I grew up in a predominantly Pākehā town in the South Island. My mother is Pākehā. My father, who had Ngāti Kuia and Rangitāne whakapapa, was killed when I was seven. Mum juggled postal work while she raised me and my sister on her own — and in the school holidays, she’d ship me off to Nelson to reconnect with Dad’s side.
As the older child, it helped that I tried not to rock the boat.
It also helped that I knew how to get on at school. By the time I got to Marlborough Girls’ College, I understood the unspoken rules. Fail and you’re seen as just another Māori. Succeed and you’re just like everyone else.
I wanted to be like everyone else, so I did what I had to do to fit in with the mainstream at school.
For me, this meant not engaging with things Māori, and avoiding the places where large groups of Māori girls sat during break times because I didn’t want to be branded as a troublemaker.
This wasn’t a problem when I became a senior student — because all those girls had left school by then.
But there was another reason that I didn’t want to sit with that group of Māori girls: I was ashamed. I didn’t feel like I belonged, and I certainly didn’t feel like a “real” Māori.
Real Māori, I thought, were tough, got into trouble in class, had boyfriends, and did adult stuff in the weekend. I was a sellout.
Being Māori in a state-run institution means you’re often a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. You learn how to slide in neatly. Or else you don’t, and you become a “problem”.
Alternatively, you don’t slide in neatly, but you learn how to fit. And in doing so, you learn how to ignore or suppress the parts of yourself that don’t correspond with the institution — and maybe come to think that something about yourself isn’t quite right.
I’m a PhD student now — and before then, I was a secondary school English teacher for 11 years.
For the past five years, I’ve been studying institutional racism in the New Zealand secondary school system. And it saddens me that the inner turmoil I began experiencing as a student 25 years ago is still evident among Māori students today.
When I started teaching, I again saw how Māori students roll with the way the school system positions them, because they aren’t presented with any other choice.
I remember a conversation with a talented Māori student called Selina. We talked after a class discussion about making te reo Māori compulsory in New Zealand schools. Most of the students had recoiled at the idea. They’d argued that Māori wasn’t relevant to them personally, and it wasn’t spoken in other countries. They had their OE travels to think about, after all.
While this issue generated a lot of discussion among the Pākehā students, Selina and two other Māori girls at her table were quiet. Towards the end of one of my big spiels about biculturalism and notions of partnership, Selina yelled out: “It’ll never happen, Miss.”
Afterwards, when the rest of the class had gone, Selina spoke about how it felt to sit between cultures — and to feel torn. She told me that she didn’t fit the school’s perception about what it means to be Māori, so she’d resolved to think of herself as a Kiwi.
I’ve worked in low-decile schools with a large proportion of Māori students. There it was considered an achievement to get eight literacy credits for one year’s work. In Selina’s school — a well-heeled, co-ed secondary school in Wellington where Māori are a minority — the students were expected to get more than 20.
These kinds of teaching experiences are reflected in research which shows that state education gives special encouragement to the dominant culture in the New Zealand secondary school system and society.
Mainstream New Zealanders, however, rarely talk about the ongoing implications of colonisation and race. Many Pākehā would rather pretend that this issue doesn’t exist.
Stories about racial injustice in state institutions are no great surprise if you’re Māori, because you have stories of your own — although maybe you don’t think these stories are of any value.
In a society that doesn’t like talking about race and racism, this perception is unsurprising. In fact, these stories have great power because they speak of oppression and racial inequality.
For me, the most healing aspect of study has been learning to see myself within a network of power relations. I now understand that the deficiencies I saw in myself for not “acting as” or “being” a certain type of Māori come from the systems and structures that keep mainstream New Zealand functioning.
Understanding the structural implications of race is empowering. It opens up spaces in your everyday life to question how you’re positioned by society, and it can help you face your future as Māori with more certainty.
It’s a process that helps you see the contemporary structures of colonialism. But, like all power struggles, institutional racism is slippery. It’s always changing. Never defeated.
Recently, I was at an overseas conference about institutional racism and was surprised that, even in this forum, racially marginalised peoples were having the terms of their existence dictated by those who are racially privileged.
One of the main conference speakers thought that the best emotion to draw on was “hope”. This view was challenged by an indigenous scholar, whose own personal experiences of institutional racism pointed to the value of “anger”.
As they debated, it was clear that the presenter wouldn’t accept any critique gracefully. She chose instead to defend her non-indigenous stance against a lived indigenous perspective.
This exchange was a lightbulb moment for me. When will the dominant culture take the narratives of racially marginalised peoples seriously? How long do we continue to appeal, fruitlessly, to the white masses in the “hope” that this will result in meaningful change?
History suggests that those who are born into privilege struggle to see how society is structured to their advantage.
I want to hope, but the truth is that I am angry. This anger is fuelled by knowing that many Māori youth today continue to feel inadequate or displaced — or to feel as if something inside them is broken.
I take comfort that e-Tangata opens a space to speak of what it’s like to exist at the margins of mainstream society.
It gives me courage to speak back to institutional racism.
See also:
'Teachers contributing to Māori under-achievement', RNZ, 15 February, 2018
'Māori, Pasifika kids reveal racism in schools’, RNZ, 31 January, 2018
Racism in schools: 'We need to face up to that', RNZ, 31 January, 2018
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Yes the problem is that racism is alive and well in NZ, but thankfully not as prevalent as many supposed civilised countries, such as our closest neighbours. The hangover from English led colonialism is still being felt by Maori and it’s effects are not understood by many New Zealanders. My father was a hard working immigrant that did not hail from England or Scotland and therefore was regarded as a minority and even though he attempted to assimilate into NZ society, by becoming a part of the positive aspects of it, and was one to always stand up for anyone being mistreated, be they female or any culture he suffered the effects of racism. This racism is what killed him due to being forced into a dangerous situation at Tiwai Point due to racist taunts and threats. Prejudice and racism should not be tolerated in NZ. our differences and similarities should be celebrated for the better of the whole nation.
Kia ora and thank you for your post! Sometimes it is so hard to put our feelings into words when we aren’t taught what it is we feel when it comes to exclusion or being Maori in schools. In school I was able to succeed both in the “pakeha” side and the “maori” side of the system. However, I noticed (of course) the attitude that most students had to our Kapa Haka roopu, or the jokes they would make about our marae and the people who would spend lunch times there. You simply aren’t taught to be angry, so you laugh it off or go with it. No one tells you this is what you will face, or how to deal with it. Everyone is too busy pretending none of this exists. The more I’ve learnt about Maori after school, and specifically racism makes me mad and frustrated. Once we have knowledge and understanding about what happens to our people, we can work hard to put practices in place to teach people how to deal with it, and work with it. Nga mihi again for your korero!
A friend who was half-Maori in a school with a reasonably high number of Maori students had a high IQ (later assessed at over 120 by someone doing research) but was a bit rough round the edges but, I believe, had a genuine good heart for those that are down trodden. I recall how he told me his maths teacher would haul him out of the class & give him the strap whenever he`d point out that the answer he`d shown the students was wrong & then try to show him the correct answer. Of course, he shot out of school at the age of 14 & only ever did labour intensive work before dying at a relatively young age.
I am in a teaching course and it has linked to this article (EDU702 Creating a culture for learning). I am so glad your perspectives are being shared with other teachers.
Nga mihi
Race is irrelevant and should
Race is irrelevant and should always be irrelevant to a person’s ability and personality. We are all the same, inside and out. We are all the same species, but beautifully varied and interesting, with differences that are unique and amazing, however they are viewed. Be proud of who you are, your history, your present, and your future.
I wish race was irrelevant, but proved very untrue. I grew up as Pākehā without any contact with any Māori, I didnt know I was Māori, yet, my two brothers had blue eyes and blonde hair and were fair in complexion, I had chocolate eyes and brown skin. It only occurred to me, later in life, that my brothers and myself were treated far differently because I looked Māori, and they European, were treated much better, and shop assistants ghosting me when window shopping. I thought I was broken, but was actually just brown. I have now gained a degree in te reo Māori, and Māori and Indigenous Studies, in search of self, and have recently found my Māori family.
Hi Liana
Hi Liana
Thanks for sharing your experiences. Really insightful and I can definitely identify with them also. I never forget my 7th form history teacher on day 1 of class asking me “What are you doing here”, I said I was keen to learn more about Te Tiriti O Waitangi, then he said “No, what are you doing here..” then I clicked. What he was really asking was.. How did a Samoan kid make it past the 5th form when most Maori or Polynesian have dropped out by then and actually get to the 7th form? In my high school a large proportion of Maori and Poly students dropped out after 5th form, even more by the 6th.and by 7th, I was the only Poly with maybe 2 or 3 Maori. I answered him ” I want to be successful” then he nodded. I felt the dilemma as well.. I didn’t want to conform to the perceived “brownie” stereotype but I also didn’t want to roll with the majority because they didn’t reflect my cultural identity so you sort bounce between the two while trying to get by on your own merits. I was talking with a colleague recently about institutionalized racism and racial profiling. She asked me if it makes me angry. I said I used to be angry but having grown up with it you have a strengthened resolve. You learn to live with it and make adjustments. I dont have the energy to be always angry. Find opportunities to educate 🙂
Kia ora Liana. You have
Kia ora Liana. You have described exactly the bewilderment and pain I would see from girls who were struggling with the conflict created by the pakeha system at MGC. As a pakeha teacher there, I struggled with it at times too. Your words should help open the eyes of many in the teaching profession, to what is happening in their classes.
I hang out with my own
I hang out with my own ethnicity but some of them are South African and Scottish and they help me with my study and they don’t put me down or get me into trouble. My friends are a mixture of boys and girls but I don’t mind that.
Interesting artical , sad to
Interesting artical , sad to see that this is still happening. schools should set up programs to help kids be more interested in their learning. i have had friends and people that i know who’s friends drag them down. The artical was very informational. people shouldn’t be afraid to achieve their dreams.
Hello and thanks for sharing
Hello and thanks for sharing your life experiences with us: Liana Joy McDonald Parata.We can understand your pain that you have gone through and be willing to support your ideas.You have told us a lot by telling about your infinity and how you want to be unique and different toward others.
Although i can’t relate much
Although i can’t relate much to this article, I do say that this has really given me another perspective on the way cultures are looked upon and are treated.
Hello my fellow friends ,
Hello my fellow friends , good story from lynda Macdonald, A very different story that iv’e heard of. Firstly becuase not many people avoid there own culture. Usually its the othes with the same culture in them, that they hang out with.
Ps – Bayley Daniel
]
Ngā mihi nui ki a koe Liana.
Ngā mihi nui ki a koe Liana. Thank you for sharing. This rings true for me going through a mainstream education system. From 5 years old my name was Arrow Har and said without a blink of an eye. Every day my name got butchered, battered and bruised as if it was less important than the rubbish we picked up in the school ground. Right up until now at 47 and I introduce myself as Aroha and then the person says oh Arrow Har or how do you spell that. Never with an apology for their ignorance. And then there’s the time when I changed schools in the 5th form and I was put straight in to the NZ Maths class because I must have been dumb, and it wasn’t until term three (exam time) that they figured out I should have done School C maths so they put me in that class a month before exams. I sat sit my exams and I did pass – just. Imagine what I could have achieved if they taught me properly.
The potential of Māori rangatahi is limitless and if they were resourced enough we would be filling the surgeries, the court benches, the accounting chambers, the principals offices, the rugby training grounds, the marae paepae, the parliament seats. But that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to fill the meat works, the dole queues and the jails. A plan that that was kept to.
Imagine indeed. We need to
Imagine indeed. We need to do more imagining about what an equitable (bicultural) society should be, like you have done Aroha. We need to learn to demand more.
Kia ora Liana, my mum shared
Kia ora Liana, my mum shared this article with me as it not only relates to her own childhood but mine also. I am two years out of school and throughout my education (primary onwards) I was extremely shy, quiet and also ashamed that I didn’t feel connected to my whakapapa. As I grew up, I became more and more distant from not only my whakapapa but my extended whanau also. In my final year of high school I gained more general confidence and became far more interested in not only my own family lineage but New Zealand history as a whole (thanks to a couple of fantastic teachers). Instead of feeling like I could never further my basic knowledge of te reo, I realised how crucial it was to my identity and essential to continue what generations before me fought for – to revive Māori culture and language. Now I am going into my second year at VUW, majoring in Māori Studies and Anthropology. It has been a new struggle trying to integrate with my classmates and feel like I really belong, and has been quite an emotional and spiritual journey but very rewarding. Thanks for sharing your story and hope this helps other youth who feel they have lost their cultural identity, and also influence other teachers to identify this issue! Tēnā koe!
It is distressing to hear how
It is distressing to hear how little effort is put into saying your name correctly. I hope you learn to gently (but assertively) correct mispronunciations. Change will only happen when people are helped to understand that for most of us, our name is central to our identity and that it is really important that people take the effort to say it correctly. Of course people should be more sensitive but the key is in your hands. You can help change happen.
Kia Ora Liana,
Kia Ora Liana,
You just wrote everything to the letter about my schoool life. I always thought it was my fault, or I wasn’t good enough for either side, or I was being fake if I hung out with either of my mates. Damn, I think I still feel like that sometimes.
I do too. We’re talking deep
I do too. We’re talking deep, emotional pain here. You can’t shake that overnight.
Thank you for having the
Thank you for having the courage to share your story. It has opened my eyes to some things. While i dont fully understand what it is like for you i do know what it is to be a minority. I am white and born in nz but was told by nembers of my community that I am the minority and dont belong in this hood. It made me feel sad especially when I am so proud of our diverse culture home in nz.
Kia ora koe
Kia ora koe
Its never going to change while hate and selfishness exists. I wish all people can find their own way to a stronger and turer identity. Forget the system: waste of time. Raise up the people and let’s all do it by starting. with ourselves. We the Maori have much in what we can be proud while our pakeha or western friends, ignorant of their history in Aotearoa would rightly be shamed. Remembering that not all white people are guilty and not all Maori are innocent.So let us leave such things to a greater authority than ourselves. And lets just get on with it.
Maori father/ pakeha mother,
Maori father/ pakeha mother, born 1961, schooled in small Catholic schools until high school.
I am Nga Ruahine (Manaia, Taranaki). We left Hawera when I was 8 yrs old and moved to Auckland.
SO many stories – I could write a book about the things people have said and assumed about me, my race, who I identify with.
Comments like…
“But you don’t ACT like one of them!”
“But you’re not a REAL Maori!”
“You got accepted because they have a quota for Maori’s to train. “
I was brought up to work hard and not take handouts, “fit in”, not rock the boat.
There was never any encouragement from my parents to learn Te Reo, quite the opposite “take subjects that will get you somewhere”.
No kapahaka – “play sport, do speech and drama”.
In the 80s I attended a beginners class in Maori at Auckland University (the only Maori there other than the lecturer) and in the first tea break a Dutch woman strode across the room and said loudly “What waka?” I couldn’t answer her although I did want to ask her “Which airline?” I didn’t go back.
In my last year of high school (at Pukekohe High School) I was a prefect, president of our Interact club and involved in a lot of other activities.
One morning at the end of the whole school assembly, all of the Maori students were asked to remain in the hall. Two young boys were paraded in to the stage by a senior staff member and asked to apologise to us all for some misdemeanour and “because they have brought disgrace to your race”. Can’t remember a time when such a situation happened for the pakehas. What I do remember is acute embarrassment and indignation which has surfaced easily through my life and on behalf of any person and injustice.
Ask any Maori, especially those of us used to being asked whether we’re half or quarter caste. We have our stories which may seem unbelievable but we carry them our whole lives regardless of our age, careers and achievements.
We could write the same book,
We could write the same book, honestly! We’ve been fed a script of “no you can’t”, “get into line” for so long that it becomes normal but you don’t forget. Thanks for sharing Toni
Very interesting! and also
Very interesting! and also something I struggled with at School because I was never like all the other Maori girls. Growing up in Australia meant I was even more disconnected from my Maori roots. Moving back to NZ and high school was absolutely rubbish because I wanted so bad to learn and to know about my culture and to fill that empty void. I joined the kapa haka in Form 3, tried to pick up Te Reo but dropped out in Form 4 because the girls were honestly a bit scary! Now i’m strong enough to know I am Maori and I am proud.
I hope that you will publish
I hope that you will publish your research in book form so that a wide readership can benefit from your insights and improve life for Maori people (and by extension for other indigenous people)
As a whaea I can tell you why
As a whaea I can tell you why te reo died out. When my grand parents/mother went to school, they were strapped for speaking maori by the pakeha teachers and so many of our parents refused to teach us as they did not want us to be punished. Eventually te reo was introduced back into the schools etc BUT..it is still being controlled by the pakeha educators. Also has no one noticed that the legend of Maui is no longer taught in schools.
Well, this cut close to the
Well, this cut close to the bone.
Moving around a lot in my youth meant I got used not to setting down roots and keeping relationships “free-flowing”. This meant many times it was difficult to build bridges with Tangata Whenua as I was not “from there”. So I would be friends primarily with Pakeha which of course would increase isolation. The few Maori friends I did have (bonded through a mutual love of debate, discussion and nerdoms) were considered “trouble-makers” by teachers and at worst “undesirables” by staff. Academic achievements, meant I was even further seen as the “other” by Maori students. I was seen as a “good boy”, part of the system and generally “untrustworthy”. This of course notwithstanding being a different Iwi (Tuhoe dialect vs Waikato)and also being half Samoan. So among Pakeha, I got the “one of the good ones” and from Maori I got “one of them”.
Such is the attraction of remaining quiet and unobtrusive…and not doing anything to “rock the boat”.
But this approach is detrimental.
But I hold that Te Reo Maori should be at least offered and at the most compulsory in schools, for the benefit of the “quiet” kids. A language is the window to a culture and is the bedrock upon which we carve our identities. To devalue Te Reo yourself or via institutions, is to shame or devalue the self. This has been too successful. This has to stop.
Too easy is it, for our children to disappear into the woodwork and follow the stereotypes and expectations.
Too easy is it for our children to look at other cultures and state that “Maori ain’t cool”
Too easy is it for our children, because of a shaky identity to cherry pick those things that “best demonstrate being Maori” (Jake da muss identity vs Uncle Eddy the Ringawera vs Kelvin the haka expert)
Too easy is it for our children to be dictated to, that to be Kiwi is better than Maori.
To shore up our Maori language, culture and identity is to shore up ourselves, Far from dividing it would enhance and unite…what it is not only to be Maori…but a New Zealander.
Yes Grant, we need to say
Yes Grant, we need to say enough is enough now – your kōrero is inspirational. Kia ora
Kia ora Grant and Liana: tautoko.
Thank you for the awesome words and these comments; we have to do better — this is Aotearoa. Nga mihi mahana
Awesome read. It reflects
Awesome read. It reflects alot of cultures and the way they feel in this circumstance. Growing up I went to a college where majority was maori/pacific islander i was stood down and sent to a private college. I then started to learn because there was only a handful of maori. Its a sad truth that yes i fitted in but had to go private to get a real education. With my own children I sent them to different schools to see how they would succeed. One multiple cultures. One English only. The last full immersion te reo. All my children are amazing no matter what. My youngest being in a Maori world seems to have that racist trade towards the Pakeha language. My middle child has the same trade as the Pakeha world and has nothing to do with the Maori World.Then my eldest it doesn’t faze him at all.So its the same more or less just reverse role play. I honestly wouldn’t change any of there lives. So it all boils down to the School and how its run.
Enlightening read. What then
Enlightening read. What then specifically would you want to see in schools, both primary and secondary? I’ve noticed that in my small Otago school we appear to have either very bright Maori students or not. No average learners…I’ve often wondered about this and after reading the comments here I’m beginning to understand perhaps why. I’d love to know what you think is important to have happening every day, in class rooms, school wide etc. Thanks
Hi Belinda,
Hi Belinda,
My study tries to get to the heart of the questions you raise. In a nutshell, our society needs to get real about the historical violence of colonisation and how this impacts on schooling today. State secondary schools try to silence race and racism in schools and as a result teachers don’t fully ‘see’ how racial inequalities play out in everyday classrooms. Here is a link to a reading that discusses this idea more fully: https://www.taylorfrancis.com/books/e/9781351701327/chapters/10.4324%2F9781315173603-17
I do believe that Te rero
I do believe that Te reo should be more widely spoken in schools. Especially since so many people don’t even know the language. Though the ministry should also do the same thing with sign language. Since English, Te reo and sign language are New Zealand’s 3 official languages. With only English being the most common language. Te reo is an awesome language it also brings with it a lot of the culture of Maori with it. I loved learning about the myths and legends in school. As well as participating in Marae visits and welcoming ceremonies. I loved learning about a rich culture that is a big part of who we are as a country. I come from a mainly Scottish and English background. I still embrace the Maori culture because I’m a kiwi. I also find it interesting to learn about it. Especially since I grew up in a city with only a small number of Maori. I have a Mahi and a pounamu. I learnt how to weave flax, did soap cravings, learnt how to use a poi, did kapa haka. I love the culture and it should be shared a lot more in schools. Especially in the South island. I was lucky enough to have a Maori teacher and a Maori principal. So in primary school I got to learn a lot more than I would’ve had I not been so lucky. My highschool wasn’t very good at making the students feel like they belonged. My course however taught me even more about the Maori culture. As well as the Te reo language.
This story redreshingly
This story refreshingly retells how I felt being Maori as a young Form3 student at Pakuranga College 1986. Sadly 30 years later my daughter can tell the same story as a Year9 student at Mt Roskill Grammar 2016.
Neither of us were told we were different/less/Maori yet for us both, seperated by many years, we understood the silent “rules” that divide us. And like, in this article, is felt from both worlds, whereas my daughter now has her beautiful Samoan, not by choice, dissociation to examine too.
Ironically as the Census approaches, I clearly remember participating in the 1986 Census. First term in Form 3 (Yr9) at 12 years of age fully aware of the then labels, stereotypes, societal expectations, boundries, I affirmed the shame I’m Maori. I ticked the ‘other’ box and wrote Kiwi. I denied who I was believing it would feel better, not only for myself but for society too, it didn’t help me, unsure if it helped anybody else either.
Living in the UK my ethnic anonimity was freeing. Known only as a Kiwi or antipodean was liberating. Regardless of my colour, my past, my address, I was no different than any one of my fellow countrymen and I felt emancipated from how the fears of the labels and society left me feeling censored.
Marrying my husband and starting an ethnically infused family, returning home in 2003 frought great concern for the restrictions and compliances New Zealand society will place on them. I vowed their story would be different.
In 2016 my now 12 year old daughter beginning Y9 would come home and cry to me sharing the same shame and embarrassment I felt at her age. The same unspoken ‘rules’ of shame I endorsed in the 1986 Census. But for her it will be different.
So we speak of difference and how influence can affect her walk in this country. Building her awareness of how to identify what is important and special about her, for all of us. Encouraging her appreciation for difference and how growing confidence for her to affect positive influence whilst simultaneously avoiding, yet learning from, a society that places labels on people is the reality. Helping her understand the implications of not being true to your path and what that means for us all.
Our family is learning how to combine our experiences to provide our children with insight so they feel confident finding their way to who they want to be, regardless of what society expects of them. I am proud my daughter feels safe to express her feelings and expect something different not only for herself but her fellow Maori/Pacifica students she sees unconsciously fufilling the expectations placed upon them. We are the change we want to see in our children. She will be the change not only for herself, but for her family. She will join the academic movement so absent and removed in her whanau, and she clearly understands the responsibility she has been given to exemplify what is possible.
Now as time and attitudes move forward, now when anger can be redirected in affirmative action, if they feel any shame from situations where it is apparent people have applied the silent ‘rules’, I say to my children who will not be defined by ignorance nor arrogance and instead take the next step and breath knowing change is now….
“What they say and do says more about them than it does about you.”
So catch up people!!!! And for those interested the boxes they tick:
– Maori
– Samoan
– European
– Chinese
– Other – Kiwi
You raise so many important
You raise so many important issues about racism, thanks Melina. Like you, I hope that my child is in a better place to combat the oppression that we experienced. Thank you.
pleased to have found this
pleased to have found this forum. that could assist our young people today.
especially my young mokopuna. who is yet to go to high school
I found this an extremely
I found this an extremely interesting read in 2 ways.
Firstly as a ‘pakeha’ I grew up in a town where at the time, Te Reo was compulsory in Year 9. I did it without complaint and enjoyed learning about the culture. When I was at primary school I was one of the only ‘white’ who was in the Kapa Haka group. A lot of my family is Maori as many of my relatives have married, so culture for me is important. I would like to think that we could all one day see ourselves as ‘kiwis’ and that race, religion, culture is just part in our El of what makes us one.
However, I now live in Malaysia and like you have mentioned there still is racism, especially that of ‘white’ being at the top. Here it is even more so. As a white here, I can get pretty much anything I want. Fortunately growing up in NZ my parents and the culture I grew up with was to respect everyone and to ‘treat others as you’d want to be treated’.
Will NZ eventually get to a place where racism doesn’t exist, where we are all one and seen as equals… I hope so.
I hope so too MJ. Your
I hope so too MJ. Your involvement in kapa haka and te reo as a Pākehā is awesome, kia ora
I can see myself in there too
I can see myself in there too… Anyway I think Maori should just move on and move up-get out in the World, travel, broaden the mind and see yourself/treat yourself as a member of the human race not as a person who has been disadvantaged. Of course be proud of your ethnic heritage and take it with you where-ever you go but also don’t let it hold you back.
Ae Olive. I only wish that
Ae Olive. I only wish that schools did not play a part in holding Māori back from having the self-belief that that is possible. Kia ora.
Enjoyed reading this Liana.
Enjoyed reading this Liana. Agree that this still happens and not just in NZ. I was born in Blenheim and went to Wairau Pa school but didn’t have trouble there then went away to Church College, where there was no racism as well. My younger sisters went to a public school in Blenheim and got treated badly with racism even by cousins, who didn’t know that they were related. Comments like, ‘Go back to the Pa school you black so and so’s.’ Comments they still remember and it still hurts today. Sorry to say but Blenheim is still a rascist town.
I remember biking across the
I remember biking across the Taylor River bridge and kids calling me a Ni**er. Maybe that sort of overt racism doesn’t happen to our kids so much but I believe that more insidious structural racism permeates our Blenheim schools. Kia ora Joy.
I believe that about the
I believe that about the insiduous structural rascism in schools in Blenheim but also happening in businesses there as well, as we have experienced it in the last couple of years. Some businesses there stick together and seem to be in each others ‘pockets’ and it’s so wrong for knowing how our people are still being treated like that, a shame.
Kia Ora to you Liana
Joy McDonald Parata
A great read but sad to read
A great read but sad to read not much has changed
No, I don’t believe that much
No, I don’t believe that much has changed either Ailene
good one Liana. Coming from
good one Liana. Coming from my very white background and attending largely white dominanted schools this institutionalalised racism is something i was blind to for a very long time. I’m always interested in hearing stories and opportunities to learn.
Thanks so much for your hard wortd over the last few decades. Keep fighting, keep learning, keep loving.
Kia ora Hohepa
Kia ora Hohepa
Kia Orana, Thank you for
Kia Orana, Thank you for sharing your experiences which has triggered memories of the struggles as a Cook Island/Papa’a (pakeha) trying to fit in at High School. I remember at Rutherford High School, in the 70’s, questioning my identity as to whether I hang out with my maori friends, or pakeha friends. In the end, my friends chose me who were connected to the same subjects that I was interested in – poetry, art, performing arts, creative writing: mainly pakeha.
I might have been considered a bit unusual as I stepped outside – what might have been considered normal – when I put my hand up to be one of the first secondary girls in New Zealand to take Metalwork instead of sewing/cooking as a technology subject. Rutherford was the pioneer school to trial girls/boys breaking the stereotyped sexist mold. But it reinforced how I didn’t fit the mold. I grew up in Te Atatu North, now known as Te Atatu Peninsula, in an all girl family. Not knowing about gender discrimination, until Intermediate/ High school. We were brought up to do everything. Take out the rubbish. Mow the lawns. Cook.
So, to encounter gender inequality in the education system was where I first learned discrimination. All my life, my identity has been an issue as to where I fit in.
Even in a small town, I am constantly asked if I come from the East Coast (they think I am maori) as I have green eyes and tan up to the colour of kentucky fried chicken.
I am proud to identify as Cook Island, but constantly get the sideway glance of “what are you” from both pakeha and maori.
Thanks for highlighting institutional racism. The sooner we acknowledge its existence the better we can establish a marker to move forward in identifying issues of anger & trauma that have held back many students. Back then, I thought university was only for the wealthy pakeha. Well, thats another issue.
Thank you for sharing your
Thank you for sharing your experiences of what it is like to live at the margins of society, Mareta. I think this can teach resilience and give you the strength to move across socially constructed borders, kia ora.
Hey Liana, that was an
Hey Liana, that was an awesome read. I always saw you as one of the brainy good maoris that always stayed out of trouble 🙂 I looked up to you for that.
I hated college as I never knew where I fitted. I wasn’t allowed to take te reo classes as Dad didn’t think it would help me with my career when I was older but i was allowed to do kapahaka. I thought that was odd but didn’t fight it.
Man…if only I knew then what I know now.
I have my own business these days and as a maori I struggled initially. When i first started I tried really hard to make sure I was not branded as one of “those” maoris who rip people off, so undersold myself a whole lot. I have grown a lot since then and through talking to others and listening to speakers like Hana O’Regan I stopped putting so much pressure on myself. I am a person first and foremost no matter what colour, sex or blood I have/am. I should be treated equally and fairly like anyone else and I will stand back and watch until I know I have all the correct information to stand my ground and then I will make my case and even if I am not right still feel proud for saying what I beleive in.
I am teaching in schools a bit and I see the segregation still with the maori and islanders. It saddens me. I always try and encourage them to speak or talk to them one on one when in class and after reading this will continue to do so.
Thank you for raising the topic. I am sure I will be talking about this with my whanau and friends and more will come out.
Best wishes x
Thank you Deedee, the
Thank you Deedee, the segregation is real between maori and islanders in High School. That was my experience. Even my island father withdrew me from kapa haka. He said, why learn another culture when you don’t know your own?
Wow, great to hear from you
Wow, great to hear from you Deedee! I love your comment “if only I knew then what I know now”, the things I would say to myself too. Like me, it sounds like you’ve grown stronger in your understanding of racism and how you will not let it define you. Nga mihi wahine toa x
I rangona te wairua o tēnei
I rangona te wairua o tēnei rerenga “Fail and you’re seen as just another Māori. Succeed and you’re just like everyone else.”
I felt this all my life and
I felt this all my life and you have put words to it. Thank you. I was one of those Maoris always in trouble. The pakeha world was so different to my home life. When I moved to Australia and started working I was offered an opportunity to go back to school at a tafe. I passed with 99%. I started to think differently ‘maybe I’m not so dumb after all’ This lead to much more learning and gaining of confidence to stand up for myself. I am now a professional in the IT industry managing projects and teaching systems and still learning. Here in Australia I am a ‘person’ first. I have always been proud of my culture and my heritage, something I learned from my grandmother who was canned at school for speaking Maori. As a result did not pass on the language to her children and grandchildren. I have Lots of sadness for this loss.
Way to “speak back” to
Way to “speak back” to oppression and racism with your success Tarmi. I am sorry for the loss your whānau has experienced too.
Kia ora Liana thank you.
Kia ora Liana thank you.
As if growing up and surviving school isn’t hard enough without having to navigate a whole other maze of cultural identity and feck knows what else. There is a union adage that I constantly remind my self of, ‘anger, hope, action. Hope without anger and action is compliance. I don’t know if you’ve seen Stan Grants speech on Aborginal identity and the Australian dream. What moves me about his speech is not only what he says but the power in how he says it, I hear anger and hope in his action.
http://mobile.abc.net.au/news/2016-01-24/stan-grants-racism-is-killing-the-australia-dream-speech-viral/7110506?pfmredir=sm
No my favourite Uncle in the
No my favourite Uncle in the motu but I will definitely check it out! Thanks and love you heaps x
I am aged 72 this was a
I am aged 72 this was a common theme when I grew up .Sad to see nothing has changed.
Sad alright Richard. Thanks
Sad alright Richard. Thanks for your feedback
KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK.
KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK.
Thanks for sharing. I was
Thanks for sharing. I was recently shocked by one of my girlfriends, when visiting her in Raes Junction when she said. “I have no regrets moving down here from Auckland, I can even fill up with petrol without having to pay first” I was shocked. I have never experienced having to pay first. Probably as I’m white and middle classed. Ashamed!
I’m a white middle class male
I’m a white middle class male and I have often had to pay before filling up with petrol in Auckland. However, while recognising that some Maori have experienced this, saying that paying before filling is increasingly a standard practise in a number of petrol stations to stop drive-offs will mean I will be accused of racism.
I’m thinking Becs comment was
I’m thinking Becs comment was an attempt to illustrate a bigger issue than just paying at the pump? But we hear what we wanna hear with stories of racism, don’t we.
Be respectful in your
Be respectful in your comments, and your opinion of other readers’ viewpoints.
Liana, what a great piece to
Liana, what a great piece to read! I think we may be whānau, I whakapapa to Ngati Kuia and Rangitane through my grandparents (Walker/Smith) grew up in Blenheim and went to MGC! Agree with your perspectives, I struggled in 3-4th form with being suspended, missing school etc, but ended up digging deep, trying much harder academically and ended up being appointed Māori Prefect in 2005! Throughout that whole time, I remained in the Māori form class and in Kapa haka because I knew without that I would loose all connection to who I am as Maori… in saying that, it sure wasn’t easy!
Kia ora Selah, yes we are
Kia ora Selah, yes we are definitely related! Awesome that you came back from those difficult junior college years. Way to stay strong against the white current.
Manuia fafetai lava
Manuia fafetai lava
Thank you for sharing your experience.
I lived it too and recently shared in a public forum how I was assimilated into being Maori because my skin was brown and I had similar physical characteristics, however I am Samoan with no direct Maori whakapapa. This contributed to the guilt and shame I lived with about being non palagi and outside of the criteria to be accepted into the dominant culture . Assimilation into Maori culture was better than being a “Coconut” though, Maori kids at that time didn’t question my credentials and the palagi system had decided for me who and what I was going to be by their labeling- they changed my surname and it made Maori and then proceeded to treated me as such.
Thank God I can safely say that I am fully conscious of this and have been able to let go some what. Howeveras I write this I feel flickers of anger because it is an injustice and it cost me an education.
Soifua
Yup, it feels really shit
Yup, it feels really shit when you can see how you’ve been duped or how unfair the system is. But I suppose we are stronger for it. Thanks Jane.
Thank you for reminding me to
Thank you for reminding me to be on alert for (too many) students in my classes who remain silent. I am the most vocal person in the room (I try not to be but I have always talked a lot) and I’ve thought that by reminding the students about the important things, it may help move the mindset. But, sadly, your examples show what the kids (esp Māori and PI kids) really think and feel – MY blabbering doesn’t make them feel confident there will be a change. It takes a brave teenager to stand out. Because schools are a machine designed to make everyone conform, no wonder our students who are ‘different to white, middle-class, heterosexual’ majority feel unable to control the narrative.
Like you, so glad e-Tangata provides a platform for this kōrero. You, I, may only be ‘one’ but if we each keep being mindful of what’s going on in our classrooms and questioning ourselves but most of all allowing space for our students to speak, then maybe, maybe, we will give them some of our courage to stand proud of who they are. He tumanako tōku anyway.
I think that the approach you
I think that the approach you offer is miles ahead of what is currently happening in schools. Even ‘seeing’ race and thinking that it is an issue for our kids is a milestone. Kia kaha Tania
I related to this article so
I related to this article so well. My 22 year old daughters last year at high school challenged her immensely and further marginalised her. An academic girl had not chosen to pursue her māori heritage in subjects such as te reo or kapahaka, was offered the manu Taki perfect badge in her senior year- (the other contender had been cast aside due to bullying) she clearly articulated how by being chosen for this badge she was dishonouring her tipuna due to not doing the mahi to deserve the honour – but the management of the school chose her anyway. It devastated her, not to be heard. She too had felt torn in her identity. The following year at uni she found her group when she began her bachelor of bio-medical science and joined the mapas co-hort at Auckland University. With 4 years in the medical program under her belt, she has taken this year off to learn te reo, as her end goal is to be able to deliver gp consultations in te reo.
Love the te reo language. I
Love the te reo language. I wish her all the best in her journey of learning it this year.
Kia ora Raewyn and Tracey, I
Kia ora Raewyn and Tracey, I am about to embark on (another) reo course through TWoRaukawa. Gotta keep trying no matter how long in tooth I get. Thanks for your feedback.
What an awesome thing she is doing to contribute to our culture! Ka mau te wehi x