Using a Narrative Metaphor: Implications for Theory and Clinical Practice
Abstract
The evolution of family therapy from a cybernetic metaphor to a narrative metaphor has led us to think differently about therapy, about clients, and about ourselves as therapists. In this article we pursue how this different way of thinking has informed a theoretical understanding of a narrative therapy approach and consequently has opened space for different ways of working clinically. We begin by tracing the evolution to narrative; we consider the implications of social constructionism and its political effects; and we complete the discussion by focusing on narrative theory. We then show how the clinical work follows logically and is coherent with the theoretical considerations. We describe, and illustrate with clinical examples, an innovative approach to working with couples and families with adolescents. In this work we pay attention to the larger cultural stories, including gender constructions, and to personal stories that persons have created to make meaning out of their experience as they interact with one another in a reciprocal meaning-making process. Interventions focus on externalizing the problem narrative that is influencing the client(s), mapping the effects of the problem pattern and/or the totalizing view persons might have of others, and creating space for client(s) to notice preferred actions and intentions. Finally, we close the loop by asking questions of ourselves and others about the effects of working from a narrative metaphor.
Recently, family therapists have shown a significant interest in situating the work of therapy in a narrative metaphor. In therapy, a narrative approach helps clients move from being influenced by problem-dominated stories to more preferred stories. Constructions that have been suggested in this metaphor range from a focus on story and conversation in general (Anderson & Goolishian, 1988; Goolishian & Anderson, 1992) to generating specific kinds of questions in order to create a reauthoring context (Epston & White, 1992; White & Epston, 1990). While not situated in a narrative metaphor, de Shazer's (1988, 1993) work has some similarities to it because it is non-pathologizing and focuses on possibilities that already exist in the client's experience.
While many family therapists have situated their work in a postmodern framework (Hoffman, 1991; Kvale, 1993; Lax, 1992; Lowe, 1991; McNamee & Gergen, 1992), some have leaned more heavily on construc tiv ist perspectives — seeing all constructions and techniques as being equally useful in accomplishing one's goals. (See Sluzki, 1992, for an excellent summary of this.) Others have adopted a social construc tio nist perspective, bringing current social constructions about gender, the self, normative attitudes, race, pathology, and so on, into the therapy room, so that clients can notice the effects of these privileged constructions (White & Epston, 1990).
The purpose of this article is to look at the evolution toward narrative in the family therapy field, to develop the narrative metaphor using social constructionism, and then to demonstrate some innovative possibilities in using a narrative approach to working with couples and families with adolescents.
History of the Present1
Throughout the first few years of family therapy, the dominant trend was cybernetic theory (Bateson, 1972). At the time, this was a revolutionary step that involved several important theoretical and clinical shifts including (1) a shift from linear to circular causality, (2) a focus on relationship or feedback loops between individuals instead of within them, and (3) therapists taking responsibility for developing interventions to interrupt symptom-supporting/causing patterns instead of the traditional “working-through” process. Some family therapy models within this metaphor involved specifying truths about families, some specified functional connections between families and problems, and others merely stated the necessity of change, along with what therapists had to do for change to happen.
In the early to mid-1980s, a new perspective was introduced that alerted therapists to the idea that perhaps all they had was a perspective. Many began to situate their work in a second-order cybernetics (Hoffman, 1985). It could be argued that this was the cybernetics Bateson intended all along, but particularly so in his later work (1979). Three implications of a second-order approach have current importance: (1) a clearer understanding of the implications of the cybernetic metaphor, namely, a shift away from any kind of causality or positive explanation toward negative explanation and a theory of restraints (Bateson, 1972, 1979; Dickerson & Zimmerman, 1992; Gergen & Kaye, 1992; White, 1986a,b; Zimmerman & Dickerson, in press); (2) the shift from privileging the therapist's experience, based on the therapist's point of view (called theory), to acknowledging the client's experience, based on her or his point of view as equally privileged (if not more so) — which takes into account the feedback loop between the therapist and the client(s); and (3) the appreciation that what one has are useful metaphors (for example, a cybernetic metaphor) and not competing versions of the truth (that is, theories). Every metaphor presents different implications for how change is to occur.
Evolution to Narrative
Using a narrative metaphor allows for an understanding similar to a theory of restraints, with some clear differences. In a narrative metaphor, people are seen as organizing their experience in the form of stories (Bruner, 1990). Clearly, any one story cannot capture the range of people's experience; therefore, there are always experiences that lie outside, do not fit or make sense of any given story. Like restraints, then, stories become a context in which certain information or experiences fit but others do not. With restraints, interventions are directed toward highlighting information outside the restraint, either by focusing on this information or loosening the restraint — for example, by externalizing it (White, 1988/1989). In a narrative metaphor, the therapist looks for experiences that are not currently being storied, which do not fit into the dominant (problem) narrative. Questions can be asked that invite clients to develop an alternative story around these experiences. It is not the specific experience but, rather, its potential meaningfulness to the alternative story that is important.
There are some distinct advantages to a narrative metaphor. First, narratives evolve through time and are fluid. Since people's lives progress in much the same way, a metaphor that captures this phenomenon seems more useful than one that is somewhat static (although Bateson's description of “recursive” patterns does capture a fluid process better than “circular” does). The focus here is on effects instead of causes. Second, instead of a cybernetic metaphor that relies on information as a primary variable, a narrative metaphor uses experience as a primary variable. Experience is within the domain of living systems and had already been acknowledged as more primary in second-order cybernetics. Narrative also seems to capture the life experience of therapists working in the metaphor more than cybernetics does. One effect of this is the shift from people's relationships as the object of therapy to their stories about their relationships as the object of therapy. Third, the implication that experience is larger than the problem-filled stories suggests a new role for the therapist. By inviting clients to make meaning out of other aspects of their experience, the therapist creates a context of change or restorying in a manner whereby the clients themselves become the ones to intervene in the problem. Hoffman (1985) and White (White & Epston, 1990) both suggest this change. In other words, people can notice that they have already experienced participating in an alternative story if the therapy context is constructed to elicit these experiences.
Social Constructionism and Political Effects
Cultural stories determine the dimensions that organize people's experience. These narratives about what is canonical provide a backdrop against which experiences are interpreted. Cultural stories are not neutral (Bruner, 1990). They lead to constructions of a normative view, generally reflecting the dominant culture's specifications, from which people know themselves and against which people compare themselves. Along with White (1991), we believe that it is important, perhaps even responsible, to bring forth the effects of these constructions to help clients decide if they lead to preferred outcomes. Construc tiv ist approaches seem to lead to an attitude of pure utility — not a new argument (Keeney & Sprenkle, 1982) — and inadvertently have the effect of supporting the political status quo. Therefore, contrary to Minuchin's (1991) general comments, narrative work, as White (1991) suggests, allows the therapist to bring cultural and political realities into the room and to open space for marginalized perspectives.
As an example of how the family therapy field has moved in the direction of considering the effects of cultural and political constructions, one can review the recent literature on the effects of gender constructions and issues of women and power (for example, Goodrich, 1991). Bringing forth these effects can play a major role in work with couples and adolescents, which we will describe below. In general, by bringing forth multiple points of view, as opposed to a normative or expert view, clients can decide how and where they would like to situate their lives, based on their preferred values and intentions. Clearly, the way these points of view are constructed and expressed is subject to conventional and marginalized cultural discourse. Indeed, a construc tion ist approach to narrative forms suggests that they, too, are culturally constructed in a way that specifies their common organizational aspects, and thus are a way of understanding the relationship between oneself and one's interpersonal world.
Narrative Theory
Personal narratives are also not neutral. They are usually told from the position of the self as narrator, with the self as protagonist. Given the conventional narrative form, it is not surprising that stories usually take the form of persons taking some actions, in some sequence, to reach certain goals in a particular manner. When stories are constructed, a backward search occurs and memories pop out in the form of small stories, memories that support the dominant story (and thus the actions being taken) in the present. Narratives are often created by people seeking to make meaning out of deviations from what the culture (or their experience) considers normal or ordinary (Bruner, 1990). Since people usually experience their own intentions as good, then their narratives account for or justify their behaviors as the only ones possible, given any mitigating circumstances that might have forced deviations from the norm. We believe a person might experience some bad intentions, such as a desire to hurt another, but this experience would exist alongside a wish not to feel that way, along with a statement that it does not fit into their system of values and intentions.
A consequence of the storying process is the meaning-making about the others involved. Since one experiences one's own intentions as good, then the problem is seen as the other's actions and what one assumes are the intentions behind them. That is, people tend to explain to themselves what the other is doing by interpreting the other's intentions. The other's actions (and assumed intentions) then become the mitigating circumstances that justify one's own actions, despite knowing that one's own actions do not necessarily fit what is culturally or personally acceptable. Given that “the other” is also engaged in a process of creating meaning, making interpretations, and responding on the basis of this process, one can see the evolution of reciprocal problem stories (or nonproblem stories). These stories people construct evolve in and are unique to the social and cultural, relational context in which they are constructed. For example, the interactional process between a person and his or her spouse can create/support different stories than do interactions between that person and a friend.
An exception to the usual situation of self as narrator occurs in situations of extreme subjugation (for example, abuse) where persons can be recruited into giving up their position as a primary voice and begin telling the story completely from the perpetrator's perspective (Bruner, 1990). On a larger level, entire groups of people could have their story about themselves completely overtaken by a more dominant group story about them. Foucault (1979) might argue that, to some extent, all people have been influenced by the dominant culture's ideas about how to be persons through a process he called subjectification. (See White and Epston, 1990, and Zimmerman and Dickerson, in press, for further discussions of this process.) Gender politics can be viewed in this light as well, particularly with regard to women's relationships to men and to the culture. Perhaps, as Carol Gilligan (Brown & Gilligan, 1992; Gilligan, 1990) puts it, women have lost their voice: others narrate their stories for them in a manner more suited to the other's experience. This idea has particular application to working with adolescent girls who are experiencing a critical transition in their lives. Some clinical applications will be discussed below.
Other narratives can be seen as overspecialized Bruner (1990). These are narratives that are overly defined, too detailed and narrow, and very indicative and developed. In these narratives, distrust replaces interpretation. When overspecialized narratives are offered as possibilities for others to live by, they may seem self-serving and be rejected. In the case of adolescents, when developmental transitions involve the teenager's (and parents') moving from parental stories for teenagers to teenagers narrating their own stories, then the availability of only overspecialized narratives might have the effect of teenagers rejecting these narratives completely. Teenagers might then develop narratives that support entirely different understandings — that is, doing only things teenagers seem to do and not anything defined by the parent's narrative. The clinical implications of these narrative possibilities will also be addressed below in the discussion of work with couples and families.
NARRATIVE APPROACHES
For Couples
In previous descriptions of our work, we used concepts of restraints and of narrative as situating metaphors for our work with couples (Zimmerman & Dickerson, 1993a,b). Restraints of feedback describe reciprocal interactional patterns that affect a couple's relationship, while narrative can describe problem stories (similar to Michael White's work) that are supported by these interactional patterns. In our current thinking, we extend the narrative metaphor to a reciprocal meaning-making process that couples engage in as they interact with each other. Some short vignettes will be used to make certain distinctions and to illustrate the narrative theory discussed in the preceding section.
Vignettes
Couple 1: A couple states that they have reached an impasse: a pattern of mutual defensiveness and a great deal of pain. They wonder if the relationship will be lost. The wife struggled for years to make the relationship work, and now she experiences a chronic sense of invalidation. The husband experiences pervasive feelings of inadequacy. Both the sense of invalidation and the feelings of inadequacy are similar to family-of-origin experiences.
Couple 2: The wife in a couple complains that her husband gives her little support or time. The husband complains that his wife is frequently angry and is constantly criticizing him. An effect of this pattern is the promotion of a distant relationship.
Couple 3: A couple enters therapy at the suggestion of the woman's psychiatrist, who had been treating her for chronic depression. One effect of the depression is that it gets her to do what she calls a “distance thing”— whereby she pushes her husband away in an angry manner. Lack of entitlement seems to prevent her from voicing her needs. Her husband experiences lack of self-confidence in responding to her when the depression attacks her. This lack of self-confidence leads to his asserting a greater than usual knowing attitude or to feeling incompetent and pulling away. The effect of this problem is to create a cold and distant relationship.
The Clinical Work
How is a narrative metaphor helpful in conceptualizing and constructing these problems? How can it orient the therapist in understanding and appreciating the meaning each person is making about his or her experience with the other, and the effects this meaning-making is having on his or her reaction to the other? How can it help the therapist understand how a problem pattern might create meaning and affect the kinds of stories people are constructing (from their experience) about the other? We would suggest that persons justify their behavior as the only one possible, given certain mitigating circumstances. Said in another way, people interpret or make sense of the circumstances of their lives in ways that take into account their own good intentions. The effect is to put them in a favorable light. Another's behavior, one's own personal stories, and/or cultural stories, are all “mitigating circumstances” in that, in each case, persons justify their behavior based on the meaning they are attributing to these circumstances.
Initially, in couple's therapy (and family therapy in general), the mitigating circumstances are the responses of the other person. In later sessions, we might pay attention more to the mitigating circumstances that are each person's own personal stories. For Couple 1, the husband and wife believe that their only option is to defend themselves, given that each believes the other is attacking. In this case, defending oneself is justified given the mitigating circumstance of an experience of being attacked. A further experience is the wife's history of giving herself up for the husband and the relationship. These experiences influence the couple to see the relationship only as painful and not working. For Couple 2, the husband sees no option but to restrict his time; nor does he feel like being supportive, given his wife's constant criticizing. The wife does not like being angry and critical all the time, but she does not see any other possibility, given the frustration she experiences with her husband. In these examples, each person justifies his or her response as the only one possible given the mitigating circumstances (that is, their experience of the behavior of the other); this experience forced them to deviate from what they think is the norm. Each would like to be different, but they do not think it is possible unless the circumstance (in this case, the other) changes.
The different way each couple presents influences the therapist and the sequence of questioning the therapist chooses. As a first step, it seems useful to separate couples from whatever totalizing view is predominately influencing them before mapping out the effects of this view. Couple 1 presents with a totalizing view of their relationship (and also of the other), so, for them, a pain-dominated relationship is externalized and its effects on the couple's relationship are discussed. The effects on each person are then considered so that each can see that the problem is supported by their habitual responses (attacking/defending). Couple 2 presents more of a story about the other, that is, complaints of lack of support and constant criticism. In this case, the effects of what the other is doing is first mapped out: lack of support/time invites anger/criticism, and vice versa. The effects of this pattern on each person and then the effects on the relationship are considered. The result for this couple is a problem plot, distance, which captures them and is supported by a pattern of lack of support/time and anger/criticism. For couple 3, depression becomes the mitigating circumstance that affects the action of the other. Since this couple presents with a problem separate from the relationship, it can readily be seen that depression is the problem to be externalized, with its effects on the persons and then on the relationship brought forth.
In the therapy room, mitigating circumstances are often presented by each member of the couple in the form of small stories that illustrate or offer an example of the point being made. This presentation is in common narrative form: some actions/in some sequence/toward some goal/in some manner. For example, the husband in Couple 2 offered stories in which his wife would harass him in situations where he was innocently (his experience) participating in their life. These stories would be organized with a beginning, which set the scene, followed by an action in a sequence in which she would initiate a series of “attacks” and he would end up feeling devalued, thus justifying his withdrawal. What he had also gathered from this experience was some belief about her goals and intentions: in this case, to put him down or hurt him. Her version of the story provided the actions, sequence of events, and so on, that were an example of the mitigating circumstances she experienced that forced her to respond to him the way she did. She, too, has gathered some belief, based on her story, about his goals and intentions: that he is uninterested in her needs because he feels that his were more important. Given the logic of the narratives both are constructing, they have made assumptions about the intentions of the other. Each person's view of the other's intentions is an inevitable consequence of the problem and the storying (meaning-making) around it. When this view of the other's intentions becomes influential, the effect on communication is destructive.
Whatever the problem (distant relationship, lack of support, or criticism), externalizing the view that the problem provides about the intentions of the other can allow for a turning point in the couple's ability to solve its own problems. In Couple 3, for example, one effect of the husband showing a knowing attitude is to invite depression for the wife. The depression tells her that he will never allow her point of view to be possible, even though he stated he was just arguing his side and that he was interested in her side. When the wife could anticipate depression's predictable attacks on her and be prepared for what the depression would tell her about his intentions, she was able to let him know that the effect of his behavior was hurtful (she realized he didn't intend the hurtfulness). Not feeling personally attacked, he could better hear what she was saying. Together they were then able to escape attacks of the problem.
Gender stories often offer their view of the intentions of the other. Men might experience a greater entitlement to their point of view and thus might be quick to believe that their spouse's responses reflect an intention to be cruel, not understanding, demanding, and so on, particularly when the wife seems to care for herself and not for him. Women might experience less entitlement and thus see their husband's response as a confirmation that he is unwilling to make space for their point of view, or give up their point of view and believe what they believe their husbands to believe — that they are uncaring. These cultural stories are also mitigating circumstances that influence the problems affecting Couple 3.
It is important to emphasize that the stories we refer to both shape the interactional context and are shaped by it. Instead of, as therapists, privileging either what exists in people's heads or what exists in the interaction, we privilege the meaning system that affects and is affected by both —“story” is one way of talking about this. All stories (meaning systems) help create and then are influenced by meanings evolving in cultural, interpersonal, and personal contexts (Weingarten, 1991). Some stories, constructed to account for the behavior of the other, are primarily encouraged by the interactional process, and personal stories may have little effect. At other times, personal stories (see Couple 1) are invited by the interactional process and do affect the kinds of stories each member of the couple constructs. The narrative metaphor is thus in contrast to other metaphors that assume that what is viewed in the other is always or often a consequence of unresolved personal issues and early family experiences.
Personal stories might influence both spouses in ways that would support a view of the malintent of their significant other. In Couple 1, lack of validation affected the wife for some time, and encouraged her to believe that her husband did or did not do things because he did not appreciate all the efforts she had made. The husband, hounded by feelings of inadequacy for as long as he can remember, is encouraged by these feelings to hear the wife's concerns as attacks on his competencies as a human being. As time goes on and the pain-dominated relationship teams up with these personal stories to create even more negative views of the other spouse's intentions: the responses each makes look more and more as if they are coming from a negative set of intentions. This is in sharp contrast to both spouses' personal experience that they are responding to the mitigating circumstances in the only way they see possible, given what the other is doing and what they imagine the other's intentions to be. They generally prefer not to act this way, and prefer not to hurt the other. However, as times goes on, both spouses' stories become more different in their view of what is happening and why, and the stories begin to become more separate. How ironic this is when, generally, each spouse's experience had become very similar even though the stories had different plot lines. Lack of validation and feelings of inadequacy are descriptions of different aspects within the same “landscape of consciousness”— feeling rejected and devalued by the other person. Nevertheless, if persons are constituted by the stories they live by, then one's spouse is inadvertently participating in supporting a story about the other that the spouse does not intend to support, despite one's belief that this is exactly what the spouse intends.
One final comment about gender, story, and intention. Given specifications for success and competency, and the injunction to take charge in order to achieve it, men are vulnerable to developing personal stories of failure in life. When they believe their spouse is out to hurt them, they first protect themselves (withdraw) and eventually defend their position and attack. If their personal story of adequacy/competency is not strong, the attack often is. Women are encouraged to find success in their ability to have a relationship, usually seeing their personal development within that context. Some women have been recruited into a personal story in which they doubt the validity of any of their perceptions, or trivialize their own wishes. If a relationship is not working, they tend to operate more on themselves by giving up more of their to story to the man's story. They expect relatedness of some kind in return. If they begin to believe the man does not wish this or that his intentions are to discount their efforts, they will increase their efforts to strengthen the relationship thinking that their personal needs can be met only, or primarily, in this way.
For Families with Adolescents
In a previous article (Dickerson & Zimmerman, 1992), we discussed adolescents as living lives that were “not completely storied,” using a Batesonian metaphor of restraints and focusing on the difficulties families have in making the distinction between what parents want for their youngsters and what young persons might want for themselves. More recently, we conceptualized the time of adolescence as one in which young people are living stories in which they are the protagonist but another (parent or teacher) is the narrator (Dickerson & Zimmerman, 1993). Stories that constitute adolescents' lives are at first other's stories for them. From the young person's point of view, the story might be experienced as overspecialized and/or subjugating, in that another has strong ideas about how the adolescent ought to be. Not yet narrating his or her own story, the adolescent's story then seems incomplete, only an outline, missing a great deal of detail.
In the section on couples, we discussed how mitigating circumstances often were the other person's responses or one's own personal stories. For adolescents, the parents' story for them (perhaps the culture's story for them as well) becomes the mitigating circumstance that adolescents use to justify their current behaviors as the only ones possible. In the adolescents' efforts to become both narrator and protagonist (like most adults), their choices are affected by the parents' stand in relation to the story they have for their teenage children. When the parental story for their children is highly specific, adolescents believe they have no other choice but to orient themselves in a different direction, even if part of the parents' story for them has some appeal.
The small stories these young persons tell to illustrate their dilemma often contain a juxtaposition of their parents' story for them and their own story for themselves. For example, a 15-year-old, “unmotivated” boy says, “I came out after practicing my drumming for several hours to show my parents what I had worked out; they only wanted to know if I had done my homework.” Or a 13-year-old girl, described by her parents as having a “lack of courtesy” and “no desire to be self-reliant,” says, “I'm out there having fun, spending time with my friends, helping them, and doing what I want. Why should I be future-oriented now?”
In general, each party (parent/teenager) presents with a totalizing view of the other (for parents, that their teenage sons/daughters do not care or are uninterested; for teenagers, that their parents are interested only in their “being responsible”). In addition, there is a totalizing view of the story the parents seem to have for the adolescents' future (from the teenagers' perspectives that they should be focusing only on pursuing future goals) and a totalizing view of the story the teenagers seem to be developing for themselves and their future (from the parents' perspective, that the teenagers are wasting their time).
Starting with the example of the 15-year-old boy, one might begin by externalizing aspects of the view of the other (for example, he is lazy and they are pushing him, and then wonder what these problems say about the stories the parents and the teenager have for the future. For example (to the teenager), “What does laziness tell you about the kind of plans your parents have for you? What does it say about your own plans?” In addition, there can be questions about the idea of plans: “What does pushing tell you about your son's intentions to have plans?”“What does laziness tell you about why your parents are pushing you?”
The 13-year-old girl described above called her reaction to adult responses resistance. Had resistance told her that it was the only way to get what she wanted? Did it allow her to stop and think about what she wanted? To the parents: “How does this resistance fit into your picture about what a young woman her age should be up to?” This question clearly brings in the culture's story as well as the parents' story.
When working with adolescent boys, the therapist can ask the parents questions that bring forth the stories they might have for their son, with the intent of separating them from whatever problem story they might be telling, as well as noticing its relationship to the storying process in which the young person is engaged. In turn, questions can be asked of the son to help him notice his own preferences and desires, separate from the story the parents might have for him. Often, the parents' story seems overspecialized, detailing the incidents of their son's life in terms of their expectations. In addition, they focus on the “problem” that stands in the way of accomplishing their future goals for their son. When the son, being affected by the problem story and by the overspecialization of the future story, rejects their story completely, the totalizing view the parents have for him tell them that he is “giving up his life,”“not caring,”“argumentative,”“stubborn,”“rebellious,” (future evidence of the problem story). A reciprocal pattern often occurs in which the assumed “giving up” or “rebelling” by the son invites continued “pushing” and “demands” by the parents, increasing the overspecialization of the future narrative and leaving little room for the son to notice his own desires and preferences. Each justifies his or her response by pointing to what the other is doing, and, given the other's story for the future (the parents' “hard work” story for the adolescent, and the adolescent's “rock-and-roll” story for himself), no other response seems possible. Having little authorship in the story, the son may continue to fight back or give up, rather than take on any of the authoring process.
Using externalizing language, separating both parents and son from the problem story, and bringing forth future stories each believes the other has for them, often has the effect of deconstructing both stories and leaving room for other experiences, which have not, up until this time, fit. Concurrently, the son is asked to consider his own ideas and goals for himself as a person, calling forth his desires and preferences and inviting him to become actively involved in narrating his own preferred story. For the son, the process often invites a reflexive process of thinking about oneself that may have been less attended to in the past. In fact, one author (VCD) often externalizes a “nonthinking lifestyle” for adolescent boys as a way of helping them separate from this less preferred activity and connect with a more thinking, mature, grown-up, and (much to the parent's surprise) more preferred lifestyle, leading to a self-authoring.
The work with adolescent girls involves attention to a first step, prior to self-authoring, perhaps a pre-authoring. Carol Gilligan's (1982) appreciation of “voice” for women and her discussions with adolescent girls (Brown & Gilligan, 1992; Gilligan, 1990; Gilligan, Lyons, & Hanmer, 1990; Gilligan, Rogers, & Tolman, 1991) have suggested that adolescent girls are “losing their voice” or coming to “not know what they know.” This loss of voice has implications for the therapist working with families with adolescent girls in that, before these girls can begin to narrate their own stories, they must first “know what they know” in order to understand that they can even have a story.
Gilligan's discussion of loss of voice for adolescent girls points to the subjugation of women by the canonical discourse for women in a patriarchal society. By extension, we might suggest that all stories for young women are subjugating, including parents' stories, in that parents might inadvertently cooperate with the prevalent patriarchal discourse. The implications are that parents would see their daughters as needing to respond in more acceptable, “feminine” ways. These then become dominant stories about girls that are constitutive, inviting them to respond in ways for which they see no other options.
In working with families with adolescent girls, the therapist needs to attend to bringing forth for young girls the “knowing they can know,” while appreciating the parents' concern for their daughter's possibly not “fitting” society's ideas about how and who she should be. Parents might experience their daughter's behavior in a way that they would call “defiance” or “resistance” (see previous example), which for the daughter might be the only way she sees of having a voice.
A narrative approach could focus on deconstructing the societal discourse about women in general, as well as the parental discourse about this particular young woman who is their daughter. This must happen simultaneously, with an ear attuned to the young girl's voice. It is an engaging observation that the parents of young boys will often complain about “rebelliousness” on the part of their son, which might later come to be seen as a “standing up for himself”; whereas, for the young girl, the parents might call her behaviors “defiance,” and continue to complain about her “not backing down.” The question becomes: How might a young woman “stand up for herself” when doing so is counter to societal discourse? Further: How then might a young woman become the narrator of her own story?
CONCLUSION
This article was written so as to explore our own evolution from the theoretical and clinical roots in family therapy toward more current innovations. It was not written to invite groups of therapists who situate their work in different metaphors to debate which approach is “better.” The evolution to postmodernism in contemporary society has invited a conservative backlash about the “truth”; we see this as an inevitable part of the process of change. Our preferred metaphor is evolution, an image that implies not rejection of the past but an understanding of how it has positively shaped and currently contributes to the present and the future. As our work has evolved, some of it has become very different from previous work, some looks similar, and some of it has elements of the past used in a new way. We wrote this article to describe our evolutionary path (we left many gaps) and to consider some of the effects of our movement. We hold onto what we have done before that has had preferred effects, sometimes using it in new and more preferred ways. What has negative effects, we try to grapple with and address in a way that is consistent and coherent with our current thinking.
What are some of these effects? You might consider how the clinical work we presented could have been thought of differently from the viewpoint of cybernetics or a cybernetic metaphor, as opposed to a narrative metaphor. For example, with Couple 2, we might have, in the past, mapped out the pattern of lack of support and constant criticism, seeing it from the perspective of a systemic hypothesis, that each member's behavior was symptomatic of a family-of-origin problem and/or was serving a function for the system. These ideas support “system-determined problem” thinking (Anderson & Goolishian, 1988). A narrative metaphor would include the notion of pattern but extend it by looking at the meaning each member made of the other's response, and to the effects of that response on them and on the relationship. Eron and Lund (1993) have in part made a similar shift, which, instead of focusing entirely on problem-maintaining interactions, also considers the narratives that have developed and that affect these interactions, although their interventions still seem to come from a strategic position. What about other metaphors? What has been retained, or not? What about your own work? What would be the effects of considering the implications of a narrative metaphor and social constructionism on how you think and what you do? As your thinking evolves, what might be similar or different from before?
When we consider some effects in the work we presented, we see that each person's story makes sense; in fact, it is inevitable in the context in which it evolved. These stories also have some limiting effects for person's lives; they are not irrelevant to the interactional process. By following the implications of these stories in conversations, more space seems to be created for clients to notice other possibilities for themselves and about their significant others. The therapist has to work less hard to create noticeable differences when they can create more space for the client to notice difference. Another effect is the richness of the experiences brought forth, descriptions full of affect and of images; the narratives of people's lives are not rote responses to questions reflecting the therapist's theoretical constructions. We think about what clients' experiences might be when their stories are solicited, instead of considered (and perhaps trivialized) as evidence of some problem. We wonder what is different about their experience when stories, instead of themselves, are examined. We also wonder what is it like for them when we ask them to appreciate histories of preferred versions instead of pathologized histories.
From the perspective of a narrative metaphor, then, we see certain effects for our clients that allow them to notice and reconstitute their lives along lines they may prefer, and to develop more preferred versions of themselves. Likewise, we see ourselves thinking and acting in a manner that suits us as theoreticians and clinicians in more preferred ways.