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New Directions for Theorizing in Qualitative Inquiry
A book series edited by Norman K. Denzin and James Salvo
New Directions for Theorizing in Qualitative Inquiry consists of

thematic edited volumes that help us understand the philosophical
concepts undergirding theory and how to put theory into practice to
bring about social justice. The chapters in each volume, from estab-
lished and emerging scholars and largely drawn from papers at the
annual International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry, represent
new directions for incorporating theory into justice-oriented qual-
itative research. Taking particular interest in theorists who haven’t
yet had mainstream influence, the series is designed to reach a wide
audience of scholars and students in the humanities and social sciences,
including those seasoned in the philosophical language of theory and
novices to theoretically-oriented research. The series aims to bring
about experimental ways of reading lives to implement radical social
change.
Books in the series:

New Directions In Theorizing Qualitative Research:
The Arts (2020)
Indigenous Research (2020)
Theory as Resistance (2020)
Performance as Resistance (2020)
If you have a manuscript or a proposal for a book-length work,

please send it to Norman Denzin (n-denzin@illinois.edu) or James
Salvo (salvo3000@gmail.com). All books published by MEP are
peer reviewed. We will acknowledge receipt of your material but
it may be 4-6 weeks before we can provide initial feedback about
your proposal.
New
Directions
in Theorizing
Qualitative
Research
Indigenous Research
edited by
Norman K. Denzin and James Salvo
Gorham, Maine
Copyright © 2020 | Myers Education Press, LLC
Published by Myers Education Press, LLC

P.O. Box 424
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contents
Introduction • James Salvo vii
Chapter One • Fish fry methodology: A relational land-based
approach to research and reconciliation
Lana (Waaskone Giizhigook) Ray, Paul N. Cormier,
and Leisa Desmoulins 1
Chapter Two • Concerning disconnects:
The place of secondary analysis in Indigenous research
Rachel Louise Burrage 23
Chapter Three • The Sámi people in Norway:
Historical marginalisation and assimilation, contemporary
experiences of prejudice, and a new truth commission
Stephen James Minton and Hadi Lile 39
Chapter Four • Traditional storytelling: An effective
Indigenous research methodology and its implications
for environmental research
Ranjan Datta 59
Chapter Five • Pictures in the paint:
The significance of memories for Indigenous researchers
Tina M. Bly 83
Chapter Six • Walking the walk:
Honouring lives to counter violence
Leisa Desmoulins 91
Chapter Seven • Beyond the IRB: Relational accountability
in African-American educational research
Robert L. Graham 117
Chapter Eight • Evoking Indigenous poiesis:
An Indigenous métissage
Vicki Lynn Kelly 127
Chapter Nine • Stəqpistns iʔ pqlqin / kihew omīkwan: Eagle Feather
Joseph Naytowhow, Virginie Magnat,
Vicki Lynn Kelly, and Mariel Belanger 155
About the Authors 179
Index 183
Introduction vii
introduction
Indigenous Epistemologies
as Seeking Knowing Through
Being-With and Being From
JAMES SALVO 1
T o inaugurate a series on new directions in theorizing qualitative

inquiry, the best place to start is with Indigenous epistemology.
Western epistemology has several presumptions causing it to become
stuck at a particular impasse, one having to do with the way it con-
ceptualizes the ontological. And because, at least colloquially, theoriz-
ing has to do with questions of either epistemology, ontology, or both,
the best place to start isn’t at an impasse: A new direction toward an
impasse defeats the purpose of finding a new direction in the first
place! And though Indigenous epistemology isn’t itself new, because
Indigenous epistemology doesn’t share the impasse obtaining in West-
ern epistemology, we might choose, instead, to start new directions
from here. In other words, this volume—but also this series—presumes
that Indigenous epistemology should be the point of origin regarding
theorizing. Indigenous epistemology is philosophically fundamental,
and in its study of being as the conjunction of being-with and being
from, it has the status of being a first philosophy.
But how might one understand the concept of Indigenous episte-
mologies, or, in other words, what are Indigenous ways of knowing?
And further to that, what might this question have to do with ontol-
ogy? To address the latter question first, in the set of all beings, we
can define two subsets of beings: (a) beings without the capacity to
know and (b) beings with a capacity to seek knowledge, beings with
1. The author would like to thank Mitch Allen, Norman Denzin, and Chris Myers for their support
in this project.
viii Indigenous Research
a capacity, in other words, to inquire. Let’s call the first subset ontic
inasmuch as its members are beings that merely be. Further, let’s
say that the second subset contains within it a subset of beings who
seek the knowledge of being itself. Because this subset of beings
who seek the knowledge of being itself inquire into being, we might
distinguish them from merely ontic beings and call them, instead,
ontological. This is a suitable name, for the name of these ontolog-
ical beings is literal: Ontological beings are beings for whom being
can be a question. Regarding these beings, one might be inclined
to say, then, that ontological beings are beings capable of inquir-
ing into the meaning of being, but for our purposes, let’s instead say
something else. Let’s say something else instead, for inquiring into
the meaning of being has been a major impasse of Western ways of
knowing. It’s been an impasse inasmuch as Western ways of know-
ing typically make the mistake of failing to recognize that to be a
being for whom being is a question isn’t to seek the meaning of being,
but to be a being whose very being is given over as meaning. More
simply, another way to think of this is that being by itself doesn’t have
meaning—to question the meaning of being itself is to formulate an
unanswerable question—for there’s no meaning of being without the
precondition of being-with. But what is this being-with?
Being-with is the being coming about through communication.
There’s no meaning of being without being-with because there can
be no meaning in the presence of only the absolutely singular. Com-
munication necessarily requires that there be at least two partaking
in a conversation. One must be in communication with someone for
there to be meaning, for meaning isn’t meaning as such if it isn’t a
shared sense. And thus, to be ontological, to be a being for whom
being is a question, means that ontological being can never be sin-
gular if it isn’t at the same time plural. Ontological beings are always
already those who are being-with.
In a similar vein to how we differentiated the ontic and the onto-
logical, so too can we understand epistemology. We’ll reserve the term
epistemic for things relating to knowledge, while we’ll reserve the term
epistemological for the inquiring into knowledge through the seeking
of knowledge. But how would this relate to Indigenous epistemologies,
to epistemologies qualified with a label referring to an identity?
Introduction ix
Taking note that it’s important not to either totalize or reify some-
thing that’s either an Indigenous identity or Indigenous subjectivity,
when we reflect upon any identity with the label of Indigenous, we’re
reflecting upon an identity asserting a quality of being indigenous
to something, namely being indigenous to a land. Thus, if we’re to
take the indigeneity of Indigenous being as more than a metaphor or
something simply part of a proper name, then by definition, Indige-
nous being refers to a being whose identity cannot be defined outside
of a being from with respect to a land. Because being itself is spatio-
temporal, this relationship to the land is not only one of space, but
also one of time. Such is the assertion of Marie Battiste (2013):
Where Indigenous knowledge or epistemology survives, it is trans-

mitted through the Indigenous languages. . . . The sharing of these
common ideals creates a collective cognitive experience for tribal
societies that is understood as Aboriginal or Indigenous knowledge
systems. Indigenous knowledges are diverse learning processes
that come from living intimately with the land, working with the
resources surrounding that land base, and the relationships that it
has fostered over time and place. (p. 48)
Here we see that Indigenous epistemology survives through com-

munication, specifically through Indigenous languages, through the
way ontological beings be in the manner of being-with. The know-
ledges have an intimate relation with the land in the manner of being
from. Thus, because Indigenous beings are also ontological beings,
then Indigenous being is specifically the conjunction of both being-
with and being from. And if the knowing of a particular being is a
knowing from the perspective of being one’s own most being, then
Indigenous ways of knowing are epistemologies belonging to Indig-
enous beings, belonging in the sense that these epistemologies can
only come from being indigenous. Thus, we might understand Indig-
enous epistemologies to be the inquiring into knowledge through
seeking knowledge specific to the perspective of the conjunction of
being-with and being from. If this is so, then we can see how this dif-
fers from Western ways of thought that emphasize ideas of authen-
ticity and inauthenticity, ideas that insist upon the autonomy of the
self from the collective other, from an individual I from the they.
x Indigenous Research
Again, this inclination toward the fragmentary has proven to be an

ontological impasse, and as such, it has occluded knowledge of being.
Indigenous epistemologies avoid such an impasse. Through its focus
on being-with and being from, Indigenous epistemologies are fun-
damentally relational ways of thinking. As Margaret Kovach (2009)
writes,
Indigenous epistemology emphasizes its non-fragmented, holistic

nature, focusing on the metaphysical and pragmatic, on language
and place, and on values and relationships. Within Indigenous dis-
course, these are aspects of Indigenous epistemologies that consis-
tently emerge. They are all bound by the relational. Relationship
is not identified as a specific theme because it is wholly integrated
with everything else. Indigenous epistemologies live within a rela-
tional web, and all aspects of them must be understood from that
vantage point. (p. 57)
However, this is a description of Indigenous epistemologies as they

are in and of themselves. We can’t deny that such epistemologies
have been oppressed by the West. However, because they’ve been
able to disclose truth, Indigenous epistemologies have resisted. Thus,
if one has a project beyond that of the ontological inquiry into being,
one that involves social justice, one might look to Indigenous episte-
mologies. As Patrick Lewis (2018) writes, “Everyone needs to attend
to Indigenous inquiry methods not just in the current context of neo-
liberalism, but always and everywhere because Indigenous inquiry
methods have resisted 500 years of colonization and oppression”
(p. 66). But how do Indigenous epistemologies resist? In the con-
text of racism and colonialism, as Indigenous epistemologies are
silenced and become subjugated knowledges, how do Indigenous
epistemologies inquire into knowledge of social injustice? Linda
Tuhiwai Smith (2012) writes that
[i]n these conservative times the role of an indigenous researcher

and indeed of other researchers committed to producing research
knowledge that documents social injustice, that recovers subju-
gated knowledges, that helps create spaces for the voices of the
silenced to be expressed and ‘listened to’, and that challenges
racism, colonialism and oppression is a risky business. (p. 198)
Introduction xi
What’s striking about this passage isn’t only the still timely truth
about the riskiness of doing research that conservative regimes find
threatening, but the perspicacious observation that when we help
create spaces for silenced voices, we must at the same time be atten-
dant to creating spaces wherein those voices can be listened to. On
the face of it, this assertion may seem to be an articulation of a sim-
ple truth—one often forgotten because of its simplicity—that when
someone who had not spoken at long last speaks, to complete the cir-
cuit of dialogue, there must be someone there to listen. Certainly,
this is something that Smith expresses, but it’s only one of the ways
in which to understand the insight. If we’re mindful of her careful
phrasing, however, we can see that this is also an articulation of a
perhaps less simple truth, but one that’s no less important. While we
might assume that expression regarding the voices of the silenced
are articulations, utterances, or speakings, we might take the voices
of the silenced to be doubly the voices that are expressed as silence.
In this case, then, it’s also important to listen to silenced voices even
when they don’t speak.
Being attentive in these ways, what truths might we hear, for
instance, in the stories of storytelling? If there’s something equiva-
lent to listening to silences with regard to the specular, what might
we see if we reverse an unseeing gaze? Can it be that we become
differently aware? Can it be that we can achieve our aim of a more
global being-with? It’s with all this in mind that the chapters in this
volume proceed.
The first three chapters explore ideas related to Indigenous epis-
temology as related to Truth and Reconciliation Commission reports.
As these chapters will show, one must take care not to fetishize the
voice of Indigenous peoples as the articulate political demands in a
way that serves only the settler nation’s pleasure. In other words, TRC
reports don’t actually document truth if reconciliation is tantamount
to an oppression reinscribing non-listening. If there’s truth to be dis-
closed in TRC reports, then that truth must be documented—it must
listen—in such a way that doesn’t merely exculpate settler nations
from their oppressive injustices for the purpose of maintaining dom-
ination. Further, as one must take care not to fetishize voices, one
must also take care to represent what’s uttered by voices in such a
xii Indigenous Research
way that remains true to the voice itself. One must be attendant to
the silences in between originary utterances and uttered responses.
And lastly, one must be attendant to the voices of languages them-
selves, particularly when those in power try to silence the commu-
nicative medium of voice itself. In being attendant to this particular
silence, what might we hear?
In Chapter One, Lana Ray begins by pointing out the need to
reflect critically on TRC reports and how a certain rendering of
the concept of reconciliation can serve to only to assert that there’s
a shared history in the lived experiences of both Indigenous and
non-Indigenous peoples. But in this particular context of reconcili-
ation, it’s a dangerous thing to assert that everyone suffers the same
trauma. Such an idea, for instance, doesn’t account for the experi-
ence of land dispossession and denigration that Indigenous peoples
live. Ray argues, “[R]econciliation must be relocated into the sto-
ried landscape that embodies the values, histories and knowledges
of Indigenous peoples.” Taking her inspiration from the work of
LeAnne Howe, a Choctaw scholar, Ray discusses and develops a fish-
fry methodology, something that “can be understood as a form of the
performative methodology ‘tribalography’ that is purposefully used
to examine the praxis of researchers through a land-based lens.” As
Ray further notes, “What is critical is that the practice creates oppor-
tunity for sharing, understanding, and knowledge production with
the land.” Ray wishes to develop a process “that centers Indigenous
voices through Indigenous ways of knowing.”
In Chapter Two, in relation to the use of TRC reports, Rachel Lou-
ise Burrage questions the “compatibility of secondary analysis with
the focus and ethics of an indigenous research paradigm.” She reflects
upon the question of how one can interpret epistemologies and ontol-
ogies in the spoken words of people from whom she is disconnected.
Though concluding that such disconnections “run contrary to the type
of inquiry that strives to understand the experiences of indigenous
peoples in their own languages and frames of reference,” one shouldn’t
conclude that “there is no place for secondary analysis in the realm of
indigenous inquiry; rather, it means that special considerations and
approaches must be taken in order to understand where disconnects
might occur and, where possible, seek to correct them.”
Introduction xiii
In Chapter Three, regarding the importance of languages itself,

Stephen James Minton and Hadi Strømmen Lile write on the Sámi
population of Norway. They note how the Norwegian state had
made efforts to eradicate the Sámi languages, and how, “[t]he Sámi
people in Norway are still coping with the cultural consequences of
language and cultural loss related to ‘Norwegianization.’ The “fail-
ure” of some Sámi people to ‘comply’ with ‘Norwegianization’ has
led to the stigmatization of Sámi identity, language and culture.” In
light of this they call for an exploration of the possibility of calling
for “the establishment of a truth commission, similar to the one
that had been established in Canada.”
In Chapter Four, we explore the possibilities of storytelling as
regards Indigenous epistemologies. Ranjan Datta takes up the con-
cept of storytelling itself as regards to Indigenous epistemologies.
Noting how Western research methods have proven inappropriate
and ineffective in gathering together knowledge and promoting con-
versation, Datta explores how instead, “storytelling as an emerging
research method is timely, accurate, appropriate, and culturally rele-
vant for many Indigenous communities.” Datta goes on to assert that
“[s]torytelling interconnects with Indigenous ontology and episte-
mology. Indigenous ways of understanding and acting connect with
a particular ontology and epistemology, which is known as relational
ways of knowing.” In a way that could be read through the lens of
being-with and being from, Datta then inquires and self-situates: “As
a researcher using the storytelling method, understanding the ques-
tions Who am I? and Where did I come from? is important. Personal
stories can provide a deeper explanation of who I am personally,
professionally, emotionally, and spiritually as a researcher.”
Just as settler nations can sometimes be guilty of employing the
voice of Indigenous peoples as something that serves their enjoy-
ment instead of something to which one must listen, the gaze, like
the voice, can be a partial object of desire that settler nations might
fetishize to serve at their pleasure. In Chapter Five we see Tina Bly
attempting to reverse this. As a move toward creating knowledge,
Bly wishes to reverse the nonreciprocal dialectic of the gaze through
the activity of travel. This has profound implications. “When the
gaze is reversed,” Bly writes, “and an indigenous researcher visits
xiv Indigenous Research
the continent of those who colonized her people, there will be matters
to conceptualize which may last a lifetime.”
Picking up with the theme of relationality, in Chapter Six Leisa
Desmoulins explores a recent awareness-raising initiative regard-
ing missing and murdered Indigenous women, girls, and two spirit
peoples (MMIWG2S). She further examines Walking With Our Sisters
(WWOS), a commemoration installation to raise awareness of MMI-
WG2S. She explores WWOS as a site for learning from Indigenous
peoples and how it can be a call to action with regard to social justice.
Her study explores “how participants from two sites—Thunder Bay
and Halifax—describe what it means to honour MMIWG2S through
participating with the WWOS commemorative installation,” asking
“How do participants respond to the WWOS’s calls to action? How do
participants honour MMIWG2S?” arguing that “they respond through
honouring MMIWG2S as an active process of ethical relationality.”
For Chapter Seven, in the spirit of what Lewis asserts above,
Robert L. Graham’s performance text takes the form of an open let-
ter encouraging us to reflect upon relational accountability. Further,
in Chapter 8, Vicki Kelly explores Indigenous Poiesis, attempting
to answer the questions of “What are the Indigenous pedago-
gies present within Indigenous Poiesis that can heal our broken
relationships within our human communities, to the more than
human world, and to ourselves? How do aesthetic encounters
through poiesis become sites or ecologies for social healing? How
can Indigenous art as a knowledge practice create capacities that
catalyze our consciousness towards a new vision of what it means
to live on this land deeply relationally, that sounds and resounds
within the ancient traditions of an Indigenous acoustemology?”
Chapter Nine brings the volume to a close. In a profound reflec-
tion on the Eagle Feather, Mariel Belanger, Vicki Kelly, Joseph
Naytowhow, and Virginie Magnat show us the way forward with
regard to Indigenous epistemologies, how they challenge Western
ways of knowing, and how Indigenous epistemologies are valuable
beyond the confines of geographical and cultural boundaries.
Introduction xv
References
Battiste, M. (2013). Decolonizing education: Nourishing the learning spirit.

Vancouver, BC: UBC Press.
Lewis, P. (2018). Indigenous qualitative research in the neoliberal public
sphere. In N. K. Denzin & M. D. Giardina (Eds.), Qualitative inquiry in
the public sphere (pp. 66–77). New York, NY: Routledge.
Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous methodologies: Characteristics, conversa-
tions, and contexts. Toronto, Canada: University of Toronto Press.
Smith, L. T. (2012). Decolonizing methodologies: Research and indigenous
peoples. London: Zed Books Ltd.
xvi Indigenous Research
Fish Fry Methodology 1
chapter one
Fish Fry Methodology:

A Relational Land-Based
Approach to Research
and Reconciliation
All rights reserved. May not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except fair uses permitted under U.S. or applicable copyright law.
LANA ( WAASKONE GIIZHIGOOK) RAY,

PAUL N. CORMIER , AND LEISA DESMOULINS
W ith the release of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission

(TRC) of Canada’s Final Report (2015), Canada ushered in
the “Era of Reconciliation” (Hunter, 2016). A notable change since
its release is that discourse amongst scholarly and diplomatic circles
alike has undergone a semantic overhaul. Today, one is hard-pressed
to find conversations about Indigenous and settler relations that do
not refer to the TRC or “reconciliation” or speak of “renewed relation-
ships” and “shared histories.” The popularity and, arguably, overuse of
the term raises concerns about its meaning and effectiveness.
From the onset of his election campaign, Canadian Prime
Minister Trudeau identified the need for renewed relationships
and reconciliation with Indigenous peoples. Key promises made in
the context of reconciliation on the 2016 campaign trail included
respecting the inherent and Treaty rights of Indigenous peoples,
working with Indigenous peoples as partners in all that happens
with the land, and respecting Indigenous peoples’ right to say no
to a pipeline and other development projects (Aboriginal Peoples
Television Network [APTN], 2016; Palmater, 2018).

Even Suncor, a Canadian oil sand extraction company is par-
taking in the reconciliation conversation, describing it as “the pro-
cess of understanding and coming to terms with our shared history
2 Indigenous Research
[emphasis added] in order to have a vibrant community where all

peoples, including Indigenous youth, achieve their full potential and
have an opportunity to share in their prosperity” (Suncor, 2017, para
27). They have partnered with the Indigenous-led not-for-profit orga-
nization Reconciliation Canada to support this vision (Suncor, 2017).
We must ask critical questions about these and similar visions
and commitments of reconciliation. Green (2015) posits that the
language of shared experience in the context of reconciliation is
dangerous. She explains that “shared history” implies that trauma
has been suffered by both Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples.
This, in turn, makes injustices and the vast wealth accumulation of
Canada associated with these injustices invisible and thus negates
restitution (Green, 2015). This assertion by Green is evident all too
frequently. Resource development projects continue to proceed with-
out the free prior and informed consent of Indigenous peoples; the
extraction of wealth from Indigenous lands continues at the expense
of Indigenous peoples’ social, cultural, economic and physical health;
and underfunding in key areas such as Indigenous child welfare and
education continues while industries and corporations receive buy/
bailouts from the Canadian Government.
Huseman and Short (2012) explain that tar sands development
has dramatically altered the Athabasca delta and watershed through
massive deforestation, open-pit mining, depletion of sources, toxic
contamination, destruction of habitat and biodiversity, and the severe
forcible disruption of Indigenous traditional economies. Suncor has
been part of this destruction, admitting in 1997 to leaking over 1,500
cubic meters of toxic fluid into the Athabasca River daily (Huseman
& Short, 2012). Huseman and Short (2012) assert that this violates
Indigenous human rights and have urged the halt of tar sand devel-
opment and restoration of the land and waterways to ameliorate the
negative health impacts on Indigenous peoples. To date, Suncor has
not withdrawn from the Alberta tar sands.
Furthermore, less than two years after his campaign promises
to renew relationships with Indigenous peoples and respect their
relationships and jurisdiction of land, Trudeau’s federal government
announced the buyout of the highly contested Kinder Morgan Trans
Mountain Pipeline for 4.5 billion dollars. This showcased the lack of
a meaningful shift in Indigenous and non-Indigenous relations and

intensified a growing call to transform approaches to reconciliation.
To date, land has been underacknowledged and underrecognized
within the current era of reconciliation (Korteweg & Russell, 2012).
Canada, including settler governments, industries, and institutions,
has failed to adequately address issues of land dispossession and deni-
gration despite promises of reconciliation. Instead, Canada has taken a
“half measure” approach to reconciliation, which serves to redeem the
settler nation from injustice and maintain domination over Indigenous
peoples (James, 2012).
All that talk about respect and reconciliation is self-serving rhetoric

because if the Prime Minister and the Premiers actually respected
Indigenous peoples, they would recognize that they must first
respect and affirm our Indigenous rights to our lands before real
reconciliation is even logically possible. (Manuel & Derrickson,
2018, p. 203)
If “reconciliation” continues in its current context, settler govern-

ments, institutions, industries will continue to tell their own creation
stories of discovery and plenary power (Stark, 2013) and legitimize
their occupation and control of land and resources. Reconciliation
with Indigenous nations cannot be achieved without jurisdiction over
traditional homelands. Reconciliation, like peace and conflict, has cul-
tural context and cultures view the terms and processes associated
with the terms differently.
Instead, reconciliation must be relocated into the storied land-
scape that embodies the values, histories, and knowledges of Indige-
nous peoples. Reconciliation must be facilitated through “interaction
with the biological and social environments, as well as from visions,
stories, and spiritual insights” (Getty, 2009, p. 8) because Indigenous
knowledge arises out of interactions with a particular environment.
Indigenous research methodologies provide a framework to
reconceive of reconciliation.
Indigenous approaches seek and understand knowledge within
the context of Indigenous worldviews, ontologies, and epistemolo-
gies (Johnston, McGregor, & Restoule, 2018). They are relational
and ethical (Wilson, 2008), acknowledge the agency of the natural
world (Watts, 2013), and can be traced to community, ancestral, and

sacred sources of knowledge derived from land.
This article examines how a land-based1 performative approach,
referred to as a “fish-fry methodology,” can support this move within
a post-secondary research context. Inspired by the work of LeAnne
Howe (1999), a Choctaw scholar, a fish-fry methodology can be under-
stood as a form of the performative methodology “tribalography” that
is purposefully used to examine the praxis of researchers through a
land-based lens. Such an approach works to resituate reconciliation
outside neoliberal and settler colonial narratives by re-centering
land and reconstituting non-Indigenous presence and reconciliation
within Indigenous frameworks of history, land, ethics, and justice.
It is important to consider that many types of Indigenous prac-
tice could be used. The tenets of a fish-fry methodology were first
applied by the authors in the context of beading (Ray, 2015; Ray,
in press) and a fasting ceremony (Cormier & Ray, 2018), and most
recently applied by the authors of this paper through the telling
of a rhetoric fish trip and fish fry along the banks of the Nipigon
River—the traditional homeland of Lana and Paul (Ray, Cormier, &
Desmoulins, in press)—the latter being the focus of this discussion.
What is critical is that the practice creates opportunity for sharing,
understanding, and knowledge production with the land.
This paper will first describe the role of postsecondary institu-
tions and research within the larger national narrative of renewed
relationships and reconciliation. Following this, we present a “fish
fry methodology,” a land-based form of “tribalography” (Howe, 1999),
which reorients narratives and conceptual approaches placing land
at the center. Drawing from examples of our fish fry performance
forthcoming in “Research as Reconciliation,” edited by Shawn Wilson,
Andrea Breen, and Lindsay DuPré, we discuss key implications of
the approach, including countering settler narratives; challenging
neoliberal approaches to research; developing and maintaining per-
sonal, ethical, and spiritual relationships with land; and asserting
sovereignty. We believe these tenets are essential to moving toward
reconciliation.
Canada’s Truth? The Role of

Postsecondary Institutions in Reconciliation
Three years after the release of the TRC report, Indigenous

scholars and allies have become better acquainted with the land-
scape of reconciliation and interrogated its efforts in relation to
meaningful change. Many Indigenous scholars and allies, including
the authors of this paper, are weary of the trajectory of reconciliation
and are very concerned that this new era is not new at all and con-
tinues to espouse the status quo (Davis et al., 2016). Critical ques-
tions have been raised, including, who is reconciling with whom?
What is the nature of the relationships that are being renewed? Is
the change only one of semantics? Who does the current discourse
on reconciliation serve? And, what role do researchers, research, and
universities play in reconciliation?
Canadian universities have been a prominent site of reconcilia-
tion conversations. Senator Murray Sinclair, the Chair of the TRC,
stressed the role of education in reconciliation, imparting vast respon-
sibilities on educational institutions (McGregor, 2017). Universities
have generally accepted this call, positioning themselves as an essen-
tial contributor to the cause by implementing research approaches
that conduct research “with” Indigenous peoples and agendas that
seek to build foundations for genuine reconciliation and growth based
on the reciprocal exchanges and understanding between Indigenous
and non-Indigenous peoples (Hewitt, 2016). Additionally, there have
been many recent appointments of Indigenous faculty members and
advisory positions and, in some instances, universities have imple-
mented mandatory Indigenous content requirements. As one exam-
ple, in 2014, Lakehead University’s Senate decided that all students
who enter programs after September 2016 require a course, which is
department or faculty specific, to graduate (Lakehead, 2018).
However, despite current advances to Indigenous education, it
can be argued that universities’ interpretations of their responsibilities
have been insular to the benefit of the institutions themselves, as their
efforts largely neglect the necessary political and economic facets of
a meaningful reconciling between Indigenous nations and Canada.
Land is one such facet. Anishinaabe scholar Brock Pitawanakwat
(2013) argues that while ceremonies and cultural performances have

increased within universities, postsecondary education remains a
space where Indigenous self-determination is contested.
Recent evidence of the dissonance between Indigenous peoples
and postsecondary institutions can be found in an Official State-
ment by the University of Saskatchewan’s Indigenous Students’
Council (USISC). The statement denounces current reconciliation
and indigenization efforts for their lack of practical results and
positions them as co-opting Indigenous students into the Cana-
dian politic (USISC, 2018). This language is reminiscent of the
TRC (2015) and is consistent with Deborah McGregor’s (2017) argu-
ment that if every Indigenous person were “absorbed into the body
politic,” there would be no reserves, no Treaties, and no Aboriginal
rights (TRC, 2015, p. 6, as cited in McGregor, 2017, p. 5).
Post-secondary institutions continue to reside and conduct busi-
ness on Indigenous lands, refuse to prioritize and support Indige-
nous acts of sovereignty, and ignore critical questions about land and
restitution in scholarship (Tuck & McKenzie, 2015). Institutions con-
tinue to refuse to divest from fossil fuel industries, which operate on
Indigenous lands and are vehemently opposed by many Indigenous
peoples, and refuse to take a strong public stance to denounce struc-
tural racism and other issues that work to undermine Indigenous
self-determination and reconciliation. Examples include the call
for the resignation of Senator Lynn Beyak (see, for example, Native
Women’s Association of Canada, 2017; Nishnawbe Aski Nation, 2018);
the not-guilty verdict in the Gerald Stanley murder trial in which
Gerald Stanley admitted to killing Colten Boushie, an Indigenous
youth from Red Pheasant First Nation in February 2018 (CTV, 2018);
and, in June 2018, the acquittal of Peter Khill, in which he admitted
to killing Jon Styres of Six Nations (CTV, 2018).
There are also concerns about neoliberal approaches to Indig-
enous education and research. Denzin and Giardina (2018) argue
that in the research sphere, “public research [is] being reframed
within the research marketplace” (p. 5). External partnerships have
been identified as a point of concern. They can lack accountability
to Indigenous communities and suppress the imagination of alter-
native forms of education, production, and consumption such as
traditional economic practices that align with Indigenous world-

views and values (Taylor & Friedel, 2011). Further, Thomas-Muller
(2017) explains that corporate partnerships can position corpora-
tions as benevolent neighbours to Indigenous peoples, even though
many of their business initiatives have large ecological footprints that
have devastating impacts on the land, Indigenous peoples’ health,
and collective rights and title to lands.
An exploratory scan of university websites identified a number
of corporate partnerships, which include financial donations toward
student supports, academic programming, and research. Examples
include GoldCorps’s financial support for the UBC Sauder School of
Business’s Aboriginal Management Program (University of Brit-
ish Columbia, n.d.), the Inspired Youth Experience, a partnership
between Suncor and Indspire, an Indigenous not-for-profit organi-
zation to bring Indigenous youth from communities near Suncor’s
tar sand operations to the Indspire Awards gala, the Suncor Fellow-
ship at the University of Waterloo (n.d.), and the Research Chair in
Indigenous Leadership and Management, referred to as the Nexen
Chair at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity (Banff Centre, n.d.).
Since institutions are a reflection of the societies in which they
emerge, the tensions surrounding reconciliation within postsecondary
institutions comes as no surprise. Post-secondary institutions’ loca-
tion as key players in the reconciliation conversation (Hewitt, 2016)
demands an urgent and provocative praxis from universities so that
they can do better. The academy must not seek to engage in “shared
histories,” “renewed relationships,” or support such strategies within
government or industry; rather, universities must seek to support and
practice reconciliation that centers land to transform the very nature
of these relationships.
Fish Fry as a Land-based Performative Research Methodology
Tribalography is a performative methodology that reorients nar-

ratives and conceptual approaches that place Indigenous knowledges
at the center (Howe, 1999). Like other performance-based approaches,
tribalography functions as a “site where context, agency, praxis,
history, and subjectivity intersect, and [an] improvisatory politics of
resistance then is anchored in this space where the doing and the done
collide” (Denzin et al., 2017, p. 492). Within the context of Indigenous
knowledge systems, it consists of “a weaving of stories, conversations,
reflections, and memories” that blend the past, present, and future,
including the words of ancestors, elders, and other relations (Francis &
Munson, 2017, p. 49). Both “events and non-events” are included that
connect the past, present, and future (Howe, 1999, p. 118) as a means
“to develop new projects together, Indian and non-Indian” [sic] (Howe,
1999, p. 124).
Indigenous scholars such as Battiste (2002) have articulated
how Indigenous performance, such as Indigenous storytelling, also
does this work. Battiste (2002) proposes a two-pronged approach of
deconstruction and reconstruction for education and theorizes this
approach as
a process that includes raising the collective voice of Indigenous peo-

ples, exposing the injustices of our colonial history, deconstructing
the past by critically examining the social, political, economic, and
emotional reasons for silencing Aboriginal voices in Canadian his-
tory, legitimating the voices and experiences of Aboriginal peoples
in the curriculum, recognizing it as a dynamic context of knowl-
edge and knowing, and communicating the emotion journey that
such explorations will generate. (p. 20)
Battiste (2002) views this approach of deconstruction and recon-

struction as a way forward for living in relation with one another.
It is a process that centres Indigenous voices through Indigenous
ways of knowing.
Like Indigenous storytelling, Tribalography accounts for wholistic
relationships and experiences embedded within Indigenous constructs
of land and time (Ray, in press). Through the positioning of past, pres-
ent, and future as interdependent, Tribalography conjures a standpoint
that encourages scholars to make connections and form relationships
that are ethical and reciprocal (Doerfler, 2014; Donald, 2012). It allows
for the accumulated impacts of (non)reconciliation to be experienced
and felt, including the ongoing intergenerational impacts of land dis-
possession and denigration. It also positions Indigenous scholars who
embed themselves within the performance among a continuance of
Indigenous expression and responsibility, supporting a shift whereas

Indigenous peoples lead the transformation of the ancestral past to
present-day circumstances and stories.
A fish fry methodology is a form of tribalography that privileges
Indigenous ontological understandings of land that are nondivisive and
relational (Watts, 2013). As a research methodology, fish fry has the
capacity to displace settler creation stories that legitimize settler pres-
ence and control of the landscape, as it necessitates a move away from
the status quo, through its blurring of history and fiction, and past,
present, and future (Doerfler, 2014). Francis and Munson (2017) note,
[I]t deconstructs the binary by focusing on the story and the totality
of the experience of Indigenous people—past, present, and future.
This shift in positioning has an unsettling effect on those who have
chosen or been forced to take up the role of the colonizer. The space
is disrupted because the focus is on the story; the story is allowed to
expand. . . . Tribalography shifts the paradigm in a way that allows
for equity and dignity, all the while subverting the conceived notions
of history, scholarship, and entrenched narratives. (p. 52)
This approach “opens up a space for scholars to engage with multi-

ple truths and address questions regarding the role(s) of scholarly work
in academia and community” (Doerfler, 2014, p. 67). Researchers’ own
understandings of land, history, and existence are challenged, creat-
ing space for the centering of Indigenous knowledges in research and
relational knowledge production.
Fish Frys, Research, and Reconciliation
In this section, excerpts from the performance of a fish fry along

the banks of the Nipigon River in northern Ontario, Canada, will
be presented and discussed. The Nipigon River is situated on the
Traditional territory of two of the authors: Lana and Paul. The tra-
ditional name for the territory in Anishinaabemowin is Opwaaga-
nasiniing. The land here has been subject to a lot of trauma including
sportfishing and overfishing; the construction of three dams, which
severed waterways and flooded lands; Jesuit missionaries; and the
forestry and pulpwood industry.
Through this performance of hosts (Lana and Paul) and guest

(Leisa) partaking in a fish fry in this rhetorical yet land-based space,
land becomes a nexus for transformed relationships amongst Indig-
enous and non-Indigenous peoples. Through this fish fry method-
ology of returning to the land (Aki), counter narratives to settler
stories and neoliberal approaches to research are challenged; per-
sonal, spiritual, and ethical relationships with land are developed
and maintained; and Indigenous sovereignty is asserted, providing
a framework to situate self and experiences within research and
allow for a new envisioning of reconciliation.
Challenging Settler Stories

“Storytelling is a focus of Indigenous epistemologies, pedagogies
and research approaches” (Iseke, 2013, p. 559). Practically, “story-
telling is a practice in Indigenous cultures that sustains communities,
validates experiences and epistemologies, expresses experiences of
Indigenous peoples, and nurtures relationships and the sharing of
knowledge” (Iseke, 2013, p. 559). Scholars support Iseke’s assertion
that stories show ways of knowing about peoples and place (Barnhardt
& Kawagley, 2005; Guilar & Swallow, 2008; Ray & Cormier, 2012),
aid in learning and understanding (Archibald, 2008; Cormier, 2016;
Kawagley, 2006), and are a focus of research (Moore, 2017; Wilson,
2008). Notably, our fish fry methodology serves to deconstruct the past
and reconstruct relationships to Indigenous peoples and land through
the story of three friends who return to Opwaaaganasiniing (the place
where the pipestone comes from) (RRIB, 2018), the home commu-
nity of two members of their group. The friends take a fishing trip on
the banks of the Nipigon River (see Ray, Cormier, & Desmoulins, in
press). The story of their rhetorical fishing trip illuminates an embod-
ied process of reconciliation led by Lana and Paul as members of
Opwaaaganasiniing and shared with Leisa (who has membership with
Biigtigong Nishbaabeg through marriage and relationships with com-
munity). Lana and Paul share stories of their home and the friends
spend time learning from the land and one another (Cormier, 2016),
which forms the core of storied learning.
These stories aid in challenging stories of others seeking to dele-
gitimize Indigenous peoples and engage with a place to learn from
and with the land and one another. For example, part of the perfor-
mance includes Paul telling Leisa a story about the history of fish
(mis)management on the Nipigon River,
Leisa, another thing that was taken from here was a lot of fish. For
over a century now, this river has been promoted as a place of pris-
tine, untouched wilderness, available for the taking. In the 1800s
and early 1900s it was aggressively promoted by the Canadian
Pacific Railway (CPR) and the Hudson’s Bay Company. Fisherman
came and in some cases took hundreds of kilograms of fish. When
the fish population started to be depleted the zhaaganash claimed
that Indigenous peoples’ subsistence was tied to the decline and
tried to privatize the property. (Ray, Cormier, Desmoulin, in press)
This story from Opwaaaganasiniing forms part of a larger trove

of stories from across the country about controlling resources in
First Nations communities. Stories and legal challenges contrib-
ute to an ongoing narrative of “Aboriginal Treaty Rights” versus
extraction of fish that fails to recognize that it really is not about
rights to harvest a fish. For Indigenous peoples this story is about
Opwaaaganasiniing community members’ connections to land
that have evolved over hundreds of years, having fished in these
places. Their ongoing responsibilities to maintain treaties with
the land through the laws given to them by the Creator undergird
these challenges, as stewards of the land.
Alternatively, settler stories contribute to a narrative of Indige-
nous communities and its people to maintain settler logics. These
stories form part of a larger narrative that extracts knowledge from
communities, naturalizes settlers and maintains their innocence,
and perpetuates stories of Indigenous peoples’ lack of agency that
view Indigenous peoples and communities as damaged (Tuck, 2009).
These stories also serve to separate Indigenous peoples from land.
Challenge Neoliberal Approaches to Research

Lana and Paul share stories of Opwaaaganasiniing with Leisa
to counter research that harms or extracts from Indigenous com-
munities. Universities set Research Ethics Boards (REB) to govern
research studies at each university in Canada. Researchers who seek
to do research with Indigenous peoples follow the requirements

set out in Chapter 9 for research involving the First Nations, Inuit,
and Métis peoples of Canada (Government of Canada, 2014). These
requirements address gaining permissions to do research. However,
they fail to address being invited into the community as a guest and
following broad principles of respect, relevance, reciprocity, and
responsibility (Kirkness, & Barnhardt, 1991; Wilson, 2008) and local
protocols to enact these principles. The Indigenous land-based per-
formance of the fish fry aids in understanding these protocols and
their connections to place. To illustrate, Lana and Paul do this by tak-
ing Leisa to their home community of Opwaaaganasiniing to develop
and maintain their relationships to land. Fishing is a metaphor for
these relationships as the friends work together to plan the trip, go
onto the land to fish, prepare and share food together, and take these
stories back to their friends and families,
Boat at rest, on the shores of the Nipigon River, Lana, Leisa and
Paul begin to prepare for their fish fry. Paul works on starting a
fire, first collecting some driftwood along the shore, while Leisa
and Lana start to prepare the fish. It is not a big harvest but it is
enough to stave off their coming hunger and not return home
empty-handed. After a few moments, the first crackle of fire is
heard. Lana strong-arms the mason jar open and pours some oil
into a cast iron pan that sits atop the fire on a makeshift grill. (Ray,
Cormier, Desmoulin, in press)
Through the fish fry, the need for community histories and rela-
tionships to each other and land need to be understood by those
who pursue research on Indigenous traditional territory.
Develop and Maintain Personal and Spiritual Relationships

and Ethics to Land
Wildcat, McDonald, Irlbacher-Fox, and Coulthard (2014) acknow-
ledge the necessity of “moving from talk about the land within
conventional classroom settings, to studying instances where we
engage in conversations with the land and on the land in a physical,
social and spiritual sense” (p. II). The fishing trip story is layered
with stories of living in place for Paul and Lana and practices they
share with Leisa. As one example, as they anchor their boat and
cast off, Paul recounts that his mother shared the word Aki Gak-
inoomaagewin, which means “learning from the land, and doing
so within the physical and metaphysical realms of Indigenous exis-
tence” (Cormier, 2016, p. 20). Lana, Paul, and Leisa also practice
respect and reciprocity as they arrive in Opwaaaganasiniing. Before
embarking on their fishing trip, they offer thanks to the water by
laying tobacco at its shores. They do this each time to acknowledge
treaties with the Creator and with the land,
With asemma (tobacco) in hand, Lana, Leisa and Paul spoke their
honorable intentions to the water and placed them at her feet, along
the shoreline. These remembered actions of Lana and Paul carried
forward the treaty of the Anishinaabe and Opwaaganasiniing (the
place where the pipestone comes from) until the next moment in
time. For Leisa, the tobacco served as an activation of her inherited
promise to acknowledge and respect Anishinaabe continuance and a
deep settling within her of the necessity to enter into her own treaty
with Opwaaganasiniing. (Ray, Cormier, Desmoulin, in press)
Another practice is giving thanks to the ancestors. Before enjoy-

ing the fish, they give thanks to the ancestors by offering a spirit plate
of food to them. Offering tobacco to the land and a spirit plate to
the ancestors are Anishinaabe protocols that also serve to acknow-
ledge the land and the ancestors. These stories and practices connect
researchers to place and allow them to engage in reciprocal relation-
ships. They are land-based research practices and connect the past to
the present and future through the continuance of treaties with the
land. After the fish fry Leisa reflects,
As researchers we need to be cognizant of all of this [local histo-

ries, protocols, reciprocal relationships, and relationships] when we
come to communities and ask for knowledge. Instead of taking it
away, we need to ask ourselves how can we use it to restore and
re-story?” (Ray, Cormier, & Desmoulins, in press).
Asserting Sovereignty
Through the fish fry performance, sovereignty is asserted through
active and ongoing relationships that are part of a living system nested
within a living culture (Haas, 2007). The friends practice reconcilia-
tion as it is (re)located in the storied landscapes, the pictographs and
the values, histories, and knowledges of the ancestors. Through the
rhetorical space, land becomes a nexus for transformed relationships
amongst Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples. Here, reconcilia-
tion is Indigenous led and grounded in land-based practices on the
Traditional territory of Lana and Paul’s ancestors.
While fishing Lana tells Leisa about pictographs. Pictographs
are paintings on rock faces that exist in traditional territories of
many Indigenous peoples. They are viewed as sacred sites because
they hold “messages left by our ancestors to us” (Catherine Martin,
personal communication, January 17, 2017),
Just further up the river towards Red Rock there are some pic-
tographs that are thousands of years old. People can’t fully con-
ceive what that means to be part of a landscape but when you are
here in this spot and look at those pictographs you can feel it. (Ray,
Cormier, Desmoulins, in press)
Contemporary stories about land are also part of the fish fry
performance, asserting sovereignty through ongoing continuance
of Anishinaabe relationships with land,
LANA: I am laughing because I am remembering Paul’s and my

parents during the fast. Everyone was really happy and excited that
fasting was happening in our community again but at the same
time, even though it is a really old practice it was really new too,
because it had been so long. Paul’s mom actually got someone to
drive her over to this side of the bank to come check to see if he was
okay. My dad was a bit subtler and took a ride over near Sawmill
Point one night where he could get a good look (Ray, Cormier &
Desmoulins, in press)
Donald’s (2009) Indigenous métissage focuses on Indigenous

and non-Indigenous relations, and importantly sets these relations
from Indigenous ideas. Ethical forms of relationality have become
a matter of survival (Donald, 2009). To deny the relationships

between peoples and land denies Indigenous sovereignty and allows
violence and exploitation to occur and persist (Donald, 2012).
Conclusion
Cultural landscapes defined as the “physical expression of the

complex and dynamic sets of relationships, processes and linkages
between societies and environments” are varied (Davidson-Hunt,
2003, p. 21). The cultural landscape of one society is not always visible
to members of another society due to differing perceptions, values,
and political interests. The invisibility of Indigenous conceptions of
land by Canada has caused a dissonance within the reconciliation
movement. It is widespread and exists between Indigenous com-
munities and Canadian institutions, sectors, and the general pub-
lic. Rhetoric of the movement is widely and liberally applied across
Canada to the point that is has lost meaning and is estranged from
land, Indigenous communities, and concrete and sustainable moves
to support restitution and Indigenous self-determination. Recon-
ciliation in its current state is a construct that makes the colonial
agenda palatable and consistent with Canada’s persona of an ethi-
cal and fair country, or what Brenda LaFrancois (2013) refers to as
“goodness as whiteness” (p. 117). The late Arthur Manuel and Grand
Chief Ronald Derrickson (2018) note,
a new and very public openness in Canada toward us and our rights,
and lofty talk of reconciliation and a shared path into the future.
But in the shadows behind the scenes, the negotiations to force us
to surrender our Aboriginal title to our lands continue apace. In
fact, they may even be accelerating. (p. 48)
Universities have not been immune to such criticism. In place

of the material aspects of land, theories have been concerned with
social constructions of place alongside discursive practices (Tuck
& McKenzie, 2015). Attempts at reconciliation in the academy and
beyond have not been successful because of an unwillingness or an
inability to fully acknowledge and grasp the significance of Indige-
nous peoples’ cultural landscapes, nor to wholeheartedly examine
the limitations of current cultural landscapes, which allow for the

persistence of colonial violence.
Postsecondary institutions have a responsibility and a role to
play in reconciliation by supporting Indigenous self-determination,
addressing decolonization, and reconciling systemic and societal
inequalities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Canadians
in their indigenization efforts (Pidgeon, 2016). However, to do so
will require facilities of higher education to “think differently about
their relationship with Indigenous peoples” (Taylor & Friedel, 2011,
p. 832). Universities must encourage critical memories, mobilize
against violent initiatives that seek to erase colonial histories,
embrace a politics of emancipation (Denzin & Giardina, 2018), be
responsive to Indigenous methodologies and Indigenous story-
telling (Iseke, 2013; Simpson, 2011), and move beyond neoliberal
and economic development–based partnership models to support
efforts to fully implement Aboriginal rights and historic treaties
(Taylor & Friedel, 2011).
For us, solutions lie within Indigenous land-based relational meth-
odologies. Hosts and guests partaking in a fish fry becomes a nexus for
transformed relationships amongst Indigenous and non-Indigenous
peoples, providing a critical perspective on relationships, peace, res-
titution, land use, and identity (Ray & Cormier, 2012), inciting calls
for academics to center land in research and engage in the practice of
critical geographies (Tuck & McKenzie, 2015). A fish fry expands imag-
ination beyond one’s current cultural landscape and provokes intro-
spection through its discursive and subversive meanings, ultimately
disrupting reconciliation in its current form.
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(Endnote)
1 Land is a term commonly used by Indigenous peoples to refer to earth, water, air, spirit, plants,
animals, etc. In Anishinaabeg (the nation of Paul and Lana) the word for land is Aki. The authors
privilege the term “land” over other terms such as “place based” and use it purposefully to enact
Indigenous conceptions of land.
Traditional Storytelling 59
chapter four
Traditional Storytelling:
An Effective Indigenous
Research Methodology
and Its Implications for
Environmental Research
All rights reserved. May not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except fair uses permitted under U.S. or applicable copyright law.
RANJAN DAT TA
Introduction
I t is acknowledged that, while we have made significant advances

in some areas of research methodology and methods inquiry, a
large challenge exists within Western1 ways of thinking and conduct-
ing research (Castellano, 2004; Geia, Hayes, & Usher, 2013; Kovach,
2009). Western ways of doing and acting are commonly referred to as
dichotomous thinking, rationality, and individualism (Battiste, 2013,
2000). Western ways of doing research with Indigenous communities
can place the communities at greater risk of losing their relationships
with their land, losing their employment, disconnecting from their cul-
ture, and experiencing family and relationship problems (Datta, 2014;
Geia, Hayes, & Usher, 2013; Kovach, 2010). As a result, Indigenous cul-
ture, tradition, and practice may lose out to Western ways of thinking,
acting, and doing research (Chamberlin, 2004; Smith, 1999). Indige-
nous people and their ways of understanding do not receive attention
and, in most cases, Indigenous voices get lost within Western forms of
data analysis and academic writing.
A number of Indigenous studies have found that storytelling as
an emerging research method is timely, accurate, appropriate, and
culturally relevant for many Indigenous communities (Barnhardt &

Kawagley, 2005; Cajete, 1994; Dei, 2011). Indigenous scholar Cajete
(1994) argues that story is a basic foundation of all human learning
and teaching. Consequently, storytelling is a central focus of Indige-
nous epistemologies and research approaches (Iseke, 2013). Through
traditional storytelling Indigenous peoples are empowered, research
becomes “ours” rather than “theirs” for “our own communities and
reflects Indigenous knowledges and empowers ourselves” (Iseke,
2013, p. 560).
The aim of this paper is to explore why traditional storytelling
as a research method is significant when conducting research with
Indigenous communities. I begin the discussion with a brief expla-
nation of the difference between research methodology and methods
in Indigenous research and what and why traditional story shar-
ing is appropriate for me as a researcher by situating who I am as
a researcher. Second, drawing from two case studies (Case Study A,
Ph.D research with the Laitu Khyeng Indigenous communities in
Chaittagong Hill Tracts (CHT), Bangladesh; and Case Study B, a com-
munity garden-based research project with immigrant communities
from 28 countries and Indigenous communities in Saskatchewan,
Canada), I make a case for the significance of traditional storytelling
in Indigenous research. Finally, I discuss what we can learn from tra-
ditional storytelling: how it fits with Indigenous culture, deconstructs
the colonial mind-set, reconnects with the land and culture, builds a
bridge between Indigenous and Western ways of conducting research,
and empowers both research participants and researcher.
Research Methodology and Methods

As researchers we need to understand the differences between
Indigenous methodology and methods in Indigenous research (Kovach,
2010; Smith, 2008; Wilson, 2008). For explaining the importance of
understanding the meanings of Indigenous methodology Linda Smith
(1999) in her book titled Decolonizing Methodologies explained the col-
onising role of Western research methodologies. The principles of these
methodologies have often been about Indigenous peoples being less
than human and needing to be “civilised.” Therefore, many Indigenous
scholars (Kovach, 2010; Smith, 1999; Wilson, 2008) give clear explana-
tions on the difference between Indigenous methodology and methods.
Indigenous methodology refers to a “paradigmatic approach”
(Kovach, 2010, p. 41). Kovach (2010) explains the paradigmatic
approach as a choice of methods/ways to achieve the research
goals: “why a particular method is chosen, how those methods are
employed (i.e., how data is gathered), and how the data will ana-
lyzed and interpreted” (p. 41). Wilson (2008) explains the Indige-
nous methodology relational accountability, which is an inherent
responsibility in coming-to-know how individual knowledge sys-
tems interact with the whole and how a human is to be in relation
with different forms of knowledge. Therefore, the meanings of
methodology are the study of how research needs to be done, how
we find out about things, and how knowledge is gained. Indigenous
methodologies are about the insertion of Indigenous principles
into research methodology so that research practices can play a
role in the assertion of Indigenous people’s rights and sovereignty.
In other words, methodology is about the principles that guide
our research practices and/or researchers’ relational responsibil-
ities for their research and participants. Methodology therefore
explains why we’re using certain methods or tools in our research.
When we are planning to undertake research it’s important that
we consider and make explicit our methodology (i.e., our inten-
sions, relationships, responsibilities) that drive our selection and
use of research methods. The understanding of research methodol-
ogy helps readers/participants to understand both the “why” and the
“way” we did our research.
Research methods are the tools, techniques, or processes that
we use in our research. These might be, for example, surveys, inter-
views, photovoice, or participant observation. Methods and how
they are used are shaped by methodology. However, the Indigenous
research methods (Kovach calls the conversational method) in Indig-
enous research differs from its use in Western research in several
ways: a connection to Indigenous knowledge, a location within an
Indigenous paradigm, a relational nature, a purpose (which is often
decolonizing) following a specific protocol that reflects the Indigenous
knowledge, a flexible nature, collaboration, and reflexivity (Kovach,
2010). Therefore, Indigenous research methods have purpose in the

research. They are not randomly selected in research. The research
methods in Indigenous research serve to preserve Indigenous voices,
build resistance to dominant discourses, create political integrity,
and, most importantly perhaps, strengthen the community.
Storytelling in Research: What and Why?

What is traditional storytelling? and Why should we use it?
are important questions for Indigenous researchers. Traditional
storytelling is a significant way of expressing Indigenous knowl-
edge, culture, and oral traditions. Traditional storytelling privileges
holistic interconnectedness, collaboration, reciprocity, spirituality,
and humility; more importantly, it impacts positively on practice
(Kovach, 2009).
What Is Traditional Story Sharing?

Indigenous scholars working within feminist, cultural, histori-
cal, economic, and environmental traditions, and drawing on actor
network, post-humanist, phenomenological, non-representational,
political-economic, feminist, and postcolonial theories, have all taken
an interest in storytelling in recent years (Archibald, 2008; Kovach,
2009). Understandings of traditional storytelling, narrative, and the
relations between these concepts vary widely, and formal definitions
are scarce (Barnhardt & Kawagley, 2005).
Stories reflect the genuine and authentic experience of an indi-
vidual, a team, or a community. Thomas King (2003) warns us that
“once a story is told, it is loose in the world. So you have to be careful
with the stories you tell. And you have to watch out for the stories
that you are told” (p. 10). Indigenous scholars such as Shawn Wilson
(2008) also express that some stories, because of their sacredness,
should not be revealed because this strips them of their spiritual
and sacred elements. For example, a story session could involve a
story of a successful or less than successful attempt to engage a
multidisciplinary team of academics in community-based research.
A story could also describe the challenges faced and overcome—in
full or partially. Traditional storytelling can be varied according to a
particular community’s culture and tradition. For instance, Scroggie

(2009) explains, “Storytelling is a traditional art form which has been
practiced for thousands of years in every society and culture known
to humankind” (p. 76). Scroggie (2009) discusses how storytelling has
evolved as an important way of transforming knowledge from one
generation to another: “Traditional stories have been passed from
generation to generation through folktales, songs, rituals, chants
and even artifacts. These oral narratives are critical historical com-
ponents that pre-date written words. They explain the culture and
how it came to be” (p. 76). This explanation clearly indicates that
our stories are lived experience. Storytelling becomes an interac-
tive activity between the teller and the listener in which imagina-
tion forms the pictures. A number of Indigenous scholars (Denzin
& Lincoln, 2008; Kovach, 2009) have discussed storytelling as a tra-
ditional method used to teach about cultural beliefs, relationality,
values, customs, rituals, history, practices, relationships, and ways
of life. They argue that storytelling is known for its rich oral tradi-
tion; instead of using a written language to document their history,
Indigenous people relied on their verbal language to share their his-
tory, customs, rituals, and legends through vivid narratives. Indige-
nous cultural storytelling is one of the notable ways of knowing the
world (i.e., Who am I? Where did I come from? and What should I
do?) (Datta, 2017). Storytelling is one of the practice-based meth-
ods used by many Indigenous cultures for thousands of years and is
integral to Indigenous ways of understanding, learning, and acting
within the different spheres of life (Datta, 2015, 2017).
Meaning-making through Indigenous storytelling can involve the
process of comparing and cross-matching oral accounts, and it also
involves careful interpretation of the language in which the infor-
mation is held, be it song, chant, poem, yarning, Haka, and so on.
For example, the storytelling as a yarning is widely used in Austra-
lia and Indigenous Hawaiians. The term “yarning” is as storytelling
used the term to describe a culture-specific type of conversation.
Walker, Fredericks, Mills, and Anderson (2014) defined yarning as
“a conversational process that involves the sharing of stories and
the development of knowledge. It prioritizes indigenous ways of
communicating, in that it is culturally prescribed, cooperative, and
respectful” (p. 1216). Utilizing yarning in research can help to ensure

that the research paradigm is culturally safe, which may enhance the
validity of data. Another example is from the Māori Indigenous peo-
ple in New Zealand Haka. The term Haka is the generic name for
all Māori dance forms. Māori women have always played a signifi-
cant role in haka stories. Māori Haka dance represents narratives of
strong women of Māori Indigenous people (Palmer, 2016).
Why Use Traditional Storytelling?

Storytelling interconnects with Indigenous ontology and epis-
temology. Indigenous ways of understanding and acting connect
with a particular ontology and epistemology, which is known as
relational ways of knowing (Hart, 2010; Wilson, 2008). According to
Indigenous scholar Wilson’s (2001) explanation, Indigenous ontol-
ogy is how people see the world and influences their understanding
of what exists, and vice-versa. It is based on an understanding that
there are many ways of knowing and they are directly and indirectly
related to each other.
In explaining the importance of traditional story sharing in Indig-
enous research, North American Indigenous scholar Kovach (2009)
stated that traditional story sharing
is a method of gathering knowledge based on oral storytelling tradi-

tion congruent with an Indigenous paradigm. It involves a dialogic
participation that holds a deep purpose of sharing story as a means
to assist others. It is relational at its core. (p. 42)
Indigenous storytelling involves expert use of the voice, vocal and

body expression, intonation, verbal imagery, facial animation, con-
text, plot and character development, natural pacing, and careful
authentic recall of the story.
The storytelling method is significant to Indigenous communi-
ties for multiple important reasons: Stories can vary from the sacred
to the historical; some focus on social, political, and cultural ways;
some are entertaining, even humorous; some tell of personal, family,
community, or an entire nation’s experience; some are owned by cer-
tain clans or families and can only be told by a member of that group;
others can be told by anyone who knows them and cares for them.
Stories reflect the perceptions, relationships, beliefs, and attitudes of
a particular people (Datta, 2016; Dei, 2011; Denzin & Lincoln, 2008).
Indigenous communities’ cultures have long passed on knowledge
from generation to generation through oral traditions, including sto-
rytelling. Indigenous storytelling is a foundation for holistic learning,
relationship-building, and experiential learning (Kovach, 2009).
Indigenous storytelling makes connections with both Indigenous
ontology and epistemology, relational ontology (i.e., relational sto-
ries about human and non-human based on we relationship), and
relational epistemology (i.e., knowledge that emanates from the
experiences, tradition, ceremonies, and culture of the people and
the environment) (Datta, 2016). Hanna and Mamie (1995) explain
the importance of storytelling:
The most important qualities of our culture are our language

and our stories. In oral traditions such as ours, telling stories is
how we pass on the history and the teachings of our ancestors.
Without these stories, we would have to rely on other people
for guidance and information about our past. Teachings in the
form of stories are an integral part of our identity as a people
and as a nation. If we lose these stories, we will do a disservice
to our ancestors—those who gave us the responsibility to keep
our culture alive. (p. 201)
Another North American Indigenous scholar, Drumm (2013),

identified some of the important points for why we need to include
traditional storytelling in our research:
• Storytelling influences changes in the researcher’s practice

• Listening to stories facilitates relationship-building between
researcher and research participants
• Hearing personal stories engenders greater understanding,
empathy, and reflection, which is important for building rapport,
trust, and care for each other
• Personal storytelling benefits the teller as it can empower, encour-
age personal growth, and build resilience
It is evident from Hanna and Mamie (1995) and Drumm’s (2013)

conversations that storytelling is able to establish community ethics
based on respect, reciprocity, responsibility to the community, and
the rights of the research participants. Both studies, Drumm (2013)
and Hanna and Mamie (1995), conclude by making statements
that mirror our own finding that storytelling positively impacts
practice and influences better services and potentially better out-
comes for individuals. Through storytelling Indigenous peoples
are engaging in research that is developed by and for our own
communities and reflects Indigenous knowledge and empowers
ourselves (Dei, 2011; Denzin & Lincoln, 2008; Kovach, 2009). It
is therefore not surprising that Indigenous researchers across
the globe have adopted traditional storytelling as a significant
research method (Kovach, 2009).
Research Is Ceremony: Situating Self
As a researcher using the storytelling method (Datta, 2015; Dei,

2011), understanding the questions Who am I? and Where did I come
from? is important. Personal stories can provide a deeper explanation
of who I am personally, professionally, emotionally, and spiritually as
a researcher.
In my Indigenous community in Bangladesh, we see our tra-
ditional stories as our lived experience. Indigenous and other
minority stories in Bangladesh are connected with various forms of
colonisation, including racism, discrimination, fear, and underpriv-
ileged conditions (Adnan, 2004; Chakma, 2010). For instance, my
understanding about who I am started with many painful stories. I
was born into a minority family in Bangladesh; my family has been
displaced several times and lost many family members because of
our minority identity; and I grew up with much discrimination and
oppression. I learned many unwelcoming stories from my mom
that as a minority our ancestors’ land was not our land. I have seen
how my parents were forced to justify many discriminatory stories
because of their minority status and Indigenous identity. Losing
land, losing family members, and growing up in oppressive ways
were forcefully justified by mainstream people. Historically we did
not have equal rights as mainstream citizens in Bangladesh (Human

Rights Report, 2017).
As a minority, Indigenous researcher, making our stories known
to the unknown has been difficult for me; however, my ancestor
stories helped me overcome many challenges. For instance, I recall
childhood stories on my many walks along the river with my mother
and siblings. My mother would walk ahead of us and then at various
points we would stop, and wait, listening; our ears would be up like
antennae; we knew what was about to happen. I lost my father right
after I was born, so my mother was everything to me. She taught me
our many land-water stories as healing processes. She used to show
me various plants (land and aquatic) and told me to show respect,
honour, and keep trust with them. She also used to explain why
they were important for our everyday survival, who I am, and who I
will be. I know my stories are here; when I die, I will be a story too.
Through stories my children will connect with me.
I grew up with many traditional stories explaining that our
land-water is our Mother, God, friend, and part of our family. We
are the children of our land-water; therefore, they are our parents.
Our land-water Gods live with us; we can touch them, feel them,
respect them, and celebrate with them. Therefore, who I am is for
me many relational stories instead of just one. If I asked my mom,
“Where did we come from?” her answer was “We came from this
land.” I also learned from my mom that every morning we need to
show our respect to our land-water. How I am shaped is a collection
of stories; my ancestors are stories. Our land, water, sky, moon, sun
are stories regarding who I am.
Who I am is family education, which was paramount for my par-
ents; I am the product of their vision and hope during a bleak time
when we were subjugated to a penal system of living under the com-
plete control of mainstream oppression. This form of social control
of a group of people was the most punitive in Bangladesh (Adnan,
2004; Human Right Report, 2017). I learned from my ancestor sto-
ries and the actions of my parents as they learnt from theirs, the
unsung grassroots researchers’ whose lives were shaped by forces
beyond their control and yet they were able to perceive, prevail, and
reconstruct their lives for their children and the generations to come.
My stories are practice; they are very much alive. My stories always
remind me of who I am and my responsibilities toward my research
participants. I use my personal stories to remind me of my responsi-
bilities as a researcher, centering my participants’ voices as they walk
forward into an unknown sphere of academia. They say, “Here we
are and we are walking into your space. Make way and don’t hinder
because we have a story to tell; our story is also your story.” There-
fore, I see traditional storytelling as an intergenerational space where
children, youth, and adults connect with each other.
Case Study A:
Indigenous Perspectives on Meanings of Land-Management
and Sustainability of the Laitu Khyeng2 Indigenous
Community in the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT), Bangladesh
In my Ph.D. research, I explored the Indigenous meanings of
land-water management and sustainability through participatory
action research (PAR) with members of the Laitu Khyeng Indige-
nous community in the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT), Bangladesh.
In this research, storytelling was used as a part of the relational
PAR framework that had been developed to allow Indigenous and
non-Indigenous researchers, along with Indigenous co-researcher
participants, to learn and honour Indigenous stories. Specifically, in
the context of PAR storytelling research in the CHT, we (researcher,
four co-researcher participants, Elders, and Knowledge-holders) were
interested in exploring how identity and meanings of sustainabil-
ity were framed in relation to the politics of management. Through
storytelling, we identified (a) potential challenges between Indige-
nous research paradigms and Western research paradigms, (b) the
situation of the non-Indigenous researcher in relation to the Indige-
nous community, (c) challenges associated with the non-Indigenous
researchers’ selection of a research site, (d) collaboration throughout
the research process, and (e) the processes of developing and main-
taining responsibilities. The aim was not to offer simple answers to
such challenges but to highlight the manner in which such processes
can be addressed. The study provided practical insight for future
non-Indigenous researchers working with Indigenous communities
through a participatory sharing process with Indigenous co-researcher

participants, Elders, leaders, Knowledge-holders, and youth. Four
methods of data collection were used: traditional storytelling circles,
individual stories, commonplace book stories, and stories through
photovoice. Stories had different forms such as ceremony, poem,
art, dance, music, and so on. The traditional storytelling study sit-
uated itself within this context and took a significant step forward
in exploring identity and justice in relation to Indigenous under-
standings of sustainability and land-water management. As Figure
4.1 shows, as a collective process in our storytelling, we sought to
identify and articulate a thread woven through each individual’s
research toward environmental learning and action. As researchers,
we came to recognize the symbols and practices, and we increas-
ingly determined that it was at this level of responsibility that we
must direct our study and intervention.
Figure 4.1. Top left photo shows collective ways of storytelling; top
right photo is Elder teaching cloth making to youth through story-
telling; bottom left is about spiritual ways of storytelling; and bottom
right photo is artwork of storytelling.
In our storytelling research, we presented our research findings,

drawing on empirical and theoretical sources that collectively estab-
lished the kind of capacity we saw as potentially creating the conditions
for learning and honoring the community’s practice-based stories.
Case Study B:
Community Garden Study in City of Saskatoon,
Saskatchewan, Canada
This study on a community3 garden (“Community Garden: A
Bridging Program Between Formal and Informal Learning”) was
conducted through personal stories and informal storytelling with
various immigrant communities from 28 countries and Indigenous
communities in Saskatchewan, Canada.
This garden-based storytelling knowledge contributed to strength-
ening community on the estate by opening lines of communication
between different cultural groups and breaking down racial and ethnic
Figure 4.2. Top left photo shows children learning a story about insects;
top right photo displays the connection between the community garden
and environmental science education; bottom left photo is a story about
why we should take care of our mother land; and bottom right photo is
of a building bridges program through Indigenous stories.
stereotypes (see Figure 4.2). It promoted relational ways of learning,

discussing, and practicing that integrated food security, social interac-
tions, community development, environmental activism, and cultural
integration. Through our five years of story-sharing activities in the
community garden, we learned that community garden-based activi-
ties adhere to particular forms of agency: embracing diversity, sharing
power, and building trust as part of everyday learning. Our commu-
nity garden storytelling methods included songs, music, poetry, and
dance as ways to connect our members and illustrate our history.
This storytelling study provided valuable insights for environmen-
tal learners whose goals included incorporating ethnic diversity and
engaging children in research leading to community action. Through
our storytelling, we wanted to learn, can a community garden provide
more than just harvest production?
In the community garden, participants came from both Indig-
enous and various immigrant societies and involved cross-cultural
collaboration—people from different cultures cooperating, sharing, or
learning together. As a cross-cultural sharing space, the community
garden created multiple storytelling opportunities, such as multi-
ple ways of knowing, creating belongingness, taking responsibility,
and building a sense of community. Through sharing stories, we
learned that our community garden is able to change many bound-
aries, such as men/women, science/society, immigrant/non-immi-
grant, Black/White, formal/informal learning, and nature/culture.
For example, in our community garden, we had 120 plots with 28
different nationalities. Gardeners came from diverse backgrounds:
Aboriginal and international student families with and without
children, single students, different disciplines, and LGBTQ (lesbian,
gay, bisexual, transgender, queer) students. We focused more on our
common issues than on our differences. We showed how diverse cul-
tures, food, music, art, and dance stories are important for building
a sustainable community.
From five years of participating in and observing gardening
activities, I learned many cross-cultural stories. For instance, our
community garden provided a sharing space for building a bridge
between Indigenous and immigrant communities in Saskatoon.
We had various Indigenous Knowledge-keepers come out and teach
us about the tradition and ancestral process of seed-keeping. For

instance, one of the Knowledge-keepers said, “A really import-
ant part of an Indigenous community garden is [to know] where
our seeds come from and how we pass that knowledge from one
generation to the next.” Through Knowledge-keepers’ stories,
immigrant children were able to learn the importance of build-
ing relationships with the plants and insects as we gardened,
understanding what they need and what they’re giving us, and
trying to think of it as more of a reciprocal relationship. Through
the Knowledge-keepers’ stories, we had many opportunities to
learn about Indigenous-immigrant collaboration, and participants
were able to identify some examples of cross-cultural influences on
gardening and food. These included incorporating Indigenous cul-
tivation practices into one’s gardening, making use of traditional
Indigenous plants and medicines, as well as a local Indigenous-run
restaurant that serves culturally-inspired dishes.
Storytelling in a community garden can teach how to share our
harvests. For example, we had four common plots for all students,
and the purpose of these four plots was to share the harvest with the
local community, students with no garden plot, and the local food
bank. This sharing process was not limited to the harvest but also
helped us to develop our responsibility toward our community.
Through our stories, we learned that the community garden was
not only a space for harvesting food; it could also be used for differ-
ent social activities. For example, there were many social activities
taking place at the garden, such as cross-cultural cooking festivals,
yoga, storytelling, and birthday parties.
The motivational stories for participation in the community
garden were inspiring. For example, adult gardeners shared their
ancestors’ stories with their children and other children. When
asked, most gardeners gave multiple relational stories on garden-
ing in their community garden. While some students gardened as
a hobby, or for exercise, or contact with nature, others got their
motivation from other gardeners.
As the theoretical results presented in this case study suggest, sto-
rytelling can lead to making connections, taking action, and collabo-
rating cross-culturally. Storytelling-based community gardens are
places where people (re)produce and exercise their cross-cultural

learning skills and potentialities. Through storytelling in a commu-
nity garden, gardeners strengthen social bonds, build social bridges,
and access resources through social linkages. Gardeners possess a
vast amount of social-ecological knowledge and look for opportu-
nities to pass this knowledge on to the next generation. They seek
enhanced connectivity and resource-sharing among gardeners and
further action on social and ecological issues in their community.
What Have We Learned From Traditional Storytelling?
Storytelling is a “mode of constructing reality” (Fairbanks, 1996,

p. 320). Storytelling offers creative writing and performing in mul-
tiple forms to address a particular problem and is significantly miss-
ing in Western research (Christensen, 2012). Storytelling can make
research findings more readily interpreted, meaningful, and rele-
vant to our lives (Lawrence et al., 2006). Not only do creative sto-
rytelling representations of research have the potential to engage
research participants in new ways, but they can also influence par-
ticipants’ understanding of their experiences. The application of
traditional storytelling advocates for inclusion, trust, respect, col-
laboration, understanding, and acceptance of the strengths that
reside in both Western and Indigenous worldviews.
Protecting Indigenous Culture and Knowledge

Traditional storytelling is one of the significant ways of protecting
Indigenous knowledge and culture, which has 1,000 years of tradi-
tion for many Indigenous communities (Kovach, 2009). In our com-
munity garden project, a First Nation Elder in Saskatoon explained
the importance of storytelling for protecting Indigenous culture and
knowledge by saying,
Without our storytellers, our culture could be lost, but not every-
one knows our history. We need to recognize our storytellers
and our stories. Our storytellers are regarded as spiritual human
ancestors transformed in some metaphysical way beyond what a
scientist can measure.
Another Elder from a Dene First Nation community in Saskatche-

wan had a similar explanation:
We have been living sustainably in this land for centuries. Now I

am 90 years old; I will die with many successful stories. If I cannot
share our successful stories with our children, our future gener-
ations will not get to learn these important stories. The Western
education system does not teach our stories. Now this is your
[researchers and educators] responsibility to record our stories
and teach them to our future generations, both Indigenous and
non-Indigenous children.
This Elder also emphasised, “I find more and more today that
younger people are talking more about storytelling in commu-
nity gardens. I’m really happy our children [both Indigenous and
non-Indigenous] are making that connection to our land.”
Building Bridges Between Western and Indigenous Research

Methods
Blending Indigenous and Western research methods could still risk
continuing to oppress Indigenous peoples and knowledge. Historically,
Indigenous communities were forced by academics or government
agents to participate in research with little or no understanding of
the purpose or practice that would be undertaken (Dei, 2011; Kovach,
2009). The outcomes of these research projects were often disre-
spectful, misguided, and harmful (Denzin & Lincoln, 2008). Thus, the
way in which approaches are blended and facilitated must take into
account the values, practices, and beliefs of Aboriginal peoples in a way
that is respectful and inclusive. In addition, many researchers have
made statistical generalizations by treating Indigenous peoples as if
they were one large group without recognizing their diversities and
knowledge (Goforth, 2007). In both case studies (A and B), Elders and
Knowledge-holders indicated the importance of the integration and
blending of Indigenous and Western knowledge. This would also hon-
our Elder Basa Kkyeng in CHT who taught that traditional storytelling
is the gift of multiple perspectives, treasured and respected by many
Indigenous peoples and bringing benefits for all.
Another Elder in the Laitu Khyeng community in CHT explained

the importance of blending Indigenous and Western research by saying,
As Indigenous people, we have a wealth of knowledge from which

to draw to know how to live in balance, to care for ourselves, and
others. This knowledge remains with us, despite experiences with
colonization and racism. Western researchers can benefit from our
rich knowledge, and we can learn their research tools for solving
our problems. In merging Western and Indigenous methods, I see
benefits instead of problems. We need both, but not one over another.
This story shows that Indigenous people have not refused Western
research tools; they want to use them by themselves for solving their
problems. They also offer their traditional scientific knowledge (i.e.,
stories) to Western researchers. One more point is also clear from our
conversation; Indigenous people/knowledge were colonized when
their Indigenous knowledge was used for Western needs/research.
Western methods of knowledge collection are characterized by the
individualized ownership of knowledge and efforts to quantify it for
purposes of generalization. Indigenous approaches to knowledge are
contextualized, relational, and owned by the community. Building
a bridge between these two approaches (Western and Indigenous)
through traditional storytelling recognizes Indigenous knowledge as
a distinct and whole knowledge system that can exist side by side
with the Western research method. Traditional storytelling asks us,
in a respectful and passionate way, to bring together our different
ways of knowing and to use our understanding and wisdom to bring
about healing (Datta, 2016).
Ethical Community-Based Research

Storytelling speaks to the use of ethical research tools for com-
munity-based research when engaging in research with Indigenous
peoples (Simpson, 2008, 2011, 2014; Simpson & Smith, 2014). Story-
telling includes a range of practices that are community-based, col-
laborative, action-oriented, equitable, and grounded in sustained
relationships of trust. It values the broad and disparate expertise
and understanding that exist in communities and strives to advance
research activities that are of mutual benefit to all participants.

For instance, I have seen in my Ph.D. research, community garden
research, and other professional research how storytelling can play a
significant role in respecting Indigenous communities’ four core val-
ues (i.e., respect, responsibility, reciprocity, and relevance). Storytelling
was the first step in building a trustful relationship with a community.
Traditional storytelling also creates strong and relational means
of engagement with participants. For instance, during case studies
A and B I learned that relational engagement is helpful in unfold-
ing many unknown stories. My relational engagement supported
Foucault’s (2004) belief that knowledge is situated, embodied, and
partial. Our relational stories are not there or somewhere; they
are situated within our relationship. Storytelling generates agency
of power from relationships, feelings, and imagination. Relational
engagement through storytelling addresses many neglected aspects
of research, such as understanding the power relationships between
participants and researcher, identifying who has power in research,
and how these power relations have been constructed. Storytelling is a
culturally appropriate research tool for building relational engagement
and sharing imagination, dreams, and initiatives with participants. In
storytelling we (researcher and participants) are not separated; rather,
we are connected, collaborative, and comprehensive.
Reconnect Research and Land

Storytelling reconnects with land-based learning since Indigenous
stories are connected to the land and defined by the land, language,
and Nation of the people. Indigenous traditions, ceremonies, and prac-
tices connect Indigenous people to their land. Various studies also
claim that land-based stories can create wellness in people’s lives by
balancing spirit, heart, mind, and body (Datta, 2016). In case study A, I
found out how land-based stories were generated from and connected
to the land and water through Indigenous epistemologies, ontologies,
and indeed cosmologies for my Indigenous participants (Datta, 2016).
In this study, land and water were not only sites of learning but were
also actively involved in the process of research. I learned through sto-
rytelling that land-based research highlights the limits of what can be
learned within Western research. Thus land-based stories are critical

of settler/colonial structures of dispossession (Tuck & Yang, 2012).
Deconstruct Researcher’s Position

Storytelling creates self-critical consciousness and understand-
ing of our position, interaction, socialization, and values (Kovach,
2009). Storytelling can provide a self-critical realization regard-
ing our everyday interactions and relationships with our partici-
pants (Smith, 2008). For instance, I saw in case study A that critical
knowledge creates personal responsibilities for the researcher, such
as critical thinking on who I am as a researcher and what research-
ers should do. Storytelling is not only about sharing personal sto-
ries; it is also a contributory mode of engagement regarding how
we want to be seen as researchers by our participants’ community
and the world as well as how we can contribute to change. As Dun-
combe and Jessop (2002), explain, storytelling can reposition us
as researchers: “Do it for [yourself], by [yourself] . . . [you] could
do anything, [you] first ha[ve] to believe [you] c[an] do it” (p. 4).
Obtaining a critical knowledge of ourselves through storytelling is a
powerful agency and a strong motivator for creating a new research
culture. I also found in both case studies (A and B) that storytelling
neither predetermined nor came from somewhere. It is from and
within the self and the collective space, which is structured through
sharing, feelings, and relationships.
Empowering
Storytelling became an empowering research tool for me as a
researcher, educator, and learner in both case studies. It created a
new understanding and a critical lens for exploring relationships
with the land, providing diverse knowledge, and providing a space
for self-reflection as a researcher (Datta, 2015). As Anzaldua (1990)
argues, “[W]e need to change ourselves in the way that we perceive
reality, the way we see ourselves, and the way we behave—create a
new consciousness” (p. 5). The storytelling method created a space
for me as a researcher to find multiple identities in research, such as
relational meanings of identity for participants. Christensen (2012)
argues that “this demonstrates the empowering potential of research

storytelling and makes feasible research objectives aimed at trans-
forming, in a positive way, the outlook of research participants on
their own experiences and decision-making” (p. 6). Similarly, in case
study A, my personal stories helped to identify me as being related
to the participants instead of a “researcher.” My stories helped me to
overcome many known and unknown obstacles between researcher
and participants. I have observed how storytelling became a celebra-
tion for me. In my celebration, I enjoyed each moment of the research.
Research as celebration provided a great learning space where I, as a
researcher, and participants became we. We (researcher and partici-
pants) collectively decided each of our research steps, including what to
do, how to do, who can do, why we should do. Research became action
for us, which was referred as collective struggle for the community.
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(Endnotes)
1 Lincoln (1994) explained Western research as the rape model of research where “the
researcher comes in, takes what he [sic] wants, and leaves when he feels like it” (Lincoln,
reported in Beld, 1994). Indigenous scholars Battiste (2000), Kovach (2009), Smith (1999),
Wilson (2008), and others have argued that Western research without decolonization can be
viewed as “oppression” of the Indigenous communities.
2 Laitu Khyeng Indigenous people are those who inhabit Gungru Muke Para and Gungru
Madom Para (village) in the Bandarban district, CHT Bangladesh (Adnan, 2004; Chapola
2008).
3 The students’ community garden is situated in an open space that runs along the back of a line
of student apartments in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada. This lawn area is the main green
space for this group of apartments and is well used, especially in summer.

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New Directions for Theorizing in Qualitative Inquiry consists of

Books in the series:

If you have a manuscript or a proposal for a book-length work,

Norman K. Denzin and James Salvo

Published by Myers Education Press, LLC

Myers Education Press is an academic publisher specializing in books, e-books,

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available from Library of Congress

13-digit ISBN 978-1-9755-0173-0 (paperback)

Printed in the United States of America

Cover design by Sophie Appel

Visit us on the web at www.myersedpress.com to browse our complete list of titles.

T o inaugurate a series on new directions in theorizing qualitative

Where Indigenous knowledge or epistemology survives, it is trans-

Here we see that Indigenous epistemology survives through com-

Again, this inclination toward the fragmentary has proven to be an

Indigenous epistemology emphasizes its non-fragmented, holistic

However, this is a description of Indigenous epistemologies as they

[i]n these conservative times the role of an indigenous researcher

In Chapter Three, regarding the importance of languages itself,

Battiste, M. (2013). Decolonizing education: Nourishing the learning spirit.

Fish Fry Methodology:

LANA ( WAASKONE GIIZHIGOOK) RAY,

W ith the release of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission

Television Network [APTN], 2016; Palmater, 2018).

[emphasis added] in order to have a vibrant community where all

a meaningful shift in Indigenous and non-Indigenous relations and

All that talk about respect and reconciliation is self-serving rhetoric

If “reconciliation” continues in its current context, settler govern-

world (Watts, 2013), and can be traced to community, ancestral, and

Canada’s Truth? The Role of

Three years after the release of the TRC report, Indigenous

(2013) argues that while ceremonies and cultural performances have

traditional economic practices that align with Indigenous world-

Fish Fry as a Land-based Performative Research Methodology

Tribalography is a performative methodology that reorients nar-

a process that includes raising the collective voice of Indigenous peo-

Battiste (2002) views this approach of deconstruction and recon-

Indigenous expression and responsibility, supporting a shift whereas

This approach “opens up a space for scholars to engage with multi-

Fish Frys, Research, and Reconciliation

In this section, excerpts from the performance of a fish fry along

Through this performance of hosts (Lana and Paul) and guest

Challenging Settler Stories

This story from Opwaaaganasiniing forms part of a larger trove

Challenge Neoliberal Approaches to Research

to do research with Indigenous peoples follow the requirements

Develop and Maintain Personal and Spiritual Relationships

Another practice is giving thanks to the ancestors. Before enjoy-

As researchers we need to be cognizant of all of this [local histo-

LANA: I am laughing because I am remembering Paul’s and my

Donald’s (2009) Indigenous métissage focuses on Indigenous

a matter of survival (Donald, 2009). To deny the relationships

Cultural landscapes defined as the “physical expression of the

Universities have not been immune to such criticism. In place

the limitations of current cultural landscapes, which allow for the

Banff Centre (n.d.). Indigenous leadership. Retrieved from https://www.

Howe, L. (1999). Tribalography: The power of Native stories. Journal of

Journal for Critical Geographies, 17(3), 810–831. Retrieved from https://

Stark, H. (2013). Transforming the trickster: Federal Indian law encounters

Wildcat, D., McDonald, M., Irlbacher-Fox, S., Coulthard, G. (2014). Learning

I t is acknowledged that, while we have made significant advances