Issue 17 - Wan Solwara by Salient

EDITORIAL

CENTREFOLD

INDIGINIUS

THE HOUSE THAT JOHN BROUGHT

PSC

HULA LE'A WALE

KAIFIJI

THROUGH BLOOD, BY BLOOD

TE NAMO TE LUMANAKI

IN THE MANNER

VUSSA

THE FUTURE OF WORK

AUDIT

UNCOMFORTABLE PLACES: SKIN

E REO KAPIKI–A CALLING VOICE

WITHOUT THE OCEAN, WHAT ARE WE?

SAFE

ADVICE FROM MY DAD

BLINDED

FASHION

FERRY

FOOD

RECLAIMING STYLE

FILM

THE NUCLEAR PACIFIC

MUSIC

GRANDMA'S PANIPOPOS

FREE WEST PAPUA

Editor Kii Small editor@salient.org.nz

Advertising Josephine Dawson advertising@vuwsa.org.nz

Designer & Illustrator Rachel Salazar designer@salient.org.nz

FM Station Managers Jazz Kane Navneeth Nair

Guest Illustrator Havea Latu Georgia Tarāni Paige Gifford

TV Producers Monique Thorp Joseph Coughlan

Sub Editor Janne Song subeditor@salient.org.nz

Feature Writers Briar Misa Turnbull Gabrielle Po Ching Helena Fuluifaga Chan Foung Georgia Tarāni Gifford J Avia

Social Media Callum Turnbull socialmedia@salient.org.nz Cover Photography Yoon Hong @yoon.mp3

Centrefold Havea Latu latuhave@myvuw.ac.nz

Guest Editors Briar Jane Tapu Misa Turnbull Aldrina Mary Pinofoa Polataivao Feo Lefaataualofa Naomi Totua Sulani Liua Vaopunimatagi Lauagaia Helg Georgia Tarāni Paige Gifford Contributors Ashleigh Feu'u, Rebecca Matijevic, Litara Allan, Jaistone Finau, VUSSA, PSC, KaiFIJI, Te Namo, Hililo Petelo Malesiale Savelio, Jesse Blue Moafanua, Luisa-Tafu Leiataua Tauri-Tei, Paula Makisi, Justine Taito-Matamua, Lafaele Mapusua, Emalani Case, Lefaataualofa Naomi Totua, Helena Fuluifaga Chan Foung, Gabrielle Po Ching, Anntonina Mataia, J Avia

A CHAMPION FOR OUR PEOPLE “We sweat and cry salt water so that we know the ocean is really in our blood.” - Teresia Teaiwa We dedicate this issue to our fiery canoe, the late Dr Teresia Teaiwa. A champion for our peoples. Wan Solwara—the name of this edition is pidgin for ‘one salt water’, meaning one ocean. This was a message shared by Teresia in reference to the Pacific ocean that provides a foodsource, a home, a space and a common heritage to all of our Pacific people. In 2016, the editors of Salient came to Laura Toailoa— then secretary of PSC and budding writer—asking if Pacific students would like a weekly column in Salient. This year, Victoria University’s Pacific community have been blessed to have our very own edition. Five brown, bold, and beautiful women have been brought together by a Mana Wahine from Tokoroa to create a collaborative body of art that represents us all— people of the ocean. Often, our identities are written and politicised for us. In this edition, we represent and speak for ourselves and our people. We, as indigenous writers, have an inherent commitment and a right to share the stories of our ancestors—to speak for our land, and express our cultures. This edition is resistance. It is reclamation. It is shared pain, but it is shared healing too. To be able to have this platform to pour our stories, our experiences, our thoughts and opinions into this magazine has been a privilege.

shown vulnerability, creativity, pawa, and beauty in your work and we could not be more grateful for your contribution. As the editors of Wan Solwara, we are the products of Pacific and Māori bloodlines that have extended in the land of Aotearoa. We are children of the migration who have crossed oceans in search of opportunity and prosperous futures to reach our full potential. Our full potential sees us addressing the problems our people face at present, utilising the knowledge we have gained in union with our precious indigenous ways. This edition is a demonstration of the potential of the Pacific student voice. This is the foundation for the voices of future Pacific students at Victoria University. We are storytellers. Our voices bend through the waters of our ancestors. Our stories bind us together as Micronesians, Melanesians, and Polynesians. Wan Solwara is a haven for different voices, of different ancestral backgrounds and heritages. We hope that each and every voice offered in words in this edition are proffering life to a fearless generation of storytellers. We hope this edition continues annually. We hope the stories of our Pacific people will continue to be shared. This is simply a stepping stone to creating more decolonised spaces on campus for Pacific people. In the words of our fiery canoe and our compass in the making of this edition: “You can’t paint the Pacific with just one brush stroke." - Teresia Teaiwa.

We would like to sincerely thank each and every person who has played their part in weaving this together. You have incorporated so much of your own voice, heart, passion, and soul into this edition. We would like to reiterate that your voice IS important. Thank you for being a part of the first ever PACIFICled, PACIFIC-centred edition of Salient. You have

Briar Jane Tapu Misa Turnbull, Aldrina Mary Pinofoa Polataivao Feo, Lefaataualofa Naomi Totua, Sulani Liua Helg & Georgia Tarāni Paige Gifford

ISSUE 17

SALIENT

IndigiNius. MONDAY , 5 AUGUST 2019

The way in which we will cover this news will not be impartial, just as the narratives that the mainstream media use to portray indigenous people are not impartial. We have chosen to cover stories that affect us directly and personally as indigenous peoples. Being impartial would require us to separate ourselves from these issuesâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;that is simply not possible when it is our own people suffering.

ISSUE 17

SALIENT

Akamai REBECCA MATIJEVIC Akamai is an opportunity for PASI 101 students to express their findings from Pacific Studies and their own personal Pacific heritage learnings in ever-growing creative outlets. From dances, speeches, spoken word, art and song—the scope is unlimited; a vessel for students to take the reins of their own self-development within Pacific Studies. In doing so, they are able to explore their personal implications from the course and with that they can take what they have learned and apply it to the type of person they want to be. At the end of Trimester 1, there is an AKAMAI XIX evening where all the work is showcased through performance and

display. People can come to encourage their peers, loved ones, and classmates, and listen to what influenced their culture and identity findings in the course, whether it be personal or subjective. Being of Pacific descent, I chose to express how Pacific Studies gave me refuge to appreciate my cultural identity and the importance of recognition and representation. Therefore I chose to do an art piece, a series of portraits I drew of Pacific people in my life that have also contributed to these emotional and strong feelings. Akamai is an attractive learning style, as students can show their strengths within their education and show independence of authority as well as initiative.

That's Us Then Exhibition LITARA ALLAN

someone else’s space. Does response evoke reciprocity? How do we remain true to ourselves yet respectful of others’ truths? Who are the Tangata Whenua of this operating space? Do we have a right to claim family ties with our Ranui Aukilagi counterparts, if we ourselves reside in Wellington? As each group and artist responded individually, we believe a unified response was also achieved. That’s Us Then was a statement that emphasises the saying of—“this is us” in the photographs, and therefore we want to see more of us in similar spaces.

That’s Us Then took place on July 12 at the Adam Art Gallery here on campus. The night was an exploration of responses to Edith Amituanai’s Double Take (curated by Ane Tonga), from students and young adults from across the Wellington region. Building off the idea that Edith is reflecting “us” in our everyday realities, a huge part of the discussion and planning of the event was to determine what the term ‘response’ meant, and what responding looked like within the context of creating within

Heilala Drama ALDRINA MARY PINOFOA POLATAIVAO FEO

The ‘shock factor’ of this year’s Miss Heilala Pageant has left the people of Tonga starved of their classic saying that they are “friendly” people of the Pacific Islands. The Heilala pageant stage echoed the notion that those in attendance of the prestigious pageant were far from friendly. Kalo Funganitao stood on that very stage to have her final say on the injustices she experienced throughout her reign. The Auckland Law student presented her final address as Miss Heilala 2018–2019 on a physical platform not

as just a “ta’ahine fo’ilole”–pretty girl. Being “fo’ilole” (pretty) only gets you so far. Funganitao’s speech reflected that being “fo’ilole” does not address the problems faced by women of Tonga on a day-to-day basis. Being “fo’ilole” alone does not yield prosperous futures. For a pageant that is aimed to elevate the position of women in Tonga, this year’s event only shed light on the politics and manipulation of those working behind the scenes.

IndigiNius.

Mauna Kea SULANI LIUA HELG For years, Kanaka Māoli (Indigenous people of Hawai’i) have been protecting the sacred mountain Mauna Kea from desecration by Western science and the University of Hawai'i.

It begs the question, why must the development of Western science come at the expense of indigenous land? Hawai’i is illegally occupied. It rightfully belongs to the Kanaka Māoli

The University of Hawai’i seeks to build ‘the world’s largest’ Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) on top of this sacred space.

For this reason, we must stand with Mauna Kea and Kanaka Māoli through the following actions:

This has been legally contested in court. It was announced on July 15 that the road to the mauna would be closed to allow for construction to begin.

•

Sign the online petition that demands immediate halt to the TMT telescope

•

Make a donation to Mauna Kea Legal Defense Fund or the Mauna Kea Education and Awareness Fund

•

Use your platform on social media and in your communities to amplify the voices of our aloha aina who are at the frontlines of Mauna Kea.

•

Help a buddy out if they thought the Mauna Kea symbol you were holding up was the Illuminati sign. Not everyone is aware of what is happening in Mauna Kea, so encourage them to inform themselves. #EDUCATEtoLIBERATE

•

Visit Pacific Studies Lecturer/Activist/Author Emalani Case’s blog He Wahi Pa’akai: A Package of Salt for 30 ways to stand for Mauna Kea when you cannot physically stand on Mauna Kea (one way for every metre of the TMT thirty metre telescope).

Hundreds of peaceful protectors were drawn to the site, where the mauna is revered and considered kapu. Western media may lead you to believe the group on the mauna are protestors. The group on the mauna are not protestors. They are peaceful protectors. The land is innately connected to the Indigenous people of Hawai’i. Hawaiian history depicts Mauna Kea as a gateway to the heavens. The telescope is proposed to be built into the mountain and poses a threat to the water aquifer that exists directly under the mountain, as it may contaminate the aquifer with poisonous chemicals used in construction.

Photograph provided by: Caleb Jones

ISSUE 17

SALIENT

350 Pacific Zero Carbon Submission SULANI LIUA HELG “UN Report Says Indigenous Sovereignty Could Save the Planet.” - United Nothing But indigenous people have known this for centuries. We are the stewards, protectors, and healers of our sacred Papatūānuku; it’s in our blood. Yet, the heartbreaking reality is that humankind has taken too much from Papatūānuku, leaving her with destroyed ecosystems, sinking islands, and Ranginui’s tears, flooding our lands. On July 16, 350 Pacific made a formal submission to the Zero Carbon Bill Select Committee which was led by the Pacific Climate Warriors from our Wellington region. Although the Bill received significant support, solidarity and support could only do so much, and it did not gain a more successful outcome. What was central to the submission was the need for the Bill to be more ambitious because, yes, it is good, but not good enough

to have an effective impact that encompasses longevity and sustainability. This is why we are amplifying the voices of our people, who are on the frontlines of the climate crisis. 350 Pacific’s climate change kaupapa encapsulates the importance of occupying these climate spaces. Because for our people back home—climate change is a matter of survival. Papatūānuku will not find peace if there is no climate justice. For this reason, we must demand urgent and meaningful climate action from our government. You woud think that the ‘Climate Change Emergency’ declarations would result in an ‘Emergency Climate Change Policy’ response. But where it at tho? Want to read the submission? Search for ‘350 Pacific, Pacific Climate Warriors’ on https://www.parliament.nz

Photograph provided by: Pacific Climate Warriors Wellington

IndigiNius.

Opinion. MONDAY , 5 AUGUST 2019

Brown Body Elections JAISTONE FINAU There is a common myth that you can just “engage” with young people and get them to engage in local body politics. But who is local government trying to engage? I know it’s not me, or people like me. How am I supposed to see an orange stick man and be inspired to go and participate in democracy, when he's as irrelevant as Boom Bullet?

if you saw people that looked, sounded, and acted like you making decisions on your behalf which reflect your values and upbringing? We need to support and vote in more Pasifika people. There needs to be more visibility of Pasifika people who respond to Pasifika issues. FUTURE - Young Pasifika people need to think about their future. Or if not their own, thinking about the little siblings we think of as our own children, or our nieces and nephews that will grow up in the cities we vote in. Our councillors decide on our parks, our events, and the longterm plan for the city. We need to get involved with the planning processes and structures to actually make change in our cities. We need to prioritise plans that focus on our young Pasifika people thriving, and on the environmental challenges our cities face. For example, let’s focus on cleaning up dirty harbours and looking after cities where under 24s make up 40% of the population. Let’s not focus on new private developments and gentrification of Pasifika-dense communities.

Just putting it out there, the local government is not good at engaging young people in politics, let alone young, Pasifika people. Local government pretending to engage with young Pasifika people is like the youngest sibling needing to go to the toilet when it's time to do the dishes after to’ona’i. But I’m going to point out why we all need to engage: RATES! - If not relevant to us, it is to our parents, who have homes in the council area. Rates are basically more bills that run the city you live in. If rates are low, that's more money your parents get back to buy new clothes for ‘Lotu tamaiti’ or ‘Fakame’ (White Sunday). If not, then it’s toasties for dinner and some of us know that struggle. We will all be ratepayers one day, but for now, let's make it easier for our parents by committing to councillors who will commit to looking after our parents’ bread and butter.

The future is brown and will only get browner. To the young Pasifika people, we have so much at stake in our cities and communities. We already volunteer and physically serve our families, churches, and communities. Now it is time to bring that energy to local body elections. We can do this by voting for people who will advance our agenda and the things Pasifika people need. It needs to happen NOW.

REPRESENTATION - Fa’anana Efeso Collins, Izzy Ford, Marie Laufiso, Josephine Bartley, and ‘Ana Coffey. These are influential Pasifika people from all over Aotearoa that are representing our interests. Wouldn't it be nice

ISSUE 17

SALIENT

Whatungarongaro te tangata, toitū te whenua! GEORGIA TARĀNI GIFFORD Ko taku whenua taku ūkaipō, taku tūranga waewae, te wāhi e moe roa ai ō mātou tīpuna. Ko te whenua tā rātou waihotanga mai mō te reanga ake. Ko te whenua, te mauri o te tangata, te kapa o tōna manawa. Ko mātou ngā uri o te raupatu whenua, te kōhuru tangata, engari i tēnei ao hurihuri kua huri hoki mātou hei kaitiaki o ō mātou whenua.

Understand that we live off the whenua before we are even born.

Kupu pākehā cannot begin to explain the connection we, as Māori, have to the whenua.

Ihumātao is Māori land. It was illegally confiscated off of Māori by the Crown in 1863. The confiscation of this land was a direct breach of Te Tiriti. Tangata whenua from all across the motu have bound together at Ihumātao to stop Fletcher Building from developing this whenua into a 480-home subdivision.

It is not translatable, but for the sake of this news article I urge you, the reader, to understand.

When you understand the strength, the complexities, the intrinsic importance of this connection—only then can you begin to understand the pain that tangata whenua o Ihumātao are going through. The pain that Māori have suffered since colonisation.

Understand that the placenta is our first home, and the land is our second.

Understand that, despite what the mainstream media might be telling you—this is not a “development” for the people of Ihumātao and the people who whakapapa directly to that whenua. This is a desecration of whenua for profit that will result in the eviction of tangata whenua from their ancestral home.

Understand that we return our placenta to the land to keep the cycle going.

Māori mā, Pākeha mā, Tauiwi mā me ngā tāngata katoa o Hawaiiki nui hoki.

Understand that our māmā ate kai from the whenua to ensure the whenua inside them provided us with warmth, with comfort, with life.

Look after the land, and it will look after you. And those before you. And those after you.

Understand that whenua is a kupu used by my people for both the land and the placenta.

Photograph provided by: @onedeap

5 - 9 August 2019

Monday

Tuesday

Student Art Exhibition - Opening Night

A Poetry Evening with Ashleigh Young

6pm / Maclaurin Mezzanine Floor (MC201) / Free drinks and nibbles provided

5.30pm / Vic Books Kelburn / Free drinks & nibbles provided

Come join our student artists to celebrate the opening of the student art exhibition at Kelburn Campus.

VUWSA & Vic Books invite you to celebrate Artsweek with poetry readings from Ashleigh Young + guests.

Tuesday - Thursday

6-8

Student Art Exhibition 10am â&#x20AC;&#x201C; 4pm / Maclaurin Mezzanine Floor (MC201) This is open to all students, all week. The artworks will be available for sale so come along and check out the artistic talent of your fellow students, you might even find a piece to take home!

All Week

5-9

Campus Murals The Hub, Kelburn / Ground Floor Rutherford, Pipitea / The Atrium, Te Aro Let your inner artist shine and add some creativity to our murals located at each university campus. Open to everyone, materials are provided.

#Artsweek19 Photo Competition Closes Friday Aug 9 Calling all photographers at all experience levels. Post your best photo on Instagram or Facebook and use #Artsweek19 to be in to win! For all the details head to vuwsa.org.nz/artsweek

PS C

K AIFI JI LAURA ALAMA

ALDRINA MARY PINOFOA POLATAIVAO FEO

Ni Sa Bula Vinaka!

We, as the Pasifika Students’ Council, extend our warm Pacific greetings to you all—to every reader, student, and member of our community—we widely welcome and embrace all Pasifika cultures walking in and out of the doors of Victoria University of Wellington. The Pasifika Students’ Council (PSC) are the representative group for all Pasifika students at Victoria University of Wellington. We provide spiritual, cultural, social, and most significantly, academic events throughout the year. If you are an individual who identifies themselves to be of Pacific descent—we are your family. Your aiga. Your system of support to seek for various different aspects of your student experience.

We are KaiFiji and we are the Fijian Students Association on campus here at Victoria University. We are an inclusive people, and our nation comprises of many different cultures. Other than the Itaukei (indigenous people of Fiji), the nation of Fiji also comprises a multiplicity of ethnicities such as Indian, Chinese, and Rotuman. Additionally, a lot of native Fijians have Polynesian ancestry. This diversity throughout the nation of Fiji is a characteristic that strongly defines the culture of our people. We are inclusive of all people and are not just passionate about our people alone, but our culture as well.

Our mission statement as the Executive team, is to create a Pasifika home for Pasifika students. Come one, come all. As a team, we work very hard to ensure that as much effort as we put into our own academic studies, we remember that our Pasifika cultures are rooted in honour, genuine inclusion, and love for every single Pasifika student of this institution. While we all have contrasting qualities, what binds us together is our support and encouragement for our brown brothers and sisters. This is what highlights our strengths as Pasifika people. While our heritage and roots tie back to different islands scattered across the Pacific ocean, our purpose here at Victoria University is vital for our PSC family to function.

Our association has continued to grow from year to year and we are looking forward to a bright future of cultural and social events that will catalyse and maintain our culture. Our vision moving forward is to reinvigorate and restore a sense of pride in our nation and our culture for the Fijian students that are here in Wellington to study. We also aim to develop a relationship within the Fijian community here in Wellington. This year, we will be creating a cultural performance group with hopes that this group can be a pillar to connect people to our culture and an instrument to sustain our culture within New Zealand.

Founded by Pasifika Pro Vice-Chancellor Luamanuvao Winnie Laban and the Pasifika students of 2012, the legacy of the Pasifika Students’ Council will underpin the goal of bringing together students with prosperous futures, with the hopes that we champion the change within our Pacific communities. Our stance in Wellington, and New Zealand in general, has and will have a ripple effect based on our talents, knowledge, and preservation of our different Pacific cultures.

The practices for our cultural performance group will include learning the traditional Fijian dance which is better known as the ‘Meke’ and a few Fijian songs that we plan to showcase at the end of this trimester, to commemorate not just Fijian Language Week held Oct 6–12, but also Fiji’s Independence Day on October 10.

We look forward to growing our Pasifika community here at Victoria University. We are your vaka. We are with you. We are for you. And we will always stand beside you. Fa’afetai tele lava.

T E N AMO TE LUMA N A K I

VUSSA

NATHAN LOPA

TAGIFANO SITAGATA

Malo ni, ulutonu mai, and welcome!

Talofa lava! We are VUSSA, the Victoria University Sāmoan Students Association.

We are privileged and honored to have the opportunity to share our Tokelau cultural heritage with the wider community. It is our aim to create a sustainable pathway for future generations of Tokelau students to come.

We are a group dedicated to preserving what we can of the Sāmoan culture, and also providing networking opportunities for our members.

Newly established in August 2014, Te Namo is the only Tokelauan Students association at a tertiary institution in New Zealand. We are a group comprised of dedicated VUW students, alumni, and public participants who are passionate about the growth and development of our members—culturally, ethically, and academically.

A group here to help celebrate our culture and traditions and to influence and inspire younger generations of our ancestors’ beginnings and journeys. VUSSA is for any current or past Victoria University student, as well as any person interested in reviving Sāmoan Tradition at tertiary level.

Our name, Te Namo Te Lumanaki, contains some characteristics of the core values and culture of the group. “Te Namo”—means “the lagoon” which describes the body of water situated between the Tokelau atolls.

We hold many events that cater to the needs of our members.

· A place of resource where many of our people can develop skills and knowledge. · A place of collaboration and accountability. · A place of transition and growth. · A place of learning where each person is responsible and each person is significant.

We participate in the annual inter-university So'otaga (a week dedicated to preserving Sāmoan culture) and network with other Sāmoan students across New Zealand. What makes VUSSA different from the others is #TheBond! We welcome all and create a family environment that results in Sāmoan students thriving not only at university but also life in general.

“Te Lumanaki”—means “the future” and this embodies our position to build resources for the future and give back to our Tokelau community.

Our awesome support team of alumni are always there when we need, and that’s another factor that makes us unique!

“Te pakeve ke tu to galu”—“The young trevally (fish) create their own wave on the reef to avoid being stranded”; the young people must learn to be resourceful and self-sufficient. This alagakupu (proverb) is what we as Tokelau students strive towards as we study here at Victoria University to equip ourselves with the knowledge to be able to guide us in our walks in life and help us paddle our canoes to our destinations of success. We open our arms to all people who are welcome to join us as we journey together to a brighter future. We wish you God’s blessings, Ke manuia koutou i te alofa o te Atua. Fakafetai lahi lele

VUSSA - a group that celebrates and embraces the beautiful culture of Sāmoa!

Do you take the kind of classes that have lecturers who could read the class to sleep by reading erotica? Vic Uni has some of the greatest and worst lectures on earth. Salient is now here to critique and rate them like your local chippie. THIS WEEK'S LECTURE: PASI 202: Comparative History in Polynesia

We entered the lecture theatre early on that first day, and there were already a couple of students seated at the back. We sat at the back (I always sit at the back). As more students arrived, the peripheral seats were filled quickly and those centre seats remained vacant for the latecomers. We didn’t fill that lecture theatre so the centre gaps were obvious. Emalani glanced up from her lecture notes, scanned the class, and noted our marginal seating choices. The majority of us were Polynesian. The majority of us chose to be in the marginal spaces. Greg Dening is one of the historians we’re introduced to on this course, and he believes that history is perpetually contemporary—while the past is old, history exists and is manifest in the present. History, then, is who we are, what we look like, what we believe, how we see ourselves, and our place in the world. It is the choices we make. So here’s my take on his theory: My choice to sit at the back is part of my ethnic, Sāmoan history in all its gloriously good, bad, and stinky layers. This course, Comparative History in Polynesia, helps us to unravel some of the past; it helps us begin to understand how the past has shaped our present, our history, our choices. With a focus on Polynesia, we delve into some of the most impactful events of the pre-contact, colonial and post-colonial periods in the Pacific, and compare the changes over time between East and West Polynesia. A comparative study which gives greater insight into the diverse governmental, economic, and cultural outcomes of the Polynesian islands. It all sounds pretty straightforward, except that peeling back the complex layers of history can get quite messy and controversial. Emalani threw Haunani-Kay Trask’s radical views at us, and we became riled by the oppressive colonial past under which Hawai’i continues to suffer. But then she gave us Nicholas Thomas to read, and challenged us to think outside the oppressor/oppressed narrative which thoroughly villainises the colonial powers, while failing to acknowledge the participation and agency of the Pacific islands in this history. We’re not victims…Colonisation is still the villain though, right? Emalani is passionate about Pacific Studies and she delivers this course with a thick layer of Pasifika enthusiasm. She encouraged us to explore beyond the scope of our personal Polynesian roots and biases to see things we might otherwise not have been bothered with, perhaps also to see things more clearly.

E Reo Kapikiâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;A Calling Voice Mou te ko, mou te ere, Kia pukuru o vaevae Kia mokora o kaki, iekoko! E tu, e ara, e te au potiki o te Kuki Airani Mouria to korona, takina ki runga. Kia kite te kato'ato'a i te peu a to'ou Ipukarea Mou te ko, mou te ere, Kia pukuru o vaevae Kia mokora o kaki, iekoko! (A chant about keeping yourself firm and holding yourself high)

- Anonymous

Anonymous

SAFE THE FRAGILITY OF MALE MASCULINITY CW: Mental Illness, Sucidality

Recently, we have seen a push in awareness for mental health—specifically, male mental health. The stigma of male strength has been an obstruction. A hinderance. Trying to get males to be honest with their feelings and emotions. Personally, I find it hard to admit to people that I struggle with my mental health constantly.

perceptions of me. They see the image I’ve carefully orchestrated for myself and I'm unable to properly explain. I’m a happy guy, funny, always keen for a drink and a good time. How am I sad? Why am I sad? I don’t know, I just am. And it becomes worse at home. I’ve always had a short temper, and would constantly yell at and argue with my family. Did I talk to them about why I get the way I do? Did we delve deeper into whatever the issues were that were causing me to act out this way?

Why?

No.

There is always that thought in the back of my mind that no matter how bad I have it, there are others who have it so much worse than me. I have a nice house, in a nice neighbourhood. Meanwhile, there are people who wake up every day, not knowing where they’re going to lay their head next. I’ve lost people in my life. But, my mind argues, there are people out there who never even had that support to begin with. Thoughts like these lead me to trivialise my own hurt, so you don’t see me speak on it. And even if I did, what would be the point? What is the actual point? Every time I’ve tried, I’ve been told that I’m being selfish.

I created another mask. Joking around, never too serious, of course. Just wanting to have fun. But that’s not fair to me. It’s certainly not fair to them, who don’t know why some days we can be having these carefree times, and then out of nowhere, I snap. It’s not fair to the people who know me and think we can joke around— and then are surprised when I start swinging. Maybe things would be better if I wasn’t here. But then where would that leave my family? My friends? It would just add another burden for them to carry, without the possibility of me making it right.

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to cry.

Victim mentality. Everyone is hurting—I’m just having a little pity party. But I don’t want people to pity me. I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. I don’t even want someone to care. I just want someone to listen. Listen. Sometimes I’m not alright, and I don’t know why. I just don’t feel good. I just don’t want to be here. I just don’t want anything. It really be like that sometimes. Maybe it’s people’s

So what do we as strong, young males do? We carry on. We grit our teeth. We knuckle down and make sure no one feels or sees that hurt. It’s hard to stop hurting people when you’re hurt yourself. It’s even harder to make things better when you cannot better yourself. Life goes on, and so must we. A conversation of mental health is what we need; it’s the getting there that’s the hard part.

Blinded

Growing up not knowing Pacific was a minority Family was the only thing to me that was priority Grew up in a community where there were no opportunities and they judge us still, like they have fucking authority The struggle is real, but I hold myself down tight To every poly keep fighting this indigenous fight It ain’t over till We say Cause our ancestors paved a way To this land of milk and honey For better futures and better days We live in a system that perpetuates lies to colonise our minds but fail to realise that I’m in control of mine they don’t wanna see us shine they make our lives hard opinionated on my people but can’t clean their backyard quick to yap at the mouth how my people hold this country down I’m a violent criminal, but that’s only cos my skin is brown flip the script allow my skin to lighten up a shade suddenly I’m just a young man who made some mistakes they claim the advances they’ve made for PIs and how we don’t struggle no more but until my parents are acknowledged for their struggles I stay geared up for war - Jesse Blue Moafanua

Anonymous

Ferry CW: Mental Illness, Suicide, Substance Use 1. I’m thinking about my first solo swim at Mawhitipana Bay when I was five. A huge adventure for little limbs, quite quickly I was pulled into deeper waters, but despite the salt in my stomach there were so many days after school I would wade through the same water, tracing the blue and green through my rocky kingdom. Sometimes I would sit in my father’s small fishing boat, fingers tracing what may well have been the last beating of recorded time, just listening to the world spin. Not a care for the days spent washing salt out of my hair. But the Hauraki Gulf of my childhood was the first sea I knew, and this second sea is different. It is a brisk, bracing, blue. The rain and wind mean that as sea and sky collide, I look over at some theorised horizon and feel guilty about my silence. I only think of men who carry gun barrels for arms with hands as weapons. My skin feels harder, tighter. Like them, I feel an overpowering anger to wring out my body’s cloth to see what falls from this tense wrap and wavy weft. But we all know that delicate fabrics are best left to dry flat in the shade. 2. I’m at a low ebb at the moment, in a sort of discord. It’s turned into some sort of characteristic (and at times indulgent) state of severe depression. I’m in a café at the moment, and as I look out at Te Whanganui-a-Tara today, I feel a foreboding sense of compression. I see the water, languid and sardonic, soaking up all available colours; no energy to spit hues back to the sun as on cloudless days. This morning I drink overpriced espresso; later tonight I will drink underpriced wine and end it with a concoction of tramadol, Catholic guilt, and what are only ever the best of intentions. Using substances on the daily to manage the overpowering threat that they wouldn’t even be sad if I died. But I’ve been trying so hard not to think like that lately. Although maybe expecting good things is its own kind of violence. Right now it feels like a dangerous tendency to live by. 3. The sea adheres to no rules, which sometimes means succumbing to the riptide. Some days, the wind makes me feel trapped in a small, wooden box hurtling to and fro across the harbor. I’m just trying to keep both feet on the ground but I can feel my stomach folding in on itself. It’s that brooding expanse of Catholic guilt, shame, and good intentions again. I wish high school had given me more of a lesson on how to unstitch and let things go. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so scared of pulling at the threads that bind, in case I had strings that led to nowhere. My sadness still rolled in again, but I happened to catch sight of it in time to turn it into a pardon. It’s these shy lines of progress; made visible with a slanted look, a squint or wink, then there they are. Soft between my words, promises, deep breaths, resolutions, and forgiveness. I see that strip of sun on the horizon and I take my seat on the ferry. I learn from this water of mine one more time, and start my small harmony (it’s all going to be alright). It’s dark out here on the gulf, and I know that the sea doesn’t adhere to my rules, but I catch sight of a Hauraki headland, a homecoming. Every single time.

Lefaataualofa Naomi Totua

RECLAIMING STYLE MASON Gangsta. Mason is influenced by a range of Polynesian and African American hip hop artists—the latter paved the way for Pacific Islanders to also rep where they come from through the storytelling nature of rap. Special mentions include Poetik, Boo Yah Tribe and “any Hamo rappers tbh”. Unapologetic and big, Mason’s style is reflective of his intentions to embrace the resilient mindset of these artists, many of who grew up in the struggle. His sunglasses or “Locs” are worn to hide his eyes—many are quick to judge his tough exterior. Mason’s style is Gangster and proud—he encourages younger males in his life to dress how they wish and to never change their identity, even after coming to the university environment. Pasifika and Fashion. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Fearless but graceful. Everything has a purpose and a meaning, especially in traditional Pacific fashion. And unapologetic—685 to Da oti!

HELENA Self proclaimed “old island woman”, Helena acknowledges her parents’ influence on her style. Her dad, the thrifty bargain hunter, taught her to pay respects to the originals. Her mum encouraged the idea that “a little bit of class, goes a long way”. You’ll find this old soul dressing for the things she wants, whilst carrying the style of her parents with her; three confident colours at max, and a collection of West Auckland and Newtown’s best op shop gems. Pasifika and Fashion. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Reinventing. Bright colours. Prints!! No one does printing like us. We are inventing and have invented colonial pieces and made them so much better! Like the mu'umu'u—I’m a little conflicted because I’m in love with it, but it’s a missionary style dress. Such a staple for older women; no one pulls it off like bigger women. We have claimed it as our own. Reclaiming!

Reclaiming Style

Fashion is a form of expression. How you dress is a projection of your personality, what you believe in, what you like—and, for most, dependent on ease of comfort. Fashion is also community. Fashion is conscious consuming. Fashion is supporting your mate’s start-up jewellery biz. Fashion is wearing Pacific jewellery, a sei in one ear, an ia faitaga or a tupenu in corporate work spaces—all proud but subtle hints of one’s identity in an everyday manner. We talked to some of our very own Victoria University students about their personal take on fashion.

SAHARA Tomboyish. Time dependent. And most importantly—often shaped by today’s greatest hip hop artists. Sahara actively avoids trends, often searching for rare items as opposed to buying clothes that other people have. You’ll never see Sahara in a fully feminine outfit—comfort is key and clothes that reflect life. Bright colours and comfy hoodies reflect Sahara’s easygoing nature. Pasifika and Fashion. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Pacific fashion is good! It’s needed. I have family involved— Ivana Couture. I think our Pacific patterns are the most identifiable thing in fashion.

WILLIAM “Whatever I want, and for no one else except for myself.” Every day, William wears what he wants. He is not limited to one specific “style” but instead wears his feelings on his sleeve—using various colours dependent on how he feels. Often sporting some pieces borrowed from his parents’ wardrobe, William is seen in bright and random clothing from his mum and more comfortable attire from his dad. Silver jewellery is a must, as is the attitude of projecting the least expected—not for attention, but for the very valid proclamation that we are unique. Pasifika and Fashion. What’s the first thing that comes to your mind? Tradition. At formal events you will find our people wearing ie, puletasi… Church every Sunday is the place for Pacific fashion and Pacific people. I think with Pacific fashion we are able to extend boundaries outside traditional wear. The first example I ever saw this was when my mum Jacinta Mataia made the costumes for St Peter’s College Samoan group. She used different plants not normally found in the islands, different patterns, and created new things. The tradition of culture can feel like such a box but in reality—there’s so many different ways you can express your culture.

Briar Misa Turnbull

THE NUCLEAR PACIFIC Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? (Spongebob Squarepants) What lives in a concrete dome on Runit Island with the potential to leak into the Pacific Ocean? (Nuclear waste) The Pacific Islands have a dark history of nuclear exploitation. After World War II, the nuclear arms race was afoot. Major military powers sought to test their technology in isolated, low-populated spaces. The Pacific was considered an ideal “test tube” due to its geographic isolation, small landmass, and small population size. Because the Pacific Islands were home to “foreign natives”, the United States and French colonial powers considered the lives, culture, and wellbeing of the islands expendable. The US military approached the Marshall Island leaders with the promise that nuclear testing would lead to “the end of all wars, for the good of all mankind”. The US set up the ‘proving grounds’ in the Marshall Islands, on various islands, where they conducted nuclear testing between 1946 and 1963. In this time, the United States military performed 42 atmospheric nuclear tests on Bikini Atoll, 60 on Enewetak Atoll, 11 on Johnston Island, and 13 on Christmas Island. The July 1946 test explosions on Bikini Atoll significantly exceeded the expected radioactivity level. The first thermonuclear bomb, Bravo, was tested over Bikini Atoll in March 1954, anticipated to be a 5 megaton explosion. It turned into 17 megatons. Islanders from Rongelap Atoll, Rongerik Atoll, and Utirik Atoll had to be evacuated by the US Navy within 48 hours of Bravo’s detonation, due to extreme nuclear radiation contamination. Meanwhile, in French Polynesia, France conducted nuclear testing from 1966–1996 on Mururoa Atoll and Fangataufa Atoll. France performed 41 atmospheric tests and 140 underground tests. The attitudes were perhaps more pointed amongst the French as General de Gaulle made the claim “our bomb is a peaceful one and it is the most peaceful thing we’ve invented since France came into existence”.

22 22

Indeed, the nuclear history of the Pacific is very grim and the narrative that surrounds it has always been one that detracts from and decentres the voices of the people of the islands. Painting the Pacific as the “passive” victim of devastation ignores the history of nuclear-free movement and acts of agency within the islands. In 1970, a religious anti-nuclear movement ATOM (Against Testing on Mururoa) was established in Fiji. It gained support from the Pacific Conference of Churches and organised the first Nuclear Free Pacific conference in 1975. ATOM expanded to include trade unions, non-governmental organisations, women's movements, religious groups, and an assortment of disarmament lobbies. ATOM’s ethos was empowered by the idea that if all Pacific Islands enjoyed constitutional independence, the colonial powers would be forced to do their testing elsewhere. It was their goal for all Pacific Island groups to achieve independence. In 1971, the South Pacific Forum (known now as the Pacific Islands Forum) was born out of the South Pacific Commission. The forum was established to discuss political issues away from the colonial powers present in the South Pacific Commission, who deliberately banned discussions of nuclear testing. It was the culmination of efforts from political leaders in the South Pacific Forum and community action from within ATOM that lead to the formalised South Pacific Nuclear Free Zone and the Treaty of Rarotonga, signed August 6, 1985 by the South Pacific Forum. The treaty bans the use, testing, and possession of weapons within the zone. Western academia tends to frame these series of events in a way that places the Pacific as complicit in its own destruction, but the collective agency of these Pacific nations to preserve and protect their islands has to be acknowledged. A nuclear-free treaty came from the recognition that such devastation should never happen again. It was not an individual thought, but a regional consensus that the Pacific be nuclear-free and it has remained so to this day as a result.

Briar Misa Turnbull

PAPUA MERDEKA FREE WEST PAPUA

CW: Violence, Genocide, Rape What’s happening in West Papua? West Papua, with the independent nation of Papua New Guinea in the east, constitute the island of Papua in Melanesia. It is situated approximately 200 km north of Australia, covered in rainforest, and is a biodiverse and minerally rich land. There are over 250 diverse tribes, with their own languages and cultures. West Papua is not an independent nation. It is currently under Indonesian military occupation, having been that way since 1962. A genocide against the indigenous population of West Papua is happening right now. It has been continuing for over 50 years. In 1969, the UN oversaw a vote titled ‘Act of Free Choice’, during which Indonesian officials cherry-picked approximately 1000 individuals in a population of over one million to vote for or against independence for West Papua. It was not open to the general public, as Indonesia labelled Papuans “too primitive” to be able to handle democracy. Under the threat of death by the Indonesian military, every single individual voted against independence. The UN sanctioned this vote. In the effort to control Papuans and clear land for resource extraction, the Indonesian military has for decades 23

murdered, raped, and tortured thousands of civilians. An example being the American- and British-owned Freeport mine. This is the world’s largest gold mine, and thousands were killed to make way for this mine which has diminished a sacred mountain to a crater and poisoned the local river. The West was silent. Basic human rights such as freedom of speech are denied in West Papua. Speaking against the Indonesian rule results in imprisonment in murder. Raising of the West Papuan independence flag, the ‘morning star’, has had the same consequences. It is estimated that under Indonesian rule, over 500,000 have been killed by military forces, and countless others have been tortured, raped, imprisoned, or have gone missing in prison. The West has continued to remain silent. If this is news to you, you’re not alone. There is a foreign media outlet ban in the region, meaning that news organisations, journalists, and websites that advocate for West Papua face atrocious consequences. The government of Indonesia continues to cover up their severe human rights abuses. The Pacific calls for justice and freedom for West Papua. Do you?

THE HOUSE THAT JOHN BROUGHT Gabrielle Po Ching Have you ever posted on IG in admiration of your parents or grandparents, who sacrificed so much to immigrate to New Zealand for you... but also mocked someone for speaking broken English in a foreign accent?

people of colour—even the movie The Blind Side. It reiterates the negative stereotypes that say people of colour constantly need help, can’t help themselves, and passively wait for help from a white man with nothing but admiration and gratitude.

Have you ever thanked the Lord for the food on your plate, but not Tagaloa for perfecting the tides and seas?

If we bring it back to the 21st century, the year was 2007 in Beach Haven. I was a nine-year-old with the emotional capacity of a twenty-something-year-old, wondering why Usher’s “You Got It Bad” gave me so many feels. I was in primary school, and my dad would take me and my older brother to the Sāmoan service at our local Presbyterian church every Sunday. I liked it because it was next to my primary school, and I could play on the playground after the service. My dad liked it because he was able to connect back to his culture and speak Sāmoan to someone besides his family. I remember sitting in church service for what felt like (and sometimes actually would be) hours, wondering. Wondering what was going on and being said, wondering when I could go outside and play, and wondering why one of the boys at Sunday school had a second thumb on his right hand while also having the audacity to be named Blessing.

Have you ever said the phrase, “modest is hottest”? I hate to break it to you, but it sounds like you have a bad case of colonisation. Careful, that shit’s contagious AND can be hereditary. Now I don’t want to go all “In this essay I will-” on you, but as a NZ-born Sāmoan, I recognise that we live very different lives from our predecessors and follow very different values. Living in Aotearoa, it’s hard not to face the effects of colonisation that every Captain John, Jack, and Richard placed before us by stepping foot on our motherlands, but some of these weren’t as physically obvious. Some forms of colonisation came in the form of a book, some hymns, and a new faith. Religion was and is (!!) a tool of colonisation used to assimilate indigenous cultures into that of Western society.

Fa’afetai. “Many thanks”—the name of one of my only friends in Sunday School. She was a bit naughty and would sometimes pressure me into spending the coins Dad would give me for tithing on lollies at the dairy. But Fa’afetai was also kind, she would look after me in Sunday School, and hold my hand when I had to read out verses. One day, Fa’afetai and I kissed each other on the cheek, as I had seen women do it to each other in greeting. As any nine year old girls would, we copied and giggled about it. As we both left church that same Sunday, we then thought it would be a good idea to say goodbye to each other in the same fashion. A kiss on the cheek. In front of our fathers. I also forgot to mention earlier that Fa’afetai just so happened to be the pastor’s daughter.

Flash history lesson: 1830. Missionaries emigrated to Sāmoa from Tahiti and the Cook Islands with the intent to convert Sāmoans to Christianity, perceiving their behaviour and culture to be “savage-like”. Bible in hand and entitlement—I mean, the Holy Spirit—in heart, they came with ever-so-pure intentions to turn us into “functioning members of Western society”. Fast forward to 1918. Under New Zealand administration, a different group of white saviours arrived with pneumonic influenza. Colonisation in Samoa was methodical, more intentional than has been previously recognised, and these practices would be carried out within neighbouring countries too. Pasifika people traditionally had village healers, who cured ailments by using their own body to test out which naturally sourced medicines would work. Westerners— missionaries included—docked in Pacific waters, armed with misleading intentions and diseases, and eventually but purposely infected Indigenous folk. With no understanding of these foreign diseases, Indigenous healers were tricked, and Christianity was employed as the cure. Missionaries revealed their ulterior motives using bibles, telling our ancestors, “If you convert to Christianity, our God will cure you.” The cure for their palagi diseases was only shared after the locals agreed. Quicker than Izzy Folau could set up his GoFundMe page, Christianity swept over the islands.

I felt my giddy face drop as I saw Fa’afetai’s dad scream at her, and then at my dad. Knowing who my dad is now, I know he would have laughed it off had it been at home or in a less formal setting. However, being at church was a different story. Surrounded by the local Sāmoan community, he was more than embarrassed with my premature homosexual encounter. I remember the tight grip of my dad’s hand on my arm as he led me to the car. He didn’t speak to me for the rest of the day, and I never got to play with Fa’afetai again. That day, I learnt what sin and shame felt like. We forget that before the missionaries came, we prayed to our own gods—many of them. We forget that we come from a nation with a history rich in pride and culture. Religion has shaped Sāmoan culture in so many ways and is ever-present in our lives in Aotearoa. You are made of more history than you know. Faith is the knot that binds us together as modern-day Sāmoans, and empowering yourself to learn the history behind your faith, will enable this knot to release and reform over and over. To grow. To choose to unlearn and learn again. Sometimes it’s best to release what you know so that we are better bound together.

Religion was literally a gateway drug, and the gateway lead to— you guessed it, colonisation. This is an early example of what is now coined as the “white saviour mentality”; the idea of feeling the responsibility to assimilate an entire race with religion. White saviour mentality can be seen in modern-day life as well. This only “others” indigenous culture to the point of an individual not feeling comfortable with, or even wanting to engage with, their own unique culture. Think celebrities adopting babies from African countries, students straight out of high school with no qualifications volunteering in “developing” countries where the majority of the population are

Before John brought his house of God, picture-perfect in a Western world, our ancestors built their fales, bound by alofa in paradise. 26

Features

Georgia Tarāni Paige Gifford

HULA LE'A WALE To Dance with Joy

"Everything ancient was once new and though our structures were denied age no amount of dismantling, disassembling, desecrating or disrespecting of our right to be can deny us our ancientness, our ability to stand with thousands and thousands." - Emalani Case

I met Emalani in a meeting room in the Va’aomanū Pasifika, where she is currently employed as a lecturer, and with the little information I gave her, Emalani exceeded all of my expectations. I was encapsulated, I felt like I was listening to a story. It was exactly the kind of space I wanted to be in. A space where we could exchange our stories of ancestors, traditions, beliefs—that, for once, we weren’t having to argue about or fight for. A space where we could marvel over the similarity of our histories, trauma, and experiences, but most importantly—a space where we would never have had to debate the existence of these things to begin with.

Like myself, Dr Emalani Case started learning hula from a very young age. She was chosen at birth by her cousin who was a Kumu (teacher) of hula, and she would sit and watch videos sent to her of her Kumu dancing. When she started school at age six, she started training in hula at the same time. At age 26, she completed Uniki in Hula Kahiko (traditional hula). Kahiko allowed her to learn about hula in a traditional sense without the colonial restrictions and expectations that come with Hula ‘auana (modern hula). She compared the experience of completing Uniki to that of obtaining a PhD, but harder. It involved intense training and a final ceremony of dancing at several traditional places around the island of Oahu.

“With colonisation came the attempted banning of hula. Kahiko is harder, deeper, not as graceful as hula you see now. It is one of the things that Christianity targeted because it was too sexual. We often say hula went underground. Our people found ways to keep it going.” Colonisation in the Pacific involved Pākehā stealing land, abolishing traditions, and destroying language. Part of colonial regiments involved forced hygiene, modesty, and restrictions in decoration and ornamentation. This even extended to restrictions on bodily movements. 28

Features

“One thing that I notice about the old sketches is that women have short hair. I had long hair most of my life but because of that, I had this moment where I was like I am just going to chop it. The long hair thing I don’t know where that started. It is all part of the image now.” Definitions of femininity in its current state in the Pacific have been largely affected by religion as a result of colonisation. This has caused people’s traditional perceptions and ideas of femininity to change by incorporating introduced ideas of femininity that put one's morality, purity, domesticity, and cleanliness into question. Colonised ideas of femininity have changed hula into a clean, marketable image of grace, poise, and gentleness. In the Western world, these traits are often used in relation to what it means to be feminine, or a “woman”. “I marvel at the intelligence of my ancestors, the way that they pay attention to every shift, maintain customs and values through dance. Having that awareness of your ancestors as people who had intelligence and agency it is so important to challenge outdated and inaccurate assumptions that have been projected on us.” “There have been many people who have found themselves in hula. It is embodied. We have been so heavily colonised that we carry the weight, the weight of kuleana. Hula is one of the ways of dealing with this. It is a way of reconnecting. And that in itself is healing.” Healing for myself as an indigenous person means reclaiming the traditions of our ancestors, place, language, all of the things that were taken from us and abolished through colonial expansion. Healing is using this knowledge to empower and encourage generations to come, and using ancestral knowledge to create spaces and tools for others to heal in the future. “The fact that people are digging further back into the past to go even further into the future… I hope people continue to write hula for what is going on now. We are going to be the ancestors one day that people are dancing about.” I learnt so much from Emalani and the knowledge I received was accentuated even more—not because of her position as a doctor, but because of her position and the experiences she has had as a Kumu. The revitalisation of Hula Kahiko reclaims ancient traditions of gender fluidity, sexuality, and telling stories. Hula is so much more than just movement. Hula, land, storytelling, language, identity, trauma—they are all interrelated and should not try to be understood individually. Similarly, representative groups and movements going forward must look back to our traditions, examine what was targeted and abolished during the introduction of religion to our islands, and make sure we are not being harmfully selective about which parts of our culture we are choosing to reclaim and revive.

Again I will close with Emalani’s words—a reminder of the importance and history behind our traditions:

"Everything ancient was once new: A new altar built stone by stone, Each one chosen, collected, Each one passed hand by hand, Stacked together to bear the weight of prayers Thousands and thousands of prayers." - Emalani Case

Helena Fuluifaga Chan Foung

"THROUGH BLOOD, BY BLOOD" If you’re standing before a crowd, speaking to hundreds of school students striking for better climate action outside Parliament steps, it’s probably not a good idea to look around. I felt adrift in a sea of signs and hundreds of students chanting. Then I saw it: One sign in the crowd that silenced all my racing thoughts and nerves. It allowed me to exhale a really big breath that I didn’t even know I had been holding. There, in the brown arms of two St Bernard’s boys, waved the flag of Tokelau. In my moment of panic, I was reminded of a greater purpose as a fellow descendant of Tokelau. They stood— outnumbered, but absolutely not alone. Although I saw no words leave your mouths, I heard you. I saw you. Whakawhetai lahi lele. I didn’t grow up with my Tokelau side at all. I stepped into it when I moved to Wellington (aka Toke City). Our population is small and so Tokes at uni felt like family, because we’re all related... like really. My Tokelau nana was so proud when she found out I joined Te Namo, Victoria’s Tokelau Students Association. She called her cousin to carve a Pa for my first performance. Then she asked him to weave a Fau for the one after that. Learning about my family and where I come from has been incredibly fulfilling. Further familiarising myself with the land of my ancestors, I’ve realised that this future is at risk because of the state of our climate. When I learned about Tokelau’s geographic makeup, I started paying more attention to climate policy and action. This is one of many stories central to all Pacific climate warriors. Historically, not many climate organisations have amplified indigenous voices or refered to the climate issues in the Pacific with dignity and respect, painting us, rather, as ‘victims’ in need. However, 350 Pacific Climate Warriors is a youth-led grassroots network that has been fighting for climate change in the Pacific, as people of the Pacific. We are not victims. We are telling our own stories, urging for better climate action and international co-ordination. I want to acknowledge all Pacific Island climate activists

for taking up space that hasn’t been the most welcoming or accessible to our communities. Despite all our historic livelihoods and traditions of what we have come to know as ‘stewardship’, we are the first victims of a preventable disaster. Pacific nations are on the frontlines of climate change. Rising sea levels, saltwater intrusion destroying plantation crops, and of course, a warmer atmosphere that leads to warmer seas which upheave the delicate balance of its ecosystems. Everyone has a climate story. Whatever it may be, use the tool of storytelling to stand in solidarity with us to fight for more than just our islands. Our identity is so closely intertwined with our islands and oceans—they are a part of us. I believe we have a responsibility to the homes of our ancestors who migrated across the Pacific, and recently, to New Zealand and Australia. We would not be here if not for their sacrifices. After all, what makes us Pacific? What are Pacific people without an anchor, without a tūrangawaewae—the place of belonging and essence of our identity? My ancestors are indebted to those before them, who crossed oceans and sowed seeds from which they reaped and laid foundations to last lifetimes. I am indebted to protect these foundations, that lay in the islands that was brought to them by the stars. “We sweat and cry salt water, so we know that the ocean is really in our blood.” - Teresia Teaiwa. Small changes make a big difference! Stay informed! You can support through the following actions: • Read! Read! Read! Keep up to update with our International Agreements as well as our own government’s environmental goals. • Follow various climate activist groups, and groups purposed to elevate Indigenous perspectives, such as 350 Pacific Climate Warriors. • Utilise a KeepCup! • Keep a reusable bag, metal fork and spoon in your backpack. • Shop at op shops or, borrow your friends’/family’s clothes for special occasions.

IN THE MANNER Interview by BRIAR MISA TURNBULL Photograph provided by ASHLEIGH FEU’U

I HAD A CHAT TO PHD STUDENT ASHLEIGH FEU’U ABOUT HER GENDER IDENTITY AND NAVIGATING LIFE AND ACADEMIA AS A FA’AFAFINE.

Features

HOW DO YOU DEFINE YOUR GENDER IDENTITY? First and foremost, these are my personal views and not a generalisation of all fa’afafine views. There are many ways individual fa’afafine identify themselves, just like there are multiple ways of identifying as male, female, or those questioning their identity. I self identify as a Sāmoan fa’afafine. In my Sāmoan language fa’a means in the manner of and fafine means woman. Identifying as a fa’afafine is my sense of belonging to the Fa’a Sāmoa, my identity and my unique role in my family and it should be understood in that context. Like other fa’afafine, I’m a biological Sāmoan male who identifies as female and performs roles normally carried out by women.

Sāmoan fa’afafine first and foremost, before any label or identity is placed on me. My point is, you can’t put labels on someone else or make assumptions about their identity without asking them first. I don’t identify as male, I identify as female. It’s my female gender that defines me—and, as a female who’s sexually attracted to heterosexual men, I see my intimate relationships as heterosexual, not same-sex. And I see other fa’afafine as female and as sisters, not as potential sexual partners. COULD YOU TELL US ABOUT YOUR PHD STUDY AND NAVIGATING ACADEMIA AS FA’AFAFINE? What drives me the most is research for, by and about Pacific peoples. Especially research for, by and about fa’afafine. Western researchers have long had a fascination with Sāmoan fa’afafine, but their work has led to generalisations and misunderstandings that still persist today.

COULD YOU TELL US ABOUT YOUR LIFE AS A FA’AFAFINE? Where do I start? People often ask me: “When did you first know that you were a fa’afafine?” I would answer with the same question: “When did you first know that you were heterosexual or male or female? Or were you just born that way?” Ever since I can remember, I’ve identified as a girl. I was very feminine in my mannerisms compared to my three older brothers; I am the youngest. I was always in the company of girls, and I was never interested in rugby, Boys’ Brigade, or athletics like my brothers. They all played rugby, but I loved netball. In my family, it is normal for me to take on “women’s work”—caring for my mother, nieces and nephews, and doing the cooking, cleaning, and washing. At family gatherings, or fa’alavelave, I’d perform the ceremonial tasks associated with a Sāmoan tama’ita’i—serving the matai and presenting ‘ie toga (fine mats) during a si’i. And during my high school and university years, I often performed in cultural events, dancing the actions of a Sāmoan girl. This was accepted in the school community. So that’s where it started from but I was never forced to fulfill a female role in my family. Being fa’afafine was not something that was imposed upon me.

I’ve been inspired in my academic journey by the words of fa’afafine pioneer Talitiga Dr Venasio Sele, who urged fa’afafine to become educated. “My education counters any criticisms. To be a fa’afafine, you must be educated — it is our weapon.” Unfortunately, not all parts of Sāmoan society are as relaxed and accepting of fa’afafine. We have Christianity and colonisation to thank for that. And given the recent events surrounding Australian rugby player, Israel Folau and All Blacks rugby player TJ Perenara reminds us that “Polynesia has been sexually diverse since forever”. Fa’afafine were a part of Sāmoan society long before the arrival of the first missionaries in the 1830s, and certainly before the arrival of colonial rulers in Sāmoa and American Samoa. Yet fa’afafine tend to be absent from missionary accounts of those early encounters with Sāmoan people. Were we omitted from the historical record on purpose? Or could it be that missionaries simply didn’t “see” fa’afafine because they had no equivalent in western society and were so completely outside their experience? Were fa’afafine simply invisible to them? WHAT DO YOU THINK OUR PACIFIC COMMUNITY CAN DO TO SUPPORT OUR FA’AFAFINE, FA’AFATAMA, AND OTHER GENDERDIVERSE CHILDREN OF THE PACIFIC?

At the beginning of 2018, I embarked on my transition journey. I had my sex changed from male to female on my birth certificate—a procedure that required a court hearing. It was an emotional event attended by my main support and loving mother, Patricia McFall.

Within my own family, my research has already made a difference. My brothers and my mother have always loved and supported me, but my work has helped them to gain a deeper understanding of what it means to be fa’afafine.

I live to serve my mother and that is my role as a fa’afafine—fulfilling the needs of taking care of her; family first and love life second. Her and I have a special bond founded on love. She groomed me into the woman I am today. With her sudden passing early this year, my role as a fa’afafine has partially shifted. I had to find out for myself what lays ahead and that is—to fulfill the transition journey my mother and I started and to continue to uphold her legacy with the love and support from my family and friends.

But they’re very proud of me and where I’ve got to in my academic life— and they’ve had their eyes opened up to what I’m fighting for.

I don’t believe transition is a choice, just as being fa’afafine is not a choice. Being feminine and fa’afafine is in my nature, and transitioning is just a part of my journey. It takes courage to step out from a lifetime of bullying and discrimination to be the me I was meant to be. AS A FA’AFAFINE, DO YOU DEFINE YOURSELF AS A TRANSWOMAN ALSO? Coming back to the root of the word fa’a—in the manner of, fafine meaning woman. I don’t see myself as transgender, transwoman or trans. I am a

I can only hope that other Pacific families are as accepting and open minded as my family. It is important to have discussions about genderdiverse children, accept people for who they are, and have an open mind. DO YOU HAVE ANY ADVICE FOR YOUNGER FA’AFAFINE, FA’AFATAMA OR OTHER GENDER-DIVERSE PACIFIC YOUTH? Rephrasing the question, what I would say to a very young Ashleigh? Have the courage to just be yourself and surround yourself with loving family and friends. Make sure your family and friends understand you by educating them on the identity that you identify with. I believe you can’t just say “I identify as fa’afafine or fa’afatama”. You need to do your research and find out what that identity means to you so you can help your family and friends understand who you are and for your own wellbeing.

Briar Misa Turnbull

THE FUTURE OF WORK FOR MY FELLOW PASIFIKA STUDENTS APPROACHING THE CORPORATE WORLD, ONE UNCOMFORTABLE STEP AT A TIME. Pacific cultures commonly teach us to be humble, to respect our elders, and do what is required of us quietly with our heads bowed. We build others up and honour our families by modestly serving for collective wellbeing. Combine this cultural factor with systemic racism and a majority whitefaced, white collar world, and it only makes sense that this humility is translated into academic and professional settings.

What happens after uni? An uncomfortable thought to consider. The future and work. Oh God, the real world. The ever-present uncomfortable questions linger” When are you graduating? What are you going to do with your degree? “December! Hopefully!” “I mean, I said that last year, so fingers crossed, if all goes to plan. God willing.” “Ha ha... Ah… not sure yet! Just applying for jobs and hoping for the best. Need to pay off the student loan. Ha ha…”

A very real, divergent and uncomfortable reality is that in this age of globalisation and advancing information technology, jobs that previously existed do not anymore. Work is becoming increasingly automated. In Aotearoa, Pacific peoples work predominantly in the manufacturing, wholesale and retail, and utilities and construction industries. All of these industries are heading towards automation.

Your mum, dad, aunty, uncle, mates, neighbours, acquaintances in your tutorials, your doctor, your ex's second cousin, people you went to primary school with that you bump into in the supermarket… E v e r y o n e seems to think this is acceptable small talk.

According to the OECD, highly skilled jobs have increased 25% over the last 20 years. This polarisation of high skill and low skill jobs continues to feed wealth and income inequality as low skill employment opportunities are simultaneously minimised. This will hit Pacific peoples particularly hard.

Sorry, not sorry, but those are personal questions. What you intend to do with the piece of paper that put you into tens of thousands of dollars in debt and defined the last 3–5 years of your life? Strictly confidential. And it will remain so while you bite down your anxiety and continue to labour under the (semi-)delusion that you can figure it out “when the time comes”.

In the 2013 census, Pacific peoples were discovered, as a major ethnic group, to have the lowest median income within Aotearoa at $19,700. Compared to Asian at $20,100, Māori at $22,500, European at $30,900 and ‘other including New Zealander’ at $37,100. The significance of representation of Pacific peoples in the corporate sector is more important now than ever before. The future of work is white collared. But do not let the appearance fool you. This does not mean that the future of work has to be white. The stress and discomfort you will feel stepping into a corporate environment is to be expected because it is not structured to make you to feel comfortable or supported. Cool, calm, and collected? More like fool experiencing qualms and disconnection. But your presence is something to be celebrated. Be reminded that in doing this, you are pushing the boundaries and creating space for your people. The space that you hold is vital and with your presence it is growing.

Well, my dears, the time has come. In your final year of study, the world has changed from the stressful but comfortable routine of lectures and assignments and tests into thinking about a career. The cycle of job applications and cover letters, interviews, graduate programmes, reference checks, aptitude tests, and 'sorry we don't think you have enough experience for this role' may overwhelm you. And fair enough, we’re not in Te Pūtahi Atawhai anymore, Toto. And then, if you do get the job — a job, any job— adapting to the corporate world is an uncomfortable transition. It feels silly wearing a button-up shirt. It feels silly drinking coffee on the “9–5 grind”. Chances are, your office is white, and painfully serious. Quiet and full of suits. You are the youngest in your team. Do you have the experience to be there? Why did they hire you? The bathroom becomes your hiding place when you feel the stress eating away at you.

Nobody but you can draw strength from your identity and heritage. In the workplace, your culture is revealed in more ways than one. It translates as creativity, compassion, collaboration, hard work, and drive to serve a greater purpose. You are proof that the land of milk and honey has more to offer than swallowing up and spitting out our low wage-earning, broken English-speaking, brown immigrant loved ones.

But the truth is, uncomfortable as a compliment may be, they hired you for a reason. What makes you feel this uneasy and uncomfortable and out of place (despite quite possibly being overqualified and more than able) is called Impostor Syndrome. It is very real and unsurprisingly prevalent amongst Pacific youth.

You are a manifestation of your ancestor's dreams. You are skilled, capable and competent. It might never be said aloud to you, but you deserve to take up space. You deserve to be here.

Impostor syndrome is defined as a psychological pattern in which an individual doubts their skills and accomplishments and has an insistent internalised fear of being exposed as a ‘fraud’. You feel undeserving of your success and perceived intelligence.

So, walk the stage, get that piece of paper. Get the job and bring your whole self to work. Do it unapologetically, and when you doubt yourself— remember that you are a crashing wave, creating tides of change. Your future, your work, and the future of work are all changing. Change is never comfortable. And that’s not a bad thing.

J Avia

UNCOMFORTABLE PLACES: SKIN Where are you from? My list was always ready: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, puppy dogs’ tails, a little Spanish, maybe German, and—almost as an afterthought—half Sāmoan. An unwanted fraction. But you don’t seem like a Sāmoan. I thought you were [insert other ethnicity]. A smile. A sense of accomplishment. A watered seed of selfdestruction. I could hear the disdain in the way it rolled off their tongue. Sāmoan. That same sour taste sitting on my own tongue. It was familiar, comfortable, home. At school, I remember looking down on the brown kids who sat together in groups and laughed too loudly. They didn’t get the system. They stood out in defiance, while I sank further in. I remember watching boys go after the palagi blonde girls. I wished they would chase me around, but I knew that I could only ever be considered pretty ‘for a brown girl’. I didn’t need lunchtime games to teach me that, I saw it every time I turned on the TV. I didn’t want to join poly club. I didn’t want to be associated with the other islanders in case people recognised that I was one. I would sink into my chair during Sāmoan Language Week at school, hoping that no one would see through me. I didn’t speak Sāmoan anyway (like my teachers assumed) and I didn’t want to learn. I wanted to speak the pretty languages like French, not that harsh Sāmoan tongue. I quickly learnt that ‘sounding smart’ equated with ‘sounding white’. That whiteness and intelligence were synonymous, whereas my speech was good for a Sāmoan.

I didn’t want ‘extra help’ for being brown. I wouldn’t listen to them say that the ‘extra help’ was to make up for the social and economic disadvantages faced by people like me living in a white-dominated society. I learnt that people thought brown girls were too big, too loud, too angry. So I occupied as little space as possible. I learnt to bite my tongue. Every fibre in my body was trying to erase the brownness from my skin. Growing up, my parents always wanted to see me succeed. My dad wanted me to live a life as far away from the hardships he faced in the plantations in Sāmoa as I could get. He didn’t want to bother me with learning Sāmoan traditions, or the language, or getting caught up in fa’alavelave. He wanted me to succeed in life, and ultimately, success in New Zealand did not include any of that. It’s not his fault and I don’t blame him. His idea of success was drawn from his surroundings. Who had the most money? Power? Jobs? Respect? Education? The white people. So what did I grow up striving to be like? The white people. I have my family and education to thank for putting a stop to the years I spent rejecting my culture to fit into the white society around me. My sister helped me to change not only how I saw my Sāmoan heritage, but ultimately how I saw myself. When she first used those words, they stung but they stuck: ‘internalised racism.’ I have since learnt that my culture is one of my biggest strengths. Embracing culture and valuing cultural experiences is fundamental to having empathy, understanding, and is key in driving inclusivity and change in Aotearoa. Every day I spent fighting the unwanted part of my identity is a day I will spend learning more about who I am. I am Sāmoan. I am valued.

Communication Management Expressive Arts (theatre, creative writing, making films) Journalism Linguistics Marketing Media Studies Public Relations.

Enquire now: contact@massey.ac.nz

Find out more: http://www.massey.ac.nz/communication

These offer you choices in practice-based and creative studies in media and communication.

• • • • • • •

BC Majors at Wellington & via Distance Study:

Study what you love

(BC)

Bachelor of Communication

Study Marketing in a degree that builds your critical and creative strengths

Massey has Asia-Pacific’s only communication degree accredited by the US-based ACEJMC

Massey University’s communication degree is recognised internationally

For a comprehensive report on Massey BC graduates’ employment, salaries, etc., email F.Sligo@massey.ac.nz

Join a communication degree with an excellent full-time employment record

Without The Ocean, What Are We? This is an excerpt of a speech from 15 March recited at the School Strike 4 Climate Change at Parliament Buildings, Wellington. Papatūānuku and Tangaroa transcend time, lives & worlds. They interlock and intertwine as one—with deep-rooted whakapapa to all worlds. As protectors of the earth and seas, our guardianship has failed. The human race have polluted and destroyed this earth and its oceans. Now, climate change is here to destroy us! The Mana Whenua of Aotearoa and Tagata o le Moana in the Pacific are profoundly and intricately connected to the ocean— extending beyond to the non-human and underground worlds too. This is why our narrative is so different from most. We come from cultures where we have only ever known to look after the ocean and even the land, yet we have been the first to inherit the consequences of the previous generations’ destruction to our environment and their failure to take climate action. When I enter the ocean, my indigenous identity magnifies. To you, the ocean is a human asset, but to my people, it is an ecosystem that we are part of, a living and breathing being. Without the OCEAN there will be no life on land! Adani's coal mine in Australia is destroying our ocean. It fuels global warming and will permanently damage our reefs and waters. The magnitude of this destruction has not been addressed with climate action, which is why people worldwide are fighting to "Stop Adani". This speaks volumes to us because we are doing the exact same thing now. Holding our own government to account & for them to do their responsibility to protect our futures from being diminished! If you say that climate change is not happening now, then you are wrong. Climate change is here, it is happening, and I have seen the harmful impacts of it. I have seen my families’ livelihoods destroyed right in front of my eyes because of tropical cyclones. I have seen my Nana's heart crushed while being forced to leave her flooded home because of the intensified heavy downpours. And I have seen my cousins do everything in their power to protect their homes against intensified natural disasters, only to have it swept away. Now can you look me in the eyes and tell me that climate change is not happening? Jacinda declared climate change as her generations' "nuclear-free" moment. But today, we’re all declaring to make this our "fossilfree" moment. To our nation's leaders, where are you? You have been way too absent in the fight for climate and for this reason, we are demanding stronger and consistent action NOW. This means implementing legislation that supports the following: 1) To become carbon-neutral by 2050, or sooner. 2) Limit warming to 1.5 to stay alive 3) To invest more in fossil fuel divestment now We are demanding you to be adamant and committed to protecting Papatūānuku, Tangaroa, and our futures. There is no time for fear, guilt, or blame. We need action and accountability. This is why we are striking. When I have children, I want them to grow up and actually have a planet to live on. Like the oceans, we rise Like the oceans, we protect Like the oceans, we resist Fa’afetai tele lava ma ia manuia, Thank you

Sulani Liua Helg

Advice From My Dad “It’s not always what you say, it’s how you say it” When you ask me if I’m algood, the tone in which it is asked will dictate my response. I watch to see if the curves of your mouth betray a sly smile, or if your eyes stay hardened as they look back into mine. I watch as you clench your fist, the whites of your knuckles starting to show. I listen as your breathing quickens, awaiting whatever rebuttal I have. I feel as the air around me tenses and slows, as if the world is bearing witness to what is about to occur. Then I smile. “I’m algood, you?” My eyes light and warm, my mouth fixed in a coy grin. My hands down my side and open, awaiting an embrace. My breathing deep and measured, to keep me calm. The air drifting through, cooling hotter heads and whispering encouraging words. Then you smile. “Yeah safe toko” One phrase said in two ways. Two situations, with the negative one successfully negated. It’s not always what you say; it’s how you say it. Thanks dad. As my hands trace your face, I wonder if it lines with where your tears ran. As my hands part your hair, I wonder if you felt the same skin. As I kiss your cheek, I wonder if you’ll feel it wherever you are. Anger and hatred belies the tears that flow when I’m alone. Without you in this house, it no longer feels like my home. Throwing hands with anyone who dares to throw around your name. Stepping out people who don’t realise what I’m going through, as opposed to stepping up for the people who feel it the same. Heart breaking as our family dynamic tears at the seams. Smiling faces sing your praises not knowing how much that really means. I don’t want to go school no more, because you’re not there to pick me up after. I don’t want to tell jokes and goof around, because I know that I won’t hear your laughter. I don’t let no one put hands on me because I know their hits won’t be as sore. I fight with mum and my siblings because I’m hoping you come back to tell me no more. I forget who I am, lost in my own head, with no one there to remind. I destroy myself, an empty crab shell of the son you left behind. Too sad to stay, too scared to leave, no longer willing to fight. But keep the faith, envision your face, telling me, “Nah you’ll be alright.” And I am. I really am. I survived the storm and am finally starting to come right. Nightmares are far and few in between, I can enjoy my dreams and finally make it through the night. I’ve grown comfortable with who I am, in my skin, happier than can be. I have a kid now, and when I look at her I wonder, is this how you used to look at me? I’m working on dreams and in the kitchen I can cook what you used to, though not as good. I’m at school again, getting educated, but still from Newtown repping the hood. I’ve learnt not to talk as much, use my writing to deal with the thoughts in my head. I’ve learnt to be more honest, that way I don’t have to remember what I’ve said. I still struggle with my anger and have a wandering eye. And I haven’t quite managed to tell the drugs and drink goodbye. But I’m trying. Putting my faith in God to lead me, with me as his cattle. Like you told me, as long as I’m trying, then I’ve already won half the battle.

Paula Makisi

FASHI ON M EAN FI T: FROM TH E H U T T TO T H E WO R LD REV IEW: JUSTI NE TA I TO - M ATA M U A & LEFAATAUALOFA

NAOMI TOTUA

Our Pacific fashion community both here in New Zealand and around the world is thriving. Utilising Pacific ingenuity, the work of both designers and creatives alike are reflective of their Pacific roots through ethical processes, indigenous representation, and an overall sustainable and inclusive ethos. The power of social media and a need for Pacific presence has supported the growth of many fashion industry creatives, from stylist and director Sammy Salsa (@sammysalsastyle) to the Queer Indigenous collective FAFSWAG, an interdisciplinary arts company championing social issues through cultural activism. (@fafswag) OVERSEAS Emilia Wickstead, of Sāmoan descent, is a New Zealand designer who featured “ordinary yet extraordinary New Zealand women” in the May issue of British Vogue. Displaying her latest collection in collaboration with the Woolmark Company, Wickstead seized the opportunity to have the spotlight on women from home who emulate courage and ambition while making their mark on the world. The designer celebrated faces not normally found within the pages of a fashion magazine, many of Pacific descent. CLOSER TO HOME Papa Clothing, designed by Keva Rands, is recognised as one of New Zealand’s local talents—specialising in natural fabrics and made-to-order pieces created in her Auckland studio. With connections to Fiji, Hawaii, Sāmoa and Tongareva, Rands carries with her a unique lineage, and named Papa after her own namesake. Available via papaclothing.co.nz Lumai, also based in Auckland, is a label fronted by Papua New Guinean-born Dru Douglas. Capturing modern cuts and templates, the designer also takes on an interdisciplinary mission. Inspired by Papua New Guinea identity and its history of globalisation, Douglas also supports women’s artisanal collectives across the Pacific. MORE TO EXPLORE @layplan: Wellington-based duo Lavinia and Talia, custom-made statement pieces, iconic for their bright colours, gathered frills, and faith-driven success. @moanacurrents: Coming September 2019, a NZ Fashion Museum exhibition curated by Doris de Pont and Dan Ahwa, exploring modern Aotearoa Style with a Māori/ Pacific inflection. @huntinggroundstore: A New Zealand-owned and operated company, collection of new and pre-owned casual/ luxury/one-off pieces.

THE HUTT: DELIVERING STREETWEAR, EVERYWHERE The number of streetwear and thrifted clothing business pages on Instagram has increased dramatically; you have surely stumbled across one. Lately, there has been a rise in local Polynesian individuals and groups creating their own quality streetwear brands and thrifted companies, specialising in branded and designer gears to cop at a fair price. Ideal for sole and sugas on the student budget but still wanting to look luxurious. Being a proud individual from the good old Hutt Valley, I want to acknowledge a couple of these brown businesses from the best region in Wellington (*insert eyes emoji*) doing the absolute most to get that bread. Today, streetwear is evolving by rewinding time, with the influence of the 90’s and early 2000s hip-hop having a significant impact on style. The return of graphic tees, cool-looking sweatpants, brightcoloured outerwear, and fly vintage-looking sneakers; Genderneutral streetwear has so far proven progression. Two local creators on the rise are Young Thrifted & Broke and I.N.A APPAREL. @YTANDB Young Thrifted & Broke, as it says in the name, delivers highly affordable gears for young and broke individuals (like us @ Vic, yay). The small Hutt Valley-based business is noticeably growing day by day on Instagram and has also created successful popup sale stores for locals in recent times. With the progress of fast fashion and landfills having un-loved clothing as the quickest growing form of waste, @YTANDB focuses on sustainable fashion, the importance of recycling, and saving quality streetwear grails. @I.N.A_APPAREL This emerging brand explores the need for diversity for men’s clothing, with its “Unfiltered Man” collection. In which believing that men’s fashion, lack the variety of clothing as compared to women's wear; challenging the traditional idea of masculinity with its epic pastel palette of garments. This collection and other work by Ina Malama, the brain behind the brand, are set to be showcased for Fashion Week 2020 in all four fashion capitals of the world: New York, London, Paris, and Milan.

F O OD FEED ' S ON REV IEW:GE O R GI A TAR ĀN I G I F F O R D

“Mmmm reminds me that I’m brown. A little bit dry until you take your second bite. I would smash five.” - G Vaeau You know that saying ‘if you know, you know’? Mama Rere’s Island Doughnuts is the epitome of that saying. They can be found at the Porirua Markets in Waitangirua. Find the car parked right at the back with the boot open, filled with those staple white polystyrene bins. There will be a few people hanging around the car with an ice-cream container. That’s where you drop the shmoney. And no, doughnuts isn’t a code word, this really is how you buy them. Good luck, and don't expect change (not that it matters cos they’re worth every cent). Price really does depend on who you are. Wear your ei katu and make a good impression—it’s a long-term investment. “One word. Flavoursome. I’m parked up here for the day.” Are we correct in saying chop suey is really an umbrella item of food across the whole of Polynesia? A kaikai staple, a unifying force. While its origins may be unclear, we once again stumbled across pure gold stuffed to maximum capacity in a container at— you guessed it—Porirua Markets. In a grey, unassuming caravan with a homemade sharpie sign, $6 can get you enough fried rice and chop suey to appetise approximately 4 adults and 2 children. It was undoubtedly the most highly rated item of food we ate that day. This was set in stone for us after many requests from our children for “more of the rice and noodle stuff”. Goes great with the donuts. Awesome for dipping. Pepe-approved. “Reminds me of home.” We tried two types of keke mamoe, one from Sāmoa’s Finest and one from a van at the market that we don’t really remember anything about, other than the fact that it was grey with a green stripe. We were lucky enough to have an expert in Sāmoan kai among us, the one and only George Vaeau. According to him, green van’s keke lamb were exactly like classic Sāmoan street vendors in Apia. BUT—Sāmoa’s Finest came through with the winner: It had the softest keke, the best tasting meat that wasn’t too overpowering, and was just overall a really enjoyable experience. 11/10 would recommend. “Perfectly sweet.”

PASEFIKA caravan at the Porirua Markets took the prize for best Panipopo and Panikeke of the day. Of the bun-to-cream ratio, Ruben Parata said something along the lines of, “a dreamy, generous helping”. George said the Panipopo were the “fancy shape” and that if you brought it to school in Sāmoa, people would think you were fancy. The Panikeke were cooked to order… and in the words of Georgia Gifford, “She was freshhhhhh.” We think PASEFIKA caravan is fancy AF—even if their koko samoa was too strong for our colonised taste buds. George and Ruben were gutted that they were out of pineapple pie/half-moon pie/pai fala Sāmoa’s Finest gave us taro that was just that—fine :( According to George, their fa’apāpā needed to be more dense and stubborn— see Israel Folau's religious beliefs. Their pineapple pie was good as expected, but we had a couple of confused kukis on our hands when Jade and Georgia noticed the absence of cream and custard. It’s not called ‘Cook Island’s Finest’ so that comment is disregarded, but duly noted for the next tour. We also tried povi masima and SHOUTOUT to tangata whenua, cos it reminded us of the iconic Māori struggle meal where corned beef meets cabbage and her boring friends—an assortment of flavourless steamed vegetables. Tiheiiiii, mauri ora. P.S. Does anyone know what part of the lamb the flaps come from? Asking 4 a friend and 2 very confused children (Tarapuhi and Georgia). Special award: Most Versatile Cook Island doughnuts know no limits when it comes to flavour— dip it in your Milo, stack it up with chop suey, or eat it by itself. It’s almost as fluid as our pre-colonial indigenous constructs of gender and sexuality cough cough @israel folau P.S. There is a major LACK of non-Polynesian food in Ptown. We would’ve loved to see some more Nesians represented at the markets/wider Porirua area. Apologies: Palusami/Luau, koko alaisa, vaisalo, supo esi, suafa’i, faiai elegi, kale mamoe

F IL M WHEN TH E Y SE E U S REV IEW: L A FA E L E M A PU S U A

When They See Us will leave you provoked, furious, and hopefully socially aware. Created, co-written and directed by the brilliant Ava DuVernay (Selma), she re-enters the foray of telling stories of racial politics, namely that of African American, through the incidents surrounding the infamous Central Park Five. The Netflix miniseries is a harrowing retelling of the five teens who were falsely accused and convicted of rape and murder in New York City’s Central Park in April 1989. The series follows the fateful night in April when the then teens were “in the wrong place at the wrong time”. DuVernay builds on her storytelling from Selma and brings forward the true essence of the Central Park Five. When They See Us puts the spotlight back on the racial, social, and economic issues affecting people of colour. Although a story from 1989, its themes continue to plague African Americans and Hispanics, notwithstanding the current climate of the Trump presidency. In a style that only DuVernay could master, she puts into frame the corruption and wickedness of those people that should rightly be vilified. In her realistic direction, you can see what DuVernay is seeking to tell the audience—the truth. There is a litter of powerful performances from both the teen and adult actors of the Central Park Five. Standouts include Jharrel Jerome (Moonlight) and supporting players Vera Farmiga (The Conjuring) and an ironic performance from Felicity Huffman (Transamerica). Ava DuVernay does not hold back in her storytelling with a tense first two episodes, a claustrophobic episode three, right through to its emotional peak in the finale. The cinematography shines particularly in the court scenes as well scenes in the prison cells when the teens have aged to adults. The dark blue filter that the series is shot through adds a gloomy dimension in its storytelling of this bleak tale. The last episode, although a decent closing, is the longest and has some pacing issues, however it ends the miniseries not on a Hollywood’s cliché of “good overcomes evil” but rather a rethinking that “the truth will always come out”.

One cannot help but to draw parallels between this series and to those Pasifika stories that continue to sour the taste of racial relationships in society. It is hard to not think about the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy and its annexation to America; Sāmoa’s Mau movement, specifically Black Saturday; Fiji’s history of blackbirding and slavery; and, how can we forget—New Zealand’s own Dawn Raids. On a molecular level there are examples we see day-to-day that, although not on the level of the Central Park Five, are still tangible enough to awaken a rage and sadness. As a Pasifika person, when I paid close attention to the language used on the five teens during the interrogation scenes, I thought to myself—that could be said to one of us. I am not sure what that says about NZ society, our justice system, and my perception of Pasifika peoples in the first two. It goes without saying that on some level, Pasifika people will be privy to such dehumanising, coercive and disrespectful language, as we have had it directed to us. The series questions if you are content with those ideas. It makes you take an inward look as to how you view the world and how you fit in it. Is it equitable? Is it fair? Is there justice? What should justice look like? DuVernay does amazingly in rendering the stories of the five teens and making sure that in some way it will relate to you, especially if you’re a person of colour. When They See Us is a masterpiece helmed by Ava DuVernay’s honest and raw directing. She is the true headliner of the series. It is a tough watch and at times disturbing. "It's no longer about justice,” as the show says. “It's about politics. And politics is about survival. And there's nothing fair about survival". Currently showing on Netflix.

MUS IC M USIC & TH E PAC I FI C REV IEW: L EFAATAUALOFA NAOMI TOTUA

For many of us Pacific people growing up, homegrown music meant “They Don’t Know” by Aaradhna and Savage on blast in the people mover; you and your cousins screaming—“Huh? Yo! That can’t be true! Now you wouldn’t be lyin to my face, now, would you?” It was that tune from Once Were Warriors: “What’s the Time Mr Wolf?” amongst Ardijah and Herbs at frequent garage drink-ups with your horc uncle and his wife who wore too much bling. It was Nesian Mystik, singing about Taro, Manioke and Lu Sipi while you sat at the beach or park with your family—with only breakfast crackers and WAHOO tuna waiting for you at home. As with anything, our taste in music has matures with us. It grows with our experiences, and as artists themselves grow. With a particular focus on our hip hop scene (being predominantly Pasifika) forged by individuals such as internationally recognised David Dallas, Savage, Scribe, and P-Money, alongside collectives like Smashproof—there is no doubt that the current state of New Zealand music is healthy. Although each artist is different, together they hold a united front, demonstrating a unique type of sportsmanship you would find in a champion team.

Often found collaborating on each other’s tracks—the likes of Melodownz (Avontale local), Church & AP (NZ’s hottest duo), Diggy Dupé (king of Central Auckland), Lukan Rai$ey (South Auckland local) and SWIDT (hip hop collective from Onehunga) are just a handful of many paying homage to their upbringing and recording their surroundings, detailing what they see via politically and socially conscious lyrics. Authentic in their storytelling, these artists bring the stories of Pacific people in New Zealand to the forefront of Aotearoa’s identity. Today, our hip hop culture is armed with honest examples of racism, reflective of issues surrounding male masculinity and mental health, the conflict involved in choosing one’s truth versus appeasing the expectations of family and demanding space and recognition. NZ hip hop artists fight stereotypes and systematic division enforced upon Pacific people in general and within the music industry itself. Transparent in their art, on the gram, and in real life, staying true is central to effectively making an impact while accomplishing their goals.

FOR YOU AND YOUR FAMILY

CURATED BY OUR GUEST EDITORS

“TAKU RAMA, TAAU TOI- ORA TE REO” “MY TORCH, YOUR ADZE- THE LANGUAGE LIVES”

EPETOMA O TE REO MĀORI KŪKI ‘ĀIRANI COOK ISLANDS LANGUAGE WEEK

SUNDAY 4 AUGUST - SATURDAY 10 AUGUST 2019

Grandma's Panipopos

My grandma had hands that could knead love into Panipopos Sew consideration into pe'as for white sunday And slap sense into the back of my head because I'd giggle at how she said "Luisa aua ke fiaboko" I could see her pride in the way she'd curl ribbons on the ula loles, waddle up to the stage, arthritis and all to say "Luisa I love you." She'd send out eye smiles to the drivers who flipped her off My nan was a queen who admittedly did not deserve a licence and she knew as she would say "Oi, sorry" My grandma spoke to me in onomatopoeias and I found a home in between the a'es and aikaes My nan was a queen who admittedly threw curses to my being when the remote control was too far away Fale left her kindness at the base of her shoulder I would lay my head on when life hit too hard and after the tears stopped she told me "Luisa ua la" Which meant. Take ur tears and dry them because You are a warrior These hands you have that are like mine can build life and nourish it. These feet you got from me have walked a path that has been washed away by the shores of men. But we stamp our footprint on the heart of our daughters to remind them, of a love we give to ourselves before we give to others. That's not really what she said But interpretations are all I have from my fob nan. Interpretations keep me awake at night replaying regrets in my head. I used to soak up everything she did like a sponge watch and learn and when I thought I could think for myself I wrung out the knowledge you gave me to wipe up the tears from mistakes I made. Like a child, I wrestled with the love you gave me and now even though I wrestle with time. Now, I try to knead the same love into my panipopos but they keep burning for some reason Sew consideration into peas for church but the needles prick my skin Throw eye smiles to those who wrong me but can't restrain the sharp words that flow so easily And these pillows don't hold the same warmth as ur shoulder Even the voice in my head doesn't hold the same afflictions you did I wonder how long it will take to heal.

Luisa-Tafu Leiataua Tauri-Tei

YOU CAN'T PAINT THE PACIFIC WITH JUST ONE BRUSH STROKE DR TERESIA TEAIWA