Navigating Field as an In-Between Researcher- Reflections from Assam's Borderlands
Manjita Devi
This article draws from the ethnographic fieldwork undertaken as a part of my doctoral research among the Muslims of char areas[i] of Assam, a community that migrated from erstwhile East Bengal during the colonial era. At the core of my doctoral research is an inquiry into how this community settled in the char areas, asserts, contests, and negotiates its belonging to Assam. In this article, I turn inward to reflect on my own insider/outsider positionality and its influence on my early field interactions. The fieldwork for my doctoral research was conducted from 2018 to 2021 in a char area referred to here as Rupali Bali char[ii] in the Dhubri district of Assam, with short periods in the city of Guwahati.
Reflecting on the question of positionality was particularly important in Assam’s context, where categories like “insider,” “outsider,” “native,” “indigenous,” and “authentic” are often contested and politically charged. For instance, in my field, while I may identify as a native insider in Assam because of my Assamese roots, I cannot claim an experience of nativeness in the char areas. On the other hand, if I consider myself a native Assamese, I wonder how to position myself in relation to the char residents who have lived in Assam for decades, identified as Assamese, have sent their children to Assamese-medium schools, and have actively promoted Assamese language. Thus, the insider/outsider dichotomy becomes problematic in my research context as it oversimplifies the dynamic identities in Assam.
My intersecting identities: a woman, a middle-class individual, and a non-Muslim, mixed ethnic identity having both Assamese and Meitei roots, among other factors, shaped my fieldwork, often resulting in contradictory outcomes. It led me to take an “in-between” researcher position. In the field, it was my mixed ethnic/biracial identity that initially placed me in an “in-between” researcher role. Since Assamese is my mother tongue, I expected to be readily aligned with it. However, I was often perceived as not fitting the typical image of an Assamese, which I presumed meant an upper-caste Hindu Assamese, as some char community members often described me as resembling someone from a tribal community. This led me to explain my Meitei Manipuri lineage through one parent. Those who viewed me as an upper-caste Assamese Hindu would withhold their personal struggles with the broader Assamese society. And, those who saw me as being a Meitei Manipuri, a member of a settler community akin to their own, were more inclined to share their experiences. Similarly, my gender identity allowed access to certain areas while restricting others. To be in tea shops by myself in the char’s marketplace, which was a common gathering spot for men to talk about politics and village issues, was difficult for me as a woman, as single women did not often visit this area. But my gender identity allowed easier access to people’s homes, where I spent considerable time doing household chores with family members, participating in communal bathing, and laundry activities with women. Within these gendered settings, conversations took place about family life, transformation of the char, and even the anxiety and experience of the National Register of Citizens (NRC) process[iii].
Intersecting Identities and Power Dynamics
One particular incident remains vivid during my initial days in the field in 2019. On a Friday afternoon, I visited the local marketplace with Tanzima Aunty’s eight-year-old nephew, my host in the char. As the char is home mostly to Muslim families, the marketplace was quiet that day. Most shops were closed for the Friday prayers, and a group of men had gathered nearby, apparently having a casual talk. I was purchasing items at one of the few open shops when a man from the group approached me, inquiring whether I was a government officer and the purpose of my visit. As more men joined, the group turned into a crowd. They continued to pose similar questions, as the men already present did not inform the new arrivals that I had already addressed these inquiries. It was understandable that they were suspicious of me, thinking that I might be a government officer with the intention of detaining their people, as the fieldwork took place during the NRC process. But repeatedly introducing myself and explaining my research to an ever-expanding group of men left me feeling flustered. I did not even notice when Tanzima Aunty’s nephew left to bring her son, who quickly dispersed the crowd. It is crucial to note that such incidents were rare and limited to the early fieldwork days; char community members soon became accustomed to my presence.
After the incident, Tanzima Aunty was concerned about my emotional state, and Shaiba, a char woman who had become a companion in the field, remarked in frustration that the situation occurred because I was a lone woman. Shaiba suggested that I should have claimed to be a government official and demanded the men’s identity documents; they would have dispersed. Her comment made me reflect on how identities like class, gender, and religion intersect and shape power dynamics between researcher and participants. While my gender identity has been overpowered in male-dominated spaces like the marketplace, Shaiba’s comment showed the class disparity between char residents and me and how class identity can sometimes overshadow gender-related power dynamics. Her joking suggestion showed how my class position and partly my ethnic identity allowed me to be perceived as a government official and question an assembly of men who are descendants of East Bengal migrant Muslims about their legal status by demanding their identification papers. This interaction took place in the context of the NRC process after the release of the initial NRC draft, when tensions for marginalised communities increased as many were not included in the list, creating an atmosphere of tension and scrutiny.
Teaching as Ethnographic Engagement
As I began teaching in the char, I again found myself inhabiting an “in-between” space that transcended conventional boundaries of gender, class, colour, and religion. My teaching journey began with evening tuition classes held just outside the room I shared with Tanzima Aunty. Seeing the eagerness of the local children, relatives and neighbours of Tanzima Aunty, who followed me everywhere, I proposed that if they were going to follow me, it would be beneficial for them to learn something along the way. I expected a small group of four or five children, but to my surprise, a determined bunch arrived with benches and desks borrowed from a nearby private school. What began as a small impromptu class on basic Assamese and English grammar quickly outgrew the space as more families reached out to Tanzima Aunty, eager to enrol their children.
Teaching in the char allowed me to have closer interactions with families, and I was able to gain more insights about the larger char community. These classes helped me understand how the char community members’ daily lives were shaped by prevailing ideas of belonging in the larger Assamese society. I observed that parents wanted to educate their children for reasons beyond economic gains. It was a way to deal with the social and political demands of proving citizenship. While this teaching role certainly helped me in my research, it also placed me in an in-between position where I was neither entirely an insider nor an outsider. In a sense, I became a facilitator of the community’s goals related to education, which was seen as both a means of gaining knowledge and a crucial component of determining one’s position in the larger social structure. Thus, this role blurred out the traditional distinctions between gender, race, religion, and class.
By paying attention to my positionality, I was able to recognise the ways in which my own background, assumptions, and social location shaped not only how I was seen in the field but also how I interpreted what I saw and heard. It pushed me to think about my own biases, the privileges I carried, and recognise the uneven power dynamics in the field. For instance, after the marketplace incident, I felt I was cornered when I was questioned. But Shaiba’s comment unsettled my initial reading as she saw me as someone who could, because of my social standing, question others. It reminded me that, despite moments of vulnerability, I could move freely and safely that many char residents did not have.
Although power dynamics in the field can never be balanced, I tried to build trust and respectful connections and take a “reciprocity-in-practice” approach, which involves engaging in collaborative work where researchers actively contribute to the lives of participants (Bernstein, 2019). Teaching revealed how education was crucial, not for future financial gains, but for helping them navigate paperwork to prove their legal status if it is contested or to become fluent in Assamese (the majority of schools in the char were Assamese-medium), so they could achieve a communicative effect and make a claim of belonging. Thus, in response to the disruptions in learning during the pandemic and limited access to online classes in government schools, I worked with local teachers and lawyers to help establish the char’s first free community library in 2022. Though the library continues to face its share of challenges, I see it as an evolving project which is slowly taking shape as a space for learning.
Bio: Manjita holds a PhD in Sociology from the Indian Institute of Technology Bombay. Her current work examines migration, labour rights, and settlement outcomes, with a particular focus on the gendered experiences of South Asian communities in the Global North.
References
Bernstein, K. A. (2019). Ethics in practice and answerability in complex, multi-participant studies. In D. S. Warriner and M. Bigelow (Eds.), Critical reflections on research methods: Power and equity in complex multilingual contexts (pp. 127-142). Multilingual Matters
Endnotes
[i] Char areas are naturally formed islands made mostly of sand and silt, that are produced by the buildup of sediment carried by water from melting ice from glaciers and the erosion of riverbanks. The Ganges and Brahmaputra rivers create the world’s largest delta through their combined silt deposition. They are quite vulnerable to erosion, which can occur gradually or abruptly and result in a significant land loss in a short time.
[ii] Pseudonyms were applied to all personal names and the specific field study location. It was necessary to protect the anonymity and confidentiality of the individuals involved in the study.
[iii] The field study took place at the same time as Assam’s National Register of Citizens (NRC) process. It was designed to identify illegal immigrants based on inherited belonging. This process, coupled with the Citizenship Amendment Act (hereafter CAA) of 2019, introduces a distinctive route to Indian citizenship for non-Muslim minorities from Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Afghanistan.