Considering Indigenous Research Methodologies: Bicultural Accountability and the Protection of Community Held Knowledge

Summary of the Discourse

The Foundational Keynote: Considering IRMs: Critical reflections by an Indigenous knower (2014).

During a keynote presentation at the 2014 American Indian Research Association (AIRA) conference in Pablo, Montana, Dr. Gone provided some important opportunities for learning about and further exploring IRMs. After providing a positionality statement and clarifying his area of research, tribal affiliation, and so on, he stated, “ . . . you want to think about academia as the context that grounds my remarks” (Gone, 2014). He then indicated that the goal of the talk concerning IRMs was to share preliminary reflections, raise general questions, offer gentle critiques, and stimulate further progress. In the presentation, he offered some specific caveats.

By the end of the presentation, he had,

He explained that the presentations identified that most of what can be identified as IEs are already mixed and importing IEs into the academy further mixes them. He then posed some important questions, “How would re-conceptualizing the IRM project as Métis change this knowledge endeavor?” and “How would re-labeling IRMs as Métis change our promotion of them?” In a subsequent article, it is revealed that he was using the term Métis for a particular rhetorical effect (Gone, 2017).

The Controversy—“It felt like violence”: Indigenous knowledge traditions (IKTs) and the postcolonial ethics of academic inquiry and community engagement

In “It felt like violence,” he describes the 2014 presentation and defines competing values that create an ethical dilemma. Within the realm of community psychology, Dr. Gone describes that his own work draws upon IKTs, recognizing that there is indeed diversity within Indigenous communities, and expresses the significance of protecting endangered traditions. The manuscript warns that community-based IKTs may “become more vulnerable to distortion, displacement, and even disappearance as a consequence of the uncritical promotion of academically grounded IRMs” (p.354) and describes some participants’ reactions to one slide that showed a drawn representation of an opened medicine bundle.

One student asserted, “[The photograph] offended me deeply. I too had a very visceral reaction and felt like crying. It felt like violence.” But why should display of a dated photograph from an obscure anthropological monograph have occasioned such extreme emotional reactions and vehement ethical objections in the context of an otherwise substantive discussion of IKTs? (p. 355)

The article illuminates two ethical claims which we will briefly describe but are articulated in much more detail in his 2017 paper. The first ethical claim is that the academic presentation of the sacred objects breaches established community-related spiritual beliefs. He unpacks the logic behind why this is an ethical claim. The second ethical claim is that the audience objections are a result of IKT’s contamination, loss, distortion, and reaction to the lived reality of history during despair that was the result of colonization.

The 2017 paper clarifies ethical challenges in two specific ways, (a) community religious sensibilities, and (b) postcolonial critique. In discussing religious sensibilities, the tension between the sacred and secular is described with the important contributions that can come from skeptical academic examination. The paper balances academic examination with the positionality of an “insider” who only uses knowledge that has already been made public. In discussion of the postcolonial critique, the paper describes different interpretations related to both the loss of sacred knowledge during the assimilation era, and the transmission of knowledge. The article describes the transmission through examples including the sharing of sacred knowledge with outsiders as the result of community “existential predicament.” In some cases, communities choose the protection of knowledge for oncoming generations through publication. Community sensibilities toward IKTs have shifted over the years, and this article offers an excellent example of academic knowledge production and the complexity that arises when the academic comes from an Indigenous perspective. Furthermore, he questions if these kinds of dilemmas can be resolved, toward advancing the conversation in important ways.

Student Reactions to Critiques —In reciprocity: Responses to Critiques of Indigenous Methodologies (Windchief et al., 2018)

With the intention of entering the conversation as reasonable and responsible participants in the appropriate unfolding of Indigenous community knowledge, (Author 1) showed the 2014 video and asked students taking an Indigenous Methodologies in Educational Research course to respond to the video, given their familiarity with both the literature and their own experiences with and within Indigenous communities. The assignment and responses offered were intended to facilitate an interactive dialogue among scholars and in support of the responsible scholarship that is helpful to Indigenous communities. This allowed us to think deeply about many facets of research, and their interface with Indigenous paradigms which motivated a subsequent paper, Indigenous research, and Indigenous methodology are delineated, self-location is deliberated, and multiple perspectives are considered. Each author was given an opportunity to share their perspectives addressing the 2014 presentation and some of the talking points within. This served as an opportunity to communicate in a way that was acceptable at the confluence of academic knowledge production/dissemination and located in experiences from different Indigenous and non-Indigenous students. The authors focused on the importance of protocol, relationship, and story (Archibald, 2008) in a way that provides space for contemporary Indigenous scholars to make important assertations and address several of the statements made in the 2014 presentation. In principle, the authors were challenging Western academic knowledge production while participating in it, adding international perspective, and thinking about the way the academic industrial complex can be navigated from within, for the sake of Indigenous community benefit. This was an exercise in humanizing the process, respecting a plurality of epistemologies. The authors were certainly pleased to see that Dr. Gone responded in scholarship.

Critical Deliberations—Considering IRMs: Critical reflections by an Indigenous knower (Gone, 2019).

Gone (2019) article provides a brief timeline of Indigenous action toward the recovery of IKTs and locates Indigenous scholars in the academy. He establishes his own experiences in working with and within Indigenous communities and provides an edited and condensed version of the presentation that was given in 2014. This paper pursues further explanation and reasoning of this endeavor and seeks academic discussion on these issues through public critique, for the purposes of “clarification, refinement, illustration, and (perhaps) application” (Gone, 2019, p. 52). Dr. Gone was gracious in describing shared intellectual space on the topic at hand, even characterizing his own research using our definition, that is, . . . “unique ways researchers use Indigenous positionality and perspective to perform research with and within Indigenous communities . . . [that] center and privilege the Indigenous community’s voice(s) in an effort to contribute to the community” (p. 52).

Dr. Gone then responds to advance the dialogue and clarifies where we may have missed one-another, by defining research methodology, logic of inquiry, and research approach. He then responds to each author to explain, addressing specific points where each individual author may have misinterpreted his message. Particularly comparing form with method, “melding” epistemologies, discoursing the difference between critical pedagogy and research methodology, and the role of Indigenous knowledge in academic research juxtaposed with IKTs. Dr. Gone iterates future direction and provides an excellent example in comparing orality with written word (literacy) and academic knowledge with practical knowledge.

He offers four implications that involve oral tradition in academia: (a) Avoiding “ethnoracial and cultural essentialism” (b)

. . . the truly vast body of scholarship associated with language and literacy socialization with respect to thinking and knowing becomes an extant resource for Indigenous scholars who seek to explicate and preserve key facets of oral tradition relative to academic literacy

(c) “formulate and research intriguing intersections between oral and literate practices for Indigenous communities with respect to enduring knowledge traditions.” (d) seeking a philosophical center that provides “nuanced elucidation relative to a host of institutions that shape life in Indigenous communities, including education, law, governance, and policy” (p.55). The paper concludes that proponents of IRMs provide a foundation to bridge community orality with academic literacy. Finally, after describing and explaining the controversy of sharing a depiction of sacred items, he addresses researchers with a call for action: To “ . . . [understand] and [preserve] Indigenous traditional knowledges, we may, in fact, need to explore creative alternatives for conveying spoken knowledge beyond written words” (p.55).

Positionality

Dr. Gone offers an important critique of lengthy self-location statements (Gone, 2014). It is our assertation that this phenomenon is a point of contention between Western academic paradigms (WAPs) and “some” Indigenous ontologies. Complications are magnified when the audience/readership is made up of Indigenous academics. Often, in the traditional, that is to say positivist and quantitative WAP, the individual is called to reveal and remove bias, and seek discernable truths that can be categorized supporting a common fallacy and arrogance that assumes one is unbiased in the interpretation of data. In Indigenous ontological spaces, the individual has a responsibility to their home community and other circles of participation by sharing their multiple places of relationality. This is often in the form of genealogy, where they grew up, their extended family and clan affiliations. More simply put, describing in understandable terms “how they know what they know.” Sometimes this is done in the presenters’/authors’ Indigenous language(s). We recognize that we too are influenced by WAPs, and certainly don’t want to laterally oppress Dr. Gone, or diminish the good things he does for Indigenous communities through his scholarship. To navigate this academic space as Indigenous scholars, we will adhere to the topic and hope that our relatives understand that our intention is to represent well in academic spaces but note that coming from a WAP limits and can skew one’s perspective.

Author 1—As a result of the G.I. Bill, two of my grandparents were able to complete baccalaureate degrees and become Indian teachers at the Intermountain Indian school in the early 1950s. My parents’ professional opportunities led my siblings and I to be raised primarily off reservation, but not in one of the major relocation communities that were the result of American Indian urban relocation policies of the 1950s. My identity as an Indigenous person came as a participant in both urban and reservation powwows, as well as through community gatherings located on the reservation where my dad was raised. My time in community was limited mostly to the summertime when we visited my grandparents. Currently, I work in the field of education and am privileged to be able to learn from multiple Indigenous scholars that have and are successfully navigating education with their identities firmly in place.

Author 2—I was raised on the traditional land my tribe reserved for itself, otherwise known as a reservation, within a close-knit family with many mothers, brothers, and sisters. Through cultural and ceremonial experiences within the family, it was impressed upon me the importance of obtaining and utilizing Western education to better serve our community. As a result, I have never viewed it as anything other than means of protecting and helping preserve the story, identity, language, and culture of our community, rather than continuing to allow the Western education system to harm our Indigenous communities through colonialism. I am currently a school leader within my own tribe’s community and have had the honor of working with Indigenous school leaders across our state for over a decade.

Agreement and Divergence

The intention of these positionality statements is to establish where we are coming from, and how we came to understand IRMs, as well as IKTs and provide places of agreement and divergence in this ongoing intellectual conversation. We offer clarification of the terminology we use as well as share why we are compelled to respond in an academic forum. Finally, we want to provide some framework that would be useful to the ongoing academic discourse that addresses IRMs. Our intention is not one of controversy; rather, it is an offering of insight to help researchers and communities avoid many of the pitfalls associated academic research with and within Indigenous communities. Essentially, we wish for movement toward the responsible co-construction and dissemination of Indigenous knowledge, although only when it is appropriate.

Agreement

There are several points made that we agree with; however, the way they were presented was conventional in a Western academic sense and conceivably unconventional within a community of Indigenous scholars. As Indigenous academics, we see too often that critique is often the result of “cherry-picking” the arguments that do not align with one’s own political and moral agendas. Subsequently, we want to recognize that Dr. Gone’s presentation contributes to the growing theory in ways that are supportive of the above ideals. From multiple Indigenous perspectives, it is true that Indigenous theories, perspectives, and knowledges existed before European contact and that Europeans brought their own ways of knowing with them. Indeed, different collective lived experiences tell us that this is true. The fact is that Indigenous peoples have been systematically disenfranchised was and is part and parcel of treaty negotiations, policies, and procedures that continue to affect Indigenous peoples of the Western hemisphere if not throughout the world. We recognize that there were, and continue to be, atrocities that are experiences comprehensively within Indigenous communities and we are still experiencing them today. These are manifest in multiple ways including but not limited to low socioeconomic status and Intimate partner violence (Malcoe et al., 2004), substance abuse (Jacobs-Wingo et al., 2016), suicide (Curtin, & Hedegaard, 2019), increased discrimination and academic disparity (Stevens et al., 2018), and the disparate representation of incarcerated American Indians (Zheng, 2020). However, in recognizing the effects of historical and intergenerational trauma, we want to move the conversation beyond concentrating on the disparities and answer Dr. Lamberts call of recognizing academia as a place of survival and resistance and share in promoting a consciousness of survivance ² (Lambert, 2014). To accomplish this as academics, we remember that unique IEs continue to exist today. The fact remains that though that Indigenous peoples are doing things in traditional ways that are as distinct as the communities that they come from. In alignment with Dr. Gone’s (2019) conclusion,

. . . for those of us with a stake in understanding and preserving Indigenous traditional knowledges, we may, in fact, need to explore creative alternatives for conveying spoken knowledge beyond written words if we are to remain faithful to such knowledges as they are expressed today in Indigenous communities. (p. 11, 55)

We too find it problematic that Indigenous ways of knowing are presented as if they cannot be used in the academic context and seek alternatives to responsibly and accurately reflect Indigenous knowledge while being guided by community intentions. Sometimes this means protecting knowledge. We are not saying all Indigenous peoples should use IRMs. However, we are pleased that Indigenous scholars have used seminal literature in the field to become skillful in utilizing Westernized thinking for the benefit of their community (Smith, 2013). In similar fashion to the way Indigenous tribes found good ways to use the horse in their lives for the betterment of the community (Real Bird, 1997). While the relational accountability within IRMs ensured the communal benefit of the scholarship, we are not saying all Indigenous scholars are obligated to do this.

In concrete terms, a contemporary IE is a philosophy that has roots in multiple and distinct Indigenous ontologies. This could be considered “mixed” (Gone, 2014). This is more complicated than previously articulated. Yes, the academic forum provides a mixing of epistemologies; however, one of the problems with writing knowledge down (such as this) makes it prone to being taken out of context, and can be frozen in time problematically. Within IKTs, the mixing often comes from within authentic relationship through the gifting of knowledge serving to facilitate an Indigenous transmission of knowledge. This is unlike the WAP, where knowledge can be accessed through purchase. We recognize that in some cases and communities, knowledge can be bought and sold, we are not convinced that these were reflective of mere agency, and in some cases, the seller was in dire straits.

What makes the Indigenous paradigm particularly unique is that knowledge is often held by the community as opposed to knowledge being written in books, peer reviewed literature, and other academic products that lack contexualizability. That is to say that different community members have different knowledges that they are entrusted with for the purpose of serving the community and these knowledges are not necessarily made public. These knowledges, in our experience, are given to others in an effort to establish community wellbeing and provide an environment by which the community can thrive. It has been our experience that IKTs are made as coherent as they need to be, often with cautions to not share particular knowledge in a way that can be misused.

As suggested, pre-Western contact knowledges survive today. This happens through multiple formats such as relationships, stories, representative art, song, enactment, and multiple other methods. In a Western context, an unfamiliar non-Indigenous researcher may realize this and come into a community seeking Indigenous knowledge. They can present a financial incentive to “buy the knowledge” and ask to be taught traditional practices. There is a chance that the knowledge holder will not only withhold information, but they may likely be offended by the offer and respond with false ignorance and/or disdain. There are exceptions to every rule but by-and-large, if Indigenous knowledge is to be shared, it is shared through trust, learner location, necessity, and with the understanding that the knowledge will be carried to help people as opposed to the financial gain of the practitioner and/or the learner. Does this mean that the person who receives the knowledge has to be an Indigenous person? Or in other words are they considered an Indigenous knower? Our humble response is simply “yes.” However, “yes” does not mean that they are an Indigenous person as defined by the federal government or other entity that serves as the patriarchal keeper of Indigenous identity. This person will likely be considered a member of the community not necessarily by blood quantum standards, rather by community standards. They may not be born of the same tribe but may be defined by the community as “one of us” as a result of their commitment to the community, learning the language, and by the alignment of their contribution with community values. We don’t want to oversimplify Indigenous identity location by Western individualistic and personal veracities, rather an individual being seen as a community member is up to the community. We are intrigued by the thought of attributes of these knowers and right now, these would include, but by no means be limited to,

The sharing of IKTs is often done by trusting that those receiving knowledge would not assume to cross boundaries and practice IKTs outside the confines of relational accountabilities. This is a space of contention, as in some situations where nontribal members overstep boundaries by attempting to traditionally adopt others and/or attempt to give traditional names of their own accord.

Divergence

We thank Dr. Gone for his response to our critique as it inspired us to think carefully about future directions. In reference to the 2014 presentation, Author 1 recognized the “buzz” around the rest of the conference and subsequent conferences as generally unfavorable. To his credit, Dr. Gone was very clear in stating that his perspective came with the caveats that this presentation was “tailored to academic knowledge production” “Based on preliminary exposure & experience” and “Subject to future reconsideration & revision” (Gone, 2014). If this presentation came from a person without a deep connection to Indigenous communities that we are relatively familiar with, we may not have taken them as serious. As stated in the presentation and the subsequent response, one of the goals is to stimulate further progress. If anything, this was accomplished for (Author 1) in very reflective, personal, and professional ways. We continue to use this presentation to stimulate scholarship, student learning in the classes that we teach, and in developing a critical consciousness of service, all of which are a part of being successful in the WAP.

Unfortunately, non-native worldviews and stereotypes are reinforced in the academy by faculty trying to play by the rules that are used in contemporary scholarship. Even when the information used has previously been published and with the support of Indigenous community members (Gone, 2017), there is ample opportunity to use scholarship grounded in unethical research practices of a bygone era. In alignment with our own community positionalities and professional places of influence, we are supportive of those who challenge scholarship that has been (and continues to be) exploitive of Indigenous communities.

Although we recognize different worldviews possessed by IRMs and Western thought, it is difficult to essentialize IRMs, given community diversity and variability. In addition, we recognize the phenomenon of being a “safe Indian” by tip toeing around the fragility of colleagues in power which serves to inadvertently suppress the reality and power of Indigenous thought and the related IRMs and IKTs. Hegemony and tokenism are concepts we are familiar with and we strive to avoid both, which is not easily done in academic spaces.

Responding in an Academic Forum

Given the history of the exploitation of Indigenous peoples in academic knowledge production, we are careful with what we share, particularly because we have access to facets of Indigenous community held knowledge that is shared and carried by many in our own communities. Community protected knowledge is kept safe through cultural protocols that ensure respect, relationship, relational accountability, and proper use and acknowledgement of the source of information is protected. This can include protecting knowledge from members who might misappropriate their own community knowledge. If someone misappropriates or misuses knowledge, the community itself would consider relational accountability, a phenomenon that for all intents and purposes, would also reflect community values. As Indigenous researchers, just because we have access to these knowledges and IKTs, does not mean we want to make them public complicating the issue of permission and our own ethical positioning. Even if the information has been published, it can still be misused in multiple ways. To disclose previously published material when the origins of knowledge “discovery” were exploitative is problematic. We must consider the community in which the original knowledge came from. If, for example, IKTs were connected to ceremonial items, and those items were sold to a museum, we do not know under what circumstances this transaction took place. Was it taken by force or stolen? Was the keeper of the ceremonial items in financial despair? Did they need to sell them in order to feed their family? Did they have their physiological needs met? What did the museum offer in exchange? Repatriation is real, and there are ongoing efforts to get community knowledge, human remains, and other cultural items, back to their communities of origin. From an Indigenous community perspective, some of these items are sacred, and contribute to the health and wellbeing of the community. From a Western paradigm, scholars would do well to ruminate on the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990 (NAGPRA). According to the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation,

The Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act of 1990 and the regulations (43 CFR Part 10) that allow for its implementation address the rights of lineal descendants, Indian tribes, and Native Hawaiian organizations (parties with standing) to Native American human remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, and objects of cultural patrimony (cultural items). The statute requires Federal agencies and museums to provide information about Native American cultural items to parties with standing and, upon presentation of a valid claim, ensure the item(s) undergo disposition or repatriation. (Bureau of Reclamation, n.d.)

In short, if something was taken, there is a federal requirement to give it back. Unfortunately, the process is arduous, and becomes more so over time.

Knowledge Repatriation

We argue that repatriation is not limited to tangible items alone, but the knowledge that is connected to them. When considering IKTs, there is an important tension to be considered. On one hand, some Indigenous knowledge is not appropriate for academic use. We would like to provide examples; however, from an Indigenous community perspective, it would be inappropriate to share. On the other hand, there are appropriate IKTs to share, and even promoted by Indigenous communities for the purpose of (a) survivance, (b) avoiding erasure, (c) fair treatment, and (d) authentic representation that challenges the aforementioned “ethnoracial and cultural essentialism” (Gone, 2019, p.55). These ideals help to delineate the complexity of distinct Indigenous communities within an “Indigenous” subgroup and work toward repatriating Indigenous knowledge and intentionally provide foundation for oncoming generations in their own communities’ recovery and reestablishment of IKTs.

Examples of IKTs in the academy that promote responsible scholarship with and within Indigenous communities include, but are not limited to, Kovach’s Conversational Method, Archibald’s Indigenous Storywork, and Smith’s Decolonizing Methodologies. These examples are processes of inquiry that add to the body of knowledge in any given field within a contemporary context and serve Indigenous communities by enabling the repatriation of knowledge. Nonetheless, there needs to be some consideration of scholars’ epistemological stances, and the community connections therein, to move forward. There are indeed Indigenous scholars in the academy from varying Indigenous communities, with varying degrees of Indigenous identity locations. Furthermore, IKTs can be used in the academy if done so in alignment with the protocols, community origins, and community support (Archibald, 2008).

Bicultural Accountability Applied to a Theoretical Framework

We offer a theoretical framework by which we are re(de)fining Epistemological Pluralism in pragmatic ways for the specific purpose of bicultural accountability and the protection (as opposed to the academic production) of community held IKTs. There are some considerations that need to be well examined before we, as Indigenous academics, choose to discover, create, and make IKTs public. We assert that in addition to the forementioned utility of IRM above, that there is a need to consider relationality to protect knowledge. Dr. Gone approached the subject of academic inquiry and IEs as an Indigenous person coming from a Western academic tradition. We might not speak “past one another” (Gone, 2019 p.46) if we approach the subject as academics coming from IKTs while focusing on how we are related, as opposed to what makes us different. By doing this, we hopefully able to move toward understanding one another.

Epistemological Pluralism From Two Indigenous Perspectives

In order for scholars to include Indigenous perspectives, avoid the overdisclosure of community held knowledge, and protect community held IKTs, we offer the following (albeit oversimplified) continuum to think about the appropriate use of knowledge as Indigenous people. At the intersections of Indigenous identities and Western academic traditions, we have observed epistemological pluralism (Ahenakew, 2016; Andreotti et al., 2011; Ludwig, 2016; Miller et al., 2008), which is known to us as simply “multiple ways of knowing.” We communicate this in a way that is more accessible to our own communities, by borrowing from IKTs in the form of a winter count that has been visited about, planned, and painted. Our rationale for the using a winter count as the example is to communicate our work in a way that makes room for tangible contemporary cultural expressions at the juncture of our positionalities as Indigenous academics. This framework begins with the exclusion of Indigenous perspectives that results in a subsequent erasure where there is no information about Indigenous peoples at all. We see this as the dysconscious (Anderson et al., 2019; Jackson, 1999; King, 1991) removal of Indigenous presence which is unfortunately business as usual and exemplified by most of the curriculum and pedagogy we have been exposed to.

Inclusivity, though contradictory to exclusivity, is still potentially problematic. We see this as an epistemological stance of Problematic Inclusion where Indigenous peoples are historicized (treated or represented as historical rather than contemporary; Andreotti et al., 2011; Grimwood et al., 2019), demonized (portrayed as wicked and threatening; Thomas & Jacobs, 1999), and exoticized (portrayed as exotic or unusual, romanticized, or glamorized). Problematic inclusion can be exemplified by the evercontroversial mascot issue (Alt, 2019; Davis-Delano et al., 2020; Staurowsky, 2007), and presenting Indigenous peoples in a way that contributes to sexism such as colonial representations of Pocahontas. Added to the position of problematic inclusion is showing and/or sharing sacred objects and misinformation about them. In addition to addressing the problematics of economic value and intellectual property rights and commercialization, by sharing artifacts and/knowledge contributes to colonization, as articulated by Moahi (2007).

At the same time, many people were displaced from their cultural lands to make ways for settlers and for development; cultural objects and artifacts were plundered and carried away from the colonized countries; indigenous knowledge of communities was at the same time denigrated as it was appropriated to create new products and ideas by the colonizers. (p.56)

Misrepresentation is alive and well, and though this is not the limitation of problematic inclusion, it is worth stating that within an Indigenous worldview (from which IRM’s originate) to lean on academic historical claims, in showing a clear lack of understanding and perhaps . . . an overdisclosure of community gatherings and/or ceremony, violates the tenet of “Respect” within IRMs (Chilisa & Tsheko, 2014; Kirkness & Barnhardt, 1991; Kovach, 2010). We represent problematic inclusion as someone referring to traditional plains nations headwear as a “big hat.”

A third epistemological stance is one most often taken by contemporary Western academics is that of Theoretical Sensitivity, which by itself is not academically irresponsible; however, it is arguably informed largely through books, academic papers, and research that were grounded in a Western academic tradition. These sources were likely not aligned with Indigenous community paradigms and lack a relationship to the communities being researched. This leads to mispronunciation of words/tribal names Sacajawea, or other names including the town of Absarokee, the Absaroka Mtn range, Meeteetse, and other places that have spiritual significance which if we expanded, would be our own inappropriate sharing of culture. In short, misinformation, coupled with a lack of Indigenous community connection, is often taken as “good” information and can be veiled by academic vernacular and publication. Examples of this phenomenon include pronouncing Gros Ventre as “Gross Vont.” (Author I) heard this in a presentation at a conference in 2003. One has to dig into the literature pretty hard to find name origins that align with tribal community perspectives. For further reading on the origin of the name Gros Ventre, see The many names of the White Clay (Taylor, 1983). Less pervasive is the term “Native American Country” (which is likely the result of someone trying to be politically correct; Gordon et al., 2003; Schaap, 2010) and the headdress stamp series by the U.S. post office which states,

The Indian Headdress stamps were the first in the Folk Art[sic] Series to be issued as booklets. The headdresses were prized personal possessions, generally created by the warrior himself, and were usually buried with their owner at death. The headdresses were made from such materials as eagle and turkey feathers, beads, fur, hair tassels, and animal skins. (1990 25c Headdresses, n.d.)

We use this representation of the stamp to explain the concept of theoretical sensitivity.

It is our hope that regardless of Indigenous identity location, those using Indigenous research methods develop and continue to refine an epistemological stance of Cultural Intuition (Bernal, 1998). This concept is rooted in a Chicana feminist epistemology, and we recognize Chicana as Indigenous to turtle island, and the relationality therein. Cultural intuition is steeped in Chicana feminist thought. It complicates the idea of theoretical sensitivity from a Chicana feminist way of knowing and honors Chicana scholars’ personal and shared perspectives. It is informed importantly by communal memory (Bernal, 2016).

In the context of this project, examples of cultural intuition would include scholars pronouncing Gros Ventre correctly and understanding that the community refers to themselves as “White Clay” and even as far as to include the name, in the language, Aaniiih, or A’aninin. To be culturally intuitive might be responding to editors and insisting on using “Indian Country,” as opposed to “Native American Country,” or using community terminology like “War Bonnet” as opposed to Headdress, or “big hat.” This epistemological stance makes the information accessible to Indigenous communities which is much more useful and avoids the overuse of academic vernacular. Cultural intuition, we argue, is appropriate in the process of Indigenous academic knowledge production specifically because it is communal. It is important that the entire process be done while being transparent, with community support, and being mindful of community held and protected knowledge. In an attempt to weave cultural intuition with theoretical sensitivity, we advocate for the use of personal communication citation, and for the majority of references to reflect community knowledge. We felt that a personal creative representation would be more appropriate than a photograph if indeed we are mindful of cultural intuition.

Finally, beyond cultural intuition is an epistemological stance that is grounded in Community held and protected knowledge. We refer to this as Indigenous knowledge realization. We share only the edges where Gros Ventre are known as Aaniiih, Crow as Apsáalooke, Assiniboine Nakóna. Author 2 shares from his own Indigenous knowledge realization which is nuanced in community held and protected knowledge:

The Apsáalooke language has about five different words to the English languages one word, warbonnet. For example, sáhtaach translates to “two tails,” which signifies at type of head covering that had two very long tails that only renowned chiefs could wear. Another word, baleikkúhpawaasho which plainly means “feathered hat/head covering.” The word I think is most significant is baleikkúhpataahile which translates to “real hat/head covering,” real, as opposed to unreal, or an unauthentic, western head covering. It is interesting that the language of western science, which often assumes supremacy, is so limited that it often times cannot convey full indigenous thought and expression. (J. Cummins, Personal communication, November 13, 2020)

Indigenous knowledge realization is prone to controversy related to publication outside of the original community where representations are in nonacademic forms such as designs, carvings, winter counts, enactments, and so on. Often, access is dependent upon simultaneous traditional language, relationship, and timing. Out of respect for Indigenous knowledge realizers, we are not able to share, and offer a representation that should be through relationship and story.

Conclusion

In conclusion, we advocate for space for scholars’, Indigenous and otherwise to seek examples of cultural intuition being woven into peer-reviewed and published articles and use their own intuition in doing so. Cultural intuition in scholarship is evidenced in both formal and informal ways. Formally, the use of the Indigenous terminology in the languages of the tribes themselves, woven into the manuscript, illuminates for community members, the cultural intuition of the author. This is an approach that we support in the repatriation of Indigenous knowledge and supports the larger project in the recovery and revitalization of Indigenous languages. This provides an accurate and relatable representation rooted in IE. Informally cultural intuition is established in relationality. Knowing the author, even though shared friends/family and colleagues further clarifies the connection to the knowledge they share. Finally, we call for contributions to this ongoing conversation and welcome others to this revitalizing work.

We would like to offer our gratitude to Dr. Gone for his willingness to engage in this dialogue and hear his call for creative alternatives in sharing Indigenous knowledge; as a result, we want to share our thoughts about authenticity. The hide used in this project is an ongoing exercise in Native common sense (Meyer, 2013; Windchief & Martin, 2020). This hide is not processed in a tannery and purchased. It was tanned by hand using science that has been used for millennia in the northern plains of the current United States, that includes knowledge transmission centered in relationships. Although not a purely traditional version of a winter count, the process of this project included relationality, actually getting together and telling stories, and developing a shared appreciation for the generations before us. We iterate that what we share is not community protected knowledge, rather a representation of helping to recover traditional knowledge in a contemporary Indigenous context. We invite other scholars to continue this work in ways that protect community held knowledge, particularize tribal nuance, and serve to recover Indigenous knowledges in a responsible way, as well as avoid the temptation of Western academia to continue the exploitation of Indigenous thought. Respect must be maintained, and the community must benefit in reciprocity and relational accountability adhered to (Wilson, 2009). We conclude by recognizing that the knowledge that we are sharing is not ours. We only access it as a result of people sharing it with us, and this would be better “disseminated” in conversation where it is not frozen in time.

OPEN IN VIEWER

Note. The full winter count painted together, in conversation with room to expand what we’ve shared ³