Fire in my belly

We are the solution 

Investing in Māori leadership

I have long believed about the importance of Māori with lived experience being part of the conversation.But being part of the conversation is not enough. We need investment in Māori with lived experience to lead the solutions. We are not the problem. We are the solution. What we have to say does not always sit comfortably for some people in the room, because the realities of our journeys through the system can be hard-hitting. Too often, our stories are taken, sanitised and inserted into someone else’s work. 

The fire in my belly

When I first began working in a Kaupapa Māori space, I was still learning my pepeha and reclaiming my cultural identity. We travelled to Te Tairāwhiti, where we were taken into the ngahere (forest) and told to find a tree and to hongi it . I had never been immersed in te ao Māori and I remember wondering why I was doing it. When I placed my nose against the tree, tears came. I began thinking about my nanny and remembered why I entered this sector.

I stand as the mokopuna of a nanny who never had a voice.  She died under the mental health Act and her sister died in Kingseat. Both were brought down from the north and detained in inpatient settings. I speak passionately for her, but also because I cannot allow the system to do to my children or mokopuna what it did to me.

Confronting what has not changed

When I ended up detained in an inpatient setting again in 2020, I looked around and saw that 97 per cent of the people there were also Māori or Pacific. Our boys were overmedicated, restrained and secluded. I had to ask myself what I had changed through years of speaking, pushing and agitating. That is the uncomfortable truth we must face. What are we actually doing that is making a difference?

I keep doing what I do because of my girls and the generations who will follow after us. I also keep going because people believed in me before I believed in myself. When I did not think I could stand again, people believed in me and nudged me forward.  I also do it because my nanny never had that opportunity to speak back to the system that had caused her harm. Our tūpuna envisaged more for us, and my mokopuna must be able to look back and know we continued their work. Those before us carried much of the fight, so that we could be aspirational. Their fight has to be for something.

Recovering what was taken

The system nearly broke me many times, but it did not because people stood beside me and believed me.

Colonisation interrupted what my nanny could pass on, our reo, our tikanga, our pūrākau. She was moved through halfway houses and medicated so heavily that she developed tardive dyskinesia. The system tried to redefine her, but through analysing my own notes and Kaupapa Māori research, I came to realise that she experienced the systemic harm that she did, because they could not medicate the Māoriness out of her.I  feel her with me when I speak. Even though I am nervous, I know that in speaking up and speaking out I am doing what she was never able to do.

I have also had to learn how to protect myself. When everything becomes overwhelming, I go into what I call “turtle mode” and shut out other stimulation. Medication has a place, but as one strategy in the toolbox, simply because we live in world that doesn’t understand our experiences and our intuitive ways of healing have been disrupted, and pathologised.I moved north to be closer to the Hokianga, so I can use the moana for cleansing and grounding and because it is where I feel closest to my nanny. 

Sharing power

My message is straightforward.

• Share the power
• Invest in Kaupapa Māori services, Kaupapa Māori-led initiatives and Māori with lived experience.
• Invest in the people who have lived the realities and know the solutions.

As a sector we need to be able to sit with discomfort and have the uncomfortable conversations, because that is where transformation begins.

When we acknowledge that everyone in the room has mana and commit to upholding it, we can disagree without treating the conversation as a personal attack. We can reshape processes, share power and work collaboratively in shaping a system is safe, healing and hopeful.

When our processes are grounded in te ao Māori, system change isn’t just possible, it is inevitable.