A bird lands amongst the tall grasses of Wakán Tipi. This year bird, small mammal, and pollinator surveys will continue on site.
A new world of understanding has come to the forefront in recent years as more and more trailblazing Indigenous scholars enter every level of academia, bringing their lived experience and inherited knowledge with them. Their scholarship focuses on the incorporation of Indigenous methodologies into every subject area, be it the arts, history, or science. Doing so simultaneously pushes back on the colonial structures, such as education and western science specifically, that have historically been exclusive and inflicted harm on their communities. Pivotal works like Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass have brought the subject of traditional ecological knowledge (TEK) into the public consciousness, as we simultaneously see a shift by the dominant culture from devaluing or appropriating Indigenous ways of understanding the world to appreciating them and the people who practice them. Perhaps the greatest lesson we learn from Indigenous science is the acceptance of multiple ways of learning, attaining, and keeping knowledge. Whereas traditional western science seeks to uphold a single “correct” answer to scientific inquiry and struggles to reconcile conflicting viewpoints, Indigenous science readily accepts a multiplicity of truths and perspectives. But the point of this blog post is not to put Indigenous science and western science in opposition — rather, we wish to highlight the ways in which we draw from Indigenous science to further our work at Lower Phalen Creek Project.
“Decolonization refers to the process of deconstructing colonial ideologies of the superiority and privilege of Western thought and approaches.””
New (Old) Ways of Knowing
Foundational to Indigenous science is the incorporation of perspective, narrative, and the oral tradition. In Dakota practice, citing our sources (a.k.a. knowledge keepers) has always been key to keeping our history alive. Stories, including those that help explain the natural world, are viewed as gifts and we honor those who took the time to share them by directly acknowledging them. Unfortunately, oral teachings have long been excluded from scientific publishing. The dominant culture has always promoted and preferred written documentation in the sciences, ultimately discrediting the oral tradition. For years, this has made it difficult for many scholars to incorporate TEK and generational understandings into their field of study. Lorisia MacLeod, a librarian and member of the James Smith Cree Nation, sought to change that when she developed templates for citing oral teachings in the commonly used MLA and APA formats. The new templates include the name of the elder or knowledge keeper, their nation or community, and the date the story was told, all of which are common practice when retelling traditional stories in person. This new tool will help to normalize the inclusion of TEK in academia and aid Indigenous students as they conduct research to better their communities.
Binnizá-Zapotec and Ch’orti’ scientist Dr. Jessica Hernandez is also making big moves within the sciences by presenting a different framework for restoration based on Indigenous worldviews and a holistic approach, while challenging the traditional notions of conservation. Her new book Fresh Banana Leaves: Healing Indigenous Landscapes through Indigenous Science explores the complex relationships Indigenous peoples have with our homelands and the ways we can heal them. She also confronts the harmful rhetoric within the conservation movement that continues to pit humans against their environments, specifically by use of the term invasive species.
“I have sat in many presentations about invasive species where they have been called the devil, evil, or nightmares. … Yes, invasive species harm an entire ecosystem, sometimes outcompeting all native plants in this same landscape; however, we are taught as Indigenous peoples that regardless of whether this plant belongs there or not, we must ask its spirit for permission. As I shared before, we acknowledge them as displaced relatives rather than invasive species, since at the end of the day, they are also someone’s plant relatives.” —Jessica Hernandez
Lower Phalen Creek Project understands that language matters: we ourselves have transitioned away from using the term “invasive species,” and instead use the phrase “displaced plant relatives.” This change acknowledges the ongoing connection we hold with our lands, reminds us of our responsibility as caretakers and limits any negativity we bring into the restoration of a sacred site like Wakáŋ Tipi. We are happy to see these practices brought to light on an international stage, and promoted in the work of both Dr. Jessica Hernandez and Lorisia MacLeod.
Incorporating Dakota Lifeways
“If we are of the modern type of mind, that sees in natural law a majesty and grandeur far more impressive than any solitary infraction of it could be, let us not forget that science has not explained everything.””
As a native-led nonprofit which focuses on Dakota cultural teachings in our care for the Dakota sacred site of Wakán Tipi, ethics are at the forefront of any and all scientific exploration we pursue. There are many questions we continually ask ourselves and seek guidance on before we move forward with planning or implementation. This process is intentionally done so that we move forward with our work “in a good way.” Some of the main questions we ask and practices we follow for any project include:
Will this research be a benefit to our relatives, and if so, how? We ask this question with the understanding that some answers are not needed and there will always be a limit to our knowledge. Knowing for the sake of knowing is not always the best practice. It is important that research be done if it can benefit our human or more than human relatives.
How do we share what we learn with our communities and how do we involve them in the learning process? Community involvement is key. We seek opportunities that can include our communities — and youth, in particular — in the research process. We also believe in transparency, and want to disseminate what we learn to the public.
How do we respect our relatives, be they plant, animal, human, water, or the land itself? Everything we do is based on woóhoda — respect for those around us. We would never want our scientific inquiry to cause unnecessary harm or damage to the ecosystem or to individual beings.
Slow Science. Every action taken should be done deliberately and with careful thought or planning. We don’t want to rush to find an answer or force a change on the landscape without taking time to really think about it first. The research we conduct should be done with intentionality and meaning, so that we do not race to unintended consequences.
Upcoming Projects
As we work to conduct more activities that fall into the broad category of “community science,” we are doing so with the questions listed above at the forefront of our minds. What do we want to know about the goings-on of the world around us? Just how do we go about this learning “in a good way”? How do we ensure we do not seek knowing for the sake of knowing, and instead pursue the education and knowledge which aligns with Dakota perspectives and lifeways?
Day by day, the sun rises earlier and sets later. The Kiŋyáŋpi Oyate will soon welcome many winged relatives back to the lands and waters of Mni Sota. The turbulent temperatures of spring’s freeze-thaw cycle will kick off in earnest, giving native plant seeds the time they need to stratify, germinate, and bear new life. Our native pollinators will leave nests burrowed into soil and woody stems in search of pollen and new homes. Snowmelt and spring storms will carry water through our lakes and streams, coursing renewed life and energy throughout our ecosystem. And soon, we will find ourselves in the midst of this explosion of activity, watching with awe and wonder. The western practice of phenology is remarkably philosophical, asking us only to document what we observe to be changing all around us. And in pairing this practice of observation with a dutiful sense of woóhoda, with community involvement, and with this series of reflective questions in our minds, we aim to form our own coherent approach to Indigenous science.
In 2022, we will work with a range of volunteers, academics, and other community members to learn more about the infinite changes and processes on display throughout Wakáŋ Tipi. We’ll conduct surveys on the growth and prevalence of plant relatives, birds, pollinators, and mammals. We’ll use technological devices to learn the chemical and mineral make-up of our soils, air, and water. We’ll work to synthesize the information we gather so that everyone in our communities may understand its value and importance. And through it all, we’ll place our values and our intentions first. In the end, we seek not to “explain everything,” but simply to become more aware and better informed on what has always been in front of us.
