In my first term of my master’s in leadership studies, I was caught off guard when a professor referred to post-colonialism.

“Post-what?” I wondered. When did colonialism end? No one told us?!

As a Palestinian, I know we do not live in a “post” era! Our dispossession, our occupation, our erasure; these are not chapters in history books, they are part of a daily reality. Hearing the word spoken so casually made me realize how often timelines of oppression are written from the perspective of the colonizer rather than the colonized.

This is where the danger lies: when those who benefited from colonization decide both when it began and when it ended. Those still living under its structures rarely get to speak for themselves.

Later in that same course, the professor shifted to the subject of decolonization. Again, I found myself questioning. How can someone who has inherited the privileges of colonization claim the authority to teach decolonization? To me, authentic learning on this subject must begin with the voices of those who have experienced it firsthand. Indigenous peoples and others who continue to endure its effects. Without their leadership, the term risks becoming only a metaphor, a concept in a textbook rather than a call to accountability and repair.

This tension is not limited to academia. When I worked on Human Rights, I once told my colleagues, “Please don’t lecture me about Human Rights. They are not applied equally. I am Palestinian, and believe me, we have enough evidence that they do not apply to me or my people.” Their discomfort was immediate: “Please don’t say that.” But why shouldn’t I? Naming the double standards is the first step toward addressing them.

And if we look at the world more broadly, it is clear that colonialism has not disappeared; it has only taken on a different form. The world still operates like an empire. Powerful states hold spheres of influence that stretch across the globe. Step outside their order and punishment follows, through sanctions, isolation, military force, or cultural erasure. The names may shift, but the logic of empire continues.

This is why words like post-colonialism or decolonization must be approached with humility and care. They cannot simply be taught as abstract theories. They must be rooted in accountability: to the people who live under colonization, to their voices, their histories, and their visions for justice.

Suppose academia and human rights institutions are genuinely committed to justice. In that case, the work must begin here: not by denying the obvious, not by controlling the narrative, but by active listening and learning. It means creating space for those who bear the weight of oppression to lead the conversation.

And it requires the harder step: to relinquish control and allow for a fundamental redistribution of power, rather than merely theorizing about it.