Life as an Extreme Sport

A is for Audi, Advertising Assault

...and everything else

I was traveling last night, which means over lunch today I’m doing the typical “watch all the Super Bowl commercials I missed” thing, and I of course sought out the popular ones first. One of the commercials I saw being referred to in tweets over the course of the night was the “sweet” Audi commercial, about a boy going to prom alone and kissing the prom queen anyhow. Okay, a sort of John Hughes premise to the whole commercial – I figured it would be some sort of kitschy montage of friendship, shyness, etc, ending in a sweet prom moment.

Instead, I got what reads as assault:

I’d certainly be interested in hearing how other people are reading this – I suppose it’s possible that in hanging around feminist communities, weird things have happened to my brain. But this commercial reads as a stranger – the solitary “geeky” young man – walking up to a woman he doesn’t know but longs for and sexually assaulting her. His punishment for this isn’t the prom queen shoving him off, but instead the prom king punching him – which certainly reads as “man defending property” rather than “hey asshole, don’t randomly kiss women without their permission.”

More than that, though, this Audi commercial – aside from the blatant assault – perpetuates this notion that the “nice” geek guy can “get the prom queen,” because her reaction is one of dreamy contentment at being grabbed and kissed without warning by someone she apparently doesn’t know, rather than horror, shock, or repulsion.I’m tempted to go all lit crit on the symbolism behind the outfits being worn by the geek guy and prom king, as well. Instead, the “nice guy” gets what he wants – the girl, who, again, is treated as property through the entire commercial – by being “brave,” thus also reinforcing the Nice Guy trope that girls only dig “bad boys.” You know, like the bad boy who’d grab a girl and kiss her without permission (implicitly or explicitly given).

Shame on Audi for conflating bravery with sexual assault, and then attempting to use it to sell cars.

The Difference Between Citizen and DIY Science

...and everything else, Bioethics, Philosophy, Politics

As some folks know, I’m leading a discussion this afternoon on citizen/DIY science and research ethics, with my co-moderator, Dr. Judy Stone. One of the things that Judy and I have been talking about lately is whether or not there’s really a concern with ethical research in citizen science, or if the concern is with DIY science, a related yet independent concept. A very informal poll via Twitter showed that people certainly agree with me that there is a difference between citizen science and DIY science, and that difference seems to be whether or not there is any institutional involvement. The citizen science initiatives that I’m familiar withNote: I am willing to concede I am not familiar with them all, and would love to hear if you know of a genuine citizen science model that is not at all affiliated with any institution. are all tied to institutional or university funding and support, at least in some ways. Cornell’s Great Backyard Bird Count is a fantastic example of a crowd-sourced citizen science initiative, but there is institutional oversight to insure that anything done is ethical. Judy also makes a good note that most citizen science projects appear to be natural science related, where there is less need for ethical oversight as a whole. This, however, ties into my primary concern, which is that the research being done that would require ethical oversight is being done in the DIY science sphere, whether that’s human or animal (or even biological) research. And because of this institutional oversight, the ethical issues that are there are differentIn particular, the question of who owns research and access to data is an interesting one, but even that can be somewhat easily dismissed by any forms of consent participants sign. than the ones that inhabit the DIY science community.

Now, quite obviously, the idea that an institution is involved doesn’t mean there will be proper ethical oversight – all together now, Markingson! – but at least there are procedures in place, and if a scientist does want to initiate a citizen science project, there are review boards that will likely need to be involved. It’s when you get into DIY science that the question of regulated, ethical research following necessary minimum guidelines come into play. What happens when scientists – with degrees or otherwise – start doing research outside the scope of institutional review boards, medical ethical committees or institutional animal care and use committees? While there is a long history of researchers experimenting on themselves, there is an equally long history of vulnerable groups being taken advantaged of without proper ethical oversight. How does this history and experience dovetail with DIY scientists and researchers who are not a part of this narrative history, and may not have the experience – or ethical self-regulation – to know where to draw a line in the proverbial sand? While there are standards for traditional medical research – still too frequently violated – how are they, or should they, be applied to DIY science research?

And unfortunately, those doing DIY science, like the biohackers, as a general rule seem to fall under the “but we’re all doing good” naiveté that doesn’t see the dual threat of DIY science: that of a malicious agent, and that of a project with good intent but bad result. As was pointed out to me the other night, computer hackers didn’t initially start out with malicious intent, but these days, most folks equate hackers (rather than crackers) with malware and malice. I see no reason that an open-source biohacking movement wouldn’t also devolve into the same malware and malice we know is possible, if not actually plausible.And bio-malware should terrify people much, much more than computer malware. There are a lot of horror novels around this idea. My favorite is probably from Richard Preston (yes, the non-fiction author), which talks about a guy making a new and horrible disease from moth pox, in his bathroom. Preston clearly worked from the DIY Science community, even back in the 90s when he wrote this, and the fears are just getting more realized, not less.

While it’s easy to default to OMG HORROR MOVIE scenarios when talking about the life sciences, there are more practical concerns about the lack of connection to expected ethical oversights: when publishing on human or animal research, you do need to provide documentation on your appropriate ethical clearances, and many publications require a statement about ethical oversight as well as following the Declaration of Helsinki. Without having this, open source and DIY science projects are finding that, regardless of the strength of their data and research, they are unable to be published because they don’t have this sign-off on ethical approval.To make those of you who know your IRBs, there’s been discussion among some of the DIY science people to set up a DIY-IRB. I’m pretty sure my face looked like I sucked a lemon when I heard this,…

Of course, the most frustrating thing about discussing the lack of genealogy and narrative history with those who are interested in practicing and pursuing science outside of institutional oversight is that inevitably, the question of “what is the answer” comes up, and there is no answer, at least not yet. The cat is out of the bag, and anyone with a cat knows it’s just about impossible to shove back in – so, given that, what do we do? How do we address the issues of ethics outside institutional oversight? Whatever we do, ignoring it until we’re forced to because of government intrusion seems like a bad idea, but that’s about all I’ve got.

So how about you? What do you think? Hopefully some of you reading this will join me and Judy this afternoon, as well as continue the discussion beyond. Today, we’ll be using the hashtags #SciO13 and #ethics for the talk, and hopefully the conversation will continue on after – so please join us, and join in.

My Science Story: Narrative and Science, Thoughts on a SciO13 Session

...and everything else

Sitting in the back of a room at Science Online, listening to David Manly and Jeanne GarbarinoWho, by the way, tells an awesome mucus plug story. talk about narrative in science writing, and I find myself disagreeing with just about everything being said here (which is funny, because Scott Huler is disagreeing with everything, too, and yet I disagree with him almost as much as them – I’m just contrarian across the board this morning).

The emphasis – or at least consensus, by the end of the session – is that it’s okay for a scientist to use first-person narrative so long as they don’t let themselves take over the story. Which, and I suppose that this is coming from a humanities background, is a weird thing to hear. It’s like the writing version of the Observer’s Paradox – a notion that “you” can be separate from “story.” And maybe this is where medicine actually comes out ahead (for once), because there is already the idea that narrative matters and that the doctor isn’t separate from the story they are telling.Which, should note, doesn’t mean all doctors believe this. However, doctors who write,…

Why does this matter? Well, some people will argue outreach and accessibility, but honestly? I think it’s because first person narrative humanizes the subject via the author. I’ve had some experience with this, both with the experience of my mother’s cancer and death, and with my own recent cancer scare, and the feedback I’ve receivedAnd I should note that these series typically generated more comments than anything else I’ve ever written, save perhaps when I pissed off the University of Washington pharmacy school, and department,…and most of the pharmacists in Washington state. has almost always been along the line of making it real. Science and medical writing is often very dry and removed, not only from the author but the reader. When the author connects to the story and personalizes it via narrative, the reader has the chance to engage with the author on a personal and human level, which then allows for a different (and at least in my opinion, more genuine) connection to the science within the story.

And there are science writers who excel at this sort of thing. I think Deborah Blum is one of our contemporary success stories, in that she makes chemistry really interesting, and she does so through narrative both personal and otherwise. Her stories of musing about the best way to poison someone over a meal with her husband, and his reaction, makes an immediate connection and draws interest.Or at least it does for me, since I’ve been known to have similar conversations (with just about anyone who will listen, not just my partner).

If you’re not writing a memoir, you do have to be careful to not let “I” overshadow the story that you’re writing. But this doesn’t mean that the “I” should be removed completely, only that you-the-author needs to understand the point of utilizing first person narrative; what’s the goal as you write that story? Are you trying for connection? Are you hoping to personalize a difficult concept? Are you trying to illustrate why something is important? Are you connecting the audience to your story via your found enthusiasm for a topic?

Just like any other literary device, the choice to use first person narrative should actually be a choice designed to enhance your story – be it hard science story or otherwise. In fact, I’d argue that the authorial voice itself is a choice, whether you’re choosing third, first, or even second person narration to get that idea across. And as such, and due to the inherent strength and weakness of each, it should be a conscious choice, regardless of which voice is chosen.

Dropping Expectations for an Unconference

...and everything else

There’s been a bit going around, where people muse on their expectations or hopes for the Science Online conference happening Raleigh at the end of this week. I’ve been thinking that I should do that – join the conversation, at the very least, and I’ve kept hitting against the wall of Don’t Know.

I really don’t know what to expect this week, because not only have I never been to Science Online, I’ve never been to an unconference-style conference. Which in itself is interesting, since I’m leading one of the sessions. (Look for musings on that later on tonight.) For now, I’m approaching that more like I would a classroom-based discussion, and hoping my teaching and improv skills aren’t so rusty that I’ll fall completely on my face. (Falling on my ass is acceptable.)

I suppose I should be nervous. My propensity for jumping into conversations can be useful on Twitter – it is, after all, how I got sucked into this whole thing to begin with – but it also leads me into talking with people who, if I stopped and thought about it for a minute, I would probably be at least slightly intimidated to talk to. (Typically by the time that part of my brain catches up to the rest of me, I just sort of ruefully shrug and go “oh,…yeah? Oh well.”)

I’m finding I’m not, though. I’m looking forward to meeting the folks I chitchat with through the day, join in eye-rolling at bad science, talk to about journalism and biology and science and writing and all those things. I’m hoping to take the chance to do some decent networking (something I actually tend suck at), and dip my toes further into the freelance waters, or at least get a better idea of how to. (Ideally I’d just eat Ed Yong‘s brain and gather the information that way – well, maybe; I’d have to confirm his age and eating habits to consider nvCJD risk – but culturally that’s frowned upon. Plus I think Ed’s still using it.)

It helps, too, that there’s something of a party atmosphere to this that I’ve not associated with most conferences I end up at; the liquid nitrogen OMG SCIENCE IS AWESOME beer floats on tap (er..canister?) for Thursday night caught my eye, and of course, lemurs. I get to go see lemurs. I’m seriously going to Kristen-Bell-meets-sloth a lemur.

I guess, then, my expectations are pretty simple: meet some people I know in another sense; squeak at some lemurs; have beer; and take my brain out for a walk, spending a couple of days having conversations about things I love to talk about. Anything beyond that will be serendipity—or at the very least, a pleasant surprise.

Does How We Lose Our Virginity Shape Our Entire Sex Life? In a Word, No.

...and everything else, Bioethics

This morning’s sensationalist headlines are claiming that new research, published in the Journal of Sex & Marital Therapy, says that how we lose our virginity will shape our entire sex life.

For more than one of us, I’m sure, that’s the kind of headline that makes eyebrows climb and perhaps a slight whispered “oh, god, no.” And certainly, statements that the authors are making about this study seem to indicate that there’s reason to worry:

“While this study doesn’t prove that a better first time makes for a better sex life in general, a person’s experience of losing their virginity may set the pattern for years to come,” said author Matthew Shaffer, who suggested that thought and behavior patterns may be formed the first time we have sex and then guide future experiences.Taken from Lindsay Abrams’ coverage inThe Atlantic.

Shudder. But, in her coverage, Lindsay Abrams’ notes that there is one massive flaw in this study: none of the participants had been having sex all that long, and all of them were between the ages of 18-22. And, in fact, that’s enough of a flaw that I went and dug up the rest of the study, to see just how accurate the notion that first sexual experiences do actually influence our future sex life, happiness, pleasure, and so forth.

The good news is, the study is so fundamentally flawed no one should do more than roll eyes at it, and sigh as you watch Jezebel and other pop culture sites cover the study results while sending up some sort of Lena Dunham-esqueHat tip to Lindsay for the cultural reference. My age appears to be catching up to me. panic flare.

Let’s take a look at the numerous issues in this study. First (and more than one person would argue foremost), the sampling size is horrible: all participants were undergraduates recruited from psychology courses at the school, who were offered both extra course credit for participation and entered into a raffle to win gift cards. For better or worse, students do self-select themselves into courses based on interests, personality types, etc – a lack of hard scientists, for example, may have significantly skewed the data presented, as I’m sure did the promise of extra credit and financial reward. Likewise, the final numbers (206 women and 113 men) may have been more balanced had there been more effort at reaching a more balanced study population.

But balance is off here in more than one way: all study participants were required to have had their first sexual experience (“losing their virginity”) be a heterosexual experience. Was your first time with a same-sex partner? Are you bisexual? Any non-heterosexual students need not apply – apparently how your sex lives are shaped is too complicated.

And oh, hey, were you raped?

Hate to break it to you, but that’s an automatic disqualification from the study – even though all of the headlines you’re going to see about this are going to imply that the fact you were raped is going to irrevocably and forever shape your sex life.

So once the researchers had their voluntary, heterosexual, 18-22-year-old students for this study, where the median length of sexual activity was 2.27 years, the researchers then asked the students to self-report their sexual habits and experiences… for the following two weeks.

Oh. OH. So, you’re going to extrapolate from heterosexual college students who have been sexually active for, on average, slightly more than two years, and then make assumptions about the sexual lives of everyone? For the rest of their entire lives? Based on two weeks?

Well, apparently the researchers behind this study think that’s a perfectly reasonable study goal. Me? I’d like to talk to the editors for the Journal of Sex & Marital Therapy. We need to talk about study design and worthwhile results to publish. I’m pretty sure we need to start with the fact that when a paper discussion says

this study focused on the role this milestone event may [emphasis mine] play in future sexuality

or asserts that the two-year experience of ethnically homogenous, heterosexual college kids is representative of the entire span of human sexuality, forever, the appropriate response is not “accept,” but something between “revise and resubmit” and “reject.”