Lessons from the Global South
Across the Global South, millions of women work in factories and warehouses, producing everything from T-shirts to electronics for global markets. While this work provides a degree of economic independence, it often comes at the cost of unsafe working conditions and pervasive gender-based violence and harassment (GBVH).
As researchers, we understand the importance of studying these issues to drive meaningful change. Yet, while engaging with grassroots organisations in India, we have been confronted with uncomfortable truths about ongoing research practices. Working with organisations deeply embedded in the fight against GBVH challenged us to confront how research often unintentionally perpetuates the inequalities it aims to address.
By sharing lessons learned from listening to the experiences of grassroots organisers and women workers, we invite the research community to join us in rethinking research practices and fostering a commitment to more ethical and collaborative approaches to studying GBVH in the Global South.
Academic timelines vs. reality: A disconnect
One grassroots organisation recounted an incident involving a researcher who, constrained by grant deadlines and teaching commitments, requested dozens of interviews with GBVH survivors within a two-week period—the best time for the researcher to conduct fieldwork. Despite having no prior relationship with the grassroots organisation or understanding the region’s complexities, the researcher initially expected the organisation to accommodate their schedule.
This shows how institutional deadlines can lead researchers to overlook the realities of the communities they study. While grassroots organisations are often happy to support research efforts, these collaborations place a significant additional burden on organisations already stretched thin by the immediate needs of their communities.
A grassroots organiser explained:
“Grassroots organisations cannot operate on external academic timelines. Our work follows the rhythm of our community’s healing. Survivors’ dignity must be respected above all else.”
Further, focussing on X number of survivor interviews carries the risk of reducing survivors to data points without sufficient consideration of survivors’ emotional readiness to talk or the potential impact on their healing processes. Some workers feel that their experiences are treated as secondary to research outputs.
An ex-garment worker and organiser noted:
“They come with their deadlines and ask for anyone who has faced harassment as if we’re running a shop of sad stories. Survivors need time to decide if they’re ready to share. Some take months; others may never want to—and that’s their right.”
Research on GBVH demands thoughtful planning that allows for flexibility, collaborations that respect the realities of those involved, and methodologies prioritising survivors’ healing above research outputs.
Survivors as counsellors: A role reversal
Another troubling account emerged from a grassroots organisation in Southern India, which described researchers seeking to study grievance mechanisms for addressing GBVH. The research lead delegated sensitive fieldwork to young research assistants yet failed to prepare them for the emotional complexities of their interviews. Survivors, many of whom were speaking about their experiences for the first time, courageously shared their trauma from gender-based violence – only to find themselves consoling distressed interviewers overwhelmed by the accounts.
One survivor recounted a particularly intense interview:
“During the interview, the young researcher started crying. I felt terrible. I had finally found the courage to share my story, but instead of feeling heard, I ended up comforting her. After that, I couldn’t tell her more. I just wanted the interview to end.”
One interviewee was left re-traumatised, leading to a mental breakdown that the grassroots organisation was left to manage alone, further straining their limited resources.
A leader from the organisation reflected:
“Researchers arrive with prestigious degrees but don’t know fundamental things—like not asking survivors to repeatedly recount their trauma, understanding some women might need breaks, or knowing how to handle emotional distress without making it about themselves.”
GBVH research carries serious risks, which are amplified when researchers are ill-prepared. Conducting sensitive interviews without proper preparation, such as trauma-informed training or crisis support, can harm interviewers and participants.
Gatekeepers and access: Power and consent
Another instance involved a journalist who contacted a grassroots organisation to request an interview with a family grieving a recent loss due to GBVH. The organisers explained that the family was too vulnerable and at risk of re-traumatisation. Despite this, the journalist showed up unannounced at the family’s home. Due to deep cultural norms of politeness towards a visitor, the family felt obligated to answer some questions, even though the visit caused significant distress.
A grassroots organiser explained:
“In our culture, turning away a guest is deeply rude. Some researchers show up unannounced, knowing families will struggle to say no. When caste and class power are added, refusing becomes almost impossible.”
In this case, family members were left inconsolable after the interview. The journalist provided no follow-up support or counselling, leaving the grassroots organisation to support the family.
While some criticise gatekeeping for limiting independent access to participants, many grassroots organisations consider it crucial for safeguarding. Gatekeepers can ensure that vulnerable groups are approached with sensitivity and respect.
Power imbalances in many research relationships intensify the relevance of gatekeepers. Researchers often come from outside the community, bringing layers of privilege and biases into vulnerable spaces. Gatekeepers also often spend significant time educating researchers on cultural sensitivities and basic protocols.
As one organisation’s leader puts it:
“Sometimes researchers come thinking they know everything because they’ve read a few academic papers. We have to carefully undo assumptions while also protecting our community from their potential mistakes. It’s exhausting work that nobody sees or values.”
While there may be times when gatekeepers act out of self-interest, a lack of understanding and respect for their role can result in harmful outcomes, particularly in vulnerable communities where cultural norms and power dynamics make it difficult to refuse engagement.
Rethinking research ethics
The grassroots organisations and survivors we spoke with emphasised the importance of research on GBVH to protect women workers —but it must be better thought out.
As an ex-garment worker, survivor of GBVH, and union leader, powerfully stated:
“Real research on gender-based violence must begin with acknowledging and dismantling these power hierarchies. Otherwise, they’re just reproducing the same systems of oppression they’re supposedly studying.”
By sharing these experiences, we hope to inspire more equitable collaborations with grassroots organisations that are respectful of their time and capacity. Survivors’ healing should be prioritised above research outputs and researchers encouraged to embrace trauma-informed, culturally sensitive practices.
By reflecting on our positionality and consciously addressing the power imbalances in our work, research can become not only more ethical but also more impactful.
This blog contains inputs from many survivors of GBVH and community organisers in India who generously shared their experiences and insights with us. To safeguard their safety and privacy, names have been omitted.
All views expressed are of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of the organisations they work for.
