“It Celebrates Our Culture!”: Re-Storying Historical Healing in Education by Roshelle R. Weiser-Nieto A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Critical and Sociocultural Studies in Education Dissertation Committee: Leilani Sabzalian, Chair Michelle M. Jacob, Core Member Joanna Goode, Core Member Kirby Brown, Institutional Representative University of Oregon Fall 2024 2 © 2024 Roshelle Weiser-Nieto 3 DISSERTATION ABSTRACT Roshelle Weiser-Nieto Doctor of Philosophy in Critical and Sociocultural Studies in Education Title: “It Celebrates Our Culture!”: Re-Storying Historical Healing in Education This dissertation explores how accurate Native American curriculum and implementation can support healing from the deep wounds left by colonial education systems. Looking specifically at Tribal history/shared history (TH/SH) curriculum in Oregon, this research highlights the importance of incorporating culturally sustaining curriculum in addressing narratives that perpetuate harm and erase Native histories and current lifeways in schools. After a review on current and foundational literature on healing and Native American curriculum throughout what is now known as the United States, this study emphasizes how Native studies curriculum can foster a resurgence of Indigenous knowledges. To examine the healing potential of TH/SH curriculum, the author turns to the self-developed theoretical framework, Stinta (Love) as theory, which is informed by Indigenous and Chicana feminist theories, including felt theory and cultural intuition. Through a series of sharing circles with Indigenous educators, and a process of Collaborative Storying, this research centers Indigenous Methodologies of storytelling to showcase how this curriculum can actively promote healing and Indigenous joy. Including Native perspectives in school curricula isn’t just about telling the truth about history, it is about creating a space for healing and empowerment for students, educators, and Tribal communities. By involving Native educators directly in curriculum implementation, research, and professional development, this research shows that accurate Native American curricula can offer a path to 4 healing and resilience, if it is fully embraced and implemented across the state. Moreover, through stories of Native teachers implementing the TH/SH curriculum and the wealth of knowledge and lived experience they bring to their classrooms, this study highlights the importance of Native teachers and Native teacher preparation programs. 5 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS First and always, I want to thank Creator for this beautiful gift of life and all the lessons along the way. To all my ancestors, thank you for your resilience, power, and knowledge. I miss you every day, JCS, thank you for being the best guardian angel ever. I want to thank my family for teaching me the importance of remembering where you come from and to keep going no matter what. My brothers and cousins for being my first best friends in life. My mom and dad, you always knew what I was capable of, even when I didn’t see it. I want to thank my chosen sisters for consistently holding it down and holding me up (you know who you are); you are warriors and I wouldn’t have survived this journey without you. You too, Jimmy. I want to thank all my nieces and nephews who remind me to lean into joy and freedom dreaming. To my committee, thank you for believing in me and sharing your powerful gifts and brilliance with me and the world. I want to thank my research participants; you are all so inspiring and I’m grateful for your time, friendship, and deep wisdom. And finally, to borrow words from one of the greatest: “Last but not least, I want to thank me. I want to thank me for believing in me. I want to thank me for doing all this hard work. I wanna thank me for having no days off. I wanna thank me for, for never quittin. I wanna thank me for always being a giver and trying to give more than I receive. I wanna thank me for trying to do more right than wrong. I wanna thank me for being me at all times. Roshelle [Snoop Dogg], you a bad motherf**ker.” 6 DEDICATION To my nieces, Hazel Rae, Lila Ruby, and Xilani Eva. To my nephews, Cruz Illahe, Waluxpykee Walter, Lukwaiya Elias, and PowTykes Mitchell. The work I do in this world is for you. You are our Indigenous future. You are our strength and power. To my loves, David Iziah Amhar, Lily Pepper, and Benjamin Henry – this is for you too. Brown and Black Lives Matter. You all deserve the very best of us, and I strive every day to be the auntie and Jah-ma you will always be proud of. Mo amsni stinta. 7 TABLE OF CONTENTS FOREWORD ................................................................................................................................ 12 CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION ........................................................................................... 17 Senate Bill 13, Tribal History/Shared History ....................................................................... 20 Statement of the Problem: Why We Need Tribal History/Shared History Curriculum ........ 21 The Aims of the Boarding Schools ................................................................................ 23 Colonialism's Ongoing Legacy in Education Today ...................................................... 25 Purpose of the Study: Resurgence of Indigenous Knowledges ............................................. 26 Research Questions ................................................................................................................ 28 Role of the Researcher: “Introducing the Storyteller” ........................................................... 30 Scope of the Study ................................................................................................................. 32 Summary ................................................................................................................................ 33 CHAPTER TWO: FINDING MYSELF IN ACADEMIA: A LITERATURE REVIEW ............ 34 Theoretical Framework .......................................................................................................... 36 Tribal Critical Race Theory ............................................................................................ 36 Felt Theory and Cultural Intuition .................................................................................. 38 Theory of Stinta (Love), from a Beadworker’s Soul ...................................................... 41 Healing Through the Lens of Stinta as theory ....................................................................... 51 Healing in Partnership and Community ......................................................................... 51 Healing through Indigenous Value Systems and Spirituality ......................................... 54 Healing through Relationships with Place ..................................................................... 55 Healing Through Stories ................................................................................................. 58 Healing through Refusal and Resistance ........................................................................ 60 8 Summary of Literature on Healing ................................................................................. 63 Following in the Steps of Our Relations: Native American Curriculum Development ........ 63 Healing in Education ............................................................................................................. 67 Summary ................................................................................................................................ 68 CHAPTER THREE: HEALING IS MY METHODOLOGY: RESEARCH METHODOLOGY 70 A Textured Approach to Holding the Stories ........................................................................ 71 Indigenous Methodologies ..................................................................................................... 74 Collaborative Storying- Russell Bishop ......................................................................... 74 Sharing Circles: Margaret Kovach and Amanda Tachine .............................................. 77 Co-developed Self-In-Relation Research: Timothy San Pedro ...................................... 79 Research Design: Braiding it Todo Junto .............................................................................. 82 Teacher Participants ............................................................................................................... 84 Researching in Community ................................................................................................... 86 Ethical Considerations ........................................................................................................... 88 Methods, Data Collection, and Management ........................................................................ 89 Collaborative Storying Interviews .................................................................................. 89 Sharing Circles ............................................................................................................... 89 Journaling ....................................................................................................................... 90 Analysis ................................................................................................................................. 90 Summary ................................................................................................................................ 91 CHAPTER FOUR: “IT CELBRATES OUR CULTURE!”: FINDINGS .................................... 92 Defining Healing ................................................................................................................... 95 Historical Healing ........................................................................................................... 96 9 Healing in Education ...................................................................................................... 97 Role of Native American Curriculum and Healing ............................................................... 99 Gifts From Collaboration: Healing Centered Spaces for Educators .................................... 103 Evolving Understanding of Healing ............................................................................. 104 The Wisdom from our Elder Educator ......................................................................... 104 Reflecting on the Sharing Circles ................................................................................. 106 Interest in Continued Collaboration ..................................................................................... 107 Summary .............................................................................................................................. 108 CHAPTER FIVE: “THAT’S WHAT THIS WORK IS ABOUT!”: DISSCUSSION/IMPLICATIONS ............................................................................................. 109 Coming Full Circle .............................................................................................................. 111 A Discussion of Significant Findings .................................................................................. 112 Defining Healing .......................................................................................................... 113 Healing in Education .................................................................................................... 113 Space for Indigenous Educators ................................................................................... 114 The Value of Elder Educators ...................................................................................... 116 The Roles of Non-Native Teachers .............................................................................. 116 Summary of Discussion ....................................................................................................... 117 “That's What This Work Is About!”: Implications of This Research .................................. 117 Implications for Theory and Methodology .......................................................................... 118 Implications for Practice ...................................................................................................... 120 Implications for Policy ........................................................................................................ 124 Future Research ................................................................................................................... 125 10 Limitations of the Study ...................................................................................................... 127 Conclusion and Saadinay Pok?anaya .................................................................................. 128 REFERENCES ........................................................................................................................... 132 11 LIST OF FIGURES Page Figure 1. A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 1 .......................................................................... 12 Figure 2. A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 2 .......................................................................... 14 Figure 3. A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 3 .......................................................................... 15 Figure 4. Read Well 2- Unit 2- Chapter 2 ..................................................................................... 17 Figure 5. Theory of Stinta (Love) Components ............................................................................ 41 Figure 6. Bead your Province/State Final Map ............................................................................. 43 Figure 7. Essential Understandings Regarding Montana Indians ................................................. 64 Figure 8. Framework and Traits of Textured Teaching ................................................................ 72 Figure 9. A Research Participant’s Journal Reflection ................................................................. 95 Figure 10. A Research Participant’s Journal Reflection ............................................................. 106 Figure 11. Tribal Languages Welcome Students to School ........................................................ 122 12 FOREWORD In my practice as a classroom teacher, I always tried to ensure my students had the background knowledge they needed to approach new material. Similarly, I offer the following guide (Figures 1-3) to provide context and support to my readers, as they move through this dissertation. My research question is embedded as the “essential question.” I provide the state legislation for Tribal History/Shared History as the “standard.” The “materials and resources” provide additional background knowledge and will be accessible via QR code, and the “self- assessment” questions are meant to help the reader approach the material self-reflectively and with an open mind and heart. In terms of the “key vocabulary,” many of these terms are not easily definable, however I offer these fluid definitions to support you as the reader, while you navigate my study. It is my hope that by providing a reader's guide as a resource, you as the reader will be able to fully engage with my dissertation and heart-work. Figure 1 A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 1 A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 1 13 14 Figure 2 A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 2 A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 2 15 Figure 3 A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 3 A Dissertation Reader’s Guide Page 3 16 17 CHAPTER ONE: INTRODUCTION "Seriously?! Again?! Why here?!" I thought while preparing my second grader's reading lessons from the district-mandated curriculum for the week. Pulling the new unit off the shelf and reviewing the content left me disheartened. I was expected to teach the land-bridge theory to a class of all Indigenous students at a school on an Indian reservation (Figure 4). “I shouldn’t be surprised,” I thought to myself. The curriculum was riddled with problematic, stereotypical, and sometimes potentially violent portrayals of people of color. Seeing this lesson assigned to second graders left me heartsick that any student is exposed to this false narrative. The early reading text stated, “Thousands of years ago, there weren’t any people in America” (Read Well 2, Unit 2, 2009, p. 49). Period. End stop. Ethically, I couldn't ignore this. I didn’t want them to internalize these inaccuracies, so had to have an in-depth conversation with my students, explaining that while some people believe the land-bridge theory, we, as Native people, know we've been on our lands since time immemorial. Figure 4 Read Well 2- Unit 2- Chapter 2 Read Well 2- Unit 2- Chapter 2 18 Note. From Read Well 2, Unit 2, Chapter 2, “From Here to There” (p. 49) by Sopris West Educational Services. Published by Cambium Learning Group/Voyager Learning, Dallas, TX, 2009. Furthermore, scientists are disproving the theory and finding artifacts that date far past 14,000 years ago (Echo-Hawk, 2000; Cajete, 2000). I engaged my students in a thoughtful and inspiring conversation about their ancestry to interrupt these inaccuracies. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what the experiences would be like for other students nationwide whose schools still use the Read Well curriculum. They will grow up believing this narrative about Native people that has been scientifically disproven time and again. Now, in 2024, although I am no longer in the classroom and my former school district has since adopted a new curriculum, I worry about other children who are still being indoctrinated into false and colonial versions of Native American history. The frustration fuels my passion for listening and learning from teachers taking a different approach in their own practice. 19 Testimonies of Indigenous erasure, such as my story above, highlight the crucial need for accurate Native American curriculum. These problematic stories erase the experiences and histories of Indigenous peoples in what is now known in the United States, while also miseducating all students about U.S. history. Indigenous peoples have long been positioned as “other” in histories and history curricula told from dominant, Eurocentric, colonizer perspectives, including in the legacy of genocide and assimilation projects in schools. However, Indigenous communities must be involved in decolonial efforts to “center our concerns and worldviews” and reclaim accurate narratives (Smith, 2001, p. 39). With inaccurate narratives illustrated in my story dominating mainstream curriculum in the United States, educators and academics have been in conversation about how to address this colonial, revisionist version of “history” (Rodríguez & Swalwell, 2021). This dissertation details my research and findings on how accurate and authentic Native American curriculum can serve as a source of healing in public schools. Chapter One tells the story of the colonial legacy of K–12 schooling for Indigenous peoples and the resurgence of Indigenous knowledges. As the reader, you will find that this chapter does not follow a typical linear pathway. Instead, I approach the chapter as a beadworker and think of the chapter like a medallion. Beadworkers often work in circles to create a medallion. This is intentional, as I draw inspiration from authors such as Jo-Ann Archibald (2008) and Leslie Marmon Silko (1996), who sometimes choose not to tell stories in any sort of point A, to B, to C, western fashion. I start by centering the healing work of Indigenous resurgence by introducing the importance of centering Native educator voices, reflecting on the powerful Indigenous curriculum coming out of the state of Oregon. I then take the reader back into history and discuss why this type of curriculum is essential to draw out the impacts of 20 boarding schools in K–12 schools and the ways in which Native American curriculum remains problematic to this day. I discuss why this is largely due to the colonial domination of what is considered legitimate knowledge and back to the importance of the exemplary work happening in Oregon. In bookending this dissertation proposal chapter with inspirational stories, I intend to draw the focus away from being “damage-centered” (Tuck, 2009) and move toward a more healing-centered approach to how I think about my work. Senate Bill 13, Tribal History/Shared History As a result of the efforts of Indigenous people and legislators throughout the State of Oregon, Senate Bill 13 (SB13) was passed in 2017. The law directs the Oregon Department of Education (ODE) to create Native American curriculum for all K–12 students in Oregon public schools and provide professional development to support educators. The legislation guaranteed funding so that ODE could create a set of lessons at the state level and also provided funds to each of the nine federally recognized Tribes of Oregon to develop their own Tribal-specific content (ODE, n.d.). The Native American curriculum, now referred to as TH/SH, was born from this legislation. It was developed by educators ODE in consultation with Native American educators and scholars. The Tribal-specific curriculum was developed by each of the nine Tribes in Oregon using their own processes/ consultation. By requiring all public schools to teach TH/SH curriculum, the law is designed to present all students with a historically accurate account of Tribal history and modern-day contributions to both Native and non-Native communities (ODE, n.d.). The dissemination of the Tribal- specific curriculum around the state can also be seen as a resurgent effort to reinvest in 21 Indigenous ways of knowing and being in K–12 public schools, as Indigenous educators' and Tribal members' voices are so thoughtfully attended to and included throughout the process. Comparable to curriculum developed in Hawai`i, Montana, and other states, this vital work is urgent since the United States' original goal for Indigenous youth has been that of genocide, forced assimilation, and cultural erasure through boarding schools (Adams, 1995). Although Indigenous youth are no longer habitually removed from their communities and some families choose modern Indian boarding schools, public education remains a site of harm and trauma for Indigenous students and their families (Sabzalian, 2019). As my introduction story illustrates, being required to teach such a problematic lesson is harmful. Despite having thorough discussions around our reading table, there was a risk that my students might have internalized these inaccurate messages. Therefore, the creation of the Native American TH/SH curriculum in Oregon is an important step in providing an equitable education for our1 youth. Moreover, it has the potential to be a source of healing for Oregon Tribal peoples and beyond, as it is developed and written in partnership with Native peoples. Statement of the Problem: Why We Need Tribal History/Shared History Curriculum It is essential to discuss why legislation such as SB13 exists in the first place. Indigenous peoples have always had our own systems of education, however European settlers colonized the Americas and imposed their own forms of schooling rooted in white supremacy (Grande, 2015). These schools have disrupted Indigenous languages, knowledge systems, and ways of life. TH/SH curriculum provides an important intervention into legacy of assimilative schooling. To 1 I am inspired by Black feminist, Patricia Hill Collins’s (2000) assertion to reject pronouns such as “they” and “their” in her own writing which distance herself from her own community. I follow her lead and choose to also think and write in terms of “we,” “us,” and “our.” (p. 19). I do this to acknowledge my positionality as an Indigenous womyn and academic, to un-“other” myself, and to affirm my deep commitment to center relationality and sacred reciprocity in my own life and scholarship. 22 understand the potential of such curriculum, and how it can contribute to healing, we must take a closer look at the legacies of colonial violence that impact U.S. public schooling and curriculum today. The colonists had to portray Natives as savage to justify the theft of the lands and considered this their manifest destiny (Deloria Jr., 1988). Settlers engaged in various strategies to dispossess Indigenous peoples of their land and create a nation of their own. They rewrote history on their terms, narrating Indigenous peoples as "savages" to justify the theft of their lands. They also framed the conquest of Indigenous peoples and the expansion of America as inevitable and their god-given right, their manifest destiny (Deloria, 1988). And as they worked to eliminate Indigenous peoples, they then claimed that they were the new "natives" (la paperson, 2017). The U.S. legal system justified the theft of the land with laws such as the Indian Removal Act of 1830 and The Dawes Severalty Act of 1887, making settler colonialism U.S. policy. On top of the massive theft of Indigenous lands, widespread disease and outright genocidal massacres nearly decimated the population of Indigenous peoples in the United States (Deloria, 1988). Many of those who survived were removed from their homelands and sent to reservations. Many children were stolen from their families and sent to boarding schools that “forcibly sought to erase Indigenous identities and replace them with more ‘civilized ones'” (Sabzalian, 2019, p. 11). It was not a choice for many Tribes to send our children to boarding schools, and the impacts have lasting effects to this day. Today, many of us live in poverty, and the effects of historical trauma from the genocide of our ancestors, the theft/loss of our land, and the boarding school era continue to devastate our communities (Grayshield et al., 2015). Some of our traditional stories and knowledges have been 23 stolen from us, and some were legally forbidden until the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978. Despite the efforts of colonists, the legal system, and boarding schools, many Tribes have retained and continue to practice their traditions and pass down their oral histories The Aims of the Boarding Schools Like other strategies of colonialism, boarding schools were designed to dispossess Indigenous peoples, which was ultimately about gaining access to Indigenous lands. Boarding schools sought to "civilize” Indigenous children, erasing their Indigenous identities, languages, and knowledge systems, and replacing them with more "civilized" knowledge along with capitalist values and Christian ideals. Boarding school advocates felt their methods were less violent than outright warfare. Advocates for boarding schools claimed that "education would quicken the process of cultural evolution," and that proper schooling could put Native children on par with their "more civilized white neighbors,” thus ensuring they were assimilated into (white) society (Adams, 1995, p. 19). Not only did they view their strategies as more benevolent than policies of warfare and extermination, but they considered them quick and efficient: "By means of the common school, Indians could, in effect, be catapulted directly from savagism to civilization, skipping all the intervening stages of social evolution in between” (Adams, 1995, p. 19). However, boarding schools were incredibly violent, and students endured immense physical, emotional, psychological, and sexual abuse. Timothy San Pedro (2021) employed Althusser’s (1971) definitions of the repressive state apparatus (RSA) and ideological state apparatus (ISA) to describe how the painful experiences of boarding schools functioned in the United States (p. 10). He summarized how the two apparatuses work simultaneously, whereas the RSA functions violently by colonizing people through acts of genocide and other physical 24 abuse, and the ISA functions ideologically through social conditioning, such as the work of churches, politics, and other communal spaces. We can see how the two apparatuses are at work in the ways in which boarding schools operated at a physical level through the physical and sexual abuse of children and through the ideology and conditioning of our youth that our traditional ways of living were uncivilized. Settlers felt that traditional ways of Indigenous peoples had to be eradicated and used education as the vehicle. To prevent children from engaging in traditional ways of learning and knowing, they intentionally removed children from their families and put them into boarding schools, which were often far away from children's families and homelands. William Jones, Commissioner of Indian Affairs, claimed “To educate the Indian in the ways of civilized life… is to preserve him from extinction, not as an Indian, but as a human being” (Adams, 1995, p. 21) and there were four major priorities of the boarding schools to do so. The four aims of the boarding schools included teaching the Indian children how to speak, read, and write in English, become individualized beings, learn Christianity, and undergo citizenship training (Adams, 1995). These educational aims would lead to long-standing impacts on oral tradition, Indigenous languages, and cultural practices and ways of life. Despite the harm in the boarding schools, Native students found ways to resist the complete loss of their identities and cultures. Resisting the individuation process, students with siblings remained close and formed close bonds with other students in their dorms (Lomawaima, 1994). In developing these relationships, the boarding school’s agenda to socially condition the students into individualism backfires because the students not only retained memory and use of their own Native languages, but they also begin to teach their friends, learning each other’s languages (Child, 2000). Relationality is "at the heart of what it means to be Indigenous" 25 (Wilson, 2008, p. 80), and boarding schools did not have the power to take this way from the youth. Students also resisted by running away. Some children were caught before leaving, others caught and returned to the schools from where they ran away multiple times. Nonetheless, their courage in the face of overwhelming odds was undeniable (Johnston, 1989). While many students lost their lives to boarding schools or lost a part of their Indigenous spirit, those of us who are descended from the survivors are forever indebted to their will to live and remember their resiliency. While the traumatic impact of boarding schools is undeniable, they did not have the power to completely eradicate our culture due in large part to these brave survivor youth. Colonialism's Ongoing Legacy in Education Today In the aftermath of the boarding school era and the colonialist version of what is considered knowledge, the plight of Native American education has been and continues to be tenuous. From the boarding school era until recently, accurate and appropriate Native American curriculum rarely existed in public schools. Vine Deloria and Wildcat (2001) asserted, “Education in the English-American context resembles indoctrination more than it does other forms of teaching” (p. 42). As illustrated in my opening story, schools in 2024 are still teaching antiquated theories such as the land bridge theory, even though Native people know we have been here since time immemorial. Social Studies curriculum and standards often contribute to Indigenous erasure invisiblizing the modern-day existence of Native peoples and centering the lessons focus on history and narratives from the past (National Congress of American Indians, 2019; Sabzalian et al., 2021; Shear et al., 2015). In other cases, the curriculum has the insidious tendency to minimize our nationhood or relegate Tribes to minimalistic terms such as “groups” (Sabzalian et al., 2021, pp. 337–338). 26 These examples reflect how colonial domination has shaped and controlled what is considered valid knowledge, often marginalizing or erasing Indigenous ways of knowing (Curtice, 2023; Grande, 2015; la paperson, 2017; Smith, 2021). Patriarchal colonial systems imposed Eurocentric ideologies and dismissed Indigenous knowledge systems as inferior or irrelevant (Grande, 2015). This imposed dominance continues to affect how history, culture, and identity are understood and valued, reinforcing power imbalances and perpetuating the dehumanization and erasure of Indigenous perspectives (Smith, 2021). Indigenous knowledges deserve to be honored and valued. They deserve to be elevated instead of relegated to elective courses, clubs, or after-school programs, as so many K–12 schools do today (Sabzalian, 2019). Indigenous and Ethnic Studies scholarship and curriculum begins from this premise and specifically seeks to intervene into the types of knowledge and curricula promoted in schools. Following the Civil Rights Movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s, Native American and Indigenous Studies began gaining traction as a field (Deloria, 1988). Scholars and educators advocated for the resurgence of Indigenous knowledge, which led to the creation of Indigenous scholarly journals that published Indigenous voices, including American Indian Quarterly and Wíčazo Ša Journal. Indigenous peoples were asserting their treaty rights to self-determination and fighting to reclaim control over their narratives in academia and schools. It was in this era that Tribal advocates began to put pressure on the states to support their freedom dreams (Kelley, 2002; Love, 2020) for new possibilities of a better education and Indigenous curriculum for the youth. As educators, we all benefit from Indigenous brilliance and this vital work. Purpose of the Study: Resurgence of Indigenous Knowledges Resurgence describes the process of Indigenous peoples investing in our own cultures and communities. For Michi Saagig Nishnaabeg scholar, Leanne Betasomosake Simpson (2011), 27 a leading advocate for resurgence, it is “a call for Indigenous Peoples to delve into their own culture’s stories, philosophies, theories and concepts to align themselves with the processes and forces of regeneration, revitalization, remembering and visioning” (p. 148). Simpson calls on Indigenous peoples to live our teachings in our modern-day lives; thus, resurgence will mean something different to each Indigenous person and community. I see the development of the Native American curriculum as a resurgence project in that each of the Tribes in Oregon have been able to exercise their sovereignty and self-determination to draft their own curriculum specific to their Tribes and have been in consultation for the content included in the state lesson plans. Furthermore, the content from the state-led curriculum was also developed with Indigenous consultancy and informed by the essential understandings which were developed by members of each of the nine Tribes of Oregon: • since time immemorial • history • identity • language • genocide, federal policy, and laws • treaties with the United States • lifeways • Tribal government • sovereignty Indigenous educators and Tribal communities in Oregon are committed to ensuring the state values and implements an accurate curriculum centered around the themes from the Essential Understandings. Teaching about our histories, sovereignty, treaty rights, current lifeways, government structures, and contributions accurately and affirmatively through the development of the TH/SH curriculum and honoring the voices of Tribal nations, provides a resurgent and accurate account of Indigenous history and current lifeways. Warm Springs Tribal Elder and education director, Valerie Switzler, testified for SB13 and the involvement of the nine 28 federally recognized Tribes of Oregon to contribute to the curriculum (Jacob et al., 2018). She reminded people that the communities around Warm Springs used to be “good neighbors” to the Tribe and “advocated for public education that would affirm her peoples’ inherent rights” (Jacob et al., 2018, p. 158). By advocating for legislation that specifically supports and funds Tribal- specific curricula, Tribal nations are enacting their sovereignty and resurgence of Indigenous knowledge and all students in the state have the opportunity to benefit from a more responsible and comprehensive education. I see the development of legislation and curriculum such as TH/SH in Oregon as a refusal to reduce Native American Studies to elective courses or after-school programs. Simpson (2017) asks, “What happens, then, when we build movements that refuse colonial recognition as a starting point and turn inwards, building a politics of refusal that is generative” (p. 177)? TH/SH and similar curriculum from other states can be seen as a refusal of colonial versions of recognition (or invisibilization) and deserve to be taught in mainstream curriculum versus relegated to elective courses. Just as our cultures survived genocide and the aims of boarding school, so did many of our stories and practices of traditional means of education. Now, we can teach our own curriculum and share it with the State of Oregon backed by legislation. In my research, I partner with Native teachers who also see the importance of teaching Native American curriculum and ask whether this curriculum has the potential to do some healing work in their classrooms, schools, and larger communities. Research Questions In partnership with Indigenous teachers across the state of Oregon, my research project focuses on the following anchor research question: Since schools have been historical sites of trauma and genocide, how can implementation of the TH/SH Native American curriculum serve 29 as a site of historical healing in Oregon schools? I also suggested the following potential supporting research questions to the group: • How do Indigenous educators understand and define the concept of healing? • How do they understand healing in educational spaces? • What role do they see TH/SH contributing to the broader project of healing? • What specific ways can the implementation of TH/SH promote healing in the classroom? And finally, • What further interventions, supports, or resources can sustain their efforts and foster healing in this work? Due to the participatory nature of my research project in alignment with the Indigenous methodologies I chose (which I describe further in Chapter 3), I proposed the above as “potential” supporting questions because I wanted to make space for the teacher participants to bring forth their own questions to the group. As a result of this process and based on participant interest and input, my list of research questions morphed to include two additional questions: • Has their understanding/definition of healing evolved or become more nuanced over the course of the research project? • Is there potential for healing for the educators by teaching the curriculum? My process of collaborating with and sharing power with Indigenous educators was profound and is exemplified in my central research question. I had originally proposed the question with an if at the beginning: If schools have been historical sites of trauma and genocide, how can implementation of the TH/SH Native American curriculum serve as a site of historical healing in Oregon schools? One research participant pushed back on my use of the word “if,” arguing that there is no question that schools have been sites of trauma and genocide. We 30 decided collectively to rephrase the question, changing “if” to “since” to honor my research participant’s voice and uphold my commitment to centering relationships and responsibility. For me, that shift is a testament to the power of collaboration and why Indigenous educators' voices should be central to inquiries around Indigenous curriculum. Role of the Researcher: “Introducing the Storyteller” Inspired by Shawn Wilson's approach to his role as researcher as storyteller, I approach this research project in the same way (Wilson, 2008, p. 32). I also see myself as a researcher storyteller. It is my responsibility to “re-story” (retell; San Pedro, 2021), the stories my research participants have shared with me in an honorable way. This is an important responsibility that I take seriously. Additionally, part of an Indigenous way of being for many Tribal communities is introducing yourself right away, sharing your Tribe and who your family is. For this reason, I am putting this section into the introduction chapter instead of including it in the Methodology chapter, where it is traditionally located in most research papers. Ha?o ii, Roshelle Weiser-Nieto mi?i nī nani?a (I started off with a general greeting that loosely translates to: How are you, my name is Roshelle Weiser-Nieto in our Yahooskin Paiute dialect, nīmī). I am a Modoc and Yahooskin Paiute womyn2 from the Klamath Tribes, Pit River, and Chicana. I am a doctoral candidate in the critical and socio-cultural studies in education program in the College of Education at the University of Oregon. I have 21 years of experience in education, currently serving as the Native Youth Wellness Program Coordinator and Specialist for Lane Education Service District (LESD), which serves 16 school districts across Lane County. Often, I refer to my position as my dream job; I get to consult, partner, co-lead 2 As an Indigenous feminist and female identifying scholar, I spell "woman" with a "y" to assert my power and reject the patriarchal notion that womyn are derived from men and are therefore subservient. 31 communities of practice for educators, co-lead middle and high school Native American Student Unions (NASU) and Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) affinity groups, lead professional development, and host gatherings for the Lane County Native community. Centering wellness as my “why” is in direct alignment with values I inherited from my family: care, connection, and community. The content I cover in professional development and consultancy ranges from TH/SH implementation, transformative social emotional learning (TSEL), culturally sustaining pedagogies (CSP), and trauma informed care (TIC). It is always such an honor to be invited into a classroom with Lane County educators to co-plan, co-teach, or be a guest speaker on any of these topics. I am also currently developing a professional development series titled Healing Informed Practice (HIP), which illustrates the importance of how all these practices lead to equitable education for the youth and the potentiality for healing. I have also taught on the Warm Springs reservation as an elementary teacher, a K-8 instructional coach, and a K–12 first- and second-year teacher-mentor. I am an alumnus of the Sapsik'ʷałá (teacher) Education Program at the University of Oregon where I earned my teaching degree and learned the importance of Indigenous representation and pedagogy in schools and how powerful it can be when Native students have Native teachers as role models. I never had Native teachers until I got to college and having a teacher who looked like me and understood my culture would have made a world of difference in my formative years in education. Additionally, the ability to participate in programs similar to the Native Youth Wellness program would have been transformational for me. It is my hope, as the researcher storyteller, that this research project can make a difference for teachers (and, in turn, their students) who want to 32 learn more about and teach the TH/SH curriculum, by giving them an opportunity to learn from Native teacher’s stories and experiences who are also using the curriculum in their classrooms. Scope of the Study This research project centers Indigenous storytelling, inviting six Indigenous teachers and one Elder Educator in Oregon who will teach TH/SH lessons and reflect after they teach each lesson. I brought the teachers together over Zoom for four quarterly sharing circles (Kovach, 2012; Tachine et al., 2016) with the traditional values of each of our Tribal teachings, storytelling, relationship, and reciprocity guiding the conversations. I intentionally invited teachers from different subject areas and grade levels because, in my experience as a practitioner, some of the most powerful learning moments have come from teachers outside our own fields. The initial sharing circle took place during the beginning of the 2023–2024 school year to build community and relationships, develop our group protocol based on our aforementioned traditional values, and set the context for the study. The first session invited the teachers to share their teachings, build relationships and a sense of community, and I introduced them to the components of the theoretical framework I developed, Stinta as theory, to get their feedback and consent that it was a suitable model for us.3 The next three sharing circles occurred throughout the remainder of the school year, meeting quarterly, and wrapping up in June 2024. During these meetings, the teachers had the opportunity to share their classroom stories and discuss their experiences with the curriculum based on the research questions as we explored examples of healing in the classrooms. l also met with each participant in an Indigenous 3 I will provide a more detailed description of Stinta as a theory in Chapter 2. 33 approach to conduct qualitative one-on-one interviews (i.e., “collaborative storying”; Bishop,1999), at the beginning of the research project and again at the end. The scope of my study is intentionally small, centered on relationality and creating a space that was nourishing and healing for the Indigenous educators I worked with. I wove my experiences and expertise as a practitioner dedicated to HIPs into the space we created, however I learned as much as I contributed, which speaks to the power of Indigenous educators’ knowledge and stories. I hope what I offer affirms the knowledge and experiences of Indigenous educators who are leading the implementation of TH/SH, while helping all educators to implement these initiatives more effectively and responsibly. More broadly, I hope this study contributes to conversations around the healing power of Indigenous studies curriculum. Summary My opening story and the ongoing legacy of colonialism outlined in this chapter underscore the necessity for curriculum such as TH/SH in schools. As illustrated in my introductory story, making the pedagogical decision to not conform to the district-mandated curriculum and to refuse to teach false narratives may have been a small step, but it was a step that led my students away from Indigenous erasure in education, and I see that as enacting my own self-determination and healing work. This chapter showed how collective organizing and advocacy efforts by Indigenous educators and nations can reshape the landscape of Native American curriculum in K–12 schools. This shift reflects the resurgence of Indigenous knowledges, as Tribal Nations in Oregon turn to the power of their knowledges and cultures and author curriculum on their own terms. More broadly, I see the possibilities of curriculum such as TH/SH and learning from Native educators' experience as a narrative shift and a profound change needed in schools, including the potential for curricula to promote healing. 34 CHAPTER TWO: FINDING MYSELF IN ACADEMIA: A LITERATURE REVIEW I will never forget when my uncle took us out to harvest apos (wild carrots) for the first time. We all loaded up in the cars on a brilliantly sunny day and drove down the reservation dirt roads laughing, singing, and in deep anticipation. I had my sunroof open, letting all the dust fly into my car, with my little cousin riding shotgun. I let him take off his seatbelt, stand on the seat, and put his head and torso out the sunroof because that’s what you do on the back roads of the rez. It’s normal to pass a truck with its bed loaded with kids and adults in the cabin and give a head nod or a wave when we pass each other. When we got to the field, my uncle gave us digging sticks and showed us how to carefully pull up the apos. If you go in at the wrong angle, you can damage the plants. It takes intention and concentration, and you don’t take too many from a certain spot. It’s important to move around. We dug and dug, he showed us how to peel them, and he was right! They tasted exactly like carrots! After we spent the afternoon digging, we hopped back in the cars and continued down the dusty road to a bend in the river, where we jumped in to cool off. I will never forget that day and all the teachings and joy we experienced as a family. Anyone who works with traditional foods and medicine understands the importance of the process, and the same is true when considering developing a research project. It takes an intentional and methodological approach, just like how my uncle taught us to dig roots. Robin Wall Kimmerer’s (2013) organization of her book, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, is a model of this in action. First, you must understand the cycle of the medicine. Before using the medicine, you must learn how to plant and tend to it or know where to find it if it grows wild. Then, when the medicine is ready to harvest, you have to know how to pick it in the right way (Kimmerer, 2013). The medicine must 35 be dried, braided, crushed, roasted, bundled (or whatever the medicine asks for) before you can use it. Even then, you need to be taught how to use the medicine properly and give back in return. The reciprocity of the relationship between humans and medicine should be done with respect, in relationship with good intentions, and with the responsibility to share (Brayboy et al., 2012). I am inspired by Wilson’s (2008) assertion that research is ceremony and feel research and storytelling can be good (healing) medicine if done in an intentional way. Ideas can also be medicine. When someone plants an idea, it has the possibility to grow in many directions, harvested by other scholars who take inspiration from the first author’s medicine stories. This chapter is an honoring of all the related teachings and writings from those who came before me in this research. A professor once told me that a good way to think about scholarly research is by thinking of myself joining a conversation, reading what is already being researched and discussed, and deciding where my own voice fits in. For this literature review, I see two foundational bodies of work critical to my research project– literature that discusses healing and literature that documents Native American curricula in other states. Before that, however, I will share how I found myself in academia and the BIPOC scholars who have influenced me and my approach to understanding and finding my place in academia. These scholars help me find a home in a place that is typically rooted in hostility rather than healing. Additionally, their scholarship inspired me to develop my own framework that centers love, healing, and Indigenous ways of knowing. Although a theoretical framework is not typically located in a literature review, including it here also helps me lay the groundwork for how BIPOC scholars are taking up (or troubling) the concept of healing. Moreover, my literature review is organized through the 36 components of a theory of Stinta that I developed, which include (a) healing with community relationships, (b) healing through our values and spirituality, (c) healing through relationship with place, (d) healing through storytelling, and (e) healing as refusal and resistance to Indigenous erasure and settler colonial agendas. Finally, I share the wisdom and guidance I have found from other states creating accurate and authentic Native American curriculum and standards similar to TH/SH. Theoretical Framework I found myself again and again in the academy, a world my people were never meant to belong. Finding myself in academia, sorting through the new seeds of ideas, discarding the ones that didn’t fit, continues to be a journey of self-discovery, self-love, and owning my sovereignty. I first found myself within the paradigm of Tribal critical race theory (TribalCrit; Brayboy, 2005), felt my way through the work and development of my research project with Felt Theory (Million, 2009), and leaned into cultural intuition (Calderón et al., 2012), all of which supported my own theory of Stinta (love) to emerge. Tribal Critical Race Theory I want to first lift my hands up to Brian Brayboy (2005) and his groundbreaking theoretical piece, “Toward a Tribal Critical Race Theory in Education,” for those of us engaging in Native American scholarship. This article came to me in my first year of the Ph.D. program in our Philosophy of Research class. Our professor explained to us that we would be presented with theoretical frameworks ranging from pragmatism, positivism, the posts, and the critical, and that it was important for us to have a basic understanding of each as Ph.D. holders, even though we might find our home in one. Throughout that course, we were introduced to scholar after scholar, including (but not limited to) Habermas, Foucault, Barad, and finally the world of critical race 37 theory (CRT) and its different arms of scholarship. It was here where I finally felt like I might belong. Brayboy developed an Indigenous framework born out of CRT grounded in Native American onto-epistemologies. There is evident overlap between the tenets of TribalCrit and CRT such as a focus on storytelling, counter-storytelling, governmental power and policy, and activism work (Brayboy, 2005). However, there is a major difference in the two theoretical approaches to racism, in that CRT asserts race is endemic to society, and Brayboy (2005) asserted colonialism is endemic to society (p. 430). The nine tenets of TribalCrit are as follows: • Colonization is endemic to society. • U.S. policies toward Indigenous people are rooted in imperialism, white supremacy, and a desire for material gain. • Indigenous peoples have not only racial but political identities. • Indigenous peoples have a desire to obtain and forge Tribal sovereignty, Tribal autonomy, self-determination, and self-identification. • The concepts of culture, knowledge, and power take on a new meaning when examined through an Indigenous lens. • Governmental policies and educational policies toward Indigenous peoples are intimately linked around the problematic goal of assimilation. • Tribal philosophies, beliefs, customs, traditions, and visions for the future are central to understanding the lived realities of Indigenous peoples, but they also illustrate the differences and adaptability among individuals and groups. • Stories are not separate from theory; they make up theory and are therefore real and legitimate sources of data and ways of being. • Theory and practice are connected in deep and explicit ways such that scholars must work towards social change. (pp. 429–430) The TribalCrit framework and tenets were transformational for me as a Native scholar. I situate my work within his powerful framework. While I see elements of all nine tenets existing within this research project, his eighth tenet, “Stories are not separate from theory; they make up theory and are, therefore real and legitimate sources of data and ways of being” (Brayboy, 2005, p. 430) is the cornerstone of my work. TribalCrit was born from Brayboy’s mother telling him that our stories are our theory (Brayboy, 2005, p. 426). Her words and Brayboy’s development 38 of TribalCrit ended up being foundational and healing to so many Indigenous scholars, including myself, however, my spirit still needed more. I needed a framework that allowed me to research and think with love. Felt Theory and Cultural Intuition To think and research with love, I needed to be able to feel, without fear of being labeled as too “subjective” or “bitter and biased” (Million, 2009, p. 62). The first couple years of my Ph.D. journey led me to believe there was a hierarchy in academia positioning objectivity above subjectivity, at least until I found Indigenous Methodologies, specifically felt theory (Million, 2009). Dian Million explored how emotions and embodied experiences are not solely personal but serve as a powerful form of knowledge, especially in the context of storytelling. Emotions also carry deep significance despite the way academia “produces gatekeepers,” essentially gaslighting people of color to believe our ways of knowing and being are inherently less than Western bodies of thought (Million, 2009, p. 54). By allowing myself to explore felt theory, I learned to challenge the Western separation of emotion from rationality, rejecting the notion that the pain and anger surrounding our ancestors’ experiences were not rational (Million, 2009, p. 73). Leaning into Million’s assertion that feelings are essential for truly understanding and communicating lived experiences, particularly those shaped by colonialism, trauma, and resistance, offered the possibility to lean into my personal self-determination, which is a decolonial process. For me, feeling through my research and in conversation with my advisor, I was led to Chicana Feminist Epistemology (CFE) and specifically cultural intuition (Calderón et al., 2012). Thus far, my work and research have been grounded in Indigenous thought from North America, but I am also Chicana, meaning I am of Indigenous Mexican American descent. Leaning into the 39 work of scholars such as Dolores Calderón, Dolores Delgado Bernal, and Gloria Anzaldúa led me to revisit themes from my Chicano/a studies classes as an Ethnic Studies undergraduate major. CFE is a framework that holds “the potential to disrupt Western colonial assumptions,” which have historically marginalized the experiences and perspectives of Chicana women (Calderón et al., 2012, p. 514). Central to this epistemology is the decolonization of knowledge production using “Anzaldúa as an anchor” in her “spiritual activism” work (Anzaldúa, 1987; Calderón et al., 2012). CFE seeks to create space for the voices and experiences of those who have been historically oppressed while honoring intersectionality, gender, class, and sexuality. Moreover, like felt theory, CFE values embodied knowledge, viewing the body and testimonios of lived experiences as legitimate sources of understanding. Cultural intuition is an evolving extension of CFE, referring to the embodied, experiential knowledge that Chicana women possess, rooted in cultural practices, family histories, and community experiences (Calderón et al., 2012, p. 516). Here, I found permission to dream big in what could be possible in my own work. Drawing from Anzaldúa’s (1987) assertion that spirituality can and should be central to our scholarship if we are to walk in our ethics, I believe that incorporating spirituality, or “spiritual activism,” into my work can help me challenge systems of oppression). While taking courses before my comprehensive exams, I wrote a paper about my interest in researching theoretical frameworks from my own Tribe. I wanted to become as fluent as I could in my own Tribe’s language of theory and philosophies because our own knowledges should be the cornerstone of my future work. I wanted to be Klamath Tribes Spirit Literate, which I now see as the same as enacting my self-determination and “spiritual activism” (Anzaldúa, 1987). Stories are a part of oral tradition in many Indigenous communities, passing 40 history and instructions on how to be in the world from one generation to the next (Archibald, 2008; Simpson, 2011; 2017; Smith, 2021). It would be an honor to someday partner with fellow Tribal members and listen to and learn from more of our stories. To deepen our sense of spirit literacy together, define what it means to be Modoc, Yahooskin Paiute, and Klamath with my sammaq (relatives), and share it with the world. Centering knowledge and stories from my own Tribe is how I see myself developing spirit literacy. My dream is to join the conversations in decolonizing and Indigenizing our educational system, grounded in and guided by my own Tribal values and spirit literacy. Similar to Anzuldua, Michelle M. Jacob (2013) called for Indigenous activist scholarship, urging us to lean into the responsibility of reclaiming our traditions and stories, which honors our past and nurtures our people and future generations. Joining the community of Indigenous scholars, I take this responsibility seriously. As such, cultural intuition as a framework has allowed me to be more reflective in honoring my intersectional identity and the deep knowing that comes from Creator’s teachings as someone with Indigenous ancestors from both North and Central America. It has allowed me to reflect on my journey with developing a sense of spirit literacy, and this reflexivity has been crucial in balancing my self-determination and sovereignty while navigating through a traditionally Western academic institution. Collectively, these scholars supported me in turning toward the brilliance and teachings of my own community to develop my own theoretical framework (Simpson, 2017), which I describe as a theory of Stinta. Stinta is our Klamath/Modoc word for love and is one of the most positive words in our language. I discuss this in more length in the thread/axiology section below. This presentation of my heart in text form is my own move toward resurgence by turning 41 to my own Tribal teachings, practice, and language as the basis for my work rooted in my own Tribal values and Stinta (Simpson, 2017). Theory of Stinta (Love), from a Beadworker’s Soul A theory of Stinta was born out of my own self-determination to dream of a healthy future for myself and my family. After living a life with tension around my identity as a mixed- race womyn, never feeling fully “Native” or “Chicana” enough, the journey I described in the past few sections into my own reflexivity around my ethical beliefs in my praxis led me to fully embrace my intersectionality. I have been able to see myself as whole, and see my identities as assets rather than deficits, enabling me to stand in my power and claim my own theoretical framework. It has been a journey to find where I fit in the world of academia, but now I feel I have the direction and guidance for engaging in this research journey with a good heart and good intentions. I feel at home with a theory of Stinta—in developing my research questions, methods choices, and data analysis. Now I complete this research project and Ph.D. journey with confidence by honoring my research participants' stories and centering reciprocity—gifting their stories back to them and to the field of education at large. Figure 5 Theory of Stinta (Love) Components Theory of Stinta (Love) Components 42 Note. This figure was developed by Roshelle Weiser-Nieto (author) on February 4, 2023, using canva.com. The Oregon medallion was also created by Weiser-Nieto, and the needle and thread clip art are stock images found on pinterest.com and dreamstime.com. My mother taught me how to do beadwork a few years back. It has been an important part of my life ever since, as I often turn to my beads when I need to think, pray, do some soul work, or just take a break from life. During the summer of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, Dakota and Tlingit artist CeeJay Yellow Hawk launched a “Bead Your State/Province” challenge to promote Indigenous artists and strengthen community bonds. Prior to this challenge, I had only beaded smaller projects such as earrings. Despite the colonial invention of state boarders, I still feel a lot of love for what is now known as Oregon. Oregon is the original homelands of my people, so I decided to take up the challenge. 43 As a “triple Duck,” I decided to use green and yellow, the University of Oregon’s school colors. I created the rising sun as a symbol of hope, rising over our Tribal homelands, and put a red heart in the middle of the sunshine, right where our reservation lands are in the Chiloquin/Klamath Falls area. I beaded the four stars to represent the four directions and the relationship between spiritual, emotional, physical, and mental health and wellbeing. When finished, I submitted it to CeeJay’s Instagram challenge on her sites @kooteencreations, @sevenallies, and it made the map (Figure 6)! It was such an honor to participate in this challenge with Indigenous bead artists across The United States and Canada. I had intended to gift the medallion to my cousin for Christmas that year, but she unexpectedly passed away in November of 2020. She was born one year after me and we grew up as sisters. She was my best friend and greatest confidant. She was my person. The medallion was for her always and forever, so when we put her into the earth, I put the medallion in with her. There it will remain until Mother Nature decides otherwise. Sepkeec’a, thank you, for witnessing the story of my sister’s Oregon Medallion. Figure 6 Bead your Province/State Final Map Bead your Province/State Final Map 44 Note. Image retrieved October 2020, from the @SevenAllies Instagram page. Now that I have shared my heart, I return to describe my theory of Stinta, using my beadwork practice as a metaphor. I use the two-needle technique in my beadwork, using one needle to pick up the beads and the other to tack them down to my pellon- the needles are the do- ers. The threads are significant because they hold it all together and in place. The beading foundation is where everything lives and provides structure and stability for everything else. And 45 how would we, as beaders, create our beautiful Indigenous masterpieces without every single bead and decide where they will go with patience and precision? In the following sections, I describe the components of a theory of Stinta using a beadworking metaphor shown on Figure 5: the two needles as key partners, the two threads as my key axiologies, the beading foundation as relationship to place, the beads as stories, and the spirit bead as refusal. Needles as Key Partners In a love as theory approach to a research project (and life in general), I see the key partners as yourself and who you choose to engage/work with. In a beading project, the needles are the “do-ers,” so I illustrated this in my graphic art design with the needles as the key partners. This could be your research participants, a more than human relative (Jacob, 2020), or lessons from Creator. The possibilities are seemingly endless, depending on the project. I center the participants first because if it were not for them and the relationships we have in our lives (both human and more than human), where would we find love? bell hooks (2001) described living by a "love ethic" as centering "honesty, openness, and personal integrity" to lead free, full, and well lives (p. 87). This involves working with those we admire and respect, fully committing to relationships, and embracing a global vision that connects our lives and fate to everyone else on the planet (hooks, 2001). Love is hard. Powerful relationships are strong enough to withstand the darkest of days together. Possibly one of the biggest gifts we can give to each other is the ability to reflect each of our own personal “lights” back to the sender. When I was little, I remember asking my auntie why people wore mirrors on their regalia at a powwow. She told me it was to protect the energy of the dancer. If someone was sending them good medicine, the good medicine would be 46 reflected back to them. However, if someone sent the dancer bad energy, that would also be reflected back to them. Simpson (2017) writes about how important it is to recognize each other’s light; to truly see one’s essence. It is my goal to live life as a disco ball, reflecting back love to those who send it to me and to protect me from those who don’t. Equally important, however, is the relationship we have with and the love we extend to ourselves. It is important to recognize the gifts we bring to our relationships and projects as the second key partner in a Theory of Love. Linda Tuhiwai Smith (2021) offered loving as a powerful Indigenous project that supports decolonization, asserting that “Indigenous love, loving your own people and loving the broader set of principles about Indigenous peoples are important in loving yourself, your skin, your very being” (p. 189). How do we center Indigenous love, take good care of ourselves and our spirits, and attend to our soul wounds (Duran, 2019; Duran et al., 2008) so that we can, in turn, show up for others? It is vitally important to ground ourselves in our values and teachings, have a clear understanding of our “north stars” (Love, 2019), and ensure we are coming from a loving space in our work. My whole Ph.D. journey has required me to dive within the depths of my soul and recognize my power. These pages were written in some of the best and worst times of my life. Some of these pages were written in desperation and loneliness, and some were written in paradise on a solo vacation where I desired nothing more than my own company and thoughts. Making space for all of this to be true is how I showed up for myself day after day. I asked for help when I needed it. I slept, I sat ceremony, I went to therapy; I did whatever it took to make sure my heart was well so my mind would be right. My research deserved nothing less. Thread as Key Axiologies 47 I see our values as the threads that hold us together, just as the threads hold together and hold down the beadwork. Living my life centering the components of Stinta, is how I hold it together. In a conversation with a Tribal elder and knowledge and language holder, GeorGene Nelson, I learned that stinta is a very strong word, perhaps the most positive word in our language (Nelson, 2024). Georgene shared with me that there are roughly 17 different ways to use stinta, but ultimately, it is a word we use to show the utmost revere and regard for someone or something. We use stinta to show we cherish and love. It is not a word to throw around. We also use this word to receive guests into our space or onto our lands, it shows that we value and honor them. In another conversation with another Tribal linguist and knowledge holder, Dr. Joseph Dupris, I learned that the parts of stinta are as follows: stin- means to be tied, hung, suspended to, or tied at both ends (Dupris, 2024). The “-ta” part of any word can mean at, on, or against. Joe taught me that our language is an agglutinative language- our words stack together to make a whole. Similar to how beads come together to make a whole picture in a piece of beadwork. I love thinking about stinta as a tie to one another. From both ends. It reminds me of the reciprocal nature of being in healthy relationships with each other and our more than human relatives. It’s an acknowledgement that the love comes from both sides. Stinta is my north star as a scholar and human. Simpson (2017) describes the way Nishnaabeg people are connected with the stars and the skyworld looking to the constellations with a sense of “star literacy,” knowing when it is time to tell specific stories or tend to different plants (pp. 212–213). Bettina Love (2019) also uses stars as a metaphor to describe her relationship with theory. She stated that her theory is her own north star guiding her work, giving her the language and knowledge she needs to fight injustice. Love described theory as “a location 48 for healing … like the North Star” (p. 132). Just as Simpson described the importance for her nation to be “star literate” and as Love claims theory as her north star, I have found my components within a theory of Stinta to be my north star in my healing journey, my praxis, and in my research. Beading Foundation as Relationship with Place When thinking through what Stinta as theory looks like in relationship with place, I draw in words from Fox Doesn’t Wear a Watch, wherein Jacob (2021) pondered how it would be if we saw the whole world was Mother Nature’s classroom. What would Mother Nature’s learning outcomes be for us here on her lands? Jacob posed the following as possibilities: • Be in respectful relationship with place. • Honor all of my relatives, human and more than human. • Continually demonstrate caring, connection, and love--toward myself and all beings. • Conduct myself in ways that affirm I am a good ancestor to future generations. (p. 5) Seeing this list gave me hope and the guidance I needed to believe that we could one day see ourselves as good stewards of the lands once again. For me, specifically within this research project, honoring the place where I am and my human and more than human relatives means honoring those who walked these lands before me and giving back when and where I can. Demonstrating caring, connection, and Stina is the way I want to move in the world and show up ethically in my research. When I think about how the foundation of my beadwork is what holds everything up, there could be no creativity or beauty without the very foundation it all sits upon. This list of Mother Nature’s learning outcomes also feels foundational to Stinta as theory in how to be in right relationship with place. Beads as Stories 49 This whole dissertation is my story, but it is not just one story. Just as a medallion requires hundreds and hundreds of beads, life contains stories upon stories. Storytelling is a powerful way to push back against colonial narratives and reclaim Indigenous knowledge (Simpson, 2011; Smith, 2021). When we bring Indigenous stories into research and into the classroom, we challenge the systems that have tried to erase or silence Native voices (Smith, 2021). Honoring stories as truth is healing in action. When we feel safe to share our stories with each other, it empowers us and helps foster a sense of belonging (Duran, 2019). Stories teach us about personal growth, respect for our ancestors and land, and honoring our cultures. Honoring and centering story in Stinta of theory is about keeping our communities strong and safe. Each bead matters. I have mentioned that care, culture, and connection to community are important teachings from my family that I bring into this work. These teachings are stories that are important to me. They are my truths. Care is a learned tenet from my mom who made huge sacrifices in her life and worked two jobs to ensure my siblings and I were always taken care of. I do not know anyone who models the tenet of care more than Indigenous mothers. Culture is a learned tenet from my auntie, who always made sure I knew where I come from and who we are as Modoc and Yahooskin Paiute people. And I learned that community is nothing without connection from my grandma. Communities are powerful sources of support if you stay connected, and my grandmother has modeled this beautifully in my life. She has shown me the importance of keeping up with our relatives as well as creating supportive relationships when we move to new communities. What are the stories in your life that are your truths? How do we honor the truths of research participants in academic work? Stories are everything and deserve to be treated with the utmost respect. 50 “Spirit Bead” as Refusal The last component of my theory of love is the concept of the spirit bead. If you look very closely at the top of the Oregon medallion I created, just above the center sunbeam, you might be able to see the out-of-place, hot pink bead I placed there. My grandma taught me the practice of creating an intentional flaw in beadwork, a teaching that reminds us that only Creator is capable of creating perfection; we as humans are flawed. This teaching is undervalued in Western educational systems where flaws in theories and knowledge systems can delegitimize claims. The spirit bead is a signifier of refusal. Though I center my work in love, resurgence, and as heart-centered, I agree with Rachel Flower’s (2015) assertion that “the love we have for our world” does not have to extend into settler colonial agendas; instead, “our love is reserved for one another” (p. 40). My love is a fierce love that sometimes prioritizes refusal. Refusal is taken up by many Indigenous scholars (Curtis, 2023; Flowers, 2015; Jacob et al., 2019; Sabzalian, 2019; Simpson, 2014, 2017; Smith, 2021;Trask, 1996; Tuck 2009), and at the heart of Stinta as my theory it is a refusal to accept the insidious nature of the -isms that plague our lands and people. It is a refusal to give up on people who are sick from their soul wounds, even if we must create boundaries in what we will accept (Duran et al., 2008). Because what do we need when we are sick? We need healing and medicine. We don’t often give up on someone who is sick or be angry with them for their sickness. But we also must recognize and accept that we cannot save anyone and must refuse to take on a savior complex in their healing journeys. We can only offer knowledge, support, and Stinta and pray they choose to heal from their sickness on their own. In a theory of Stinta, there is a refusal to strive for perfection and an acknowledgment that mistakes are inherent to being human and are powerful learning opportunities. There is 51 space for growth and even changing our minds. A theory of Stinta asks us to forgive ourselves when we trip up but then do better once we have learned the lesson. Healing Through the Lens of Stinta as theory Healing is at the heart of this research project, but it is a hard-to-define, complex, and nuanced concept. Some Indigenous communities, particularly in Canada, have been hesitant to embrace the term “healing” due to its manipulation as a tool to ease white guilt rather than doing work to create genuine relationships and reconciliation (Simpson, personal communication, April 5, 2022). In her discussion on abolitionist teaching, Dena Simmons stresses the importance of "anti-racist" healing, or acknowledging the pain caused by racism, holding space for that pain, and creating educational spaces that empower individuals to thrive rather than merely survive (Haymarket Books, 2020). Anti-racist healing isn’t self-care days at the spa; anti-racist healing is essential in addressing harm and systemic oppression in education. Million (2013) contextualizes healing within the framework of Indigenous self-determination, emphasizing the need for healing that addresses the trauma inflicted by colonial violence. In this review of the literature on healing, I discuss healing through the frames of my theory of Stinta: healing in partnership and community, centered on Indigenous values and respect for place, and honoring our stories and moments of refusal and resistance. Healing in Partnership and Community Indigenous scholarship consistently emphasizes the centrality of community and relational partnerships in the process of healing. Gregory Cajete’s (2015) Indigenous Community: Rekindling the Teachings of the Seventh Fire explored the importance of relationships in community-building and healing, focusing on how Indigenous knowledge systems are rooted in collective experiences rather than individual achievements. Cajete 52 highlighted how Indigenous peoples are inherently connected through relationships with each other, the land, and all living beings, and it is through these relationships that healing occurs. This collective focus on relationality aligns with Wilson’s (2008) concept of relational accountability, which insists that healing is not an individual journey but one shared by a community. For Smith (2021), healing is directly connected to Indigenous peoples' experiences of colonization and struggles for self-determination. While each Indigenous culture has its unique values and teachings, Smith argues that Indigenous peoples share a common language of colonization and decolonization. This shared experience creates a platform for solidarity and collective healing. Smith wrote, "Colonized peoples share a language of colonization, share knowledge about their colonizers, and in terms of a political project, share the same struggle for decolonization" (p. 45). This common language helps build bridges between different Indigenous groups, making collaboration and shared understanding easier in the collective struggle for healing and resurgence. Understanding healing in relation to decolonization means that healing must go beyond the surface wounds and must be understood wholistically to address the depth of wounds Indigenous peoples have sustained over time. For Smith (2021), healing "is a wholistic way of connecting and addressing intergenerational trauma, systemic trauma, collective grief and loss for land, place, people, language, knowledge, and material things" (p. 191). Healing centers on the well-being of our people, lands, and lifeways collectively and our ability to determine our lives and futures in the places that have sustained us for generations. Smith (2021) also discussed how Indigenous movements assert sovereignty and self- determination on a global scale. These movements have developed an international discourse 53 that allows Indigenous activists and scholars to communicate across cultural differences while still honoring their specific communities. This idea resonates deeply in the context of my research. Although the educators I worked with came from various Tribes, they found common ground in their shared experiences of colonization and their collective commitment to educational healing. Through collaboration, they honored both their Tribal-specific values and the broader Indigenous experience of decolonization, showing that healing in community is possible when we come together with shared intentions. Importantly, Indigenous scholars like Eve Tuck (2009) have critiqued research that is centered around damage-based narratives, which tend to portray Indigenous communities as broken and in need of saving, proposing instead that research should center desire, including “the hope, the visions, the wisdom of lived lives and communities” (p. 417). This approach aligns with scholars such as Smith (2021) and Simpson (2017) who advocated for research that centers self-determination and resurgence, which allows Indigenous peoples to define themselves by their strengths and potential. As Love (2019) suggested that healing from oppression is not merely intellectual but personal, emotional, and spiritual. Healing within a community space allows for the kind of support and love that makes this work sustainable. Simpson (2017) beautifully reflected this in her metaphor of constellations—individual stars shining brightly, forming connections with other constellations to create pathways out of settler-colonial realities and into Indigenous resurgence. Through partnerships and community engagement, Indigenous educators can disrupt the isolation and harm imposed by settler-colonial systems. They demonstrate that healing work, especially in education, is most powerful when done in collaboration and community, rooted in the values of reciprocity and relational accountability. By centering partnerships and community, 54 Indigenous education becomes not only a pathway for academic success but also for collective healing and transformation. Healing through Indigenous Value Systems and Spirituality Spirituality is also centered within Indigenous theories of healing. Indigenous scholars consistently emphasize the inseparability of spirituality from other aspects of life, particularly in healing and educational practices. Simpson (2017) described how Indigenous spirituality and ceremonial practices provide a framework for daily actions, informing how we approach both personal and collective responsibilities, including education. In this way, spirituality is not something that can be compartmentalized, it is central to how we think, teach, and heal. My own approach to my research and practitioner life reflects these values. Whether smudging before engaging in academic work or offering prayers for guidance, these practices align with the teachings of Margaret Kovach (2009), who asserted that spirituality is essential for grounding research in Indigenous values. This grounding creates spaces where educators can teach with love, clarity, and intentionality. The act of integrating spiritual practices in the academic realm represents a refusal to separate intellectualism from spirituality, which is often demanded by colonial educational systems. As a result, Indigenous educators can create a balance between their spiritual and intellectual selves, resisting the separation imposed by Western education. Wilson (2009) captures this beautifully, noting that "spirituality is not separate but is an integral, infused part of the whole in the Indigenous world view" (p. 89). For Indigenous peoples, spirituality is as vital as physical, emotional, and mental health. This holistic view of well-being is something that resonates deeply with me as an Indigenous womyn navigating the challenges of a white, western institution. A beloved átway Elder articulated this tension, saying, "We Indian 55 people are wedged in between two cultures, and there is no way for us to avoid it" (Beavert, 2017, p. 160). The return to academia after teaching on a reservation was a profound culture shock for me, as I struggled to find a place for my spiritual and cultural identity within the rigid frameworks of Western qualitative research that often discourage the inclusion of the personal and the spiritual. Moreover, many Indigenous scholars explore the psychological impacts of colonial narratives on Indigenous peoples, such as the myth of the "savage Indian” and the damaging effects of Native mascots and Hollywood portrayals (Duran, 2019; Fryberg et al., 2008, 2021; Pewewardy, 1998). These narratives inflict what Duran calls "soul wounds"—deep spiritual injuries that, if not healed, will perpetuate suffering for future generations. However, there is also powerful healing work being done within Indigenous communities, where the resurgence of traditional knowledge systems and the revitalization of languages play a significant role in healing these wounds (Jacob, 2013; Simpson, 2011). The act of (re)learning our cultural practices, languages, and traditions serves as a form of resistance and healing, as noted by Simpson (2017) and Corntassel (2018), who referred to these as "everyday acts of resurgence." By centering spirituality and Indigenous value systems in both research and education, we can create healing environments that honor our entire selves: intellectual, emotional, physical, and spiritual. This approach not only promotes healing for educators but also for the students and communities they serve, ensuring that cultural knowledge is passed on in ways that are spiritually sustaining and culturally grounded. Healing through Relationships with Place Land and place hold deep significance in Indigenous knowledge systems, essential in guiding cultural practices, traditions, and healing processes. Cajete (2016) spoke to this 56 understanding, noting that the land itself acts as a teacher. For Indigenous peoples, land is not simply a resource or property, but a source of wisdom, shaping both our identity and our connection to the natural world. Archibald (2008) similarly argues that place-based education can also serve in reconnecting Indigenous people to their land, history, and communities, which in turn promotes profound healing. However, the impact of genocide and colonization has significantly disrupted the relationship Indigenous peoples have with our lands and bodies. As Megan Bang (2020) and Deloria Jr. and Wildcat (2001) described the forced removal and termination eras have severely impacted Indigenous peoples’ ability to act as traditional stewards of our lands. The ongoing effects of climate change and capital inequality continue to limit physical connection to homelands, particularly for those who live far away from their ancestral lands (Bang, 2014). These factors also intersect with broader issues of healthcare access, poverty, and adequate housing, all of which affect the physical health of Indigenous peoples (Bang, 2020; Lewis, 2014). The connection between land and body is evident; when Indigenous people are separated from our lands, our physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being is also compromised. The physical toll of colonization on Indigenous peoples is far-reaching and manifests in many forms. From the massacres of Indigenous communities, the abuse suffered in boarding schools, forced sterilizations, and ongoing domestic violence to the loss of our Missing and Murdered Indigenous Womyn/Peoples, Indigenous bodies have been subjected to centuries of violence and trauma (Adams, 1995; Beisaw & Olin, 2020; Grayshield et al., 2015; McDiarmid, 2019). These traumas are carried not only in our memories but in our bodies, and the need for physical healing in Indigenous communities is immense. Healing is not just emotional and 57 spiritual; it must also address the physical harm done to our communities through colonization and its lasting impacts. My own Tribe, the Klamath Tribes, has taken steps to address this history of trauma and promote healing through the TH/SH curriculum. A series of videos created by the Klamath Tribes’ SB13 Ad Hoc Committee and Education Department focus on topics such as boarding schools, restoration, termination, and our relationship with the land. These videos offer a form of truth and reconciliation as they center the stories of elders who survived the boarding school era. In the video Boarding Schools, Truth, Reckoning, & Healing, Klamath elders speak openly about the physical violence they endured in the schools and how it affected their ability to trust adults or show affection to loved ones. This reclamation of stories, centered in the TH/SH curriculum, allows for a powerful form of healing, not only for the elders but for future generations who learn from these experiences (The Klamath Tribes, 2022). In this way, the land itself becomes part of the healing process. By fostering a reconnection to place through education and storytelling, Indigenous communities can heal from the physical and emotional trauma of colonization. As Perry Chocktoot, the narrator of the Klamath Tribes’ video series, stated: Our strength and resilience has sustained our communities through this turbulent time ... We weep for who and what we've lost, but we celebrate those who came home and found the will and determination to give back to their families, communities, and Tribe. (The Klamath Tribes, 2022) This celebration of resilience and the strength of our ancestors is a model for how healing can happen through a reconnection to both land and community. 58 By (re)learning our cultural practices, honoring our ancestors, and reclaiming our relationship with the land, we can heal not only our spirits but also our physical bodies. These acts of reconnection are a form of resistance against settler-colonial forces that have sought to sever our ties to the land, highlighting how the resurgence of Indigenous languages, traditions, and lifeways is not only a cultural revival but also an essential aspect of healing from the trauma inflicted on both our bodies and our lands (Jacob, 2013; Simpson, 2017). Healing Through Stories Storytelling is at the heart of Indigenous knowledge transmission and healing, serving as a powerful method for passing on cultural values, histories, and teachings. Scholars such as Russell Bishop (1999) emphasized that storytelling in Indigenous communities is not only a way to represent truth but also a means of creating personal and communal healing. Storytelling allows Indigenous people to reclaim our narratives, often in response to the historical erasure and trauma caused by colonization. Stories embed Indigenous knowledges that are vital to healing, but telling, sharing, and listening to stories in community is also a healing process. As Archibald (2008) and Simpson (2011) suggested that storytelling in Indigenous education goes beyond content delivery and memorizing the stories; truly it becomes a space for reflecting on cultural survival, resilience, and identity. Indigenous storytelling serves as an act of resistance, allowing for the continuity of Indigenous knowledge systems and the survival of cultures. Simpson (2017) described storytelling as an essential part of Indigenous intelligence, a theory and process rooted in affirmative refusal. By telling our own stories, we create “constellations of disruption” that challenge colonial structures, promote decolonial love, and embody Indigenous sovereignty (p. 198). 59 For Indigenous peoples, storytelling is not just a reflection of the past but a pathway toward healing and restoration. Smith (2021) spoke to the healing potential of storytelling as part of an Indigenous Research Agenda. In reclaiming Indigenous knowledge systems, Indigenous peoples engage in cultural work that nurtures both past and future generations. This concept of restoration emphasizes the need to revive traditional ways of knowing despite centuries of erasure and indoctrination under colonial rule (Smith, 2021). The resurgence of Indigenous brilliance, as Simpson (2017) noted, empowers us to continue passing down our knowledge systems to future generations, honoring the responsibility of being cultural keepers. Jacob (2013) echoed this sentiment in her book Yakama Rising: Indigenous Cultural Revitalization, Activism, and Healing, where she described the role of Indigenous scholars in reclaiming the stories and traditions of their people. She wrote, “As Indigenous scholars, it is our task to reclaim the stories and traditions of our people… We have a responsibility to go about, to the best of our abilities, doing this nurturing work” (p. 121). In this way, storytelling becomes a form of cultural survival and a profound act of care for both past and future generations. For Indigenous peoples, the act of storytelling is a deliberate and active process of ensuring that our histories and teachings endure, resisting the colonial forces that have sought to erase them. Million (2011) reminded us that Indigenous survival is a powerful testament to resilience in the face of overwhelming colonial violence. Quoting Joy Harjo and Audre Lorde, Million asserts, "We were never meant to survive" (p. 316), yet we have, and storytelling plays a key role in our survival. By telling our stories, we resist settler-colonial narratives that have tried to erase our existence and instead assert our continued presence and vitality (Bang, 2014). Through storytelling, we create spaces for healing, not only for ourselves but for our communities and 60 future generations, ensuring that Indigenous knowledge systems remain a living, breathing part of our cultures. By integrating storytelling into education and research, Indigenous scholars and educators are actively engaging in the process of restoration. This involves reclaiming Indigenous knowledge systems, resisting colonial narratives, and passing down cultural teachings to future generations. The act of storytelling, whether through the classroom, research, or community spaces, has the potential for healing by allowing Indigenous people to reconnect with their histories and maintain their cultural sovereignty. Healing through Refusal and Resistance Refusal is a powerful and essential component of Indigenous healing, deeply intertwined with the resistance to settler-colonial ideologies and structures. Audra Simpson (2014), a leading scholar of the theory of refusal, discusses refusal as a form of political resistance and an assertion of sovereignty. Instead of seeking validation or recognition from colonial governments, refusal is about asserting Indigenous autonomy and identity on their own terms, outside the structures and expectations imposed by colonial power (Simpson, 2014). This act of refusal is inherently healing, as it allows Indigenous peoples to uphold our sovereignty and cultural values without being confined by settler-state frameworks. Scholars such as Tuck and Yang (2014) argue that refusal is an act of resilience, a deliberate challenge to the normative systems that continue to erase and marginalize Indigenous voices. In this dissertation, this concept of refusal is reflected through the metaphor of the spirit bead, or the intentional flaw in beadwork that symbolizes a rejection of colonial ideals of perfectionism. By intentionally placing a flaw in beadwork, Indigenous artists refuse to conform to settler-colonial standa