Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò hoghàseètǫǫ: learning a strong like two research methodology through the exploration of community-centered curation practices

Abstract

Collaborative research is rooted in the fundamental principle of recognizing communities as equal research partners. This article draws attention to an important part of this relationship—learning the traditional values of community and emulating these in research—presenting a reflection on the lessons learned during a three-year project to redefine principles of curation according to Tłı̨chǫ traditions for caring for knowledge. Throughout this process, Tłı̨chǫ Elders offered teachings that reached beyond cultural heritage into lessons on life, humility, and collaboration. Derived from the relationship between Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò (Tłı̨chǫ traditional knowledge, language, culture, and way of life), caribou, and building fires, a strong like two research methodology embodies the role of different perspectives in forming one strong voice. It draws from the Tłı̨chǫ teaching that encourages learning from multiple perspectives to be strong like two people and is the result of the missteps and mentorship experienced throughout our research.

Introduction

In Tłı̨chǫ Yatıì (the Tłı̨chǫ language, formerly known as Dogrib), Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò hoghàseètǫǫ means “someone is teaching me Tłı̨chǫ way of life” (Georgina Franki, Behchokǫ̀ 2023). In community-based research, this is what your participants are doing: teaching you their way of life. When engaged collaboratively and on the basis of relationships, participants are not generating data but rather are offering you teachings that will guide you in how to address the collective goals of your shared research. This is particularly the case when working with Indigenous Elders. This article details how a grounded ethnographic approach to questions regarding material culture was created throughout the research process to best reflect Tłı̨chǫ traditional practices regarding sharing and accessing knowledge to be strong like two people. Herein, we learned from these traditional values to introduce a strong like two research methodology, as experienced through the exploration of traditional ways to care for Tłı̨chǫ cultural heritage.

Being “strong like two people”

The Tłı̨chǫ are a self-governing northern Dene nation whose four communities—Behchokǫ̀, Whatì, Gamètì, and Wekweètì—and traditional lands are located in what is now the Northwest Territories (NWT), Canada (Treaty 11). The symbology of caribou and the fire are key to the life cycle of Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò (Tłı̨chǫ traditional knowledge, language, culture, and way of life). Through their Department of Culture and Lands Protection, the Tłı̨chǫ Government is re-affirming their cultural heritage sovereignty through the development of a Tłı̨chǫ museum and digital archive built on their traditional governance principles. A guiding ethos of the Tłı̨chǫ is the words of former Grand Chief Jimmy Bruneau, “dǫne nàke lanì nàts’ètso.” These words were spoken at the opening of the Chief Jimmy Bruneau School in Edzo in 1971, where he stressed the importance of teaching the youth both traditional and non-Dene ways of knowing (Tłı̨chǫ Community Services Agency, 2006b). Among other things, Chief Jimmy Bruneau is known for how he,

understood that times were changing, and that people needed the knowledge and skills that they could learn in school. He wanted children to be educated, but not at the cost of losing their language and culture. Through his vision, members of the community formed the Rae-Edzo School Society and negotiated an historic agreement with the Commissioner of the NWT, returning control of the local school to the people of the community. (Dogrib Divisional Board of Education, n.d.-b, p. 2)

In the 1990s, his words were translated into English by Elder Elizabeth Mackenzie to “[i]f we are to remain a strong people, we must educate our children and grandchildren in both our ways and those of the Kweèt’ı̨ı̨̀ [non-Dene], so they can say, ‘We are strong like two people’” (Legat, 2012, p. 61). Also deeply committed to ensuring proper education for the youth, Elizabeth Mackenzie is known as:

a hero who fought for the education of young children in a Dogrib cultural environment. She is a very respected elder who worked for the equal rights of women and men, encouraging women to speak out and take their rightful role in the community as leaders and educators of children. (Dogrib Divisional Board of Education, n.d.-a, p. 2)

Since then, “strong like two people” has been a beacon of direction and purpose for Tłı̨chǫ education, research, and wellbeing. Through this teaching, Tłı̨chǫ youth are encouraged to embrace their traditional knowledge while also learning western (or other) knowledges so that they can be best prepared to live well. Herein, strength is found through balance and being open to all types of knowledge and experience. Strong like two people has been adopted by the Tłı̨chǫ Community Services Agency—which provides health, wellness, and education programming to the four Tłı̨chǫ communities—as both their mission and vision statements (Tłı̨chǫ Community Services Agency, 2006a, 2006b), which guide their learning strategy (Tłı̨chǫ Community Services Agency, 2019).

Similar notions of the strength of multiple perspectives have been shared by Indigenous communities and adopted into research. A prime example of this is the Mi’kmaw—whose communities span Atlantic Canada—concept of Two-Eyed Seeing, which stresses the importance of recognizing the strengths and contributions of Indigenous knowledge through one eye while the other eye recognizes that of other knowledges (Bartlett et al., 2012). This approach has been adopted to guide formalized research, particularly research related to health and wellness (Hall et al., 2015; Iwama et al., 2021; Roher et al., 2021). Some of the more frequent ways that two-eyed seeing is incorporated into research are through the involvement of Indigenous community members in data analysis through a process of co-learning (Rankin et al., 2023). The disruption of traditional knowledge-sharing practices threatens the balance of being strong like two people or practicing two-eyed seeing. Although never all-knowing, the Tłı̨chǫ process of gaining knowledge and learning is based on experience, where stories are told but are not truly known until experienced (Legat, 2012). Central to this knowledge transmission system is being open to learn, wherein a mark of being a good person is to be humble and to listen well, so that you may carry the teachings that shape you (Marie Adele Rabesca, Whatì, 2023).

Action through research

The history of Indigenous research is one of colonialism and exploitation, featuring acts of preservation that were simultaneous with the purposeful erasure of Indigenous cultures and peoples (Deloria, 1969; Tuhiwai Smith, 2021). Strong like two people—and other similar notions shared by various Indigenous Nations such as two-eyed seeing—is an example of how Indigenous communities are interpreting traditional teachings into responses to this long history of extraction, advocating for balance between ways of knowing rather than the dominance of one over another. They demonstrate ways forward toward the decolonization of Indigenous research to promote growth and change through the centering of Indigenous knowledge within research paradigms (Tuck & Yang, 2012; Tuhiwai Smith, 2021). Often, these notions of balance are employed within collaborative and community-engaged research paradigms, such as community-based participatory research (CBPR; Israel et al., 1998) and participatory research (PAR; McTaggart, 1991), which themselves are rejections of the emphasis on objectivity within western research (Harris, 2004; Lavallée, 2007).

To build a basis upon which to create a Tłı̨chǫ digital archive and develop community museum programming (Bourgeois, 2025), we sought to redefine principles that underlie curation according to Tłı̨chǫ traditional values through a building research methodology that focused on Elder guidance in the trajectory of our research process. Over this 18-month data collection process, the Elders embodied being strong like two people and pushed us to emulate this within our research methodology. While talking about cultural heritage management, they addressed our shared research goals while also teaching us how Tłı̨chǫ people have always done research and sought knowledge, outlined here as a strong like two methodology. Through our Elder-guided approach, participants challenged us to reflect on our process and to go about the research in a way that is not only useful in its result but also in a way where the research process also served as an activity that supported the teaching and learning of their language, culture, and way of life. Through their stories and advice, they taught us that the research process is as important as the research results, in that it can help build community capacity and be used to amplify the teachings of the Elders through to the next generations. This process reflects land-based Tłı̨chǫ knowledge systems which provide guidance on what to do and not do to live well, as Figure 1 illustrates.

Figure 1.

Teaching from Tłı̨chǫ Elders about the importance of traditional knowledge in guiding a person down the best path toward a strong future.

Not only did this approach offer guidance, but it also created an environment wherein researchers could seek council when making decisions or interpretations. The strong like two research methodology that we present here is by no means the standard, nor perfect, way to go about research. It is an account of our exploration into Tłı̨chǫ strong like two people traditional values that can be applied across disciplines and methods—applied here to an ethnographic study surrounding Tłı̨chǫ traditional ways for caring for knowledge. This process allowed us to learn how Tłı̨chǫ Elders conceptualized research and spoke about their traditional methods of teaching and learning. Much like the process that it promotes, this methodology is built off of the experiences of an outside researcher who made her way through building a doctoral research program with her Tłı̨chǫ research partners, learning from the corrections and lessons that participant Elders generously provided throughout each stage of the research process. In a sense, this is the result of countless missteps and notable successes rather than any sort of expertise or shining example. Hence, a strong like two research methodology is a reflection on positionality, relationships, and participant vision in the context of collaborative research.

Learning from Tłı̨chǫ research legacies

In the Canadian north, many Indigenous Nations are at the forefront in asserting their sovereignty regarding their lands and resources, which is largely demonstrated through the breadth of modern agreements between northern nations and governments of Canada (Gwich’in Comprehensive Land Claim Agreement 1992; Inuvialuit Final Agreement 1984; Nunavik Inuit Land Claims Agreement 2006; Sahtu Dene and Metis Comprehensive Land Claim Agreement 1993; Tłı̨chǫ Land Claims and Self-Government Agreement 2003; Umbrella Final Agreement [Yukon] 1993). Nations in the NWT have been engaging so heavily in these processes that, to some generations, treaty negotiations are as familiar as any other aspect of daily life (Andrews, 2004). To supplement these agreements, resources have also been developed to support respectful research more broadly in the north and build the capacity of nations to lead their own research. Within these guides, we can see collective, as well as individual, values highlighted. For example, the Guide to Heritage Stewardship for Yukon First Nation Governments (Yukon First Nations Heritage Group, 2018) addresses how being a good steward is about experiencing and sharing knowledge in a way that is interconnected, not subdivided into specific areas. Within their recommendations for best practices, they stress the values of knowing the land, of respecting the life and interconnection of heritage, of seeking Elder guidance, and of recognising the collectivity of knowledge. Moreover, both the Government of the NWT and Aurora Research Institute have guides to conducting research in the NWT (Aurora Research Institute, 2019; Scientific Services Office, 2024). These set out expectations for how research needs to be conducted in accordance with the modern agreements in the territory and licensing requirements. Within their constitution, the Tłı̨cho “value co-operation, healing, harmony and self-sufficiency. We believe that our ability to maintain harmony and self-sufficiency often comes from knowledge of our history, culture and language” (The Tłı̨cho Government, 2005, p. 3).

The Tłı̨cho have long engaged in, and requested, PAR as the method of research through which they engage with non-Dene researchers (Legat, 2012). Participatory action research is a research methodology coined by psychologist Kurt Lewin (1946) that takes a spiraling and reflexive approach to problem-solution-oriented research whose primary goal is social action. They have identified this approach as following a similar learning process as told through many of their key traditional teachings, so they feel as though this is the best process for both the community and the research (Legat, 2012). For example, they employ PAR in their caribou monitoring program—entitled Ekwǫ̀ Nàxoèhdee K’è (the annual migration of caribou herds to and from the calving grounds and the trees)—wherein they center Tłı̨chǫ-specific methodologies (Dedats’eetsaa: Tłı̨chǫ Research and Training Institute, 2021; Jacobsen & Santomauro, 2017). Anthropologist Allice Legat (2012, p. 65) reflected on her time with the Tłı̨chǫ and observed a harmonious parallel in their storytelling, commenting that,

The vast majority of narratives I heard tell of occurrences and happenings in which Tłı̨chǫ considered a predicament or problem and took action to solve it. In taking action, individuals can take part or not—that is a personal decision. However, those who do take part work cooperatively to ensure a successful outcome.

The Tłı̨chǫ generally employ place-based and experiential learning practices, which include sitting around a fire—either literally or figuratively—to learn together and have collaborative discussions. Behchokǫ̀ Elder John B. Zoe (2012a, p. 72) explains that “[t]he elders say that the more camp fires you have, the more you know.” Herein, sitting around the fire symbolizes the gathering of minds and experiences, bringing people together for the exchanging of information and to learn from one another. This gathering also connects generations (past, present, and future), facilitating the intergenerational transmission of knowledge, including the ancestors, as the smoke of the fire travels up to them. Today, this has been incorporated into a feeding the fire ceremony, wherein offerings are made into the fire that are then carried through the smoke to the ancestors, as detailed more broadly in a Dene context by Walsh (2016). It was explained that this ceremony is a newer way of doing things, as in the past, they had fires everywhere on the land while they worked, hunted, and traveled; therefore, their forefathers practiced this daily rather than through formal ceremony (Charlie Jim Nitsiza, Whatì, 2023). The central nature of the fire to Tłı̨chǫ life and survival is evidenced by how the Tłı̨chǫ Yatıì word for house and fire are one in the same: kǫ̀.

Walking the land is also central to Tłı̨chǫ knowledge sharing (Andrews, 2011; Legat, 2012; Ruiz, 2017). The Tłı̨chǫ have employed hunting-inspired waiting and walking methodology into their caribou monitoring program Ekwǫ̀ Nàxoèhdee K’è, wherein participants connected with the land and each other through periods of walking followed by periods of waiting atop high points (daka) where they would sit, observe, and experience (Dedats’eetsaa: Tłı̨chǫ Research and Training Institute, 2021; Jacobsen & Santomauro, 2017). These methods mimic traditional hunting practices and knowledge and are grounded in a Tłı̨chǫ traditional knowledge framework that centers sentience, time immemorial, respect, and interdependence (Dedats’eetsaa: Tłı̨chǫ Research and Training Institute, 2021; Jacobsen & Santomauro, 2017).

Sharing and access to knowledge in the context of cultural heritage

The Tłı̨chǫ emphasize language, storytelling, experience on the land, and consultation across their four communities (The Tłı̨chǫ Government, 2013). For their communities, education is a lifelong endeavor that does not adhere to any hierarchy. Knowledge is earned through experience; everyone can learn from one another. Their knowledge and traditions are rooted in survival, handed down from their forefathers so that they can lead a strong and healthy life. Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò is founded within the relationship between the Tłı̨chǫ and caribou, which defines all aspects of Tłı̨chǫ language, culture, and way of life (Zoe, 2012a), illustrated in Figure 2. In English, Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò means “laws, regulations, agreements, knowledge, principles, and way of life” (Legat, 2012, p. 210). It is also embedded in the Tłı̨chǫ language through the patterning and repetition of words, the way that stories are told, and through the reflection and mentorship relationships between Elders and listeners (Vukson, 2011). This is similar to Dene Chanié—meaning “the path we walk” in Denesųłıné—which describes the stages of life and how generations are connected across stages of life (Francois Paulette, Fort Fitzgerald, 2023; Zaozirny, 2008).

Figure 2.

Teaching from Tłı̨chǫ Elders about how caribou shaped, and continue to shape, Tłı̨chǫ way of life.

The importance of oral histories is embedded in the workings of the Tłı̨chǫ Government (2005, sec. 18.1), wherein their constitution states that oral histories may be used to interpret it. This feature of their constitution demonstrates how oral histories and the sharing of knowledge are not just tools for learning the past but are also ways of interpreting the present. Throughout this research, many of the Elders’ stories were prompted by the presence of belongings—whether those belongings were held in the museum, their home, or Tłı̨chǫ Government offices—relating what they were saying about Tłı̨chǫ knowledge to the practices or history associated with that item. Belongings and photos prompted the sharing of many teachings, demonstrating how these belongings are part of the stories, and vice versa, as illustrated in Figure 3. Not only did they initiate stories and teachings, but they were also used as tools through which this knowledge was shared. Many also spoke to this point, explaining how cultural materials carry stories with them and can be used as teaching tools.

Figure 3.

Teachings from Tłı̨chǫ Elders about the interplay between cultural materials in carrying forward the traditional way of life.

Moreover, Gamètì Elder Henry Gon (2022, emphasis added), quoted below, explained how the presence of features on the land acts as a museum, carrying the experiences of their ancestors and providing information for the next generations who travel in that area. He also explained how in the past their ancestors modeled Tłı̨chǫ values of co-operation and respect, which were crucial to surviving in such harsh environmental conditions. Henry was one of many who emphasized the importance of traditional knowledge for survival, along with the inherent seasonality of this knowledge. He spoke of how the sharing of knowledge is experiential and how activities and experiences on the land carry these teachings:

Our knowledge is huge. Our knowledge is endless. Stories are endless. In the past as the Elders and sisters, how they lived and how they survived, it’s just amazing that even though they didn’t have much, they lived through their struggles, and they made it through.

Experiencing knowledge through connection to the land

The land was a key metaphor that arose in conversations about curatorial principles, teaching about how to respect the knowledge held within collections (Bourgeois, 2025). Tłı̨chǫ knowledge is tied with the land through naming and storying, connected through teachings, language, and relationships (Andrews & Zoe, 1997, 2007; Zoe, 2007). The land holds a central role in Tłı̨chǫ knowledge systems. Although stories are meant to be experienced and can only be truly shared and learned on the land (Legat, 2012), all of our conversations took place inside—whether as a group or individually, in Tłı̨chǫ communities or in Yellowknife. Regardless, the Elders continually rooted our conversations in the land. Although I sat, rather than traveled, with Elders, our conversations took us across Tłı̨chǫ lands and beyond, as illustrated in Figure 4. As such, while an experiential and land-based system for transmitting stories across generations was not a physical part of our process, it was clear that places and the land are the center of all Tłı̨chǫ knowledge. Elders told stories about their home communities and the vast distances they and their ancestors traveled. They spoke of their homes and places on the land as precious areas of hardship and growth, personifying the land as a central actor in their life story.

Figure 4.

Map of specific places mentioned by Tłı̨chǫ Elders through stories during interviews and learning circles.

This way of sharing stories and teachings has also been demonstrated through the Dene Mapping Project—in which the Tłı̨chǫ participated—in the late 70s, which was a land use and occupancy project that met with 30% of trappers in five regions of the NWT (Nahanni & Watkins, 1977). This study resulted in a map of the NWT that is almost entirely covered with trails used by trappers and hunters, unequivocally illustrating the relationship between Dene people and the land (Andrews, 2011, p. 30). The land has been described as the original archive, where the land holds stories and you must be in the place to evoke its teachings through Elders and Knowledge Keepers (Andrews & Zoe, 1997, p. 167). This practice, however, was disrupted when early explorers arrived and brought with them their colonial ways of documentation and extraction, which distanced traditional practices from community members (John B. Zoe, Behchokǫ̀, 2023a, 2023b). Despite this disruption, the Tłı̨chǫ are still out on, and remain connected to, the land. As resources for their communities, they have engaged in many mapping projects, such as the Tłı̨chǫ Virtual Trails (The Tłı̨chǫ Government & Digital Museums Canada, n.d.), the Tłı̨chǫ Placenames Project (Legat et al., 2024), the Rayrock Mine Mapping Project (The Tłı̨chǫ Government, 2019), and many more.

Uniting generations through storytelling

Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò is meant to be shared among the Tłı̨chǫ so that they are educated in what they need to know to survive and live well. Many emphasized this connection through describing how people in the past survived despite harsh conditions, working with the land to protect themselves and their families. Marie Adele Rabesca (Whatì, 2022) compared the teaching of traditional skills to studying subjects in school. She touched on how not knowing these skills leaves people today more vulnerable to environmental conditions, such as low temperatures, even in the presence of new technology. Behchokǫ̀ Elder Moise Rabesca (2022) described how he and his father used to learn from Elders about the best places to hunt. Through this story, he described how this information was traditionally passed along through Elders and gathering, which play key roles in teaching generations of Tłı̨chǫ people about best practices:

I remember there used to be a lot of Elders. All these Elders used to gather outside at the place around the Hudson’s Bay [fort]. They would share stories of how they used to work. They talked about where the good trapping areas were. They used to share stories about those kinds of things.

This experience that Moise shared gives us a picture of how Tłı̨chǫ stories are survived through a cycle of sharing, experiencing, and retelling, depicted in Figure 5. Tłı̨chǫ Elder John B. Zoe (2012b) explains that retelling, or restorying, is central to physically reliving the story through experience, which is an important aspect of Tłı̨chǫ traditional teaching and learnings. When interrupted, these stories are put in jeopardy. Stories are shared in this manner no matter if they are stories from time immemorial or of recent events (Legat, 2012). Sharing stories, and listening to those stories, is an important activity in knowledge translation wherein Elders facilitate the linkage of traditional knowledge with today’s society, people, and issues (Ruiz, 2018). Stories are precious, and the stories that Elders choose to share are stories that are meaningful to them and that they want to treasure for the rest of their lives, passing them on to the next generation (Jimmy Kodzin, Wekweètì, 2023). In a time where less families frequent their traditional lands, the documentation of these stories is important.

Figure 5.

Teaching from Tłı̨chǫ Elders about how to teach the next generations.

Although storytelling and experience-based learning are traditional ways of sharing knowledge among the Tłı̨chǫ, the Elders are keen to employ more western ways of documentation so that they will be better able to prepare future generations. Restoring and fostering the Tłı̨chǫ way of teaching and learning was one of the ways that the Elders felt the digital archive and museum development was useful. They were adamant in wanting everything documented for the youth of today and tomorrow, as illustrated in Figure 6. A big part of why they are looking for this type of research support is because of problems related to accessibility, especially considering the Elders’ emphasis on the importance of cultural materials and on belongings being in place as tools for teaching and learning.

Figure 6.

The vision of Tłı̨chǫ Elders as to how their culture plays into the past and the future, illustrated through the roles that each generation plays in its practice and preservation.

Toward a strong like two research methodology

As Tłı̨chǫ people, we support one another. We start by telling stories and then we start building through those stories for future generations. (Michel Louis Rabesca, Behchokǫ̀, 2022, emphasis added)

For the Tłı̨chǫ, the purpose of research is to retrieve information from the land and interpret it in a new way, again leaving things behind for others when they need it (John B. Zoe, Behchokǫ̀, 2023a). When men would come back from being out on the land, the older Elders from the community would all gather at his house, sit on the floor, and hear about his travels. They would share stories and ask about specific places where they used to travel but could often no longer visit because of age. This process allowed for the Elders to continue to experience the land while in turn teaching about it to those gathered. This is the process that a Tłı̨chǫ strong like two research methodology seeks to emulate. Researchers and community partners go out and collect information, then come back and share them with others, building on them together through lived and learned experience. In doing so, research and training is aimed at helping the youth “to have as many camp fires as they can, so that they can have nàowo that they can pass on” (Zoe, 2012a, p. 73). This fire is built from co-operation and guided by traditional values, as shown in Figure 7. The process of going out and then bringing information back to the group was how the Tłı̨chǫ traditionally ensured that their people and communities were represented, even when everyone could not be physically present. This ensured that everyone has the information they need—such as men, women, hunters, trappers, Elders, and others—and that all perspectives could be brought in to move forward with one strong voice. This remains a key part of Tłı̨chǫ research, representation, and decision-making.

Figure 7.

How to build a campfire to contribute to the sharing of Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò through research.

Researchers are just one piece that helps build this fire and have a unique role to play in relationships with community members, Elders, and youth, contributing to being strong like two people. To fuel the sharing of Tłı̨chǫ nàowoò, this fire must be built from the basis of Elders and youth, working for their communities through their traditions and language. It was from this core that the key values and lessons for a strong like two research methodology, as voiced by the Elders involved in this project, arose as presented in Table 1. These lessons and values uphold the principles of community that the Tłı̨chǫ have embodied since time immemorial. Their commitment to co-operation has made for strong generations, as family members and relatives fill in where needed to uphold their traditional ways of life and ensure that future generations have the tools they need. This is the same commitment that the Elders voiced throughout the entirety of our research. Their efforts are a gift to the next generation. Their motivation for engaging in research and desire to use technology to record their stories is to be able to continue to be there for their grandchildren in the future. Many voiced that a lot has changed and there are not a lot of Elders left who hold the kinds of traditional knowledge that the youth need for their future. They spoke of how the process that we are embarking on is a way that this knowledge can be kept for them, for when they are ready.

Table 1.

Key lessons that guide a strong like two research methodology and ways by which it can be upheld.

Key lessons to guide a strong like two research methodology

Ways to uphold a strong like two research methodology

• Everything we do is for the next generations. • The physical presence of things and experiences is important to teaching and learning, especially in instances where there are no alternatives. • Tłı̨chǫ traditions of teaching and learning, as well as language, need to be at the forefront in all we do. • Research activities should partner Elders and youth so they can facilitate the sharing of knowledge and include the youth in the creation of resources for future generations. • Research activities need to honor traditional ways of knowledge sharing (such as on the land and crafting activities) and respect the Tłı̨chǫ language as a way to learn about meaning and values. • Families need to be represented in research, not just political leaders. We need to make space for personal exploration as well as education. • Respect each other. To be strong like two people, we need to acknowledge and respect both the things we provide and the things we need. • Come together and move forward with one strong voice. • Take your time to do things the right way.

• Create tools for the future. • Promote transparency. • Embrace laughter. • Ask questions. • Build through storytelling. • Trust the vision of leadership. • Facilitate intergenerational guidance. • Seek action. • Preserve language, knowledge, and legacy. • Share information. • Speak as one strong voice. • Value togetherness. • Connect through communication. • Learn from the land. • Have hope, have faith. • Show respect. • Honor language, culture, and way of life.

An essential component of a strong like two research methodology is coming together to form one strong voice. All research activities should bring people together, from different communities, generations, and experiences, so that in the end you can move forward with a shared vision. Behchokǫ̀ Elder and translator James Rabesca (2022)—who worked as a translator for Chief Jimmy Bruneau in the late 1960s—spoke to the importance of action and working toward one strong voice, saying that “when you are reluctant to make a decision, you stay in the background.” As with PAR, the Tłı̨chǫ are purposeful and value moving forward to lead the way for the next generations. Tłı̨chǫ Elders have strong visions for what they want to leave behind, and it is the duty of partnered researchers to facilitate this legacy:

Today, we are living in modern times, but we still have to try to live the best way we can with our traditions. Our traditions and our values should be documented even though we pass on all the knowledge and all the stuff that we know; it should be documented so it will be among the Tłı̨chǫ people after we pass. What we share here, once we walk out this door, we might not remember what was being said. But if things are documented and recorded, information on how people used to live and of how they used to work with the wildlife, how they used to make a campfire out on the land, and of how they used to travel. It should be documented and recorded. It’s the only way we will know of how we used to live traditionally, sharing stories.

As voiced by Gamètì Elder Alphonse Apples (2022), quoted above, there is a role for research within Tłı̨chǫ knowledge systems today. Supplementing traditional systems for knowledge sharing with a strong like two research methodology not only supports Elders in their goals and vision but also has important secondary benefits. Gathering Elders from all communities is not something that happens often; therefore, doing this within your research creates space for Elders to share among themselves and take that information back to their communities. Having cross-generational representation at research activities also allows stories and knowledge to be shared within their natural systems, placing them in the hands of the next generations beyond their role in the research. Doing research this way makes for opportunities to benefit the communities beyond the research at hand and create unquantifiable opportunities for intergenerational knowledge transmission.

Elders John B. Zoe (Behchokǫ̀, 2023a) and Mike Nitsiza (Whatì, 2023) both addressed how if a person hunts caribou correctly in the water, they will be able to ride the wave created by the swimming caribou to propel their canoe so that you can achieve a successful and humane hunt with less paddling. This story provides a powerful analogy for the importance of community value-centered research methodologies. If done the right way, according to the traditional ways of the forefathers, you are setting yourself up for success. All traditions have robust reasoning behind them, built up over generations, even if they are not explained. Experiencing knowledge and the reasoning behind it is how the Tłı̨chǫ pass this knowledge along, something that cannot be substituted by written or oral explanation. This is why a strong like two research methodology seeks to incorporate research activities that consider the holistic experience of participants beyond the research process. A participant’s experience in the research is reciprocal, where they dictate the process but also get something from it, such as learning from Elders, meeting up with old friends, or receiving mentorship.

Conclusion

Using words like “Indigenizing” without talking about the heart and structures of research is merely perpetuating the process of the Indian Act (1985) and colonial research paradigms (John B. Zoe, Behchokǫ̀, 2023a). What Behchokǫ̀ Elder John B. Zoe is referring to here, is how Indigenous participants are typically positioned in western research as generators of data while it is academics who turn these data into knowledge (Blangy et al., 2024). The adoption of a Tłı̨chǫ strong like two research methodology, built from their values and traditions, is a cause led by DCLP and their Elder advisory council toward the decolonization of research through the assertion of their sovereignty over traditional knowledge and its governance. Its foundation in Elder guidance mimics the natural trajectory of traditional knowledge translation and assures that Elders and Knowledge Keepers are active in the research as both participants and leaders. The initial involvement of Elders before the formalization of research activities allows for these Elders to share advice as part of the research team, which otherwise would not have been able to be implemented in the research process by the time it was shared. This approach creates space for different types of experience and expertise while building toward one strong voice.