were positive aspects
48
of hormone
treatment, ways men could learn and benefit from the physiological changes.
He raised the concept of a self-help book for men, to help them reinterpret
their prostate cancer experience. When I got up to leave, he apologized for
monopolizing the conversation. And we agreed to meet again. My mind jerks
back to the present, as David starts to talk again. `When you take away the
testosterone, you have castrated the man. It's no accident that urologists
talk about hormone treatment for prostate cancer as chemical castration. Every
year in North America some 30 to 40 thousand of us are castrated in this way,
as therapy for advanced prostate cancer. The anatomically correct term for
a castrated person is a eunuch. I think there is value in recognizing and
acknowledging that I'm a eunuch. It's a better place to make a stand than
pretending to be a man.' I've been trying to make room inside me for these
words: cas- tration, eunuch. But I don't like them. They touch something primi-
tive and barbaric. I am beset with anxiety, a desire to turn away and think
about something else. And I know that most of the men I've met would react
similarly. I notice that I have crossed my legs. `David, the term eunuch is
not exactly going to make men comfort- able. I've only heard it spoken with
fear and loathing, as if it were the worst possible fate for a man, except
maybe death.' `You're right, of course.' He waves a dismissive hand, letting
me know he is well aware of this issue, and that it annoys him. `People have
all these negative associations with the word, and it's too bad. When they
think of eunuchs in history, the word evokes images of servitude and brutality.
While it's true that eunuchs were often treated badly, and many were slaves,
eunuchs were not always downtrodden. Eunuchs ran entire dynasties in ancient
China. By the end of the seventeenth century, 70 000 eunuchs lived in the
Forbidden City and ran the palace bureaucracy. Eunuchs also held the most
prominent positions in the imperial court of the Ottoman Empire, be- tween
the fifteenth and nineteenth centuries. While their main role was as guardians
of the Sultan's harem, many were physicians, states- men and military commanders.
In fact, the most senior eunuchs could own their own slaves. But historical
accuracy aside, people still tend to view eunuchs as victims rather than as
empowered individuals.' I scoop a handful of nuts from the container on the
table beside my chair. David gestures towards the jug of cocktail. I shake
my head from side to side. It's too strong to hazard drinking any more, and
I want to be alert to what he has to say. His perspective seems impor- tant,
both a challenge and a complement to my usual ways of think- ing. My main
interest has always been how men learn to be men: how
49
they
come to enact the traditional characteristics of masculinit~ competitiveness,
aggression, independence, stoicism and rationalism. I think that masculinity
is not fixed and permanent, not an unavoid- able product of biology. I look
for places, both in my own life and in the lives of the men with cancer with
whom I work, where we men can make choices that make us feel better, that
allow us to be less constrained by all the baggage of being a traditional
man. David is smiling at me, waiting for my attention to return. He breathes
deeply, picks up the thread. `Unfortunately, there are people today who are
choosing to be castrate~ voluntaril in order to become sex slaves to other
people. Some of them are attracted to the aesthetics of it, like an elaboration
of tattooing and piercing.' `You're kidding!' I can't help myself. `As if
it's just customized body design!' `Absolutely. You can follow their discussions
on the Internet. Many hook up with street cutters who do the surgery for them.
It's not my scene, but I admit that I've spent a fair bit of time trying to
understand what they're up to. It's upsetting to me that these people call
themselves eunuchs; they have tainted the term for use by others like myself.
To get back to your point: I realize that most men with prostate cancer are
not going to enjoy thinking of themselves as eunuchs. But, technically speaking,
that is what they are. And for me, it's better than trying to pretend to be
a man.' I'm reminded about what David was saying to me over dinner last night
and decide we should get it on tape. `You were pointing out to me earlier
that most people have misconceptions about castration.' He nods vigorously,
clearly pleased that I have picked up on this point. `Right. I think Freud
is mostly to blame for this mess, his hare-brained notion of the oedipal complex
and boys' fear of cas- tratio~ which is profiled in terms of loss of the penis.
But castration does not mean loss of the penis. Historically, most eunuchs
had only their testicles cut off, not their penises. Many did carry on some
sort of sex life. In fact, some were sought after because they could use their
penises to provide women with pleasure, without the risk of im- pregnation.
In Italy, after a seventeenth-century Pope forbid women to sing on stage,
directors of the opera recruited young boys to train as castrati singers with
falsetto voices. The boys were castrated, and the more famous of them became
the heart-throbs of Europe and were sought after as lovers. Many eunuchs in
history had expansive and varied sexual lives; some were partners for men,
some for women.' A picture has come into my mind. A beautiful young woman
in a long gracious gown, strolling arm in arm with a castrati down a
50
cobbled
Parisian street, the possibilities for erotic, nontraditional sex play filling
the night air around them. David seems to notice that my mind has wandered,
misinterprets it as critique. `The story I'm telling you about myself as a
eunuch may be a fabrication of an overly im- aginative mind, maybe all self-delusion.
I don't know. My facts about eunuchs in history are accurate, and I'm clear
about my personal experiences, so I think it makes sense to put them together,
But maybe there are flaws in my analysis that I don't see. Even if that were
so, the one thing you've got to agree with is that I'm not de- pressed, and
I'm certainly enjoying life. It's become richer because of what's happening.'
`Yes', I concur. `And that's not true for a lot of men in your medi- cal situation.'
This is the crux of the matter for me. I'm not entirely sure what to do with
David's fascination with eunuchs. But I am sure that he provides an interesting
model for dealing with the effects of hormone treatments. And his story sheds
needed light on experiences that have been largely ignored in the medical
literature. `Can you turn off the tape recorder for a minute?' he asks, and
I comply. He pushes himself up out of the chair. `I have to make a call to
my research lab. I won't be long. Help yourself to a beer.' `Take your time',
I say. Then I'm alone on the deck. For a few min- utes I gaze without thinking
at the clouds as they pass overhead. Then I start to review my notes from
yesterday, when David told me his illness story. All the drama and miscues
surrounding the orig- inal diagnosis. Then the surgery, followed months later
by radiation when it became clear that some cancer cells were still active.
Disap- pointingly, his prostate specific antigen (PSA) readings continued
to rise after the radiation, signalling renewed tumour activity. At this point,
cure was no longer an option. The next step was hormone therapy, proven to
slow the spread of prostate cancer. David's doctors gave him five or six years
before the hormones would stop working. David insisted on knowing the details
about how he could expect to die: questions few patients ask. His eyes filled
while he told me the answers he'd been given. Although I already knew what
he would tell me, it was painful to hear it spoken out loud. David delayed
starting hormone treatment. He'd been reading about possible cognitive losses
and had met lethargic and depressed men with advanced disease at the local
prostate cancer support group. He feared that their unhappy state was in part
a consequence of their hormone therapy. He worried he wouldn't be able to
work, to think, to continue his research while on the drugs. Months later,
with his PSA climbing, David decided to bite the bullet: he started
51
treatment.
Characteristically, he gathered information about all the documented side
effects. But the actual experience startled him. The expected effects were
more profound than he' d imagined. Some effects were not discussed by his
physicians or documented in the medical literature. David reappears, flops
back down into the deck chair. `I meant to ask you if you wanted to come to
the gym with me tomorrow morning.' I grimace. `I try not to exercise more
than absolutely necessary.' He hesitates, then blurts, `It wouldn't hurt you
to lose a few pounds.' I can tell he means the comment as an expression of
con- cern, but I scowl nonetheless. He's unfazed. `I never used to exercise
but now I have to, thanks to hormone therapy. I'm fighting osteo- porosis,
I have this bulge around my waist that I never used to have, and I'm gradually
losing muscle mass. So I try and work out a few times a week. Anyway, you
can join me, or no but I need to go.' `I' ll come along for the ride.' `So
does what I'm saying make sense?' Anxiety peeks out through the cracks of
David's considerable confidence and piercing intellect. It's not surprising,
given how open he is being about his life. That openness was what he'd promised
when we first discussed my visit and these interviews; that he would tell
the truth to the best of his ability; conceal as little of his experience
as possible. Still, honest self-portrayal is easy to offer and harder to deliver,
especially for men. And David hasn't spoken about these matters very often.
It takes courage to do so before a relative stranger who is also a potential
critic. `It makes sense. And this kind of free-floating conversation is exactly
what I was hoping for. It's the best way for me to find out about your experience.
So just keep talking.' I see the anxiety dissolve into the smile that now
shapes David's lips. Confidence leads the way again. I take the opportunity
to influence the direction of his narration. `I was wondering if you could
talk more about the positive effects of the hormone treatments.' His eyes
light up. `Well, I should start by saying that it really helped when I discovered
that the hormones I take are pretty much the same hormones that transsexuals
take to help them change from men to women. I started monitoring their Internet
discussion groups and found that they were often thrilled to be experiencing
some of the same side effects that terrify men with prostate cancer. The most
obvious example is the growth of breasts. You go to a prostate cancer discussion
list and find all these men complaining about such side
52
effects,
but go to a transsexual list and you'll find people who are really getting
off on the changes. For a while, I was trying to figure out whether I might
actually be a transsexual to~ but in the end I decided that I wasn't. As you
know, I think of myself as a eunuch, and when eunuchs have been accepted in
other societies they are understood as a third gender, neither male nor female.
But there's no doubt that a lot of the changes I've gone through make me much
more like a woman than a man.' `So tell me about the changes.' I want to hear
more about this. `Well, one of the big ones is that I'm a lot more emotional.
A few days after I started on the hormones I got what I called waves of dread.
A horrible visceral sense of dread that didn't seem to have any cause. It
reminded me of fifth grade, when I knew that I was go- ing to get beat up
in the schoolyard. Anyway, I didn' t want to go on living if my cancer treatment
meant feeling like that all the time. And then one day I just let myself cry.
And, to my surprise, the waves of dread went away. Now I cry often, sometimes
more than once a day, and the feeling of dread never returns. So crying works
to prevent dread, but I've also come to really enjoy a good cry. That probably
sounds weird to you. Most men who aren't castrated are not going to want to
indulge themselves in this kind of ``emotional richness' ' . But I've found
that there's nothing quite like a good cry. I mean, it's inevitable that I
would be more emotional, because it's one of the side effects of hormone therapy.
But I could never have antici- pated that I would feel fortunate to have a
deeper emotional life than I used to have. Now I pick my friends by whether
they're comfortable with being with someone who might break into tears over
silly little things. And the people who I'm absolutely closest to are all
willing to hold me when that happens, maybe even wipe the tears away.' I nod.
I can relate to this shift in his emotions. `David, something similar has
been happening to me over the past year. There's rarely a day that goes by
when tears don' t come to my eyes. It's not that I'm depressed, but I just
seem to be more affected by everything. It could be an aching guitar riff
or a rose about to bloom or news of yet another bombing. It's been quite a
change; when I was a young man there were whole years that went by without
a tear shed.' David looks at me with sympathy. `Have you had your testoster-
one level checked?' `Ha!' I laugh out loud. It would never have occurred to
me to interpret my emotional life through such a lens. For me, crying has
to do with opening my heart, breaking free from a lifetime of male socialization
and suppression of feeling. We men are taught early on that it's too dangerous
to be seen as weak or vulnerable; we learn
53
to
adhere to the injunction to `suck it up and behave like a man'. So for me
it's a cause for celebration, a type of awakening, an opening where I didn'
t know I could open. But I make a note to myself; it wouldn't hurt to check
the testosterone level. `Would you agree that there could be other reasons
for emotional- ity beside hormones?' I'm not ready to yield this point. `Of
course, of course. But you shouldn' t entirely ignore the reality of how sex
hormones affect the brain.' `Fair enough. So besides being more emotional,
what else has hor- mone treatment done for you?' He leans back, clasps his
hands together, assumes a professorial posture. `Just being off testosterone
is a huge relief. I mean, I was clearly an over-the-top, high testosterone
male. But I never liked it. I recall hating puberty. I had lost control. I
was obsessed with sex and thought I was going crazy. When I started on Lupron,
the most common hormone drug for prostate cancer treatment, I suddenly realized
what a jerk I'd been all those years; always coming on to women, or at least
thinking about coming on to them. Once free of testosterone, I felt I should
contact all the women I'd known befor~ this is pathetic, I suppos and apologize
to them for the kind of man I'd been. Being off testosterone has helped me
feel less driven about sex. But more importantly, it's allowed me to be more
aware of and sensitive to women' s feelings. Believe it or not, these drugs
have made me finally able to understand women and their needs in a genuinely
caring fashion.' I try to imagine myself going around and apologizing to the
women in my life for acting like a man. I can't see why I would. Am I just
blinded by the testosterone coursing through my body? Is it only possible
to see how controlled we are by hormones when they are banished from our bodies?
Or did David have especially high testos- terone and none of this applies
to low-testosterone guys like me? Last night I spoke on the phone with a friend
of his, a woman who was at pains to tell me he hadn't been as much of a jerk
as he claims to have been before starting hormone therapy. In fact, she thinks
he was a pretty nice guy. What is going on here? How could a professor, seem-
ingly no more obnoxious than most, come to judge himself so harshly? David
is still talking. `I've always been too aggressive. If I'd had less testosterone
earlier in my career, I would have gotten further. I would have been more
diplomatic, less impulsive, less driven to always compete and win.' I'm still
thinking about his relationships with women. `David, can you talk more about
how things have changed for you in relation to women?'
54
`Sure.
I can now spend time with women, talk with them, in ways I never could when
I was a male. I can also think more like a woman, and that makes them less
mystical. It's fascinating. Once you're free of the constant drive to reach
an orgasmic state, once free of testo- sterone, then you can care about the
person you're with and not just their sex organs. All of a sudden you start
to be able to look at women beyond being a place to ejaculate, which is how
so many men have treated women throughout history. I found out that I really
enjoy talking with women. I'm able to care much more deeply for them than
ever before.' I ignore the impulse to be offended at the implication that
men like me might be unable to care deeply about women. `You mentioned to
me earlier that you have a support network of women. Tell me more about that.'
He wipes his glasses with his shirt, peers at me through clean lenses. `Early
on, when I was going through a particularly hard time with my cancer, I found
myself looking around for friends to talk to or cry with. And I naturally
gravitated to a half dozen women that I already knew, and they were all more
than willing to listen and help. And then, at one point, I sort of stood back
and jokingly said, `By gosh, I've formed a harem, emotionally speaking'. While
I know that's not the best term, it does point at something that's true. Eunuchs
in history had very strong relationships with women. As guardians of the harem
they had to be intimately involved with females, had to keep them happy and
well for when the master, emperor, or sultan would want to see them. The eunuchs'
involvement probably in- cluded everything from playing with their kids, hanging
out together, and helping them shop and bathe. The eunuchs would provide the
women with a shoulder to cry on; alternatively, the eunuchs could cry on the
women' s shoulders. I now realize eunuchs have a much greater capacity for
intimacy with women than do men.' This makes me think about the relationships
gay men have with women. `A lot of women I know have good relationships with
gay men, partly because there's freedom from the usual sexual tensions between
heterosexual men and women.' He frowns. `Well, the absence of sexual tension
is undoubtedly part of it, but I also think I now have more of a female psychology,
so it's easier to know how to relate with women. And despite the fact that
I'm impotent and don't have any libido, there is still the possibility of
relating sexually.' This surprises me. From what I've heard from other men
on hormone treatment, sex urges usually die quickly and completely. `Can you
talk about that?'
55
`Yes.
But I don' t know how much of this we should put into print. My wife isn't
very comfortable about my going public with our sex life. She also gets jealous
of my harem. She sees it as an infidelity, which in a way it is. But in another
way, it isn't.' The air has cooled, marking the transition from late afternoon
to early evening. `Give me a minute to get a sweater.' I head inside the house,
decide to make a preventive stop at the bathroom. When I return, David is
reading a book about castration by Gary Taylor. He has already said he thinks
I should read it, that it will provide more of a context for his story. He
looks up. `The thing you need to know about people like me is that we don't
miss copulation. I'm not chasing women, men, or any- thing else. I have no
desire to, because I'm a eunuch. The missingness was tied up with the libido,
so now that I have no libido I could care less about sex per se. It's a bit
like a nine-year old thinking about sex: it just isn't on the map. It doesn't
feel like a loss, not to have sex. It's more that my perceptions of what's
important have totally changed. And what's important now is to be in true
emotional relationships with other people. That desire is stronger now for
me than it ever was in the past. Like everybody else, I want to be liked,
I want to spend time with people who care for me. So, if part of what can
con- nect me to people is sex, then I'm willing to provide that.' I'm confused.
`David, I thought you said you were impotent?' He shrugs in acknowledgement.
`Yes, being able to have an erec- tion and penetrate and be a `top' in a relationship
is not possible for me any more. But in the language of a bisexual lesbian
friend, I can still be a `bottom'. I can serve someone. I might even be pene-
trated if my partner desired that. And you have to understand that this is
entirely shocking to me, that I could even consider my sexuality in such radically
new ways. It's interesting that all these prohibitions about nontraditional
sexual behaviour that I felt as a high-testoster- one male have fallen away.
In the past, as a male, I would never have been comfortable being the passive
one in sex. But now, basically, I'd be willing to do whatever I can to please
somebody that I want to please. It's all about having freedom of choice. It's
not that there's any necessity for me to be a bottom, or to act in any particular
sexual way. But I now have a freedom that I never had before to do what- ever
the situation calls for. And that kind of flexibility I believe was pretty
typical of eunuchs throughout history.' David pauses, waits for my question.
I'm not clear whether David's ideas about the potential of new sex- ual practices
have been implemented, or only contemplated. `It strikes me that it's pretty
unusual for married men to have a lot of
56
emotional
connection with women outside of a marriage, and that what you're calling
sexual flexibility could create problems for a spouse. How is your wife dealing
with all of this?' He takes a deep breath. `This is a big problem. You know,
she married a man, not a eunuch. And she has certain expectations of me performing
sexually as a husband, which I just can't fill any more. I can't take the
initiative. I can't perform in the ways I used to, in a traditional male role.
And when I try to talk with her about shifting things around, maybe using
a dildo or whatever, she doesn't want anything to do with it. She thinks this
is so sick, weird, depraved. So, while I love my wife, and she loves me, we
have trouble giving each other the kind of support around sex that we need.
I mean, she's been great in so many other ways. I can hardly complain. She
takes care of me. And I'm hoping that things will get better, that we'll find
each other more, sexually and emotionally. Maybe I wouldn't need my harem
if things were different. I don' t know. It's hard.' There are tears welling
up in David's eyes. I feel for both of them. Last night, I asked his wife
Deborah about David's ways of dealing with prostate cancer. She replied that
men coped with ill- ness in lots of different ways. Someone else might learn
to play the flute; David got obsessed with eunuchs. She wished he would learn
to play the flute. David responded that he didn't think he was any more obsessed
about the changes he was undergoing with hormonal therapy than the typical
teenager going through puberty. The difference being that puberty lasts over
several years, with a social context that makes allowances for hormonal upheaval,
while hormone treatment for prostate cancer causes changes just as profound,
but over only a few months, yet without any social acknowledgement of upheaval.
He argued that few urologists tell their patients what to expect. Deborah
didn' t try to argue back, clearly just wanted it to all go away, back to
a time in her life when men were men and women were women, and sex was a straight-
forward sort of thing. I decide to change the topic, and return to this later.
`So your relationships with women have changed. How about with men?' He shifts
uncomfortably in his chair. `I don't know. It's a good question. I haven't
talked about this so much with men. I assume they wouldn't want to know, that
it will scare them, or that they will be filled with contempt for a nonmale
like me. But actually, what's inter- esting is that the few men with whom
I've talked about this have turned around and told me intimate details of
their life. I have a big- ger capacity to listen than I ever did before, and
that probably makes
57
a difference.
Also, it's as if it's somehow safer to speak about difficult matters to a
noncompetitor. You did that a bit this morning when you were talking about
your relationships.' He' s referring to my description of the complications
in my love life that have followed my recent marital separation. My first
reaction is annoyance at how he sees things, at evolutionary biology and its
characterization of male behaviour, animal and human, as driven by competition
with other males in pursuit of power. As I see it, I talked to David about
the complications in my own life because I like and respect him. I'm also
aware of worrying that our dialogue has been too one-sided, that he has been
making himself vulnerable and that perhaps I owed him some of my own vulnerability
to bal- ance things out. But I try to entertain his point. Could my willingness
to reveal my struggles have anything to do with his changed status? Would
I have said the same things to friends at home? I like to think so, but he's
sown a seed of doubt: something that requires further consideration. But not
now. I nod at David, who resumes. `In general, the whole idea of men in support
groups helping men on hormone treatment is pretty hopeless. I mean, if you
look at males of other species you will see that their relationships are characterized
by competition and aggression. They don't hang out together, they don't take
care of each other. That's why I think the prostate cancer support groups
are vastly overrated. Admittedly, they do provide a place to obtain information.
But on that front, patients would be better off with self-help books, or the
Internet. And I think men are more likely to be supportive, and less likely
to find each other threatening, when they communicate through e-mail rather
than face to face.' `So you think support groups are largely a waste of time?'
I'm curi- ous about whether he sees any redeeming aspects to the groups. `Well',
David replies, `I do think that men like me, on hormone treatment, have a
greater capacity to listen and be supportive. So I actually think we can play
a healing role with the testosterone-filled men who are newly diagnosed, or
dealing with the side effects of sur- gery or radiation.' I start to ask another
question, but David isn't finished. `Men mostly get help from women, not from
men. You know there is this support group called ``Man to Man?'' ' He chuckles.
`I think each man would be better off with ``Man to Harem' ' . That's my way.'
I join in a laugh, enjoying how his mind works, all the little pathways of
irony and delight.
58
But
I don' t share David's cynicism about `Man to Man'. I'm a proponent of prostate
cancer support groups, an advocate for the ways in which men do help men.
Having said that, I have to acknowledge that's it often an uphill battle,
and that it's much easier for me, and all the other men I know, to turn to
women in times of trouble. Still, I resist the fullness of his interpretation.
Surely my being here, my feeling of connection with David, can't be reduced
to his nonmale status and my low testosterone levels. Are we males really
incapable of connection undetermined by hierarchy? Is male friendship so illusory?
He' s looking at me, waiting for me to surface from my reverie. He smiles,
I smile back. I reach over and shut off the tape recorder. `Why don't we take
a break?' `Good idea.' He stretches. `How about if I start up the barbecue?'
`Sounds great.' It's my turn to stretch. I start to rise. But David has something
more to add. As he starts to speak, I sit down again. `After dinner we can
decide if we want to talk more, or go out and listen to some jazz and leave
the talking for tomorrow. Whenever we do talk, I need to tell you more about
the Internet dis- cussion lists for eunuchs, to give you a better idea of
the bizarre stuff I've been following. Most of the people on the lists are
either eunuch wannabees trying to find a way to get castrated, or else men
cruising for a submissive partner to dominate. That second group is pretty
scary.' `I should think so. Is that part of your not wanting to go public
as a eunuch?' He nods. `What interests me most is that so few eunuchs partici-
pate on the list, that there is such absolute silence from men who've been
castrated. My worry is that most of them are in big trouble, depressed and
unable to deal with the situation. I know that some of them end up taking
testosterone injections to deal with depression and try to recover some of
their maleness. Anyway, it's a big topic, and I should leave it until later.'
`Let's talk more after dinner.' David goes inside, starts rummag- ing in the
fridge. I sit quietly, reflecting on what he's said today, and on what he
has to offer other men taking hormone treatments for prostate cancer. It's
not entirely clear to me. Although I'd like to be wrong, my suspicion is that
not many will be interested, or open enough to consider their lives in such
a radically different fashion. But David's insights about hormones and his
courage in exploring how to make the best of his situation will likely make
a big differ- ence to some men, those desperate enough to take apart their
old
59
ways
of doing and understanding. I'd like to help him reach those guys. I'm about
to stand when a final question occurs to me. I wait for David to return, then
I turn on the recorder again. `Have you met any kindred souls on the Internet
or, for that matter, anywhere else?' A shadow passes over his face. `No, I'm
the only one that I know walking this path. I mean, there' s lots of men with
prostate cancer, and lots of people on hormone treatment or who've been surgically
castrated, but none of them are engaged with it in the way that I am.' `It
must get lonely.' His smile is part grimace. `Actually, I'm not sure it would
be that much fun to hang out with a bunch of eunuchs.' I start to comment,
but see his attention has turned to setting the table. I turn off the recorder.
And get up to help my friend. REFLECTIONS Writing the above ethnographic fiction
proved a useful strategy to grapple with personally and conceptually challenging
issues. It pro- vided an entry point for me into themes from the interviews
with the biologist, including the following: biological versus social/psycho-
logical interpretations of behaviour; the impact of male hormones; sexual
function and dysfunction; transgenderism; eunuchs today and in the past; and
prostate cancer treatment. In this life history pro- ject more questions were
raised than answers provided. In the process of interviewing and writing,
many possibilities for future research in- vestigation were revealed. For
example, what are the broader implica- tions of the biologist's reidentification
as a eunuch for notions about masculinity and interventions with men on hormone
treatment for prostate cancer? We have since decided to follow this up and
inter- view more men with prostate cancer, using a comparison group of (male
to female) transsexuals who take the same treatments for en- tirely different
reasons. While representing study findings in a storied way has been useful
for me, the writer, more important questions are its usefulness for readers
and its adequacy as representation of social science. There is a growing body
of literature recommending criteria for evaluating new writing practices like
ethnographic fiction (Bochner, 2000; Denzin, 2000; Ellis, 2000; Richardson,
2000b; Sparkes, 2002). These include the following: abundant detail, reflexivity
and emotional credibility of the author, evocation, coherency, insightfulness,
impact, aesthetic merit and verisimilitude. Readers, using these criteria
or their own, must decide on the merits of the story I have provided.
60
It
is hoped that any failures will be attributed to the writer and not to the
potential of ethnographic fiction for enlivening and expanding the relevance
of social science research.
REFERENCES
Angwosino, M.V. 1998: Opportunity house: ethnographic stories of mental retardation . Walnut Creek, CA: AltaMira Press .
Bochner, A.P. 2000: Criteria against ourselves. Qualitative
Inquiry 6, 266-72.
Denison, J. 1996: Sport narratives. Qualitative Inquiry 2, 351-62.
Denzin, N.K. 1997: Interpretive ethnography. London: Sage.
— — — 2000: Aesthetics and the practices of qualitative inquiry. Qualitative Inquiry 6, 256-65.
Diversi, M. 1998: Glimpses of street life: representing lived experience
through short stories. Qualitative Inquiry 4, 131-47.
Dunbar, C., Jr. 1999: Three short stories. Qualitative Inquiry 5, 130-40.
Ellis, C. 2000: Creating criteria: an ethnographic short story. Qualitative Inquiry 6, 273-77.
——— 2001: With mother/with child: a true story. Qualitative Inquiry 7, 598-616.
Frank, K. 2000: `The management of hunger': using fiction in writing anthropology . Qualitative Inquiry 4, 474-88.
Gray, R.E. 2003: Prostate tales: men's experiences with prostate cancer . Harriman, TN: Men' s Studies Press .
Nilges, L. 2001: The twice told tale of Alice' s physical life in Wonderland:
writing qualitative research in the 21st century. Quest 53, 231-59.
Richardson, L. 2000a: New writing practices in qualitative research. Sociology of Sport Journal 17, 5-20.
— — — 2000b: Evaluating ethnography. Qualitative Inquiry 6, 253-55.
Rinehart, R. 1998: Fictional methods in ethnography: believability, specks
of glass, and Chekhov. Qualitative Inquiry 4, 200-24.
Sparkes, A.C. 1997: Ethnographic fiction and representing the absent other . Sport, Education & Society 2, 25-40.
— — — 2002: Fictional representations: on difference, choice, and
risk. Sociology of Sport Journal 19, 1-24.
Wolf, M. 1992: A thrice-told tale: feminism, postmodernism, and ethnographic
responsibility. Stanford, CA: Stanford
University Press.
NOTE
ON CONTRIBUTOR ROSS GRAY, Ph.D. is Co-Director of the Psychosocial & Behavioural
Research Unit at the Toronto Sunnybrook Regional Cancer Center, and Assistant
Professor in the Department of Public Health Sciences, University of Toronto.
He has worked with people with cancer, as a researcher and as a clinical psychologist,
for the past 15 years. Several years ago Ross initiated and acted in Handle
with care?: women living with metastatic breast cance~ a drama based on research
that he and
61
his
team conducted. Handle with care? was performed 200 times across North America
and generated enormous interest from ill people, their families and friends,
health professionals, researchers and the media. He has since initiated two
subsequent research-based dramas, No big deal?, a play about the issues facing
men with prostate cancer and their partners, and Ladies in waiting?, about
survivorship issues in the years after cancer treatment ends. He is author
of two books about men's issues: Legacy: a conversation with dad, and Pros-
tate tales: exploring men's experiences with prostate cancer. He has been
involved with many studies about the issues facing men with prostate cancer
and is lead investigator for a recent survey comparing men and women on health-related
matters.