A prison watchtower silhouetted against the sky, with barbed wire fencing in the foreground.“prison guard tower” by Rennett Stowe is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Extensive research has examined how prison affects the lives of adults once they leave the system. However, scholars have been limited in their ability to investigate how prison affects the lives of people who are incarcerated consistently or intermittently during their “coming-of-age” period. These long-term prison sentences (10 years or more, although not always continuous) are difficult to study because scholars are often unable to enter prisons to conduct research, leaving a gap in our understanding of a particularly vulnerable population of young people. 

David Knight addressed this issue by conducting research with consistently and intermittently incarcerated African American and Afro-Latino men, as Black men make up roughly half of adult male sentences which last for 5 years or longer. 

The interviewees were with 18 to 34 years olds and were either incarcerated at the time of the interview or had been incarcerated during their teenage and adult years. Knight concluded that young men who were incarcerated early in their lives in both groups understood their identities as deeply connected to prisons. Rather than just thinking about prisons as places, many interviewees understood their experiences even outside of the physical space as defined by their incarceration. They described their lives, from childhood to adulthood, and even after being released, as restricted and deprived in comparison to their peers.

• “In prison, you still [get] older year after year. You still turn eighteen…still turn thirty…but it’s the setting that makes you act a different way…Instead of getting your own apartment…a single cell…The first time you may fill out a job application is for a prison job.”

Knight also found that some who were continuously incarcerated described being detained during their youth as a means of ‘protecting’ them from dangers from the ‘outside’, such as violence and addiction.

• “When I look back at my teenage self…it’s a good thing I came to prison, if only for the fact that I can really stop and listen…it would have been bad for me, way worse than it is now.”

Although mortality rates are often lower inside prisons than outside of prisons, Knight’s interviewees describe their experiences as dehumanizing, degrading, and debasing. In other words, we can understand these sentiments as a commentary on the lack of support for marginalized communities, rather than support for what is happening in prisons themselves.

This research highlights that prisons are not just physical spaces, but institutions that profoundly shape identity and future life opportunities. Incarcerated youth, during critical developmental years, are further marginalized from peers who experience key educational, social, and personal milestones. As prisons increasingly become environments where young men and women grow up, it is crucial to continue studying how they shape the transition to adulthood.

“Bamboo Scaffolding in Causeway Bay neighborhood” by gribbly is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

The construction industry is widely recognized as one of the most dangerous industries around the world. In Hong Kong, the scaffolding industry is viewed as particularly dangerous and is particularly stigmatized, in part due to the widespread use of bamboo for scaffolds. Official regulations have increasingly viewed the use of bamboo (rather than steel, the most common alternative) in the scaffolding industry as dangerous and have made efforts to limit and regulate the practice, which has drawn greater scrutiny and stigma to the occupation. In the face of these threats, how do workers learn to manage risk while maintaining respectability?

“Macho” culture has long been part of the answer. Previous research has established that construction workers are often looked down upon by wider society because of the “dirtiness” of their work, and these Hong Kong scaffolders are no exception. Because the bamboo scaffolding trade in Hong Kong is relatively easy to enter and relies on on-the-job training, most apprentice scaffolders are young men who have few career options. Many of the men in the industry have connections to criminal gangs, contributing to scaffolders overall having a reputation for being criminals and ex-convicts. Additionally, the highly visible and public nature of scaffolding work makes bamboo scaffolders especially vulnerable to overt prejudice from the rest of society, with passersby sometimes cursing at and threatening scaffolders as they work.

Researchers Ken Kamoche and Kuok Kei Law sought to identify how bamboo scaffolders in Hong Kong navigated the risks of their work and the social stigma associated with it. Through interviews with a variety of workers and contractors in the bamboo scaffolding industry, Kamoche and Law found that scaffolders managed the danger and stigma of their work by leaning into a particular expression of masculinityscaffolders managed the danger and stigma of their work by leaning into a particular expression of masculinity: the scaffolders (all of whom were men) portrayed themselves as tough, macho men who were unafraid of danger. This was visible in the culture at the construction sites, which featured camaraderie, swearing, and competitive public displays of bravado and risk-taking (such as throwing bamboo poles to other workers, jumping from heights, and failing to follow safety regulations or use personal protective equipment).

As legal regulation and standardization of construction in Hong Kong has grown, and the wider society increasingly sees the bamboo scaffolding industry as a dying trade, scaffolders have struggled to convince others that scaffolders’ informal knowledge of working with bamboo is legitimate. In the midst of the inherent risks of their work, the stigma associated with it, and the precariousness and uncertain future of the industry itself, bamboo scaffolders worked to establish their identities as tough, masculine, and fearless, able to dismiss both the dangers of the job and the prejudice of those around them.

Image by Jordyn Wald.

“Time to BeReal. 2 mins left to capture a BeReal and see what your friends are up to!” This is the daily notification users receive on BeReal, an app designed to promote authenticity by prompting users to share unfiltered photos from both the front and back cameras at a random time every day. BeReal attempts to constrain users to post within a 2-minute window with zero retakes, but many users circumvent these constraints by delaying posts or retaking their photos. The one caveat? If a user chooses to retake photos, they are labeled as “retakes” and your followers can see this label. So, how “real” are users truly being?

Through a series of interviews with BeReal users, Annika Pinch and colleagues set out to understand how young adults perceive and define their own authenticity on BeReal over time, as well as how they assess the authenticity of others on the app. BeReal was initially understood by participants as a refreshing alternative to highly curated social media platforms, encouraging authenticity through its posting constraints. However, over time, participants began to observe a shift toward performative behaviors, mirroring patterns seen on other platforms. 

For example, participants would actively resist BeReal’s constraints of posting within a 2-minute window by delaying posts to capture more interesting moments in their day. Ignoring the app’s initial notification and delaying posting became more socially acceptable. Even so, participants still grappled with how to evaluate the authenticity of others. Some viewed retakes or delayed posts as inauthentic, while others believed curated posts could still reflect genuine self-expression. As one participant said, “I hate her BeReals. I’m like, You’re defeating the whole purpose of the platform’ and it annoys me to see it… she’s unaware that we can see that she’s retaken it nine times.”‘You’re defeating the whole purpose of the platform’ and it annoys me to see it… she’s unaware that we can see that she’s retaken it nine times.” 

Authenticity on BeReal is shaped by both platform constraints and social norms that emerge among users. Pinch and her colleagues found that while social media apps can push for authenticity through strict platform design, eventually, these features will clash with users’ need for control of how they present themselves online. For sociologists, this study offers another example of the enduring relevance of Erving Goffman’s insights on the presentation of self and impression management. 

A small pile of piles next to a stack of money, by Kaboompics.com is licensed under Pexels License

Over the past two decades, insurance coverage for gender affirming healthcare has rapidly expanded. Gender affirming care includes surgical, hormonal, or other care that enables patients to physically present as the gender they identify with. For example, genital modification, facial feminization surgery, chest reconstruction, hormone replacement therapy, voice modification, and more. However, insurance generally only covers care that is “medically necessary” (allowing the individual to be perceived as a certain gender), rather than “cosmetic” (enhancing attractiveness). So how do insurers decide what care is medically necessary?

To study this process, Tara Gonsalves examined national health insurance plans published between 2002 and 2022. The plans detail which gender-affirming care procedures are considered medically necessary vs. cosmetic, along with the insurer’s reasoning for that decision. Individuals who undergo a procedure defined as cosmetic—and subsequently denied coverage—can submit an appeal to a review board to argue that the procedure was medically necessary. Gonsalves also examined 225 of these appeals that were filed between 2009 and 2019.

Starting in 2009, no appeals were approved. But, 6 years later more appeals were approved than denied—signaling a substantial shift in what counted as “medically necessary.” Gonsalves found that, in order to distinguish between medically necessary and cosmetic procedures, insurers started defining which parts of the body are gendered and what features are masculine or feminine.insurers started defining which parts of the body are gendered and what features are masculine or feminine.

However, Gonsalves also found that the decision-making processes for appeals relied heavily on stereotypes of an ideal male or female body. For example, in a case involving facial feminization procedures, a reviewer described “softer” noses, prominent cheekbones, and narrower chins as feminine features. Reviewers tended to judge individuals against the ideal of a white, thin body, ignoring differences across age, weight, race, and other variations. 

Expanding insurance coverage has made care more affordable and accessible for transgender individuals. The increasing visibility of transgender and nonbinary individuals can challenge the male/female gender binary. At this same time, this study highlights how using gendered stereotypes as the justification for gender affirming care is also reaffirming societal gender norms. 

Three social media message bubbles with blurred graphics. Image by author, Jordyn Wald.

Racist talk among conservatives has long been divided by scholars into two main types: forms of which are “overt” (open and direct) and those which are more “covert” (hidden, subtle, or coded). However, Marcus Brooks finds that since George Floyd’s murder in 2020, a new form of race talk may be emerging in conservative online spaces. It is what he calls “color-blind nationalism.”

In order to conduct the study, Brooks analyzed comments from conservative spaces on TikTok, YouTube, and Twitter. He focused on two main cases: conservative views on Critical Race Theory (CRT) and reactions to the rebranding of products like Aunt Jemima pancake mix in response to concerns about racial stereotypes. 

Brooks finds that in these online spaces conservatives talk about race and about Black Americans in particular, in a way that pushes back against woke culture and promotes traditional American values. Some characteristic tropes or themes of this new racial talk include:

• Ingroup and Outgroup Boundaries: Conservatives try to bring Black Americans into their “ingroup” by framing liberals and Democrats as the corrupt “outgroup” – positioning themselves as the protectors of historical truth. For example, one commenter claims, “the Left has been whitewashing their racist past” and “blaming Republicans for their sins.” 
• Shared Threat and Racial Protection: Conservatives position themselves as protecting Black Americans from the liberal “victimhood” messaging. For example, claiming liberals “teach black children they’re inherently victims” and asks, “u want children thinking they’re victims?” They suggest instead the focus should be on values like self-discipline, responsibility, and hard work.
• Unity Through Shared American Values: Conservatives focus on creating a shared American identity based on values like family, patriotism, and independence, rather than race. For example, a Black commentator defends Aunt Jemima, urging the “woke crowd” to “Leave Auntie Jemima alone” and using hashtags like “#DemocratsDividingAnd DestroyingAmerica.” Another commenter called for Aunt Jemima’s return, suggesting that the left is out of touch.

Brooks’s study explores how this “colorblind nationalism,” with its emphasis on unity and shared values, may be reshaping debates about race and racism and their focal role in the broader culture wars that continue to wrack the nation.

A father and his three children wearing surfing wetsuits, running on a beach. Photo by Kampus Production under Pexels license.

Gendered work and family patterns among couples in the financial elite may be contributing to our widening socioeconomic divide. The unexpected recent growth in traditional arrangements, in which men work while women stay at home, offers clues as to why. That’s according to new research by Dr. Jill Yavorsky and her colleagues. 

The researchers analyzed longitudinal survey data from the Survey of Consumer Finances, which measures trends in household finances and labor dynamics across 108,854 different-gender, married households. By capturing both income and wealth over three decades, this data provides more nuance into the different sub-group dynamics among the most wealthy. 

The financial elite consist of three groups: the top 1% “super-rich”; the top 10% “rich”; and the top 20% “upper-middle-class”. These categories are based on both income and net worth. In addition to a “traditional” division of labor, the authors identify a “neo-traditional” division of labor if the husband works full-time and the wife works part-time. In a “dual-earner” household, both partners work full- or part-time.

The authors find that super-rich couples were more likely to engage in traditional divisions of labor, in which female partners oversee the home and domestic duties while the male partner works. Examining net worth, measured as all assets minus debts, revealed a larger gap between super-rich (53%) and rich couples’ (27%) traditional household arrangements. Looking at both wealth and income is critical to understanding the intergenerational transmission of status hierarchies. 

IDespite women’s increased workforce participation and the rise of dual-earner households across the bottom 99% over the last three decades, the prevalence of traditional labor arrangements among the top 1% remains unchanged. Understanding why these arrangements remain so common among the super-rich could provide a clearer picture of the cultural dimensions of wealth inequality. Moreover, trends in elite family formation, including the growth in family size and the moral prestige of being a “good parent,” may make traditional labor arrangements the logical choice for families in the top 1%.[the growth in family size and the moral prestige of being a “good parent,” may make traditional labor arrangements the logical choice for families in the top 1%. In contrast, pressures to maintain status may lead both partners in rich or upper-middle-class couples into full-time employment. 

By tracing the gender dynamics at the top, this research helps us make sense of the recent developments in gender norms, including the “tradwife” movement. Considered against the backdrop of widening socioeconomic inequality and reversals in reproductive rights, these findings show the enduring cultural influence of the super-rich.

A woman holding a white box saying “Donate” on it, by Liza Summer is licensed under Pexels License.

Gun violence remains a critical public health crisis, causing measurable and immeasurable loss to families and communities across the United States. The economic toll of this violence on families is also staggering, with an estimated $557 billion spent annually on everything from funeral and medical costs to criminal justice processes and psychological support. 

When support from employers, insurance companies, and victim compensation programs falls short, many families turn to crowdfunding to help cope with their losses. But what shapes the financial requests families make—and the support they receive—after gun violence?

A recent study by Catherine Burgess and Jennifer Carlson examined this question by analyzing 535 GoFundMe campaigns created for women and girls killed by gun violence in California and Florida between 2016 and 2018. Their findings reveal how race and gender play key roles in how victims are portrayed in fundraising campaigns and the financial support their loved ones receive.

Their research shows that crowdfunding pages for white women and girls often portrayed them as innocent victims deserving of public sympathy and financial support. These campaigns emphasized their moral character—such as being a good mother or loving daughter—and often highlighted gun violence as their cause of death. For white victims who were mothers, their GoFundMe pages asserted their moral worth as protective and selfless, intensifying the tragedy of their loss. One page read, “[Her children] are her whole wide world, & she was also their world.”

In contrast, crowdfunding pages for Black and Latinx women and girls often focused on the immediate needs of their families, such as funeral expenses, rather than portraying them as victims deserving of public grief. Campaigns for women of color rarely mentioned gun violence and instead framed their deaths as private tragedies: “We are asking family and friends to support us in this hard time because her family doesn’t have the funds to provide her a proper farewell.” Caregiving roles were also central to the narratives of women of color. However, rather than evoking public grief, they underscored the personal hardships their families faced. GoFundMe pages for women of color were also more likely to highlight the victim’s resiliency, recognizing their strength in overcoming adversity.

In addition to the differences in framing, there were also disparities in fundraising success. On average, campaigns for white women and girls in the sample raised six times more money than those for Black women and girls and three times more than those for Latinx women and girls.white women and girls in the sample raised six times more money than those for Black women and girls and three times more than those for Latinx women and girls. White victims were also more likely to have campaigns that supported charitable memorial funds or gun violence prevention efforts. 

It is sobering that over 535 women and girls were killed by gun violence in just two states over two years, highlighting its devastating toll on U.S. women and girls. In the midst of this violence, Burgess and Carlson’s research reveals that inequality persists even in moments of charity. The same biases found in traditional support systems also exist in crowdfunding appeals, highlighting the racial and gender disparities in society.

Speech is not just about what we hear. Listeners make judgments about how they think people will talk using visual cues to make assumptions about a person’s age, gender identity, socioeconomic status, etc., However, it’s not yet clear in what ways this affects how listeners hear.

Ethan Kutlu created an experiment to examine how people’s implicit racial and linguistic biases impact their perception of accentedness, or how accented people believe a speaker is. First, participants were shown a picture of either a white woman or a South Asian woman. Then, audio of a sentence read by either an Indian English or American English speaker was played. Sentences from the same lists were read by both speakers. Importantly, this experiment was conducted in a racial-match and mismatch fashion. Thus, at some points, participants would see a South Asian woman and hear an Indian American accent (e.g. racial match) but at other points, they would see a white woman and hear an Indian American accent (racial mismatch). This way, the researchers were able to isolate the effect of race perceived through sight and race perceived through sound (seeing race vs. hearing race). Finally, participants were asked to judge whether the speaker had an accent. (All participants identified as native speakers of American English.)

This experiment determined that the images that were shown did, in fact, affect judgments of the level of accentedness. When listeners were shown a South Asian image before hearing the audio, they were more likely to rate the speaker as “accented.” This occurred when speakers heard either Indian English or American English. Participants were also significantly faster at rating speech accentedness when shown a South Asian image regardless of the audio played.

Overall, this research suggests that race impacts not just how we see and judge individuals but even how we hear them. Such a finding adds yet another twist to our understanding of the mechanisms by which discrimination impacts education, housing, finances, and more in contemporary American society.

Someone having their finger printed, being pressed down by another hand. Image by cottonbro studio under Pexels license.

A background check can make or break someone’s future. Every day, people are denied jobs, housing, and educational opportunities because of “failing a background check.”  These checks are often completed by for-profit private companies, are under- or unregulated, and have a reputation for being inaccurate – but how inaccurate are they?

Researchers Sarah Lageson and Robert Stewart conducted background checks on 101 individuals with criminal records in New Jersey, comparing official state records with a private company’s background check. They then verified the accuracy of the results with the individuals themselves. Of their sample for these background checks, they found that 92% had a “false-negative” error92% had a “false-negative” error (meaning the person was not flagged as having a criminal conviction, when they in-fact did) and 50% had a “false-positive” error (meaning the person was incorrectly flagged as having a criminal conviction, when but they actually did not). 

Long story short, errors in background checks subject people and their families to undue financial, social, and emotional harm – all due to a private company’s poor algorithm and negligence. However, with greater privacy protection and regulation of criminal history information in the public sector, the authors argue that reliance on inaccurate private sector background checks may begin to shift. 

A phone with earphones plugged in, displaying the Spotify logo. “spotify musique mp3” by downloadsource.fr is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

In 2016, Spotify launched a viral campaign called “Spotify Wrapped,” which aggregates users’ listening activity and info from the past year, showing key statistics like how many minutes of music they listened to, their top artists, genres, and songs. Since then, people have annually taken to social media to post the highlights of their Spotify Wrapped and reflect on their public-facing reputation. Streaming services like Spotify and Apple Music feature social media-like interfaces, including a profile, friends list, and listening activity streams, which broadcast private listening activity to virtual communities. Features like these pose questions about how data collection and streaming shape how we perform our identities. 

In a recent article, Michael James Walsh argues that self-presentation via social media contributes to the blurring between our public and private identities. Walsh draws from Erving Goffman, who likens interactions to performances on a stage. The front stage is carefully managed to ensure a convincing performance to others, while the backstage is where we prepare for these performances. In the backstage, nobody is watching, so we can be our “true selves.” 

Through interviews with music streaming service users in Australia during COVID-19, Walsh found that blending social media and music listening enables distant individuals to monitor and react to each other’s taste in music. Spotify’s social media-like features heighten user’s consciousness of what they are listening to and how their social networks may react.Spotify’s social media-like features heighten user’s consciousness of what they are listening to and how their social networks may react. One interviewee expressed discomfort with how their music and state of mind are broadcasted to their social networks: “Sometimes you listen to things in a personal context. You don’t necessarily want to communicate how you’re feeling with other people.” Another interviewee cited the Spotify Wrapped feature as a source of undesired self-consciousness: “There’s that wrap up at the end of the year. So, I’m also slightly conscious of how much I’m listening to something and, you know, like it’s not… is it embarrassing, but is it?”

Walsh finds that users also feel resigned to the sheer amount of data collection we experience today. Compared to previous eras of private listening, from records to cassette tapes to CDs to iPods, streaming services make listening activity broadcastable to friends and followers and recorded by companies. Ultimately, this article highlights how the social media-like features of music streaming today contribute to worries about our public reputation and the burden of constant data collection.