Reclaiming Rigor: Lifting community wisdom as essential data

In our seventh CHOIR Conversation of the year, we stepped into an examination of what many institutions call rigor, and what directly impacted communities often experience as erasure. This session, facilitated by Jacquie Boggess and joined by Dr. Decoteau Irby, Jasmia Hamilton, and Zakiyyah Sorenson, invited us to think differently about where knowledge comes from, who is allowed to name truth, and what becomes possible when we return authority to the people living the realities we hope to change.

Across stories and scholarship, the panelists illuminated a shared truth: research, when defined through white norms of objectivity and distance, can become a tool that mismeasures lives, harming the very people it claims to understand, while not addressing root causes.

The idea that objectivity requires distance is one of the most persistent myths in traditional research. As Zakiyyah noted from her years in health policy, objectivity is often defined as the further you are from the problem, the more qualified you are to speak about it. That framing strips away emotion, context, cultural knowledge, and the accountability that comes with proximity.

Decoteau captured one of the most visible outcomes: “People benefit from the breach.” In other words, researchers, institutions, and funders often gain prestige, publications, and resources when projects maintain distance from the people most impacted. Communities, meanwhile, inherit the consequences: policies rooted in flawed assumptions, programs that reproduce harm, and a deepening distrust in institutions that claim to serve them.

When community insights are ignored, Jasmia noted, systems become invested in solving the same problem over and over again, without ever changing its conditions. “We make wicked problems wickeder,” she said, “and then we need another hundred million dollars for a patchwork solution.”

The result is a cycle of extraction: reports that gather dust, nonprofits competing for funding tied to symptoms rather than root causes, and communities forced to navigate systems that pathologize them while refusing to listen.

What It Takes to Reclaim Rigor

Re-centering the people most impacted as creators—not subjects—of knowledge

If traditional rigor is about distance, reclaimed rigor is about relationship.

Reclaiming rigor requires:

1. Centering lived experience as essential data

Communities already hold the insight needed to transform systems. The question is whether institutions are willing to follow their lead instead of treating their wisdom as an add-on or anecdote.

2. Naming structural inequity directly

As several panelists noted, research often avoids pointing to structural causes because funders refuse it. Without naming the root, we end up solving the same problems, and communities continue carrying burdens they didn’t create.

3. Refusing to reproduce extractive practices

This includes rejecting “arm’s-length” methods, challenging neutrality that excuses harm, and ensuring that research benefits communities rather than merely observing them.

4. Redistributing resources and authority

Community-led research is not symbolic; it is strategic. As Zakiyyah put it, “They know best. Really that knowledge should be driving everything.”

5. Broadening what counts as truth

Decoteau reminded us that knowledge is plural. If we only accept truth that mirrors white norms, we will continue to miss the wisdom that communities use every day to navigate systems not built for their survival.

In reflecting on how to move forward, Jasmia offered a grounding reminder:

“It takes all of our wisdom, intuition, scholarly experience to shift the conditions we want for a thriving, loving, welcoming community.”

Reclaiming rigor is not a technical task. It’s relational, cultural, and deeply human. It asks us to be brave enough to honor truths that institutions have long dismissed. It asks us to treat community knowledge not as input but as expertise. 

What emerged was not cynicism, but clarity: if we want systems that heal rather than harm, we need to return rigor to the people who have always been rigorous about their own survival.

If conversations like this nourish your leadership, deepen your practice, or remind you that you’re not alone in this work, we invite you to join our Community of Practice. Each month, we gather to learn, reflect, and strengthen our ability to lead with justice, belonging, and collective care at the center.

Another way is possible—and we’re building it together.