Draft Edition
& Inclusion
- Distinguish cultural humility from cultural competence — and explain why the distinction determines how you approach every participant across your career.
- Draft a positionality statement that locates you within structures of power, privilege, and identity in plain, specific language.
- Describe the Indigenous origins of psilocybin, peyote, and ayahuasca facilitation — and apply the criteria that distinguish respectful engagement from appropriation.
- Audit your practice environment for physical, linguistic, plain-language, and cultural access barriers — and produce a prioritized action plan.
- Intervene in a live group setting when a microaggression occurs — using the three-part structure: name the harm, create space for the impacted person, reset group norms.
Most facilitators arrive at this chapter with good values. They believe in equity. They don't want to harm participants. They are genuinely committed to cultural humility as a framework. The challenge this chapter presents is not to build that conviction — it is to close the gap between conviction and competency. The facilitator who nods along with every principle in the reading and then fails to intervene when something harmful happens in a live group session is the typical failure mode. Not bad values. Insufficient skill.
Four sections move from internal to applied. Section 1 locates you — through history, context, and your own positionality. Section 2 addresses the specific knowledge about Indigenous traditions that CO H.1–H.4 require and that professional integrity demands. Section 3 moves from concept to operational: auditing your environment for who it actually serves. Section 4 is the most skills-intensive: practicing the three-part microaggression intervention until it becomes a professional reflex rather than a theoretical commitment.
Two portfolio artifacts are produced in this chapter — your positionality statement (Section 1) and your accessibility audit (Section 3). Both are living documents. You will return to both as your practice grows. The version you produce today is the first honest draft.
Every facilitator carries their cultural position into the room — whether or not they've examined it. A facilitator who believes they're culturally neutral is operating from an invisible positionality, which is the most consequential kind. This section gives you a map of where you're standing. You make better decisions from a known position than from one you haven't located.
Cultural competence is the traditional framework — learn enough about other cultures to provide effective service. Its limitation is not that the learning is wrong. It's that the framework implies an endpoint: once you have acquired cultural competence, you are competent. A facilitator who believes they are culturally competent because they completed a training can be more dangerous than one who knows they aren't — because competence-certainty closes inquiry.
Cultural humility is the practice of staying in the question: What are my assumptions here? How might my background be shaping what I'm seeing? What am I not seeing because of where I'm standing? It is not about guilt or self-flagellation. It is about sustained professional curiosity about the gap between your own position and the participant in front of you. Humility is not a destination. It is a practice that cannot end — because the moment you believe you've achieved it, you have stopped practicing it.
Positionality is the specific practice of locating yourself within structures of power, privilege, and identity that shape how you see, who you notice, whose experience you recognize as valid, and whose you inadvertently minimize. Every facilitator has a positionality. A facilitator who frames themselves as neutral, objective, or "just human" has a positionality that is invisible to them — which is the most dangerous kind.
Your race, class, gender, ability status, sexual orientation, religious background, country of origin, and relationship to the dominant culture all shape what happens in a facilitation room. This is not a political claim — it is a descriptive reality about how human beings perceive and respond to one another. A facilitator who knows where they're standing makes better decisions than one who thinks they're standing nowhere.
The facilitation of natural medicine does not happen in a cultural vacuum. The Controlled Substances Act (1970) classified psilocybin, peyote, and MDMA as Schedule I substances — no accepted medical use, high abuse potential. This classification was not purely scientific. As documented in subsequent reporting, including statements by Nixon advisor John Ehrlichman, the scheduling of certain substances was in significant part a tool of political and racial targeting — criminalizing communities associated with antiwar activism and communities of color. The consequences of these policies fell disproportionately on Black and Latino communities through decades of enforcement disparities.
The emerging decriminalization and legalization movement now involves predominantly white practitioners and investors, while many people of color continue to carry criminal records for the same activities. A facilitator who does not understand this history cannot understand why communities of color may bring significant skepticism — and legitimate historical grievance — to psychedelic healing spaces. That skepticism is not resistance to overcome. It is a historically informed response that deserves to be received with understanding.
The social determinants of health — housing stability, income, education, environmental safety, access to healthcare — are distributed unequally along racial and economic lines as a direct result of historical and ongoing structural policies. These disparities directly affect both who accesses natural medicine services and what participants bring into the room. A participant from a community with a history of medical mistreatment (e.g., the legacy of the Tuskegee study and related events) brings specific, historically grounded reasons for distrust of healing institutions. That distrust is information the facilitator must account for — not explain away or dismiss as individual reluctance.
Your positionality statement locates you within structures of power, privilege, and identity that shape your facilitation practice. It is not a confession — it is a map. Write it in plain, specific language. Avoid vague acknowledgments ("I recognize I have privilege") in favor of specific ones ("I am a white, college-educated facilitator in a field whose services are largely inaccessible to the communities most harmed by the drug policies that criminalized these medicines"). This is a living document — you will revise it across this program and your career.
- I can explain the difference between cultural humility and cultural competence — and articulate why the distinction matters for how I approach every participant across my career.
- I have a positionality statement draft that is specific, not vague — that a stranger could read and know something real about where I'm standing.
- I understand the historical connection between the CSA, drug enforcement disparities, and why communities of color may bring specific distrust to healing spaces I facilitate.
- I can receive participant distrust of healing institutions as historically grounded information — not as resistance to manage.
You've located yourself. Section 2 builds the specific historical and cultural knowledge that CO H.1–H.4 require: the Indigenous origins of the medicines you'll work with and the concrete criteria that distinguish respectful engagement from appropriation.
The medicines you will work with have origins. Those origins belong to specific communities who developed, carried, and protected these traditions across generations — often at significant cost, including criminalization of their own ceremonies. Entering this field without understanding that history is not neutral. It has consequences for those communities, for your participants, and for the integrity of how you describe your practice.
Understanding the Indigenous origins of the medicines you work with is not background reading — it is a regulatory requirement (CO H.1–H.4) and a professional obligation. What CO requires specifically: knowledge of the history of use of natural medicines, including Curanderismo, and the implications for how you represent your practice. What professional integrity requires: specific knowledge of whose traditions these are, what those communities have said about non-Indigenous use, and what accountability looks like if you claim connection to these traditions.
Cultural appropriation in this field looks like: using ceremonial elements (songs, chants, language, ritual objects) outside their cultural context without authorization from recognized practitioners; claiming training that was superficial, unauthorized, or conveyed by a non-Indigenous teacher; describing your practice as "Indigenous-informed" or using specific tradition names without the training or community relationships those claims require; benefiting financially from practices whose origins are not disclosed; and presenting Indigenous knowledge as universal heritage available to anyone.
Respectful engagement looks like: learning from recognized, community-authorized sources; full disclosure of the origins of any practices used; accountability relationships with relevant communities; financial structures that return benefit to source communities; and being honest with participants about what your training does and does not include. For most Western-trained facilitators operating through iETA's curriculum: not using ceremonial elements you were not trained in, with full attribution and clear acknowledgment of what your practice is and is not.
The cleanest model for facilitators without traditional training is full scope transparency: "The psilocybin mushrooms you will work with have Indigenous origins. I am not trained in any Indigenous tradition and do not practice traditional ceremony. My approach is informed by Western clinical practice and my training through the Inner EDGE program." This is not limitation. It is professional honesty — and it is the standard the field requires.
Write or revise the paragraph you would use in your service materials to describe what you offer. Check it: Does it accurately represent your training? Does it acknowledge the origins of the medicines you work with without overclaiming authority? Does it avoid using tradition names (Mazatec, Curanderismo, Native American Church) without the training or community relationships those claims require? Bring this to Section 3's plain-language audit.
- I can name the specific Indigenous communities associated with psilocybin, peyote, and ayahuasca — and describe what the relevant communities have said about non-Indigenous access.
- I understand what Curanderismo is and why CO H.3 requires facilitators to know about it without claiming to practice it.
- I can apply the appropriation/respectful-engagement criteria to a specific facilitation scenario — not just as abstract principles.
- My practice description accurately represents my training and does not claim authority over traditions I was not trained in.
You've examined the historical and cultural dimensions. Section 3 moves to operational: who can actually access your practice space, your materials, and your services — and what specific changes would close the gap between who you intend to serve and who can actually reach your door.
Cultural humility without accessible design produces well-intentioned barriers. A practice that is physically inaccessible, linguistically exclusive, and materially opaque communicates to entire communities that they are not the intended participant — regardless of what the facilitator believes about equity. Access barriers are not neutral. They are design choices. They can be changed.
Physical accessibility encompasses all features of a space that enable or prevent participation by people with physical disabilities, chronic illness, or sensory differences. Relevant considerations: wheelchair accessibility and elevator access; lighting levels and options; sound control; scent sensitivity; adjustable or floor-level seating alternatives; and emergency egress that accounts for participants with mobility limitations. A facilitator who has not audited their space has made an implicit assumption about who their participants are.
Linguistic accessibility is about the availability of materials, verbal communication, and session support in participants' primary languages. English-only materials communicate that English speakers are the intended population. In many contexts, this is also a class and immigration status question — not only a language question. Practical considerations: translated intake and consent materials; interpreter availability when needed; and avoidance of idiom-heavy language in participant-facing materials.
Plain-language design is the specific practice of writing participant-facing materials at a reading level and using vocabulary accessible to people without clinical or academic training. Most professional consent documents are written at a college reading level. Most participants are better served by materials written at a 6th–8th grade reading level that prioritize clarity without sacrificing accuracy. Plain language is not dumbing down — it is ensuring that consent is actually informed. A document your participant cannot understand is not a valid informed consent document.
Cultural accessibility asks: does this space communicate that participants from different cultural backgrounds are expected and welcome? This includes visual representation in materials, the cultural framing of the service description, the inclusivity of intake questions (do gender identity questions have appropriate options? do they assume certain family structures?), and the degree to which the facilitator's cultural assumptions are visible — or invisible — in the space design.
The communities most harmed by drug policy enforcement — communities of color, lower-income communities — are often the same communities facing the most access barriers to natural medicine services. This connection is not coincidental. If the field is going to represent itself as healing, it must actively address who can access that healing. The accessibility audit is where that commitment becomes concrete rather than aspirational.
Priority item in this category for my practice:
Priority item in this category for my practice:
Priority item in this category for my practice:
Priority item in this category for my practice:
- I can name all four accessibility dimensions and explain what each one asks about my practice — not just as categories, but as specific questions with specific answers.
- I have completed the accessibility audit for my actual or anticipated practice setting and identified at least one priority item in each dimension.
- I understand the connection between drug policy enforcement history and access barriers to natural medicine services.
- I have a plain-language version of my practice description — one that a non-specialist could read and genuinely understand before signing a consent form.
You've built the frameworks and audited your environment. Section 4 is the most skills-intensive: what you do when something harmful happens in the room, with a group watching how you respond. Most people freeze the first time. That is what the practice is for.
A microaggression in your group does two harms simultaneously: the one it does to the person it targets, and the one it does to everyone who watched you decide whether to name it. Your response — or non-response — communicates the group's norms. You don't get to be neutral. You don't get to not choose.
The term was introduced by Chester Pierce in 1970 and developed extensively by Derald Wing Sue and colleagues. Microaggressions are brief, everyday exchanges that send denigrating messages to members of marginalized groups. They are typically unintentional. They frequently reflect implicit bias. They are often defended by their perpetrators as misunderstandings or overreactions. And their cumulative effect — across a lifetime of receiving them — is well-documented as a contributor to psychological harm, chronic stress, and reduced help-seeking behavior.
For a facilitator, the relevant point is not the perpetrator's intent — it is the impact on the participant who received it and the group container that was just altered.
Microinsults communicate rudeness or insensitivity based on identity: "You speak English so well" (assumes the person is foreign); "You're so articulate" (often directed at Black professionals); "That's so brave of you to share" (implies the person's experience is unusual or exceptional). Microinvalidations deny or negate a person's experience: "I don't see color," "We're all the same inside," "That probably wasn't about race," "You're being too sensitive." Environmental microaggressions communicate through space and materials — whose experience is treated as the default, whose language is assumed, who is represented on the walls.
Most failed interventions fail in one of three ways: they center the perpetrator's intentions rather than the impact on the person harmed ("I'm sure they didn't mean it — what they were trying to say was..."); they are so vague that no actual harm is named and no norm is set ("let's all remember to be respectful"); or they don't create explicit space for the impacted person — leaving that person to manage everyone else's discomfort on top of the original harm.
After a well-executed intervention, the person who caused the harm will often respond: "I meant it as a compliment" or "I didn't mean anything bad by it." This is a predictable part of the pattern. Your response does not need to be long. Acknowledge the intent briefly — then return to the impact and the norm. The word that connects these two moves is "and," not "but": "I hear that you meant it as a compliment — and here's what I need us to hold in this room." "But" negates the first clause. "And" holds both.
You are facilitating a small group integration session. Actor B has just shared a reflection on a moment of deep ancestral connection in their medicine experience. Actor A responds: "That's so beautiful. You people have such a deep connection to this kind of thing. It's in your DNA, really — you're just more naturally spiritual." Actor B visibly withdraws. Actor C looks uncomfortable and glances at you.
- What are the specific microaggression markers in Actor A's statement — name at least two.
- Write out your full three-part intervention in the words you would actually say. Include how you would handle Actor A's likely defensive response ("I meant it as a compliment").
- After the intervention, how do you resume the session in a way that includes rather than avoids Actor B's original sharing?
Write your version of the three-part intervention script — in your own voice, not the model language. Then say it aloud. Adjust until it sounds like a real human being in a real moment, not a script being read under pressure. Most people freeze the first time they try to deliver it. That is what the practice is for.
- I can distinguish cultural humility from cultural competence and explain why the distinction matters for my practice across my career.
- My positionality statement is specific, not vague — it locates me in actual structures, not just acknowledges that structures exist.
- I can name the Indigenous communities associated with psilocybin, peyote, and ayahuasca — and what those communities have said about non-Indigenous access.
- I can classify a facilitation practice as appropriation, respectful engagement, or context-dependent — with specific criteria for each.
- My accessibility audit is complete with at least one priority action item per dimension.
- I can deliver the three-part intervention aloud, without looking at the script, in a way that sounds like genuine care rather than a protocol.
- I know how to navigate "I meant it as a compliment" without collapsing the repair.
- I have practiced the OSCE scenario out loud at least once before my assessment window.
- Cultural humility is not a destination. The facilitator who believes they've achieved it has stopped practicing it. Competence implies an endpoint. Humility doesn't.
- Positionality is not a confession — it is a map. A facilitator who knows where they're standing makes better decisions than one who believes they're standing nowhere.
- The history of drug policy enforcement is directly relevant to who enters your facilitation space and what they carry with them. Participant distrust of healing institutions is often historically earned — receive it as information, not resistance to overcome.
- The medicines you work with have origins. Those origins belong to specific communities. CO H.1–H.4 require you to know this history. Professional integrity requires you to let it inform how you describe your practice.
- For most Western-trained facilitators: full scope transparency is the correct model. "I was not trained in any Indigenous tradition, and I say so clearly." This is not limitation. It is honesty.
- Access barriers are design choices. A practice that is physically inaccessible, linguistically exclusive, or materially opaque communicates who it is for — regardless of the facilitator's values.
- Plain language is not dumbing down. A consent document your participant cannot understand is not a valid informed consent document.
- A microaggression in your group does two harms: the one to the person it targets, and the one to everyone who watched you decide whether to name it. Non-response is a response.
- The three-part intervention — name the harm, create space for the impacted person, reset group norms — is a skill. It sounds different after practice. That is what the practice is for.
- After you intervene, you will hear "I meant it as a compliment." The word that holds both intent and impact is "and," not "but." Stay with the impact. Don't collapse the repair.
- Insist on the rule to model consistency and equality for all participants
- Ask the participant to explain their custom to the group so everyone understands
- Discreetly allow the participant to keep their shoes on and adjust the space expectation accordingly
- Ignore the behavior entirely and proceed with the session
- "This is the correct way to integrate your experience — it's what the research supports."
- "Tell me what traditions or practices you'd like honored during our work together."
- "We don't need to discuss your cultural background — this process is universal."
- "Let me explain what your visions likely mean based on what I know about this medicine."
- Requires having comprehensive knowledge of every culture a facilitator might encounter
- Recognizes the ongoing nature of learning and the limits of one's own perspective — making it a practice rather than a destination
- Recommends avoiding cultural discussion entirely to prevent assumptions about participants
- Authorizes the facilitator to teach participants about their own cultural traditions
- Cultural appreciation — they are honoring the medicine's origins through its own traditions
- Harmless creativity — the chant is in the public domain since it appears online
- Cultural appropriation — using sacred ceremonial content without authorization from the relevant community
- Integration best practice — incorporating sound healing is within standard facilitation scope
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