Decolonizing: From Theory to Material Change

Decolonizing is not a metaphor – it is an action.

It is work performed in real communities, on real lands, and within real systems of knowledge and power. As movements for Indigenous sovereignty and epistemic justice continue to grow, “decolonizing” must remain grounded in material change, relational accountability, and Indigenous-led praxis. What follows is an exploration of how decolonization reshapes education, ecology, and workplaces through participatory and relational practices rooted in Indigenous knowledge.

Decolonizing refers to material action informed by anti-colonial thought (Patel, 2015). It is not merely a theoretical critique; it requires transforming systems, redistributing power, and centering Indigenous authority. In research, decolonization involves supplementing dominant paradigms with Indigenous research paradigms that foreground relationality, responsibility, and community-defined priorities (Wilson, 2020). Within Critical Indigenous Theory (CIT), decolonizing action is foundational, even as CIT maintains productive tension between critique and the lived realities of Indigenous resurgence.

Ecology is one field where decolonization unfolds with clarity and urgency. Hernandez (2022) describes how decolonizing ecology restores relationships between people and land, emphasizing that Indigenous peoples hold deep, place-based knowledge encoded in dress, song, story, and ceremony. This knowledge is not anecdotal; it is ecological science embedded in lifeways. Cajete (1994) explains that living sustainably means recognizing the mutual responsibilities among humans, other living beings, and the landforms that shape our existence. Decolonization, in this sense, is a return to balanced relations grounded in biocultural stewardship.

Education is another critical arena for decolonizing praxis. Because education shapes the norms and values of Western societies (Crotty, 2015), Patel (2015) argues that educators must lead decolonizing efforts. Historically, schooling has functioned as a colonial project aimed at erasing Indigenous cultures and imposing the ideals of “whiteness.” A decolonizing approach reframes the so-called “achievement gap” as an “education debt” owed to all young people (Patel, 2015). Cajete (1994) calls for replacing objectivist teaching with relational, communal processes that honor the interdependence of learners, communities, and environments.

Smith (2021) documents 45 Indigenous-led research and education projects that exemplify decolonizing methodologies, including reframing, networking, claiming, and deep remembering. These projects demonstrate that original knowledge can be developed rigorously through relational accountability rather than through colonial segmentation of experience. For Cajete (1994), the Earth itself is the primary educator, and human teachers are guides who help students perceive, interpret, and care for the natural world.

Because of its power, decolonization is often misappropriated in academic discourse. Lechuga and Aswad (2024) warn against using decolonization as a metaphor detached from material realities. Genuine decolonization dismantles colonial systems and returns land, power, and agency to Indigenous peoples. It transforms governance, research practices, and social relations.

Across fields, scholars describe how decolonization reshapes praxis. In school psychology, Grant et al. (2022) identify processes such as decentering Whiteness, rejecting deficit narratives, and expanding methodologies to include Indigenous knowledge. A scoping review of health education research by Narasimhan and Chandanabhumma (2021) highlights three essential elements: structural and self-reflection, action-oriented engagement, and leadership grounded in Indigenous worldviews. In health and education, Rosario et al. (2024), Marsh et al. (2015), and Mills et al. (2018) advocate for Indigenous-led research that centers healing, sovereignty, and epistemic justice.

Decolonization also extends into organizational and management contexts. Banerjee (2022) proposes a decolonial management theory that challenges Western epistemic dominance and rejects tokenistic contextualization. This work acknowledges that Western and Indigenous paradigms are often ontologically incommensurable and that honoring Indigenous sovereignty requires more than simply “adapting” existing models.

Praxis is the heart of decolonization. It must be participatory, grounded in local communities, and materially redistributive (Lechuga & Aswad, 2024). Research by Fangupo et al. (2023) and Doyon et al. (2021) shows that decolonizing requires rethinking tools, accountability structures, and institutional hierarchies to honor Indigenous authority.

Self-awareness and reflexivity form an essential stream within decolonizing theory. A review of decolonizing nursing shows racial decentering of Whiteness, achieved through diverse partnerships, as a crucial action (Rosario et al., 2024). Awareness of language (Mathaba, 2023) and intersectionality (Grant et al., 2022) deepen reflexivity. Literature reviews (Doyon & Boron, 2021) and empirical studies (Marsh et al., 2015) show that transparency and critical self-examination disrupt privilege and foster decolonizing practices. As Mathaba (2023) suggests, cultivating intellectual curiosity and disruption fosters reflexivity (Grant et al., 2022).

Decolonization spreads across engineering, ecology, education, statistics, social work, health, and beyond. Emerging work, including new theorizing on decolonizing workplace spirituality, shows how relational accountability and Indigenous-led praxis can transform not only knowledge systems but the institutions we build and inhabit.

Decolonizing is an action. It is community-rooted, relational, and accountable. It calls us all to rebuild our worlds on foundations of justice.

One thought on “Decolonizing: From Theory to Material Change

  1. As a white man partnering with Native Americans in worship services, I ran into what they call “Indian time,” a cultural identity in which they give themselves permission to show up late, if they so wish. When understood as a statement from people whom have had so much stolen from them, it can be seen as their way of saying, “My time and personhood is my own.”

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