Abstract
Using a Community-First Land-Centered Framework this article reflects on an analysis of the research findings of a SSHRC funded research project. The project examined the ways two universities were interpreting and taking up the TRC report and its 94 Calls to Action. This is a crucial time in Canada’s relationship with Indigenous Peoples and the results of this research demonstrate that reconciliation remains a complex and challenging endeavour that has no quick fixes and further, that universities play a key role making the meaningful changes that are urgently needed to to make higher education welcoming and supportive for Indigenous Peoples.
Keywords
Introduction and setting the context
We begin by acknowledging the traditional territories upon which we conducted our research. The land has a long and tangled history that carries the storied foot prints of the Wendat, Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabek nations and is part of the Dish with One Spoon 1 agreement to share the land between the Anishinaabek and the Haudenosaunee nations. We also acknowledge the enduring presence of all First Nations, Métis, and the Inuit peoples.
Land acknowledgements, while important, can be sites of resistance and socio-political contestation. Schools are also sites of contestation as they are built on lands that have existed and continue to exist first and foremost in relation to Indigenous peoples. It is generally agreed that education, as it currently exists, is problematic it is also seen by Indigenous people as a critical component of their well-being as well as necessary and important aspects for participation as active and egalitarian global citizens. Indigenous scholars have stressed the importance of Indigenizing education across all education contexts (Archibald, 2008; Battiste, 2013; Four Arrows, 2013; Kanu, 2011; Kawagley, 2006; Tanaka, 2016; Toulouse, 2018). Yet, current scholarship from across Canada reveals that higher educational contexts reflect a system that maintains and reinforces colonialism and structural racism, and continues to be challenging spaces for Indigenous students, instructors, and faculty (Battiste, 2018; Grande, 2018; Henry and Kobayashi, 2017; James, 2017; James and Chapman-Nyaho, 2017; Ramos and Li, 2017; Smith, 2017; Styres, 2020; Tuck, 2018). Brayboy et al. (2015) write that the contrasts between university experiences and life at “home” regardless of where home is (urban, rural, community) are drastic and challenging (p. 158). Further that these “cultural differences” that are experienced by Indigenous students in higher learning contexts are not just limited to overall campus atmosphere but also take into account individual classroom environs, and teaching practices (p. 158). For faculty in these universities, they experience “overt and covert racism and discrimination” (p. 172). They also experience the additional emotion and spiritual labour of constantly “having to prove their worth” (p. 172) along with the constant tokenizing that comes with having to be the resident expert on all things Indigenous. Both Indigenous faculty and students experience the “pressure of knowing that their victories and their failures will be taken to represent an entire racial/ethnic group” (p. 172). The Truth and Reconciliation Commission 2 (TRC) identified education as a critical site for Indigenous reconciliation, and further, that decision makers within higher education contexts have an important role to play in supporting reconciliatory efforts.
Reconciliation continues to remain a political priority for various levels of governments, including Ministries of education, during this crucial and delicate time in Canada’s relationship with Indigenous Peoples. Research like the one that is the subject of this article is relevant and timely in the current shifting and fragile political climate as governments, school boards, and educational institutions push to address the TRC’s calls to action.
This article focuses on the findings of a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada 3 (SSHRC) funded research project that examined the ways two universities in Ontario Canada were interpreting and taking up the TRC report and its 94 Calls to Action through three key questions: (1) What do you think it means to be Indigenous in the University? (2) In what ways do you see the University taking up the principles and calls to action of the TRC? (3) What does reconciliation meant to you and what role do you think you have in the process? Informing this work is the community-first Land-centered theoretical framework and research methodology (CFLC) (Styres and Zinga, 2013). As a theoretical framework (the ways we think about research) CFLC addresses the complexities that arise when Indigenous and non-Indigenous research collaborations are formed. As a research method (the way we carry out the research) CFLC offers ways to engage issues around power-sharing and the involvement of non-Indigenous researchers in Indigenous community driven research. Please refer to the section on Research Design and analysis for a more detailed discussion.
Drawing upon an analysis of the findings from this research, the authors (one faculty member who is of Indigenous, French and English descent, one Euro-Canadian 4 faculty, and two Euro-Canadian doctoral students) were particularly concerned with how all participants but most specifically Indigenous participants were experiencing the changes/or lack of changes around the Calls to Action. Please see Styres and Zinga (2013) where we have written a more detailed description of on our collaborative processes as an Indigenous-settler research team and how we have come to develop CFLC.
To that end we begin by outlining the ways in which we engaged with our participants and describing the experiences that they brought to the research conversations. We then move into a discussion on the research design and analysis based on understandings of relationality. Next we report on the ways themes emerged from a deeper relational analysis of the data sets. Finally, we conclude with a discussion on some of the insights gained from an analysis of the research findings and the ways universities might engage in their own reconciliation efforts.
Coming to the edge of the woods
The concept of coming to the edge of the woods finds its genesis in the Haudenosaunee principles of condoling – that is the ways one expresses sympathy and extends the hand of comfort to someone who is grieving. This grief is connected to the intergenerational trauma as a direct result of sustained and ongoing colonialism, systemic and structural racism, along with assimilationist political policies. To that end we opened opportunities for all participants to share their experiences. However, we intentionally held space for Indigenous voices to be heard and respected by ensuring that they shared in their own distinct research conversations, having a local Elder present at all of their conversations, and in the central positioning and privileging of their stories and perspectives in dissemination activities. We really took to heart what one Indigenous participant said at the end of their session: “You won’t sugar coat our words will you?”.
As previously stated in the introductory section, this research was guided by CFLC which is a framework grounded in relationality (Styres and Zinga, 2013). CFLC works as a theoretical framework when “all of its core concepts are adhered to” (p. 288) and as a methodology by embedding all of its tenants within all of the research processes from data collection and analysis through to dissemination activities.
CFLC is key for Indigenous participants who can see their own cultural norms and values embedded and respected within the research. CFLC is an emergent, responsive and culturally aligned theoretical framework and research methodology that has cross-cultural themes that acknowledge and respect the diversity among urban Indigenous peoples while also adaptable to place-specific contexts (see Alfred, 1999; Bishop, 1998; Bishop and Glynn, 1999; Brown and Strega, 2005, 2015; Ermine et al., 2004; Smith, 2012; Wilson, 2008). The method is grounded in relationality that brings together diverse groups into research conversations in order to listen to one another, share stories, acknowledge struggles, and hold space for Indigenous futurities. The use of CFLC is particularly important in light of the diversity of Indigenous peoples attending the two universities in large urban centres. The participants share sustenance and engage in dialogue around the central research questions. Through various storied voices each participant has an opportunity to recognize, reflect and engage with each other’s experiences.
CFLC was also reflected in our ethics processes as we made space for local Elders to be present during all of the research conversations. This was particularly important for Indigenous participants who needed the critical support during what for them, were difficult conversations in spaces where they experienced various harms as a result of colonialism. As such our research was grounded in place and the “ethics of relationality” (Styres & Kempf, forthcoming). The Elders conducted traditional openings for all of the research conversations grounding the research in place and point out the ways we are all connected in tangled relationships to land that exists first and foremost in relationships to Indigenous people that have and continue to exist in intimate relationships to their places.
We interviewed 30 Indigenous faculty, students, and senior administrators; and 40 non-Indigenous faculty, students, and senior administrators from the Faculties of Education at both universities. Research participants were recruited by word of mouth, targeted e-mails, invitations circulated on list-serves, and informal conversations. All Indigenous participants were from a wide variety of communities across Ontario and Canada. Some had lived in the urban centres most of their lives while others came to the city for work/school. The gender ratio of Indigenous faculty participants was evenly split, while the ratio for Indigenous students was 5 females to 1 male. All non-Indigenous scholar participants were tenured faculty while all of the Indigenous faculty with the exception of two were non-tenured and of those only one was in a tenure-track position, the others were sessional lecturers. This really speaks to the precarity of Indigenous labour within a colonial institution steeped in Eurocentricism. 5
The participants were organized into individual research conversations. We use the term conversations to embody Indigenous research as a set of ethical relationships. These conversations were grouped into Indigenous and non-Indigenous gatherings (one session for each faculty and students) and were structured in a circle format designed to provide the maximum comfort for all participants and to create safe spaces for each group allowing them to freely express their experiences.
All of the research conversations were transcribed and pseudonyms were assigned at the time of transcription. The research team uploaded the data sets (transcripts) into data management software (NVivo). We began analyzing and coding the data using a multi-leveled analysis. In the first level the data sets were coded using priori (explicit) coding – that is the research questions generated the first level of coding. In the second and deeper level of coding we used a thematic (implicit) approach to the analysis based on themes that emerge from the first level analysis of the data. Finally, the third level of data analysis (relational) brought us into an even deeper and richer level of the analysis by identifying and examining relationships of concepts both across and between the themes. Participants and their raw data were de-identified, kept confidential, and voices blended.
Telling our stories
Following the release of the 2015 TRC report, the analysis of the data demonstrate a notable disconnect between what is documented in official university statements and what is actually being observed, implemented and experienced by the participants in this research. Official documents and communications from the institutions, such as TRC Task Force Reports, media reports, and Strategic Academic Plans, indicate that steps and measures are being taken to address the TRC in meaningful ways while Indigenous participants clearly express their sense of these actions as the usual token institutional response to changing fundamental colonial systems of engagement with Indigenous educators, learners and communities. Specifically, Indigenous participants reported feeling that institutional responses overly relied on ill-informed advice from ad hoc advisory committees. Further, that there was a lot of dialoguing followed by empty promises with little to no meaningful action. Non-Indigenous participants frequently expressed an overall inertia due to the inability to know where to start or what to do to meaningfully address the TRC.
The multi-leveled analysis of the data from both sites revealed specific and consistent themes emerging from the data: microaggressions; purposeful ignorance; lack of Indigenous specific resources; employment precarity; isolation and emotional exhaustion; power differential issues and lateral violence; contestation in representation and spaces; encroachment into Indigenous spaces. Each of these themes revealed how interwoven colonialism is in the fabric of university life, structures and spaces.
Microaggressions
“There’s a lot of polite racism. The climate on campus is really racist.”
Indigenous student
“You’re fighting those stereotypes and those ideals of what they think Indigenous means.”
Indigenous faculty
The data analysis from both sites equally revealed that micro-aggressions were occurring in classrooms, course content, and administrative structures through the actions of mainstream faculty, students and administrators who largely seem unaware of their own complicitness. Sue (2010) writes that microaggressions are those everyday taken-for-granted verbal, non-verbal and environmental hostilities and negative messages (whether intentional or not) targeting individuals or groups based on racialized/marginalized status. Scholars such as Grande (2018), Henry and Kobayashi (2017), and Tuck (2018) tell us that microaggressions are commonly experienced by racialized and Indigenous faculty.
Indigenous faculty and students shared experiences of resistant behaviors from faculty and students who question the need for Indigenous perspectives within the academy and within certain courses. Indigenous students reported that they constantly battled stereotypical representations in classroom practices and course content. Further, Indigenous students and faculty disclosed experiences of being shut down or targeted as disruptive when they made attempts to speak up and challenge those micro-aggressions. They described having to deal with polite racism as they engaged with a colonial institution designed to quash any attempt to resist or challenge dominant knowledge production.
Purposeful ignorance
“You feel like you need to be a teacher a lot. You feel everyone looks to you. I just want to learn, I don’t want that responsibility. It’s emotionally draining.”
Indigenous student
“I am part of a culture where people think [I’m] extinct.”
Indigenous faculty
Data analysis revealed that, while purposeful ignorance forms part of the micro-aggressions, it also existed on its own. Purposeful ignorance is connected to gross misrepresentations and deficit narratives. To understand purposeful ignorance, we draw upon Heltne (2008) who identifies purposeful ignorance as a claim to know things that we in fact do not know. He also argues that purposeful ignorance is the failure to acknowledge or challenge one’s own taken-for-granted biases and assumptions. An analysis of the research data demonstrated that purposeful ignorance has been experienced at both sites and is perpetuated by maintaining a series of intentions and avoidances that seek to affirm settler futurities. The data revealed that in the instances when these misrepresentations and deficit narratives were challenged the participants told us that their complaints came up against their respective university’s wall of academic freedom. In academia, academic freedom refers to a faculty member’s freedom to express ideas without risk of university interference or professional disadvantage and is directly connected to relations of power and privilege.
The multi-layered analysis of the data also revealed that purposeful ignorance was operant in inherent expectations in classrooms. Indigenous students reported to us that in some of their courses they experienced concerted pressure and an overall expectation to take on the responsibility of teaching the non-Indigenous course instructors/students about the historical relationships between Indigenous people and Canadians. Indigenous participants told us that there is an overall assumption that Indigenous people know everything about being Indigenous – that they grew up with it or that they can speak for all Indigenous peoples. Indigenous participants also connected purposeful ignorance to an overall superficiality and tokenism in taking up the TRC’s calls to action and in addressing the issues of pressing concern to them and their communities within academia.
Lack of indigenous specific supports
“They’re here in a place where they don’t see anybody who looks like them or who is them … Want some help, go to a place where it just looks like the band office, which they hate. And then they leave.”
Indigenous student
“You’ll never get Indigenous people in here to teach, and to research and all that stuff.”
Indigenous faculty
In the data analysis it became apparent that the lack of Indigenous specific supports (i.e. counsellors, spiritual healers, Traditional Teachers) was of great important to Indigenous participants across both sites. Indigenous faculty disclosed that where such supports did exist the funding is always precarious and they are constantly scrambling to find pockets of insecure federal funding. Many Indigenous participants also spoke about the need to change policies and provide effective supports. The research findings reveal that Indigenous specific supports generally do not form part of permanent budgetary considerations in the universities. As such, funding is constantly at risk of being reallocated or disappearing entirely. Additionally, it was reported by Indigenous participants that there is an overall lack of accommodations around communities in crisis, or familial and community obligations related those crisis. Indigenous faculty also told us that the university over-relies on the precarious labor of under-resourced Elders. Indigenous faculty reported they often had to utilize their own professional development funds or out-of-pocket monies to support Elders and community events – something that would never be expected of mainstream faculty.
Employment precarity
“I had to access two committee members that weren’t from the university in order to get Indigenous expertise. It was up to me to continuously advocate for that and it delayed me a year.”
Indigenous Student
“Everyone’s so scared. They don’t want to lose their job.”
Indigenous Faculty
Data analysis unveiled employment precarity as an issue of concern and while this was expressed at both sites it was an issue of particular concern at one site. Indigenous faculty disclosed both a lack of support for Indigenous instructors as well as an over-reliance on the precarity of Indigenous labour. While universities routinely use precarious labour the data revealed that the experiences of Indigenous participants were markedly different. Indigenous faculty reported that some of the precarity emerges out of TRC initiatives to place more Indigenous instructors and Elders in the university without tying those initiatives to tenure track faculty positions or permanent budget lines. The precarity went further as Indigenous faculty reported not feeling supported or protected in their positions. This data mirrors the findings of James and Chapman-Nyaho (2017), who also found high levels of precarity and lack of support for Indigenous instructors and faculty in postsecondary contexts. Indigenous participants reported feeling that they were tokenized on committees, further that they felt shut down or experienced punitive responses when they tried to use their voice to challenge the status quo. Others spoke of the isolation and emotional exhaustion associated with trying to meet the institutional expectations of representing Indigeneity. The data analysis uncovered isolation and emotional exhaustion associated with employment precarity as its own theme due to its wider experience outside of precarity contexts.
Isolation and emotional exhaustion
“Am I just here alone? Am I making it up? Does no one else see what’s happening?”
“It’s exhausting to always be the one that has their shoulders packed all the time… when you are a working academic and your time and resources are often taxed and exhausted. And then you have your regular job to do on top of that.”
Indigenous faculty
The emotional exhaustion was evident equally across both sites when analyzing Indigenous participants experiences. Isolation and emotional exhaustion refer to Indigenous participants, particularly faculty, at both institutions who reported being over-extended because they are immersed in the spiritual and emotional work of trying to ‘be and do’ within these spaces. Further, it also means that they are expected to do the hard work of reconciliation for others while trying to meet university milestones while doing their own research. Findings also reveal that there is an overall lack of Indigenous specific and protected spaces within the university. For Indigenous students it means having access to faculty who understand and support the type of work they are undertaking. For Indigenous faculty it also means that there may not be colleagues with whom they can confide in and feel supported by. Findings revealed that universities are places of contestation and Indigenous faculty and students consistently have to argue with mainstream faculty, students, and administration for their positionalities and ways of knowing and being within the academy. This is similar to the findings of other researchers (Henry and Kobayashi, 2017; James, 2017; James and Chapman-Nyaho, 2017) who have explored the experiences of Indigenous and racialized faculty and instructors.
Power differential issues and lateral violence
“I was basically racially profiled, racially insulted, and humiliated by a professor in class.”
“The Elder at [names Indigenous student organization] said to my face that because my mother is white I will never be Indigenous.”
Indigenous students
The data revealed that there were power differential issues occurring between Indigenous participants in general but more particularly between Indigenous students and administrative structures. Participants at both sites in this research overwhelmingly asserted that Indigenous people in the university experience less agency and power than anyone else. The Indigenous faculty and students indicated that this sense of powerlessness they experience makes them feel even more isolated and less likely to be able to push past administrative barriers to seek help or to address issues of racism in classrooms.
The analysis of the findings also showed that Indigenous students were particularly impacted by lateral violence. Lateral violence is connected to issues of power and, according to the Native Women’s Association of Canada (2011), includes: work place/community bullying; horizontal hostilities/violence; internalized colonialism; and relational aggression. Lateral violence happens when individuals and groups of individuals who, due to sustained colonial oppression, have long-term suppressed feelings of anger, shame and blame (n.p.).
In this research lateral violence was occurring across both sites. However, at one site in particular, lateral violence was primarily occurring between Indigenous administration and Indigenous students. Students told us that they refrained from accessing certain Indigenous supports because of the lateral violence they experienced in those spaces. Further, Indigenous student participants stated that the university does not seem to understand or support them in navigating these issues. Further, that they believe the university does not take seriously the complaints of lateral violence or why the supports are not being utilized by such a large number of Indigenous students. The data revealed that both Indigenous faculty and students also experienced lateral violence from peers who themselves are struggling to survive and thrive in the competitive environment of a university culture that perpetuates colonialism.
Contestation in representation and spaces
“It’s like a colonized, whitewashed view of the history but there is so much more history that is not shown”
“Every time I walk by that thing it makes me angry.”
“How can people see us as living human beings with needs if the only representation you have is from 200 years ago.”
Indigenous faculty/students
The analysis of the data across both sites uncovered the fact that Indigenous participants were experiencing contestation in certain representations and in various spaces within the university that, at times, can be reflections of colonialism, such as in paintings reflecting white male dominance and privilege. Martineau and Ritskes (2014) tell us that colonial art and the placement of that art, particularly Indigenous spaces is inherently political (p.1). Further, that its presence is speaks to the pervasiveness and persistence of settler colonialism that seeks to appropriate, assimilate, subsume/consume and silence Indigeneity within its logic of domination (p. 1). Indigenous participants at one site reported that some representations such as murals, statues and configurations of space and/or buildings are violent due to their depictions, contexts, and encroachment into existing Indigenous spaces. They also reported that Indigenous representations, when included, are further marginalized by being placed on the periphery of university spaces. Indigenous students at one site spoke about avoiding some artwork and murals due to their traumatizing effects. They spoke about finding, whenever possible, new routes to access classes and other services in order to avoid what they report as the assaultive nature of experiencing these pieces. It is important to note that since we have completed this research the representation at one site that had been identified by Indigenous participants as particularly traumatic and troubling has been removed.
It was interesting to note that the analysis disclosed that non-Indigenous students and faculty were largely unaware of the challenges presented by the various art installations around campus and rarely mentioned art as an issue. In fact, they reported being surprised that these representations were an issue for Indigenous peoples in the university and for the local community. In the few cases where art was identified as an issue, those conversations centred on the pieces that Indigenous participants found most traumatic.
Encroachment into indigenous spaces
An implicit theme that we teased out the data analysis was the constant encroachment into Indigenous spaces. These spaces were both open and closed spaces. The reference to the open spaces were locations within the main part of the university clearly signed as designated for Indigenous students and faculty as gathering spaces for conducing ceremony and for hanging out with one another. At other times the spaces were closed spaces within departments that had been set aside for use by Indigenous faculty and students, for instance computer labs, Indigenous student centres, and office space set aside for the Knowledge Keepers-in-residence. While this theme was the more insidious of the themes it was none-the-less threaded throughout the analysis across both sites.
The analysis pointed to certain types of encroachment as forms of micro-aggressions and structural racism (see above) – in other words we discover you have something we want and we like it, so we simply take it over. At other times encroachment related to purposeful ignorance – people just ‘settling’ into those spaces and eventually by sheer numbers take over those gathering spaces set aside for Indigenous students. Indigenous participants experienced these forms of encroachment as an overwhelming sense of entitlement.
The data unveiled three other less obvious, but none-the-less troubling, characteristics of encroachment. One such type of encroachment was more connected to issues around policy and practices – yes you can have that space but there are all sorts of unwritten restrictions that become attached to it – you cannot laugh too loud, you cannot practice certain ceremonies such as smudging, you cannot bring in traditional foods. One site, in particular, had a smudging policy in place where the institution required a 10-day notice period, which is completely inappropriate when Indigenous students or faculty may be in crisis. Indigenous participants also report additional impositions related to aspects of hospitality and hosting of events and that these spaces become very uncomfortable, inflexible, and unwelcoming to community. Further, they said they always feel, when confronted, like they have to ‘apologize’ just for simply being there. Indigenous faculty and students who were interviewed stated that they are made to feel as if they are taking up too much space that would better serve the agendas of the dominant and privileged in the academy.
Another subliminal type of encroachment that was also revealed in the analysis was occurring in the context of colonial representations that were situated immediately outside supports designed to help Indigenous students. This was particularly upsetting for Indigenous students who stated that they felt really uncomfortable walking into those supports and having to be subjected to and constantly reminded of colonialism in institutions that profess reconciliation in their public policy statements.
Lastly the data analysis uncovered a particularly cryptic kind of encroachment. An overwhelming majority of Indigenous faculty and students said that they were angry at the constant encroachment into Indigenous initiatives. They reported to us that, despite initial promises to community, non-Indigenous faculty are consistently being placed in leadership positions within Indigenous specific initiatives at the university. Further, that policies related to who can take leadership of these initiatives ensures that Indigenous faculty would not be able to be moved into these positions. Taken together, the participants believe it is an overall lack of respect for Indigeneity within the university.
Concluding thoughts
“In terms of what [non-Indigenous] university faculty, staff and students should know, they should know what their role is in reconciliation. And to know what their role is there’s a whole lot of unpacking about what they know about their place here and the colonial history and how that’s not a thing of the past but how that shapes contemporary realities today.”
Indigenous faculty
The majority of non-Indigenous faculty in the research acknowledged that the work of reconciliation was important in restoring Indigenous-settler relations. However, when those non-Indigenous participants were asked what reconciliation meant to them and what role they thought they had in the process, many were not optimistic that this work was possible. Others who thought it might be possible gestured to the responsibility of such endeavours as the responsibility of obscure systems such as society, education, and government. This is evidenced in the comments made by non-Indigenous faculty such as: “I’m maybe being naive in saying that we don’t need to talk about it anymore. That’s when we’ll be reconciled. But I’m not necessarily optimistic that’s going to happen. The more I think about this, I don’t know if I agree with the statement that reconciliation is a white person’s issue. I mean, we could argue that Aboriginal populations have been reconciled to being in an oppressed situation. Or is it that we white people for lack of a better word, or Canadians, are reconciled to the fact that they have to recognize Aboriginals? I guess I’m just not understanding what that means.” Another non-Indigenous faculty member stated: “I’m now hung up on what reconcile means. It means learning to put up with or learning to accept certain things” and “reconcile to your responsibility? I mean I never understood why it was called that, to be honest because it just didn’t seem to hang together for me”. Other faculty members echoed similar sentiments: “I don’t know that I believe in the word reconciliation, but it doesn’t matter if I do”; “I don’t think about reconciling, I don’t think about forgiveness. I don’t live there”; and “I’m not reconciled with anything in the TRC”. Those who thought reconciliation was possible, could not quite fathom taking up their responsibilities for this challenging work: “I do think it is the responsibility of white settlers who privilege off of Indigenous oppression to self-educate themselves, but at the same time, that is asking for extra work from people” and “I am a transplant on other people’s land, I simply cannot accept that I am simply another settler”.
However, the light at the end of the tunnel are those non-Indigenous faculty who recognize the difficult work ahead and are willing to take up their responsibilities in moving the reconciliation agenda forward. This is reflected in such comments as: “guilt is an easy default, to be guilty is recognizing that you are a party to a historical process. You can tell yourself that you’re not your grandfather or grandmother but you’re a direct beneficiary of all the things that they put in place. What it looks like to undo that requires conversation and the practical steps you can do to help role that into part of larger practices that affect institutions”; “reconciliation for me is to ensure that Indigenous young people understand that this is a place that they can come, that they will be welcome, that they can have an influence over their learning experience, that when they’re here they feel that they can shape their educational experience in a way that is meaningful and helps them achieve their goals”; and “reconciliation means trying to undo some of those white, colonial things that are just so taken for granted”.
A common thread that ran through each of the themes that emerged from the multi-layered analysis of the data indicated that non-Indigenous Canadians were struggling to understand reconciliation, their individual and collective responsibilities in the process, and their own culpability in perpetuating colonialism and undermining reconciliatory efforts. More specifically, it was clear throughout that Indigenous participants were still experiencing colonialism despite concerted efforts toward reconciliation. As mentioned previously, the multi-layered analysis of the themes ensured that we were able to generate much deeper and richer data that demonstrated how tangled the lived experiences of both Indigenous and Non-Indigenous participants are. Further, the pervasive and embedded nature of colonialism acts as a slippery barrier to reconciliation making talk about reconciliation much easier to accomplish and meaningful action more challenging to accomplish. Thus, moving talk forward into meaningful action would require active and critical engagement with colonialism and reconciliation in universities.
Overall, the data revealed that despite institutional efforts to address the TRC, Indigenous faculty, students and senior administrators continue to see little meaningful action taking place at their institutions. Their experiences within the universities continue to be challenging and characterized by racism. Inconsistent funding that relies on government monies continues to lead to significant problems in providing sustainable supportive programming for Indigenous students. Indigenous students and faculty struggle daily to carve out spaces and understandings for Indigenous ways of thinking, being and doing without feeling as if any progress will be appropriated or eroded by the weight of colonial structures.
It is clear that there is more investment in addressing the TRC’s Calls to Action than there was in addressing the recommendations of the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples. While universities are taking steps and organizing consultative committees, they still seem paralyzed and unable to translate these initial steps into meaningful actions. Our research suggests that the root of this absence of action is found in the lack of understanding how to reconcile, what it means to reconcile, and whose responsibility it is to reconcile. Institutions must grapple with how to dismantle years of learning about Indigenous peoples that is still contextualized by negative narratives, failing to meet treaty obligations, 6 and the disavowal of such obligations by the government. Non-Indigenous Canadians have much to learn about respectful relations (Kirkness and Bernhardt, 1991; Styres and Kempf, forthcoming; Styres and Zinga, 2013) and treaty obligations and it is this learning that will facilitate moving truth telling and reconciliation forward and contribute to meaningful actions that address the TRC’s calls to action. It is also clear that Indigenous faculty, students and senior administrators are emotionally exhausted by trying to teach non-Indigenous Canadians about respectful relations and treaty obligations. The challenge lies in how non-Indigenous Canadians will move forward to learn about and engage in supporting respectful relations and treaty obligations. More specifically, how subsequent changes in non-Indigenous Canadians’ understandings of reconciliation as informed by respectful relations and adherence to treaty obligations will assist universities in mobilizing to make the meaningful changes that this research demonstrates are urgently needed to make postsecondary structures and spaces welcoming and supportive for Indigenous faculty, students and senior administrators. Our challenge for readers is for each of you to read the full 2015 TRC report and the recently released 2019 report on missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls (Reclaiming Power and Place), not just the highlights or executive summaries, and to give careful and purposeful consideration on how you will take up your responsibilities, through critical social action, for being on these lands as beneficiaries of the treaty agreements that are foundational to Canada.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
