Why Should Anyone Care About Your Research?
Speaking to More Than the Twelve People in Your Subfield
As academics, we’re trained to justify our research by demonstrating how it builds on and contributes to existing scholarly conversations—whether by diverging from, expanding on, or revising earlier work. We get good at explaining our work’s significance within our field. We can cite the right theorists, position ourselves in ongoing conversations, demonstrate our contribution to specialized knowledge.
But then someone outside our field asks why our research matters, and we struggle to answer without the academic scaffolding.
Your research probably does two things at once: it speaks to a specific scholarly conversation, and it illuminates something about how the world works. Most of us learn to articulate the first part really well. We explain how our work contributes to scholarly debates, extends existing theories, or fills gaps in the literature. We write significance statements that make perfect sense to other experts in our field.
The second part—showing why our work matters beyond those expert conversations—that’s where we often get stuck. And I think that’s a problem, because the second part is where significance really lives.
Who’s the Jury?
If we’re only making our case to other scholars in our narrow field, we’re arguing in an echo chamber. The most compelling research significance doesn’t just say “this advances scholarly debate.” It connects specific findings to broader human experiences, cultural patterns, or real-world implications. It answers the question: what happens in the world if we don’t understand this better?
Think of it like ripples in water. Your research is the stone. The immediate splash is your contribution to scholarly conversations. But the ripples move outward, touching concerns that matter to wider and wider circles of people. Strong significance statements trace those ripples.
I’ve written before that literature reviews have become overly focused on gap-filling, where we justify research by saying “no one has studied sexism in this specific sport” even when the findings mirror every other sport. The same thing happens with significance statements. We justify our work by pointing to scholarly conversations most people can’t access or don’t care about, then wonder why our research feels disconnected from the world.
And here’s the thing: I’m not just talking about making your work accessible to the general public, though that matters too. I’m talking about making your research significant to scholars in other fields. When you’re applying for grants, fellowships, or university-wide awards, your reviewers might include a biologist, a historian, and an economist. None of them work in your specific area.
The ability to articulate broader significance helps you connect with colleagues across disciplines who might otherwise never understand why your work matters and opens doors for your research and overall profile.
An Example:
Let me show you what I mean with an example:
Weak significance (scholar-focused): “This research extends theories of political communication by examining Twitter’s role in discourse formation, contributing to literature on social media and democratic participation while filling a gap in understanding populist rhetoric on digital platforms.”
Stronger significance (reaching beyond): “Political leaders now bypass traditional media to speak directly to millions of people through social media, fundamentally changing how democracy works. When politicians can create echo chambers where followers only hear messages that reinforce existing beliefs, we lose the shared reality that makes democratic debate possible. Understanding how this happens isn’t just an academic exercise. It affects whether democracies can function, whether citizens can make informed decisions, and whether we can find common ground across political divides.”
See the difference? The stronger version still acknowledges scholarly conversations, but they don’t stop there. They trace the ripples outward to show why someone outside that particular academic bubble should care.
The Thinking Process
So how do you get there? It’s not just about adding a paragraph at the end saying “and this matters because society.” I’d advocate for a different thinking process from the beginning.
When you’re developing your research, yes, you need to understand the scholarly conversation. You need to know what’s been said and what’s been missed. But when you’re articulating significance, try this: temporarily forget about the scholars.
Ask yourself different questions:
Who is affected by this? Not who studies it, but who lives it. If you’re researching labor practices, that’s workers. If you’re analyzing historical events, that’s communities carrying those legacies. If you’re studying cultural representations, that’s people navigating those cultural scripts.
What would change if people understood this differently? Not just in academic theory but in how they live, make decisions, relate to others, or navigate their worlds.
What larger pattern does this specific case reveal? Your research might focus on one novel, one community, one historical moment. But what does it illuminate about human experience more broadly?
Who is unsatisfied with current knowledge about this, beyond scholars? Policymakers might be unsatisfied. Communities might be unsatisfied. People trying to make sense of their own experiences might be unsatisfied. What happens if we keep them in mind as we articulate significance?
This is thinking hard work. It requires wrestling with your ideas in ways that feel uncomfortable. You might realize your research matters differently than you initially thought. You might discover your real contribution isn’t what you set out to prove. That discomfort is good. It means you’re pushing beyond comfortable academic scripts.
A Brainstorming Exercise
Here’s a practical activity for articulating significance that reaches beyond scholarly conversations. Grab a pen and paper or open a blank document.
Step 1: Write your current significance statement as it exists now. If you don’t have one, write what you’d say if someone asked “why does your research matter?”
Step 2: Identify your circles of impact. Draw or list concentric circles moving outward from your research:
Circle 1: The immediate scholarly conversation (specific theorists, debates, frameworks)
Circle 2: The broader field or discipline
Circle 3: Adjacent fields or interdisciplinary connections
Circle 4: People or communities who experience what you’re studying
Circle 5: Society at large
Step 3: For each circle beyond the first, answer this question: “If someone in this circle read my work, what would they understand about their world that they didn’t before?” Write freely. Don’t edit. Let yourself explore.
Step 4: Look for patterns. What themes emerge as you move outward? What larger human concerns connect to your specific research? Where does your work intersect with current cultural moments, social challenges, or questions people are asking?
Step 5: Draft a new significance statement that includes scholarly contributions but doesn’t stop there. Try to trace at least two ripples outward from your immediate field.
The goal isn’t to abandon scholarly rigor or pretend your work is more broadly applicable than it is. The goal is to articulate how your specific insights connect to concerns beyond academic debates. Those connections exist. We just don’t always surface them because we’re trained to speak primarily to other scholars.
Permission to Matter More Widely
I think many of us have been taught that keeping our work focused on scholarly contributions is more rigorous, more serious, and more academic. But I’d argue the opposite. It takes intellectual courage to trace how your work matters beyond the safety of academic conversations. It requires you to make bolder claims, to connect your ideas to larger patterns, and to risk saying something that matters.
Your research doesn’t just contribute to debates among specialists. Perhaps it illuminates something about human culture, social patterns, historical legacies, or contemporary challenges. Or maybe it reveals something about ecological systems, evolutionary processes, the physical world, or the forces that shape life on this planet.
You chose this research for reasons that go beyond filling a gap in the literature. You’re curious about something, troubled by something, or fascinated by something that connects to larger questions.
Trust that. Follow those connections outward. Write significance statements that let your work breathe beyond the academic echo chamber.
Help us understand why we should care.
Related Reading:
While I was writing this,
published a newsletter about using storytelling in research—a lovely reminder that our work can connect with others in ways that go beyond just filling scholarly gaps. Check it out!
I find this article very interesting because I've never struggle with figuring out why the rest of the world should care about my research. Maybe it is because I come from an activist background and because my research interests start from practical/real-life problem, but if anything, what I find difficult is anchoring my research in the scholarly field. I know why people outside of research would find it interesting, I am more unsure about other researchers. Like, sure I should dialogue with them, but I am more interested about dialoguing with people outside who are working in practice with the problems I am studying.
Very helpful, thank you.