When I was in high school, I didn’t dream of getting involved with research or presenting at symposiums. I imagined researchers as scientists-in-the-making in white lab coats or squinting librarian-types stuck in the sunless archives. After taking a class about social movements, I decided to minor in sociology, which was when I learned more about field work. One of my professors had conducted research in India. During her lectures, she talked about her observations in the field and the interviews she organized (both formal and informal). I began to consider that, one day in the far-off future, I might want to participate in something similar.
Last year, I was taking a general education class where we had to pick a topic and write two research papers over it. Our final essay wasn’t due until the end of the semester, but I was still panicking. Each paper called for a minimum of ten pages. I didn’t know enough about anything to write ten pages on! The day before our project proposal deadline was due, I settled on art programming in prisons. When I told people about my topic, they asked me what drew me to something that specific. Typically, I would smile and shrug. I like art. I didn’t feel like I knew enough about our prison system. A few weeks before, I had driven past a colorful billboard advertising a nonprofit that provided these services and I was curious.
I found a website for an organization called the Justice Arts Coalition that had a full listing of all the different art programs in prisons across the U.S. I began emailing the program facilitators at the prisons closest to Kansas City. I received enthusiastic responses, so I set up interviews over the next few weeks. Talking to people who had personal experience with my topic was so much more engaging than reading about it. Because of the pandemic, I conducted all of my interviews over Zoom or the phone, but that was enough. Hearing their stories made the project more real to me. Their tones shifted when they spoke about issues that they were passionate about. It was clear that they believed in their cause.
When I finally finished the first draft of my paper, I was excited to start on the second. I didn’t feel burnt out like I had expected. I felt refreshed. At the end of the semester, my professor encouraged us to submit our papers to Lucerna, UMKC’s interdisciplinary undergraduate research journal. A few months later, I received feedback. I reworked my paper, wrote an additional two drafts and then resubmitted it for the final deadline in May.
My paper was accepted for publication in July. Up until that point, I suffered from a serious case of imposter syndrome, especially within research. Sometimes, I still feel like I’m not qualified to speak on it. However, the writing, editing and submission process took over a year. In that time, I learned more about my own work style. I’ve become more confident in my own abilities and branched out into different interests. I know that my curiosity is valuable and, while no piece of research is above criticism or the need for updates, I’ve attempted to fill in some of the gaps.
Research can be intimidating. It’s easy to feel like you’re underqualified or that your observations don’t have merit. You don’t have to be an expert on a topic to get started, though! Caring about an issue is enough. Draw from other sources, both primary and secondary. Reach out to your professors and your peers for help. The hardest part is getting started. Even if you don’t find the answers that you’re looking for right away, you’ll still learn more about the process and be one step closer to contributing to the field.