I recently attended an AQR masterclass on sensitive and trauma-informed qualitative research, and one thought in particular has stayed with me; Trauma-informed thinking belongs in everyday qualitative research.

When we hear that phrase, I think our minds naturally go to projects specifically about trauma, serious illness, bereavement or other experiences we know from the outset will be difficult to talk about.

But so much of the research we do has the potential to become sensitive.

Financial pressures. Health. Caring responsibilities. Identity. Struggling to pay a bill. Experiences with essential services. A change in someone’s personal circumstances.

For one person these might feel like straightforward topics to discuss. For someone else, they might touch on something much more personal. And we won’t always know that before the conversation starts.

That resonated with me because so much of the research we work on covers essential services, affordability and people’s everyday lives. We might not think of these conversations as ‘sensitive research’, but they often touch on money, pressure, trust, health or circumstances outside someone’s control.

It also made me think differently about the word “vulnerable”. Vulnerability isn’t a fixed type of person or a neat customer segment. It might be temporary or permanent, visible or completely hidden.

So perhaps rather than asking:

“Is this sensitive research?”

A better question is:

“What might make taking part in this research sensitive for this person?”

For me, that small shift in thinking has a big implication for how we approach qualitative research.

A lot of the principles we discussed in the session were around safety, trust, choice, collaboration and giving participants a sense of control.

And the more I thought about them, the less they felt like principles we should bring out specifically for “sensitive” projects. They just felt like good research practice.

Being clear about why someone is there and what we already know about them. Giving people genuine choice around what they share. Allowing silence. Being prepared to move on if someone doesn’t want to answer. Thinking about who is observing the conversation and how that might affect someone. Leaving enough room in a discussion guide for the conversation to go somewhere you didn’t expect.

I also found myself thinking about how much control we traditionally build into qualitative research.

We write the guide. We set the objectives. We ask the questions. We manage the time. We decide when to probe and when to move on.

Of course we need structure. But being a good moderator is also knowing when to loosen that structure. Sometimes giving someone a bit more control, asking one fewer question, or letting the silence sit for a few more seconds might tell us more than getting through every question on the guide.

And importantly, I don’t see any of this as a trade-off between looking after participants and delivering strong research. In many ways, the two go together.

If someone feels safe, understands why we’re asking something and doesn’t feel judged or pushed, we’re more likely to hear what they genuinely think and experience. We also make research more accessible to people who might otherwise find taking part difficult.

So, my biggest learning isn’t only about how to approach research we already label as sensitive.

It was a reminder that we won’t always know what someone is bringing into a conversation with us.

So perhaps safety, trust, choice and respect shouldn’t be principles we reserve for sensitive research. They should simply be part of how we do good research.

It’s something we’re thinking more about in our work at RED C. If you’re facing similar questions around sensitive subjects, vulnerability or participant wellbeing, I’d be happy to compare notes. [email protected]