Ambrose Murangira

This morning, during a conversation about bias, Godfrey and I explored a topic that kept us thinking long after it was over. What started as small talk quickly turned into a deep discussion that lingered in our minds for a while. We laughed, questioned, and challenged each other. By the time we reached the airport, I realized that this small chat had touched on one of the biggest misunderstandings in academic work.

Reflecting on our conversation, I realized it centered on a common theme in research training: the focus on avoiding bias to preserve scientific integrity. However, over time, I have observed how misleading this advice can be, particularly when studying people, culture, and lived experience.

Avoiding bias often means ignoring one’s own experiences and insights. It requires researchers to set aside their personal stories and values, as if the truth only belongs to those who observe others’ lives from a distance. However, people’s realities aren’t lab experiments. They are complex, emotional, layered, and meaningful. Pretending we can study them without bringing our humanity into the process doesn’t lead to objectivity; it creates distance.

In many academic circles, this misunderstanding appears clearly when Deaf researchers present their findings. They are often asked, “But aren’t you biased because you are Deaf?” The same question, however, is rarely asked of hearing researchers who study hearing people. Somehow, neutrality seems to belong only to the majority.

What occurs when we view lived experience as bias?
We lose depth. A hearing researcher might miss the subtle visual cues that guide a group conversation in sign language. They might overlook how eye contact, timing, or fatigue influence the flow of communication. We also lose trust, because when Deaf people see that only hearing researchers are considered “objective,” it signals that their own voices, knowledge, and ways of knowing are undervalued. Additionally, we lose fairness, as those who decide what counts as bias often determine what is accepted as truth.

For me, lived experience is not a weakness; rather, it is wisdom. It helps me understand silence, attention, and connection in ways that books cannot teach. My background provides me with a perspective that enhances, not distorts, my research. The key is to embrace who we are, be open about it, reflect on it, and allow readers to see clearly through our lens.

Maybe the main question is how to make our perspectives honest and clear. Every researcher has a story. The most responsible thing we can do is to recognize it, learn from it, and use it to create connections of understanding.

Ultimately, research inclusion should not only consider who is being studied but also who is doing the studying. Equity in knowledge production means opening doors for diverse perspectives, valuing different ways of knowing, and creating systems that trust the insight of those who have lived the realities they study. When research welcomes multiple lenses, it does more than describe the world—it understands it more completely.

#InclusiveResearch #Reflexivity #DisabilityInclusion #EquityInKnowledge #MurangiraInsights