As an undergraduate, I took an Introduction to Sociology class to fulfill a requirement. Although I had an aunt who was a sociologist, I still didn’t know what that sociology meant. The book I remember reading in that class—which I still have wrapped in brown paper for protection—was a compilation of some famous social science essays. The most memorable was “Body Ritual among the Nacirema”. From that book, I also remember reading “Who Owns America? The Same Old Gang” by Maurice Zeitlin, about the concentration of wealth in the U.S. Reading these and other essays, I was fascinated that such interesting material could be part of sociology.
I think that it was in my Sociology of the Family class that I was assigned Intimate Strangers: Men and Women Together, written by sociologist and psychotherapist, Lillian Rubin. That book heightened the spark I felt in my Introduction to Sociology class. I became engrossed in reading the book, and the experience was more akin to reading a novel, rather than a book for class. I couldn’t believe how real the descriptions and conversations were! They matched many of my experiences and observations of male/female relationships perfectly. The book also provided the most compelling explanations for the problems encountered in intimate relationships that I had ever read. I found the writing and the insights profound.
Rubin’s thesis is that because males and females are socialized so differently almost from birth, by the time we are adults, our psychological outlook is vastly different, and in many respects, almost opposite. This is largely because women, in most cases, are the primary care-takers of children. Therefore, girls experience the formation of their gender identity and ego boundaries with someone of the same sex.
Imagine my excitement when a chance encounter with my Introduction to Sociology professor led to him saying that he knew Lillian Rubin! I couldn’t believe it. That anyone I was remotely connected to knew the author of this book that had so moved me, was unbelievable. (Although my father was a writer, a connection to this author felt like Professor Levine was saying he knew Michael Jackson or some other world famous celebrity.) And, he said, she would be coming to Queens College to teach soon.
Indeed, Lillian Rubin came to teach at my school and I was had the chance to meet her. I took a class with her and fell further in love with sociology. I don’t remember what grade I got for the essay I wrote in her class, but she returned it, heavily edited with suggestions and corrections. I’ll never forget that Dr. Rubin offered to review a revised version of that paper too. As she was a visiting professor, she gave me her home address and that began a relationship that continues to this day.
Reading Intimate Strangers just as I was grappling with such relationships myself made for an impactful experience, personally and professionally. Not only did the book provide me with important insights, but the research methodology it uses is one that continues to appeal to me. Rubin’s work—in Intimate Strangers and other studies, particularly Worlds of Pain: Life in the Working-Class Family – is considered exemplary of qualitative research. These works have all been very influential in my practice of sociology, that is, in the ways that I conduct sociological research. Like others, Intimate Strangers showcased Rubin’s ability to elicit profoundly personal tales from people, partly because of her skills as a psychotherapist. She was also skilled at analyzing data, and presenting it all in a most engaging manner. (It is noteworthy that Rubin is among the bestselling authors of sociology books.) Each of those are skills that drew me to becoming a sociologist—a particular kind of sociologist. I am a sociologist who tends to be interested in questions best answered by “thick description” (or a scoop of ice-cream). The research seminar I took with Dr. Rubin gave me the opportunity to learn from a master about qualitative methodology, and I built on those skills in graduate school and subsequent research.
Reading Intimate Strangers and then meeting the author provided me with clarity about who I could be professionally. I was already a psychology major, so I identified with the therapist career that Dr. Rubin was also pursuing. Until then, I didn’t have a clear sense of how my clinical interests could be paired with and even enhance my sociological interests. Before reading Intimate Strangers, although I was excited about the discipline of sociology, I didn’t know on what areas in the field I wanted to focus; marriage and family issues continue to drive my professional interest today. And I had given little thought to questions of research methodology. This experience continues to shape my professional identity and path; I wish you a journey that is at least as exciting.