The Right to Comfort and Decolonization

In their seminal work, “Decolonization is not a Metaphor” (Tuck & Yang, 2012), Eve Tuck and K. Wayne Yang provide a critical examination of decolonization, challenging superficial understandings and applications of the term in academic and social justice contexts. Central to their argument is the idea that decolonization demands unsettling, discomfort, and tangible action, not merely metaphorical interpretation or self-assured complacency. As an Indigenous legal academic interpreting this work, it is essential to scrutinize how individuals and institutions often claim alignment with decolonization while simultaneously retreating to the ‘right to comfort,’ a stance that resists the necessary upheaval decolonization entails.

Tuck and Yang argue that decolonization involves a radical restructuring of society, power, and ownership. It compels the recognition and rectification of historic and ongoing injustices against Indigenous peoples, including the repatriation of land and the dismantling of colonial structures. Decolonization is not an abstract or feel-good concept but a process fraught with confrontations and sacrifices that most individuals and institutions are not prepared to undertake (Tuck & Yang, 2012).

The ‘right to comfort’ is an unstated privilege often embedded within white consciousness—a belief that comfort, ease, and a seamless existence are almost natural rights that should not be disrupted. This psyche manifests when white people engage with decolonization in ways that do not threaten their standing, power, or material benefits. It becomes evident when hard truths about colonial legacies are met with defensiveness or calls for civility rather than reflection and action (Tuck & Yang, 2012).

White individuals moving towards decolonization while embracing this ‘right to comfort’ tend to co-opt decolonizing language and practices in ways that strip them of their transformative potential. They may engage in land acknowledgments without advocating for land return or repatriation. They might champion Indigenous rights in the academy yet resist substantive changes to curricula or hiring practices that would shift the colonial status quo. They could also invoke decolonization in research agendas while upholding methodologies and paradigms that inherently maintain colonial epistemologies (Tuck & Yang, 2012).

This is not to suggest that white people cannot or should not be involved in decolonization efforts. On the contrary, their support can be vital. However, it is critical that such involvement is predicated on a willingness to decenter comfort, to embrace the uncomfortable work of relinquishing power, and to commit to action that seeks not to reinforce but to dismantle colonial legacies.

As a community invested in justice, it is our collective responsibility to move beyond the superficiality of comfort and engage with the true spirit of decolonization. To this end, educational institutions, legal frameworks, and societal structures must be willing to undergo the discomforting yet necessary process of examining their complicity in colonialism and actively working towards redressing it.

To wrestle effectively with the concepts laid out by Tuck and Yang, white allies must confront the ‘right to comfort’ and disavow it. This means listening to and prioritizing Indigenous voices, supporting Indigenous-led initiatives unconditionally, and recognizing that true allyship might require sacrifices that disrupt the familiar terrain of comfort and privilege. Ultimately, decolonization requires this commitment to discomfort, introspection, and tangible change—as anything less would merely perpetuate the metaphorical treatment of decolonization, an outcome Tuck and Yang resolutely argue against.

Reference:
Tuck, E., & Yang, K. W. (2012). Decolonization is not a metaphor. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society, 1(1), 1-40.