*4.2. Discomfort, Guilt and Fear*

It is true that the course experiences were enriching, while at the same time, the knowledge of the historical/present-day truths of colonization and cultural appropriation created discomfort, guilt and fear. This dilemma was expressed by many of us as illustrated in the excerpts below:

It was hard to come to terms with the actual history and current state of treatment of Indigenous cultures. I began to struggle and still do with the question of how to make things right. When millions of people live on stolen land how do we right the wrong? (Nicolette)

I found difficulties in negative tones brought into class through discussions and how to perceive that for myself. Some of the topics left a sense of depression and hopelessness for people as a whole. How were we ever going to change, resolve, grow from the oppression, genocide, and complete annihilation of Indigenous peoples and cultures? (Jennie)

As Indigenous voices and stories passed over and through us, it became clear that the shield of academic distance would not protect us from processing course content on a personal level. Learning about various ways of understanding and engaging with the world led each of us to dig deep into our own understandings of the world. This reflection was facilitated by class conversations and in representing our own knowledge systems. For me, learning about Indigenous Peoples whose cultural stories and practices were concentrically interconnected with and born of the land around them was a beautiful and awe-invoking experience. But the flip side of a world opened to that beauty is to unavoidably acknowledge and feel the devastating losses, violence and injustices that Indigenous Peoples have faced from settler colonialism. Throughout the class, I found myself processing grief for the violence incurred by so many Indigenous communities, for the displacement from and destruction of Indigenous lands and for the suppression and loss of knowledge systems that have been built over millennia. (Sal)

As important was the work my classmates and I—most of us Western settlers did to begin unraveling and decolonizing the ways in which settler colonialism has impacted our understanding of the world: identifying the "hidden" or "silent" curriculum (e.g., [13,17,19,33,53]). By following some of the precepts of Indigenous research methodologies—including emphasizing shared knowledge and reciprocity and respecting the rules and values of a community [9,60], we were able to navigate challenging conversations in class and in our project research. For our final project, we investigated our own knowledge systems and that of our communities by asking questions such as "how do you determine what knowledge is worthwhile?" and "how do you come to know?" These were surprisingly difficult questions to answer as those of us who are settlers (and, to some extent, those of us part of any dominant group) rarely take the time to consider where our understanding comes from. Examining the answers to these questions, though, is a vital part of acknowledging how Western thought dominates spaces—if we want to be a part of creating a third space where Indigenous and Western knowledge systems can coexist, we settlers have to know when and how to step back. As we worked in our Zoom space, developing a hybrid third space, perhaps we were beginning a praxis of learning how to work within the sphere of discomfort. (Emily)

For Emma, the discomfort was necessary for transformation to occur:

My life/work as an environmental educator centering growing community requires that I am always becoming, always transforming. Strand by strand unweaving the ways of knowing passed down to me and weaving a new tapestry.

This transformation process was nurtured through the Indigenous Knowledge Systems course. The role of discomfort in transformation is to illuminate intuition deep down. This intuition guides me towards ways of knowing that grow emergence and abundance. Below, I describe a few of the discomforts that arose for me during the course and how I allowed them to guide my intuition towards transformation.

As an environmental educator and grower of food, medicine and community, it becomes more and more apparent how my positionality as a white, financiallyprivileged, US citizen really impacts the ways of knowing that I privilege. "Colonialism goes beyond territorial conquest: it affects one's epistemological stance, worldview and perceptions," [75] (p. 106). Through the unweaving of my ways of knowing, the depth of white colonial perspectives embedded in my worldview and embodied in my practices surface. Understanding that entanglement contextualizes in my own experience why land back is central to decolonization and also requires a real movement to decolonize our minds, bodies and spirits. In Indigenous Knowledge Systems and beyond, I have addressed and listened to this discomfort and let it guide me towards deep listening. Learning how to see interconnectedness through two eyed seeing [27,52], how to follow community protocol and value the time it takes to build meaningful trust for strong communities.

The deeper I dive into my positionality, the more I worry about inflicting violence on the land and those I work with by perpetuating white colonial worldviews. Language is a fundamental mechanism of eurocentrism permeating education. Tommy Akulukjuk pointed out in a letter to a friend and colleague that words such as 'wildlife' in English work to distance speakers of colonial languages from the more-than-human world [14]. Inuktitut, he contrasts, utilizes no such words to separate humans from the Earth. Points such as this raise questions: what else do I say that undermines Indigenous ways of knowing? Fear bubbles, but does not take the lead in my response to this discomfort. Instead of letting fear guide, in Indigenous Knowledge Systems we collaboratively engaged in discussion about how to decolonize systems of education and indigenize the practices we bring to our life/work.

Deepening practice related to identity and life/work lead me to discomfort in how I actually show up to my life's space/time. The course acted as a diving board, but now I am going head first into life hoping that once I hit the water I can swim without pulling others down for my own survival. This discomfort guides me to slow down. The reality that time is not linear, but circular nurtured a realization that relationships are sustained through reciprocity developed in cycles of space/time. Action must be taken, but the approach to action that my white colonial mindset brings up is fast and furious, not deep and rooted. adrienne maree brown writes, "We need each other. I love the idea of shifting from 'mile wide inch deep' movements to 'inch wide mile deep' movements that schism the existing paradigm," [80] (p. 20). Following the Indigenous Knowledge Systems course, I feel ready to follow intuition guided by discomfort towards slow, deep movements towards an authentic and Indigenous led decolonization and indigenization movement.

Jean reflected on the challenges she faced as the instructor of the course:

While I tried my best to create a course that elevated Indigenous worldviews in content and process (e.g., Umunthu and Sankofa), there were times I found challenging. For example, when participants felt discomfort by the impacts of colonialism in general and settler colonialism in particular, on Indigenous peoples—I didn't have the right tools to provide the needed support. Simpson [11] recommends that programs promoting decolonization need to have

necessary support strategies in place–which I didn't have. Another difficult moment was participants asking whether it was right for non-Indigenous peoples (as all of us in the class are) to teach IKS? Would we be appropriating? These were tough questions that we worked through by learning from Indigenous Elders, scholars and practitioners (either as guest speakers or through materials they have created.) We learned that as non-Indigenous people in our communities, devoting time to create trusting relationships with Indigenous peoples in our communities is key. I must say that being non-Indigenous to this community and continent was challenging at times. I am grateful to the whole class for being open and journeying together.
