Queer theory and qualitative methods: an unlikely marriage?
What are the core arguments of queer theory? How do we use queer theory for qualitative studies? Find out in our post.
This is our latest post on political paradigms for qualitative research, this time covering queer theory. It's a broad and easily misunderstood field, and it's one I have a personal stake in as a queer theorist myself - so I'm hoping to shed some light on it, while also reflecting on what queer theory means to me.
Similarly to our article on post qualitative inquiry, it would be disingenuous to prescriptively tell you how to apply queer theory to qualitative research. Ultimately, this post's goal isn't to say there is one 'correct' way to use queer theory in qualitative research, but to highlight what the field currently looks like from my subjective perspective, and show the avenues available for taking a queerer approach to research.
Queer theory is a very broad topic, so to help with navigating this post, I have listed the topics we will cover:
- Definition of queer theory
- Distinction between queer theory and LGBTQ+ studies
- Queer methodologies for qualitative research, including:
- Queer positionality and reflexivity
- Queer sampling and data collection methods
- Queer creative research methods
- Queer participatory research
- Queer autoethnography
- Queer research ethics
- Criticisms of queer theory and research
What does 'queer' mean?
Originally, 'queer' was a derogatory slur towards people outside of the heterosexual norm. Today, many people have reclaimed that slur as an identity label. For most purposes, a person who identifies as 'queer' is consciously breaking with the sexual/gender norms established by cisheteronormativity, and casting aside labels that may more strictly define their experiences of sex and gender (Weise 2022).
The 'queer' in queer theory is also a philosophical concept, which describes that which broadly exists beyond the established norm: that which is 'strange', 'different', or 'Other'. It often exists beyond binaries (like the false binary between 'men' and 'women'). It is intentionally broad because what's considered 'normal' is also not set in stone, and depends on culture and context (Levy and Johnson 2012). It's sometimes a verb - to 'queer' something is to consciously interpret it in a nonnormative way. So if we are 'queering norms', we're trying to identify what is arbitrary, subjective, or contradictory about them.
What is the difference between queer theory and LGBTQ+ studies?
LGBTQ+ studies is research about people who fall under the LGBTQ+ umbrella; that is, they are transgender, they are not heterosexual, or both. (The name of this research, like the name of the community, is often up for debate - you may also have seen LGBT+ studies, LGBTQIA+ studies, and so on. I find none of these terms feel entirely complete or inclusive either as a community or a research area, which may not necessarily be a problem in and of itself, but it's worth pointing out.) This includes people who identify with the term 'queer', often because other labels such as 'gay', 'lesbian', 'bisexual', or 'transgender', do not completely encapsulate their experience. ('Queer' is sometimes the Q in LGBTQ+, sometimes the 'Q' stands for anyone who is Questioning their gender/sexuality, and sometimes it's both.)
Queer theory stems from the writings, philosophies and experiences of LGBTQ+ and queer people, but it aims to be a framework that can analyse and critique all of society. Some research in LGBTQ+ studies uses queer theory, and some does not. Unlike many LGBTQ+ studies, queer theory is skeptical of conducting research simply based on a shared identity (Shelton 2022). To queer theorists, identity-based theories risk arbitrarily drawing lines between people who may be experiencing similar kinds of social ostracism or control. Queer theory suggests our concept of identity is a flimsy container for much more indistinct and fluid lived experiences. As a result, all the labels we use to understand ourselves and others are questionable and inexact. This allows queer theory to get to the root of all the social norms which attempt to organise and categorise identity and existence.
Queer theory posits that our identities are performative and fluid. In other words, many identity categories are arbitrary, and only marked by subjective descriptions and behaviours. Our actions are what cause us to be recognised as a particular identity, rather than us being innately that identity. For example, behaviours deemed 'masculine' or 'manly' may differ significantly depending on the culture or context. Queer theory builds on Foucault, who argued that our current descriptors for sexuality (including 'homosexuality'), only a few hundred years old, were created to exact greater social control over sexual expressions and identities (Weise 2022). By 'creating' homosexuality and deeming it an illness, it became unacceptable and out of step with the heterosexual norm.
The two social norms most commonly discussed by queer theory focus on sexuality and gender, and are usually referred to as heteronormativity and cisnormativity. Sometimes researchers use the term 'cisheteronormativity' because these norms are often enforced at the same time, and this is the term I will use for most of this blog post. Basically, these are the gender roles and sexual norms which drive societal expectations: for people to behave and present as an unambiguous and 'expected' gender for their entire life, and to navigate romantic and sexual relationships and families in a 'typical' way. In many cultures the societal expectation is a monogamous relationship between a man and a woman, which typically results in marriage and having children.
These norms go unquestioned because a lot of cultural work has been done to make them appear 'self-explanatory' or 'essential' - as though this arrangement is an inevitable biological imperative. But as a result, people who don't meet these expectations are cast out of the norm as being 'queer', as the term was used in the original, derogatory sense (Das 2020). To queer theorists, cisheteronormativity casts many people out into a state of 'queerness' - and not just LGBTQ+ people. Sometimes a straight, cisgender person may experience oppression in a similar way to a queer person, if their gender or sexuality is still perceived to be 'deviant' or 'abnormal' in relation to the social norm. This can frequently occur as a result of racism or misogyny, in addition to the more 'expected' homophobia or transphobia (Haritaworn 2008).
Cisheteronormativity is not a monolith, and there are other sexual and gender norms upheld even within queer and LGBTQ+ communities. For example, many queer theorists critique LGBTQ+ assimilationism or 'homonormativity' (Browne and Nash 2016). This is where, rather than trying to liberate everyone from sexual norms, LGBTQ+ liberation movements focus only on becoming accepted or 'assimilated' into existing institutions, such as same-gender (and/or same-sex) marriage, or a transgender person having a passport (or indeed marriage certificate!) which matches their gender.
Pragmatically, these rights are a useful barometer for LGBTQ+ acceptance and safety in a given country or culture. But if they are the exclusive focus for activism, this risks leaving the logic of cisheteronormativity unchallenged, by affording importance to the 'officiality' or 'normalisation' of relationships and/or gender identity. In turn, we risk not questioning why being 'normal' is something we actually want to achieve, why a certificate makes certain partnerships more 'valid' than others, or why the state even needs to know your gender (McDonald 2017). Queer theory is interested in the liberating potential of being undefinable and undisciplinable by the standard societal bounds - of not capitulating to the social order but daring to imagine something else beyond it.
I came to queer theory after working in LGBTQ+ studies (specifically transgender studies), as a cultural researcher exploring representations of pregnant men in fiction. I found in many cases that cultural representations were simply too complex to study only in terms of their relationship to a specific identity label, and that these labels were also fluid and difficult to pin down. It felt difficult if not impossible to conclude what cultural representations of male pregnancy said about 'the transgender experience' (or even the cultural perception of being transgender) as a whole, and queer theory would also be hesitant to assume there is a definitive transgender experience to begin with. I found that the cultural figure of the pregnant man gestured towards a variety of queer experiences beyond cisheteronormativity. It also highlighted overlapping experiences between pregnant people of all genders, where medical institutions socially control and surveil them due to the perceived sanctity of the embryo they are carrying.
When I first began my research I wondered whether the 'accuracy' of representation of pregnant men mattered (e.g. fictional pregnant men are often featured in science fiction stories, and not perceived as a possibility in reality). But even the most inaccurate and fantastical stories had a lot of interesting things to say about broader gender politics around parenthood, and the erasure of all people who exist beyond cisheteronormativity.
On a broad scale, I found that it was difficult to rewrite the dominant narratives of cisheteronormativity using just the research in LGBTQ+ studies. It sometimes felt like the lines between different identities were too arbitrarily drawn, when the realities were often much messier. Queerly reading texts also opened up the possibility to explore the ways in which a broad range of cultural norms – even beyond gender and sexual norms – attempt to reinforce themselves, and yet undo themselves in these very attempts.
Queer methodologies for qualitative research
Pairing 'queer theory' and 'methodology' may seem difficult. Queer theory emerged primarily as a humanities-based approach, with a focus on textual, cultural analysis (Browne and Nash 2016). Queer theory focuses on the subjectivity and indeterminacy of all language and concepts, and the impossibility of perfectly categorising or dividing lived experiences into coherent labels. Method and methodology attempts to systematise and logically justify a given approach to research. So creating a 'queer methodology' may seem like an oxymoron. But queer philosophy asks us to step into the contradictions of life and avoid foreclosing what's 'impossible' or 'illogical', and this includes queer methodologies themselves (Ghaziani and Brim 2020).
So with this in mind, can queer theory fit into more conventional qualitative research methodologies such as interviews, focus groups or surveys? Post qualitative and humanities-based queer scholars might say 'no', because generating queer philosophy and textual analysis is, itself, substantial research (Ghaziani and Brim 2020). Some social scientists may find queer theory too politically vague and distanced from material realities to be of use for practical activism (Rooke 2016). But as someone whose research crosses the bounds between humanities and social sciences, I think these debates uphold a false binary, which isn't very queer. I found my perspective often changed the most dramatically across research projects where I combined deep textual analysis with methods which allowed me to go and talk to people. So it is definitely possible to have both, and to pair both with a queer perspective, and I think this has real radical potential.
Queer theory is becoming more and more popular in social science, particularly when the approach is qualitative. Many researchers already view qualitative approaches as the 'queer' methodology, compared to quantitative data that risks oversimplifying, and creating binaries and categories where none exist (Fish and Russell 2018). LGBTQ+ and queer people have been harmed significantly as a result of positivistic science which has objectified and medicalised their existence (Betts and Herb 2025). Queer quantitative approaches are beyond the scope of this blog post, but needless to say the qualitative/quantitative divide is also binaristic, and is critiqued by queer methodologists (Ghaziani and Brim 2020). Queer qualitative research can redress this balance and function as an emancipatory or liberatory methodology which creates positive social change, particularly by granting participants greater agency and voice in the research process (Asakura et al 2020; Betts and Herb 2025).
Defining what a queer methodology 'is' or 'is not' feels poorly in keeping with queer theory as a whole. Instead, what follows is a list of threads that could potentially lead to (but not guarantee) a queer methodology.
Queer positionality and reflexivity
Queer methods bring subjectivity to the forefront and try to undo the oppression caused by 'objective' science. They foreground that the researcher is part of a social exchange and that knowledge and identity is being negotiated in real time in the research context. The researcher can't attempt to set their view of the subject in stone by performing a position of 'objectivity' or detachment. Haritaworn (2008) suggests:
Emancipatory methodologies treat knowledge as negotiated between researchers, subjects and epistemic communities[...] This means that researchers should treat our relationships with our topics and subjects as interesting sources of data in themselves.
So queer methodology tends to involve critical reflection on one's position in research, and the power relations assumed by the researcher's position. For more on reflexivity, see our post below:
Daniel Turner
Queer sampling, and finding participants
For queer methodologies, there are several key qualitative sampling issues to consider. Firstly, there is a question of who to include. If identity is arbitrary anyway, how can you select a population to sample? Who are you erasing or silencing as a result of your sampling method? Acknowledging the incompleteness of your sample may be one way to take a queer approach, but another might be to pay attention to the intersectional nuances of your sample, and avoid homogenising their responses into a generalised group majority based upon a shared identity (Vincent 2018). Analysing points of tension, discontinuity and disagreement that stem from differing experiences may be the most helpful in differentiating your sampling as 'queer', as opposed to conventional.
There are also the practical concerns of queer sampling: while queer theory is intended to be wide-reaching, queer studies will still frequently focus on gender and sexuality. This can make sampling more difficult due to the perceived sensitivity of the topics - some people may not wish to answer questions about these topics, especially if they are LGBTQ+/queer but not 'out' (McCormack 2014). Some have suggested using online methods such as web surveys as a way to enable greater participation, although it is by no means a perfect solution and it can still result in samples that skew towards white and middle-class participants (e.g. Cerezo and Renteria 2021).
Generally, queer approaches are 'scavenger' approaches, and this often emerges in the practical considerations of how to find participants and select data for analysis (Halberstam 1998, cited in Ghaziani and Brim 2020). Due to the sensitivity of many of the subjects associated with queer studies, as well as continued prevalent homophobia and transphobia, it's common to encounter issues with gatekeepers and problems with recruiting and engaging communities in research that specifically advertises itself as 'queer' (O'Malley et al 2018). Based on the setbacks of a given project, a more fluid approach to data collection may then become necessary, in which the purpose of the research might in fact need to be concealed, or analysis of existing sources might need to be marshalled instead of collecting new data (Levy and Johnson 2012; Dadas 2016; O'Malley et al 2018).
Often, qualitative research comes up against critiques of its sampling: to do a deep qualitative study often requires very small and 'non-representative' samples. But queer methodologies pair well with this, asking the researcher to do away with the positivistic impulse towards a perfectly unbiased, representative sample, as though such a thing exists, consciously acknowledging where compromises are made and research becomes 'messier'.
Queering the mode of data collection: creative methods
Research can become more 'queer' or fluid through the usage of creative or nonstandard methods. If participants are comfortable sharing their creative voice, this can help to express particular experiences in more affective ways than language alone - e.g. ways that are emotional and beyond representative language (Asakura et al 2020). Some examples might be dance, music, collage, and creative writing (Shelton 2022b). As a result, research can become more "[playful]", able to counter more conventional research in which only a certain type of expression and experience - typically verbal, language-based - is prioritised (Shelton 2022b).
I encountered many examples of queer creative methods while researching for this blog post. Karcher and Caldwell (2014) choreographed a visual arts and dance performance which expressed the bodily dimension of transgender experience and deconstructed the ways in which transgender bodies are considered 'ill' or 'sick' under cisnormativity. Asakura et al (2020) conducted a creative participatory action study, providing artistic mentorship to trans young people to help them produce and publicly exhibit art that reflected the complexity of their experiences and countered simplistic mainstream narratives. In both these studies, creative methods gave a stronger voice to participants, allowed for the expression of queer experiences beyond verbal comprehension, and aided in the dissemination of qualitative research to the wider public.
Queering the researcher/participant binary: participatory research and autoethnography
A queer methodology may embrace ways to acknowledge and challenge the typical power dynamic between the researcher and the participant - in which participants are objectified as their lives are being 'extracted' for the researcher's data (Nelson 2020). According to queer theory, the boundaries between 'researcher' and 'participant' are arbitrary anyway (Shelton 2022b), so they can be challenged by making concrete methodological changes in how they are approached.
If participants can also be researchers, this can help to queer the research power dynamic and acknowledge their expertise in their own "lives and experiences" (Wagaman et al 2018). Participatory methods can reduce the typical research power dynamic in which a researcher speaks on behalf of their participants, and participants lose their voice in the process. The more agency participants have over the research design, data collection, analysis and writing up, the more power they have over the study's direction and conclusions. Participatory Action Research (PAR) goes further in pairing research with direct social action (Asakura et al 2020). This is a more formalised approach, but many studies draw from PAR even if they are not strictly a PAR study. A participatory approach generally requires a more fluid, organic and queer approach to research design: many aspects of the research methodology cannot be decided rigidly in advance as they will be discussed and shaped by participant input while the study is ongoing (Vincent 2018). Arguably this is the case for any collaborative research process, but it's an additional, queerer step to consciously relinquish control over the narrative and process of your own study.
Another way to reduce this power dynamic is to draw on your own experiences as a source of data. Autoethnography is research which records and analyses the researcher's own experiences (Shelton 2022a). It is a queer deconstruction of the positivistic striving towards objectivity, by instead foregrounding your own subjectivity in the research process. Holman Jones and Adams (2016) argue that autoethnography is a queer method because it embeds itself in the complexities of life and resists the call to generalise individual findings (which would contribute to the broader construction of arbitrary fixed identities).
However, I would argue that at present, only certain types of autobiography get to 'become' autoethnography. It is often the domain of researchers who are embedded in academia and able to benefit from its privileges. This leads to claims that it is "narcissistic, self-indulgent", and not as liberatory as it could be (Adams and Holman Jones 2011). If we expand the bounds of what counts as autoethnography (for example, including creative works by artists, everyday journal entries), perhaps this could be remedied to some extent. But I don't really have an answer that feels 'satisfying' for this problem. And perhaps this is the point - that autoethnography, like post qualitative research, refuses easy answers and objective solutions. But I think it's still a way to start asking questions about who gets a voice in research.
Queering research ethics
Since queer research pays extra attention to the power dynamics and assumptions of the research process, queer qualitative methodologies will pay particular attention to the ethical implications of these dynamics. From an institutional perspective, queer research may be perceived as 'higher risk' as it is more likely to delve into intimate details of gender and sexuality – and so require especially careful handling and rigorous adherence to existing methodological frameworks (McCormack 2014). New, queerer methodologies with a more 'scavenger' approach to sampling or data collection may therefore be viewed with suspicion by institutions (McCormack 2014). There are also the ethical implications of doing research which is institutionally funded in the first place, for both researchers and participants (Pearce 2020). There is a certain "neoliberal logic" applied when extracting data from participants' experiences, especially traumatic experiences (Pearce 2020). That is, the care and sensitivity required for voicing these experiences may be harmed by the tight timeframes and positivistic impulses of the present-day neoliberal university, which may demand that researchers oversimplify or rush their analysis (Pearce 2020).
There are additional ethical pressures on researchers, which can only be explored when we queerly acknowledge researcher vulnerability instead of casting them as impersonal, objective observers. Firstly there are the emotional implications of secondary trauma, when a researcher is traumatised as a result of listening to other people's traumatic experiences (Pearce 2020). There is also the emotional labour often required on the researcher's part, when they are viewed as either a peer or an expert on their topic who may be able to give good advice to a participant (Nelson 2020). This – arguably a problem for all socially conscious and radical research – can be quite unpredictable, but implies far greater responsibility for participants than might be anticipated in ethical guidelines, at least if those guidelines are still constructing the researcher as substantially 'separate' and emotionally distanced from their participants.
The political contentiousness of queer research can also be a safety risk for researchers, since they may encounter participants who object to their queer identity or research topic. While there is never an easy way to resolve these problems, Rogers (2021) noted that after experiences in fieldwork which felt invalidating and unsafe (interviewing conservatives who were combative about the validity of queer/LGBTQ+ identity), they sought out research experiences that were more pleasurable and restorative (attending drag king shows as part of their research). Paying attention to your own feelings and consciously building in research experiences that feel 'lower stakes', could be one way to queer your ethical approach to research – acknowledging that you as the researcher can still be vulnerable and subjective.
I have personal experience of this as I encountered my own queer vulnerability while conducting my own research projects. While researching LGBTQ+ representation in culture I struggled with an imperative to cover experiences of pain, disempowerment, homophobia and transphobia, as opposed to joy, recovery, or survival. It was easy for agency and hope to be left at the door, while I grappled with the complexities of power and the rather disheartening limits on who actually had a voice in the cultural landscape. In the survey research I conducted, people entrusted me with their written accounts and trusted me not to misrepresent them (though a concrete and perfect representation didn't really exist), while in my literary and cultural research, I felt very much like an interloper, pulling apart independently published works that were never intended to be so heavily scrutinised or pulled up as an example of dominant cultural narratives. I also dealt with the typical emotional toll of researching bigotry, particularly when it felt relevant to my own identity.
These ethical concerns arguably run throughout the whole of qualitative research, but can be concentrated in frameworks concentrated on particular identities. When paired with the pressures and priorities of the neoliberal academy (which may quite significantly differ from your own research aims!), this isn't conducive to researcher wellbeing or even survival (see also Pearce 2020). All of these issues directed my own movement towards queer theoretical work, beyond the limits of LGBTQ+ studies. Looking queerly askance, pursuing alternate means of continuing research, may be one means of researcher survival, of finding another way to resist the dominant norms and narratives that respects the personal risks of conducting this kind of research.
Criticisms of queer theory and queer methodologies
Is queer theory too white? Too middle-class? Not radical enough?
The strongest critique against queer theory is both its vagueness, and its lack of cultural specificity. Queer theory originates primarily from a "Global North" context, but some theorists try to apply it unquestioningly to contexts beyond this, without any attention to the cultural nuance and specifics (Browne and Nash 2016, Das 2020). 'Queer' as a term may risk smoothing over cultural differences by positioning all gender and sexual identities as transgressing against a very specifically white Western cisheteronormativity.
Arguably this practice contributes to homonationalism, where LGBTQ+ rights are granted in colonising countries as a strategy to bolster that country's identity as 'modern and tolerant' in spite of (or even as a way to justify) the colonial violence on which the nation is built (Puar 2007, cited in Sykes 2014). The question of who actually gets to access radical queerness or queer identity is a practical issue that often seems to lie beyond queer theorising.
I also think that queer theory is limited because it's currently situated primarily in academia. Academia is an exclusive environment where only certain perspectives get upheld and certain texts are elevated above others as worthy of analysis. So emerges a 'canonical' queer theory made up of people who have the privileges to be in academia – who are often overwhelmingly white and middle-class (Cuklanz and Erol 2020).
Many also feel that queer theory discards identity in a manner more utopian than realistic. We don't currently live in a 'post-gender' or 'post-sexuality' world. Some suggest that identity categories remain useful for political organisation, despite the desires of queer theory to do away with them entirely (McDonald 2017). Identity-based approaches like LGBTQ+ studies remain important in terms of understanding the nuances of identity as it stands today, and avoiding the conflation between identity and radical philosophy, which can once again lead to homogenising people of a particular identity. For example, researchers in transgender studies point out that transgender identity is incredibly varied, fluid and contingent on an individual's personal experience - but queer theory risks homogenising what it means to be transgender if it claims that being transgender is automatically an ideal transgression of the gender binary (Browne and Nash 2016).
I don't think there is an easy solution to any of these problems. But I do think that a lot of it shows that queer theory isn't enough on its own, and in fact I remain skeptical that a queer theory isolated from other political theories can even exist. Its fluidity is its greatest strength but it also means it frequently crosses over into other theoretical/political/philosophical frameworks. It is up to the researcher to consider whether those engagements are conscious, or simply reestablishing other, unquestioned norms (as with the example of homonationalism above). These intersections are crucial for critically nuanced inquiry. A conscious engagement with intersectionality and what one of my lecturers once fittingly described as 'academic promiscuity' – refusing to box yourself into just queer theory, but instead reading curiously across all the theory you encounter – could be a way to begin addressing these critiques.
Queering the quality and certainty of research findings?
Queer research frequently faces claims that it lacks the rigour of more formalised methodologies. When many researchers are "reluctant to define queer" itself, it can perhaps seem easy to argue that queer theory is just slacking off from 'good research practice', shrugging at the unknowability of the world instead of doing anything about it (Weise 2022). But ultimately, I think queer theory suggests that it is a disservice to reduce the complex topics we study to easy conclusions. Our research subjects are often themselves too fluid to approach from a standardised, 'methodologically sound' perspective. It is necessary to look at 'standard' tools for research from new angles, deconstructing what they're for and what they could potentially do to overturn our current imagining of the world (Ghaziani and Brim 2020). This doesn't mean that research is pointless – quite the opposite. It's just an honest perspective on what research should do; that is, drawing from Halberstam (2011), it should fail. I believe we should strive to fail at getting to the bottom of a topic over and over again, because that will mean we never stop looking for new understandings or seeking nuance.
Conclusions
My suggestions for queer qualitative methods may seem vague, but queer theory is so broadly applicable because it is about questioning the very terms of identity and meaning. It's tremendously ambitious as a project and that is both its greatest flaw and its greatest strength.
If you are looking for more blog posts about theoretical frameworks for qualitative research, check out our previous posts on feminism, post qualitative research and critical and Marxist theory.
If you are looking to queer your approach to your next qualitative analysis project, you might be interested in our simple, fluid qualitative tool, Quirkos. Rather than funneling your analysis into an easy and quantifiable set of findings, we provide flexible tools and an unstructured coding canvas to help you get a nuanced and complex sense of your data, without discarding the usefulness of coding/highlighting and having all your sources in one place. If that sounds helpful to you, there's a free 14-day trial which you can try in your browser or on your desktop!
Bibliography
Adams, T. E., & Holman Jones, S. (2011). Telling Stories: Reflexivity, Queer Theory, and Autoethnography. Cultural Studies ↔ Critical Methodologies, 11(2), 108–116. https://doi.org/10.1177/1532708611401329
Asakura, K., Lundy, J., Black, D., & Tierney, C. (2020). Art as a transformative practice: A participatory action research project with trans* youth. Qualitative Social Work, 19(5–6), 1061–1077. https://doi.org/10.1177/1473325019881226
Betts, D., & Herb, A. (2025). Queer theory and social work research. In M. Alston, P. Buykx, W. Foote, & D. Betts (Eds.), Handbook of Research Methods in Social Work (pp. 107–117). Edward Elgar Publishing. https://doi.org/10.4337/9781035310173.00018
Browne, K., & Nash, C. J. (Eds.). (2016). Queer methods and methodologies: Intersecting queer theories and social science research. Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315603223
Cerezo, A., & Renteria, R. (2021). Queering Psychology Research Methods. In K. L. Nadal & M. R. Scharrón-del Río (Eds.), Queer Psychology (pp. 139–157). Springer International Publishing. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-74146-4_8
Cuklanz, L., & Erol, A. (2020). Queer Theory and Feminist Methods: A Review. Investigaciones Feministas, 11(2), 211–220. https://doi.org/10.5209/infe.66476
Dadas, C. (2016). Messy Methods: Queer Methodological Approaches to Researching Social Media. Computers and Composition, 40, 60–72. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.compcom.2016.03.007
Das, S. (2020). Queer Methodologies and Social Science. In N. A. Naples (Ed.), Companion to Sexuality Studies (1st ed., pp. 95–121). Wiley. https://doi.org/10.1002/9781119315049.ch6
Fish, J. N., & Russell, S. T. (2018). Queering Methodologies to Understand Queer Families. Family Relations, 67(1), 12–25. https://doi.org/10.1111/fare.12297
Ghaziani, A., & Brim, M. (2020). Queer Methods: Four Provocations for an Emerging Field. In A. Ghaziani & M. Brim (Eds.), Imagining Queer Methods (pp. 3–27). New York University Press. https://doi.org/10.18574/nyu/9781479808557.003.
Halberstam, J. (1998). Female Masculinity. Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.1215/9781478002703
Halberstam, J. (2011) The Queer Art of Failure. Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822394358
Haritaworn, J. (2008). Shifting Positionalities: Empirical Reflections on a Queer/Trans of Colour Methodology. Sociological Research Online, 13(1), 162–173. https://doi.org/10.5153/sro.1631
Holman Jones, S., & Adams, T. E. (2016). Autoethnography is a Queer Method. In Queer Methods and Methodologies (1st ed., pp. 195–214). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315603223-13
Karcher, O. P., & Caldwell, C. (2014). Turning data into dance: Performing and presenting research on oppression and the body. The Arts in Psychotherapy, 41(5), 478–483. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.aip.2014.09.001
Levy, D. L., & Johnson, C. W. (2012). What does the Q mean? Including queer voices in qualitative research. Qualitative Social Work, 11(2), 130–140. https://doi.org/10.1177/1473325011400485
McCormack, M. (2014). Innovative sampling and participant recruitment in sexuality research. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 31(4), 475–481. https://doi.org/10.1177/0265407514522889
McDonald, J. (2017). Queering methodologies and organizational research: Disrupting, critiquing, and exploring. Qualitative Research in Organizations and Management: An International Journal, 12(2), 130–148. https://doi.org/10.1108/QROM-06-2016-1388
Nelson, R. (2020). Questioning identities/shifting identities: The impact of researching sex and gender on a researcher’s LGBT+ identity. Qualitative Research, 20(6), 910–926. https://doi.org/10.1177/1468794120914522
O’Malley, M. P., Asher, N., Beck, B. L., Capper, C. A., Lugg, C. A., Murphy, J. P., & Whitlock, R. U. (2018). Asking queer(er) questions: Epistemological and methodological implications for qualitative inquirers. International Journal of Qualitative Studies in Education, 31(7), 572–594. https://doi.org/10.1080/09518398.2018.1455996
Pearce, R. (2020). A Methodology for the Marginalised: Surviving Oppression and Traumatic Fieldwork in the Neoliberal Academy. Sociology, 54(4), 806–824. https://doi.org/10.1177/0038038520904918
Puar, J. K. (2007). Terrorist Assemblages: Homonationalism in Queer Times. Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822390442
Rogers, B. A. (2021). Researching while queer: A research note about a genderqueer lesbian conducting qualitative research in the southeastern United States. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 24(1), 31–37. https://doi.org/10.1080/13645579.2020.1760551
Rooke, A. (2016). Queer in the Field. In Queer Methods and Methodologies (1st ed., pp. 25–40). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315603223-2
Strunk, K. K., & Shelton, S. A. (Eds.). (2022). Encyclopedia of queer studies in education. Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004506725
—Shelton, S. A. (2021a). Queer Ethnography. In Encyclopedia of Queer Studies in Education (pp. 513–517). Brill. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004506725_101
—Shelton, S. A. (2021b). Queer Qualitative Research. In Encyclopedia of Queer Studies in Education (pp. 551–555). BRILL. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004506725_108
—Weise, J. A. (2021). Queer. In Encyclopedia of Queer Studies in Education (pp. 484–489). BRILL. https://doi.org/10.1163/9789004506725_095
Sykes, H. (2014). Un-settling sex: Researcher self-reflexivity, queer theory and settler colonial studies. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 6(4), 583–595. https://doi.org/10.1080/2159676X.2014.893899
Vincent, B. W. (2018). Studying trans: Recommendations for ethical recruitment and collaboration with transgender participants in academic research. Psychology & Sexuality, 9(2), 102–116. https://doi.org/10.1080/19419899.2018.1434558
Wagaman, M. A., Obejero, R. C., & Gregory, J. S. (2018). Countering the Norm, (Re)authoring Our Lives: The Promise Counterstorytelling Holds as a Research Methodology With LGBTQ Youth and Beyond. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, 17(1), 1609406918800646. https://doi.org/10.1177/1609406918800646