Impact in Qualitative Research: Jo Law on messy, emotional and necessary ethical research with marginalised populations

 Jo Law is a Qualitative Research Assistant at The Qualitative Applied Health Research Centre at King’s College London working on the qualitative component of the EDEN project, which examines the use of ketamine to treat depression among people with anorexia nervosa. Alongside this, she is pursuing a PhD to explore how intersecting discourses of motherhood, gender and class shape the identities and wellbeing of mothers living in precarious circumstances. In this blog, she reflects on her methodological journey, the ethical tensions of researching with vulnerable populations, and on the challenge of balancing academic expectations with her commitment to participants and social justice.

This is the thing though, is that to governments and things like that, we are numbers. But when you go out of your way, which you have using your, you know, academic talents, to come to places like this... As you say, we've got our own voices, but you give us a platform to speak those voices... We're not numbers. We are, we are human beings with stories, you know?

Alicia, a young single mum from lower socio-economic background, a survivor of domestic violence, a deep thinker and self-taught artist.

The ethical challenges of research with marginalised populations

Conducting ethical research with marginalised populations is rarely straightforward. It requires careful attention to power relations throughout the entire research process because these dynamics shape all the interactions, interpretations, and ultimately, project outcomes. It also often means juggling competing demands of multiple stakeholders: expectations from academia, needs of community, pressures from funders, wellbeing of participants. As a researcher investigating the lives of low-income background mothers who attend a local community centre, I am particularly interested in how to balance a commitment to prioritising participants’ voices with the pressures of academic research practice.

Methodological choices: foregrounding power and care

In my research I needed a methodological approach that would allow me to interrogate power: Who gets heard? Who resists? Who benefits? I decided to draw on critical poststructuralist feminist psychology, because it refuses to attribute behaviours and attitudes solely to individual differences and personal choices. Instead, it highlights systemic inequalities which affect the individual experiences. It also rejects the notions of objectivity and single reality, allowing for and validating multiple truths. I borrowed from participatory and ethnographic traditions which ask researchers to create respectful, honest and accountable spaces where participants are recognised as experts of their own lives, where their knowledge and experiences matter. I found the multimethod approach most appropriate for examining complex and multidimensional issues.

Relationships at the heart of ethical practice

For me, ethical research begins with relationships, so in my study, relationship-building was a deliberate and extended process. Before inviting anyone to participate, I spent months volunteering in a local community setting, helping to cook breakfasts and engaging in day-to-day activities. This was about more than gaining access; it was about building trust, reciprocity and becoming part of a community. Over time, I also became a trustee, further demonstrating my commitment to the place. Such immersion, however, brings dilemmas. How close is too close? Was I still a researcher while chopping mushrooms, learning pastry, or discussing nights out? Am I too involved? At times I felt like a fraud, carefully managing my image, to earn trust as well as to obtain richer and more authentic data. It felt almost too transactional. Still, one by one the women chose to share their stories with me. I was no longer a complete outsider, but not quite an insider either; I occupied an uneasy in-between space. This discomfort, while challenging, proved necessary. My own vulnerability opened a pathway to authenticity, and the relationships made the research feel worthwhile, both for me and for participants.

The emotional toll and the role of reflexivity

The relational nature of this work also carried an emotional toll. Listening to painful, sometimes traumatic stories while trying to remain professional and resisting the urge to intervene, was often overwhelming. Yet, feminist scholarship treats emotional engagement not as bias but as a resource and responsibility. Acknowledging and managing these tensions became an integral part of my ethical practice. I kept a reflective diary not just as a log of events but to practise disciplined self-reflection. Reflexivity became my compass, it pushed me to remain accountable, honest, and transparent, continually questioning my positionality and assumptions to protect the dignity of participants. What should be written up? What might cause harm if shared? How can I ensure that my analysis is both fair and grounded in data, while also meeting the academic research standards? I approach reflexivity not as a one-off exercise, but as an ongoing dialogue. It positioned me as an active participant and lead to personal transformation through continual learning and unlearning.

Rethinking rigour and impact

This work also required reviewing traditional notions of rigour and quality. Conventional markers, such as objectivity, replicability, and neutrality do not capture the relational and emotional realities of qualitative research with marginalised groups. In my approach, rigour involved situating stories in their broader social context, maintaining transparency, acknowledging my subjectivity and committing to long-term engagement. It also included the use of multiple methods not just for validation, but to enrich understanding. Central to it all was an ethical commitment to participants’ empowerment. These standards are essential if qualitative research is to make a meaningful impact. The stories shared with me are not only data points; they are acts of trust that oblige me to represent participants responsibly and to contribute to social change.

Embracing the messiness

Conducting research with marginalised populations is inevitably messy. It involves compromises, contradictions and continuous negotiation between competing demands. As participants let me into their lives on the promise that their voices will be heard, the responsibility was profound. Yet, I believe that acknowledging the messiness strengthened my credibility and trustworthiness. It is important for researchers to think carefully about their choices, assumptions, and methods, because these decisions shape not only the knowledge we create but also the experiences of participants and the communities. The fragility of these relationships compels us to work with care, honesty and humility as well as passion and determination. For me, this research felt worthwhile precisely because of its messiness. Only by embracing vulnerability, practising reflexivity and remaining accountable, qualitative research can achieve real impact both within academia and in the communities which we seek to represent and support.