Lately, you might have noticed the word “decolonization” popping up in conversations about social justice, education, and even mental health. It’s become a buzzword, a way to signal progressive thinking or a commitment to fairness. But at its core, decolonization isn’t about improvement or reform. It isn’t a metaphor to fit other goals or ideals. Decolonization is about the literal return of Indigenous land and life.
This post takes a close look at what decolonization actually means and why it’s different from other social justice ideas. Based on the insights of Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang, who wrote a powerful article titled “Decolonization is Not a Metaphor,” this post explores how the misuse of decolonization sidesteps its true purpose and, in the end, harms Indigenous struggles for sovereignty.
With a culture that’s increasingly interested in “decolonizing” everything, from school curriculums to lifestyle choices, there’s a real risk of forgetting what decolonization truly requires. It’s not about replacing words or symbols—it’s about a material shift that restores land, power, and agency to Indigenous communities. So as we dive into what Tuck and Yang have to say, let’s keep in mind: decolonization is unsettling, and it’s supposed to be.
What Decolonization Really Means
Decolonization is about land—real, physical land. It’s about restoring Indigenous land and the authority to determine how it’s used. Unlike many other social justice goals, decolonization isn’t just about equality, recognition, or reparation. It doesn’t aim to fix a broken system but rather to dismantle it entirely and return what has been stolen. This means that at its core, decolonization has a different set of goals than other types of activism or reform. It requires a complete shift in power and ownership that isn’t easy to achieve within existing frameworks.
One of the strongest points that Tuck and Yang make is that decolonization doesn’t fit into the typical agenda of social justice efforts in schools or workplaces. Too often, the term is adopted as a way to reframe issues or ideas without any real shift in material conditions. But when decolonization is reduced to a symbol, it overlooks the very specific history of Indigenous peoples’ land and life being taken, and the struggle to reclaim it.
True decolonization is not about improving society or making institutions more inclusive. It’s not about giving a voice to Indigenous people within existing systems. It’s about something much more radical: the return of their land and sovereignty. In this sense, decolonization is unique because it aims for something that can’t simply be absorbed by progressive policies or multicultural programs. For Indigenous people, the stakes are high and involve physical spaces, resources, and authority that have been wrested away from them. So, if the goal is to honor what decolonization really means, it has to be taken as a literal call to action—a matter of returning what was taken, not just changing the language around it.
The Problem of “Decolonization” as a Metaphor
The term “decolonization” has been picked up in recent years as a way to talk about changes we want to see in education, society, and culture. We hear about “decolonizing the curriculum,” “decolonizing our minds,” and even “decolonizing self-care.” But as Tuck and Yang argue, this kind of language dangerously waters down what decolonization is supposed to mean. When we use “decolonization” to refer to any progressive change, it turns the idea into something abstract and safe, making it lose its unsettling, challenging nature.
In educational spaces, for instance, some advocate for decolonizing by including more diverse perspectives and teaching methods. While this might bring some important ideas into classrooms, it misses the true goal of decolonization, which is about land, life, and sovereignty. By using the language of decolonization in these ways, people end up treating it as a general reform tool rather than as the political and historical reality that it is.
This tendency to turn decolonization into a metaphor allows settler societies to feel like they’re making progress without really addressing the issue. It’s what Tuck and Yang call a “move to innocence”—a way for settlers to feel they’ve done enough by just acknowledging the need for change. In practice, though, these moves serve the interests of settlers far more than those of Indigenous people.
The metaphorization of decolonization not only dilutes its meaning but also risks pushing Indigenous voices to the sidelines. It lets non-Indigenous people speak for decolonization while keeping actual decolonization at a distance. So when decolonization is treated as a metaphor, it’s not just an act of appropriation; it’s an act that keeps the status quo in place.
Exploring Settler Moves to Innocence
Tuck and Yang identify several patterns they call “settler moves to innocence.” These are ways settlers try to feel innocent of the violence and harm tied to colonialism without giving up land, power, or privilege. These moves allow settlers to keep their place in society while appearing to care about justice. Let’s look at six of these moves to innocence, as described in the article.
Settler Nativism: In this move, settlers claim Indigenous ancestry, often a vague “Indian blood” from a distant ancestor. By connecting themselves to Indigenous identity, settlers try to distance themselves from the history of violence committed against Indigenous peoples. But these claims rarely come with any real understanding or connection to Indigenous culture. They serve more as a way to escape responsibility. In reality, identifying as “part Native” without any link to Indigenous life or land struggles only benefits the settler, not Indigenous communities.
Fantasizing Adoption: Here, settlers imagine they’ve been “adopted” by Indigenous culture. This can mean settlers adopting Indigenous practices, symbols, or stories as their own. Sometimes it’s romanticized in media, with stories where settlers are embraced by Indigenous communities and “become one” with them. This fantasy plays into the idea that settlers can belong without changing anything about the colonial structure. Adopting Indigenous culture or practices, without being accountable to Indigenous communities, gives settlers a false sense of belonging while ignoring the ongoing injustices against Indigenous people.
Colonial Equivocation: This is when people use “colonialism” to describe any form of oppression, whether or not it involves the unique dynamics of settler colonialism. For example, people might talk about their experience of discrimination as a form of “colonization.” While oppression in any form is serious, this use of language hides the specific nature of settler colonialism. By treating all oppressions as equal to colonialism, people avoid recognizing the unique injustices that Indigenous communities face, especially in terms of land theft and sovereignty.
Conscientization: Conscientization refers to the idea that simply being aware of injustice is a sufficient response. Some settlers believe that by “acknowledging” or “learning about” colonialism, they’ve done their part. But knowledge alone doesn’t dismantle colonial systems. While learning is a start, it’s not a substitute for action, especially when action involves difficult choices about power and privilege. Just being aware doesn’t restore land or rights to Indigenous communities.
At Risk-ing / Asterisk-ing Indigenous Peoples: In this move, settlers reduce Indigenous identity to a set of stereotypes or to “issues” that can be managed, categorized, or “protected.” This move is about treating Indigenous people as an “asterisk” in conversations, where they become a checkbox for diversity rather than people with agency and sovereignty. This approach reinforces the idea that Indigenous identity is only relevant as a problem to solve, not as a source of unique history, culture, and political power.
Re-occupation and Urban Homesteading: Settlers often take part in “reclaiming” or “reoccupying” land within urban areas, like community gardening or revitalizing neighborhoods. While these efforts are meant to restore neglected land or spaces, they rarely consider Indigenous claims to land. These actions can even replicate the same logic that settlers used to justify taking Indigenous land in the first place. Without awareness of whose land is being “reclaimed,” these movements overlook Indigenous struggles and instead reinforce settler entitlement.
Together, these moves to innocence reveal a pattern of strategies that help settlers feel better about colonialism without making meaningful changes. They allow settlers to keep their power intact while looking progressive or “aware.” For true decolonization to occur, these moves must be recognized for what they are—ways to dodge responsibility without disrupting the status quo.
Why True Decolonization Must Be Unsettling
True decolonization is unsettling because it challenges deep-seated structures and forces difficult questions about land and power. For settlers, real decolonization means facing the uncomfortable truth that the land they live on was taken from Indigenous people—and that this land is still contested. Tuck and Yang argue for what they call an “ethic of incommensurability,” meaning that decolonization cannot simply be absorbed into existing social justice frameworks. Decolonization doesn’t fit neatly into the usual goals of inclusion, reform, or equality.
The idea of incommensurability reminds us that decolonization is not a project for everyone to join easily or comfortably. The aims of decolonization are specific to Indigenous struggles and are often incompatible with the goals of other social justice movements, especially those that don’t directly address land rights or sovereignty. Solidarity with Indigenous people, therefore, isn’t as simple as declaring support. It means grappling with the reality that Indigenous and non-Indigenous interests may not always align—and that some forms of solidarity will require real material changes.
Tuck and Yang highlight how decolonization asks for something fundamental that many people aren’t willing to give up: land, resources, and privilege. This is why decolonization is distinct from other causes. It isn’t about making space for Indigenous people within a settler society; it’s about restoring what was taken from them, and this is unsettling by design. Recognizing this challenge is a first step, but moving beyond recognition requires actions that directly address the realities of settler colonialism. In short, if solidarity feels too easy, it’s probably not true decolonization.
The Unique Structure of Settler Colonialism
Settler colonialism operates differently from other forms of colonialism. While traditional colonialism often involves extracting resources or labor from a distant territory, settler colonialism is about permanently occupying land. Settlers don’t come to extract wealth and leave; they come to stay, bringing their own culture, laws, and institutions to replace Indigenous ones. This is why, as Tuck and Yang explain, settler colonialism is not just an event that happened in the past; it’s an ongoing structure that reshapes Indigenous land and life every day.
In settler colonial societies like the United States, Canada, and Australia, this difference is critical. The central element is land. Settlers want the land to make a new home, and this desire for a permanent claim leads to a system of control and erasure. Indigenous people aren’t only displaced from their lands but also from their cultural practices, languages, and governance systems tied to those lands. This creates a unique tension, as settlers aim to belong on land that is not originally theirs, often reshaping Indigenous spaces into settler spaces.
Understanding the unique structure of settler colonialism highlights why decolonization is so challenging. Since the goal of settler colonialism is to erase Indigenous presence and replace it with a settler society, reversing these actions requires much more than symbolic gestures or policy changes. It calls for an active undoing of the systems that uphold settler claims to land. This is why Tuck and Yang argue that only decolonization that involves land repatriation can truly address the impact of settler colonialism. Any approach that ignores the central role of land fails to challenge the fundamental structure of settler colonial societies.
What Allies Can Do Beyond Rhetoric
Supporting decolonization as a non-Indigenous ally requires more than just knowing the history or adopting the right language. It means taking concrete actions that respect Indigenous sovereignty and land rights. Tuck and Yang suggest that true solidarity with Indigenous struggles goes beyond symbolic support and asks allies to be prepared for the challenging work of supporting land repatriation and Indigenous governance.
One key action allies can take is to support Indigenous-led movements and campaigns directly. This could mean advocating for land return policies, respecting Indigenous leadership in environmental efforts, or donating to organizations that are Indigenous-run and focused on decolonization. Amplifying Indigenous voices and respecting their authority over decolonization efforts is essential, as it ensures that the movement stays grounded in Indigenous goals rather than being shaped by settler interests.
Another step is to learn from Indigenous perspectives without appropriating them. This might involve reading Indigenous authors, attending Indigenous-led workshops, and avoiding the tendency to borrow or “adopt” cultural symbols or practices. Understanding the history and culture of Indigenous communities is important, but it should be done in a way that respects their ownership over their identities and practices.
Finally, allies can examine their own roles within settler colonial structures. This means asking difficult questions about one’s relationship to land and privilege and being open to changes that might feel disruptive. For example, institutions like universities and corporations can acknowledge their colonial histories and start conversations about reparations or land restitution. True solidarity requires allies to move beyond easy gestures and embrace actions that may challenge their comfort, but that respect the depth and seriousness of decolonization.
Decolonization is not a metaphor. It is a radical call to return land, restore sovereignty, and respect the deep connections that Indigenous people have to their territories. While it has become common to hear calls to “decolonize” everything from education to personal growth, these uses risk emptying the term of its meaning and erasing the struggles it represents. As Tuck and Yang argue, decolonization cannot be absorbed into other social justice projects without losing its purpose. It demands a material shift, one that can’t be achieved through metaphor alone.
The aim of decolonization is unsettling, but it should be. It challenges us to look at land, power, and history in ways that may disrupt what we know and what we’re used to. True decolonization doesn’t allow us to stay comfortable in our privileges. Instead, it pushes for a shift that’s as concrete as the land itself, and it calls settlers to confront their relationship to this land in real terms.
To support decolonization, we need to move beyond rhetoric and recognize that true solidarity involves difficult choices. It involves actions that might even feel inconvenient or uncomfortable. Yet, as more people come to understand what decolonization truly demands, there’s hope that we can move toward a future where Indigenous sovereignty is restored and respected. This future requires the courage to face what decolonization truly means—a reality grounded in land, life, and self-determination.
What you think?