Issue 03 - Nō hea koe? by Salient

EDITORIAL

NEWS Party Line Shit News Tweets Of The Week

11 14 15

LETTERS & NOTICES

FEATURES I Lift Up My Eyes The H Word Ka Tangi Te Tītī Home

16 19 20 22

CENTREFOLD

COLUMNS Fashion and Haute Tea Talking With My Dad About Sex Ngāi Tauira VUWSA One Ocean SWAT Ask Sissy In Our Environment UNIQ From the Archives POEM

26 27 28 29 30 31 32 34

REVIEWS Gig Fashion Art Film TV Book Food

35 36 37 38 39 40 41

ENTERTAINMENT Horoscopes

Welcome to our first themed issue, Nō Hea Koe? It’s our job to work day and night each week to get you the Salient. In our attempt to create a magazine you want to read, we try to capture the voice of the students, staff, as well as the more subtle voices in Wellington. It’s difficult to include something in the magazine that every single reader will resonate with. Maybe you didn’t resonate with ‘How to Spot a Softboi and other Shit Chat’ because you’re secretly a softboi. Some people won’t have resonated with last week’s crossword because it had all the clues, and you’re more comfortable with the incomplete rather than perfection. Everyone resonates with the word home. Home can be a location. The word may bring your local chippie to mind. The church that your neighbour attends, and her daughter who pushed you on the playground once. The steps you sat on and cried when you felt your first heartbreak. The smell of lasagne and the wag of your dog’s tail when you walk through the front door. For some of you, it’s not a physical place, but an area in which you feel comfortable. Somewhere where there is the smell of savoury treats. Dim warm lights, and a cold (but not freezing) atmosphere. Flowers are within arm's reach at all times and creative spaces are in every corner. We can’t assume what home looks like for you. Nor can we depict what it looks like for us in one page. Whatever type of home you find, be it at a hall of residence or a damp flat, we hope that you feel as grounded as a flower.

As you entrench your roots into the soil, and get a grasp on the garden you call home, you’ll learn to utilise the sunlight and rain, using time to your advantage. Sooner or later, the wind will rip your roots out of the soil you once called home. Unforgiving unknown forces will remove you from your familiar surroundings. You will realise that home doesn’t remain a physical place forever. This week, realise that you are here to dig your roots into the ground. Whether you’re a first-year who feels like they’ve just been ripped from their home and placed onto the corner of StudyLink Avenue and Mi Goreng Street, or a third-year student who is not ready for their roots to be ripped from the soil of university; understand that the idea of home is familiarity. Home is something we can all resonate with.

A flower feasts in the sunshine, becoming taller and larger, its colourful petals increasing its beauty. The sunshine is harmless and allows the flower to grow, inside and outside. Throughout your growth at university, there will be weeks where the sun shines profusely. You’ll feel the warmth more than ever, and grow throughout your time here. There will be weeks where it will rain and you won’t see the sunshine. Continue to grow through these weeks and disregard any negative thoughts—the cynical conversations, critical people, and energy vampires. The caterpillars, eating away at the flowers.

Kii Small & Taylor Galmiche

sponsored by

What do you think of when someone talks about ‘Home’? Send your replies to our Instagram stories @salientgram

Being cold and sick and getting ripped off by a rich landlord - @georgiaveragos

Loud annoying siblings who get ur ass in trouble!

- @priteshna_chand REPLY

A place where I feel comfortable being myself - @daisyresmith

Whānau - @joesph_jcoughlan

REPLY REPLY

My family all live in other places so it’s wherever I feel the most comfortable - @waldead REPLY

Where ‘Ultralight Beam’ plays on repeat - @salientgram REPLY

A damp, mouldy flat xx - @georgialaw REPLY

LASAGNE - @yung_bluray REPLY

ISSUE 3

SALIENT

News. PIKI BRINGS FOUR COUNSELLORS TO VICTORIA TAYLOR GALMICHE A pilot government programme could see a significant boost to counselling services at Wellington universities, adding capacity for an extra 1000 students to access mental health care on Victoria University’s campus.

Pam Thorburn, Director of Student Academic Services, told Salient that Tū Ora and Mauri Ora are co-designing tailored programmes with Māori and Pasifika input.

Salient understands that the programme—called Piki (“to support” or “to ascend”)—will see $10.5 million spent in the Wellington region over the next 2.5 years, starting from January. It will increase Victoria University’s full-time equivalent (FtE) counsellors by 3.7, from 9.5 to 13.5.

“The university will be working with Māori, Pasifika, LGBTQIA+ and takatāpui, and other parts of the university community to ensure programmes are accessible to those who don’t traditionally access mental health services,” said Thorburn. Along with face-to-face services, students who go through Piki counsellors will use an online emotional wellness app, developed by Melon Health. The application aims to better understand individual needs and to supply digital resources like peer support and links to alternate therapy options.

The pilot programme targets 18 to 25-year-olds living in the greater Wellington region, which includes Wellington, Kapiti, Hutt, Wairarapa, and Porirua. “It’s not a silver bullet, but it’s a good structural pou or grounding for us to work around,” said VUWSA President Tamatha Paul.

The pilot will also include group sessions and connections to other existing services such as Homecare Medical’s national Telehealth services.

She, with the VUWSA executive and many students, lobbied for government funding at the end of the 2018 school year, with on-campus mental health hui and The Wait is Over campaign.

“It’s incredibly good to be able to provide some positive news given the work done over many years by VUWSA, students and the University,” said Hoffman. Over the weekend, VUWSA held a wānanga in Island Bay, providing an opportunity for the large range of people involved with mental health campaigning at VUW to come together and identify what mental health looks like in their community at the moment.

“We got what we wanted essentially […] I’m fucking happy and it just reiterates in my mind the power of student activism, the power of speaking up,” Paul said. Mauri Ora, Massey Student Health, and Tū Ora Compass Health, one of New Zealand’s leading public health organisations, are implementing the pilot at Victoria and Massey over the next two and a half years.

“We wanted to keep going with the essence of The Wait is Over by bringing in students to be able to shape what we’re doing this year with the kaupapa of mental health,” said Paul.

According to Mauri Ora manager Gerard Hoffman, VUW has already employed four clinicians, who are training under the university model of mental health care. These ‘Piki Counsellors’ will work exclusively with domestic and NZAID students between the ages of 18 and 25.

Piki has also brought change to Massey University, who have gone from 3.2 to 4.2 FtE counsellors. Piki is under ongoing development, but the pilot will see an official university launch alongside government ministers and MPs in April.

Last year, Angus Shaw, who is currently taking a semester off university, had to seek counselling through Primary Solutions because the waitlist was too long. “I think it’s great that the uni is finally taking steps to care about students’ mental health.”

If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health, you can contact these organisations for support:

“Because Vic has a significant percentage of the 18 to 25 population locally and because of the unique and challenging context of tertiary study, Compass [Tū Ora] has included us as a Piki partner,” said Hoffman. According to Tū Ora, this percentage could be as high as 30%.

VC Grant Guilford makes a public statement: “Are we a DHB or a university?”

Salient reported on fourweek counselling wait times at Mauri Ora

JULY 23 21 MAY 2018

VUWSA and students meet with Minister of Health David Clark to discuss needs for improvement

AUGUST 22 AUGUST 16

Government announces $10.5M mental health pilot for 18-25 Year Olds

Helpline: Free call or text 1737 Mauri Ora Student Health: 04 463 5308 Wellington Accident and Urgent Medical Centre: 04 384 4944 Call 111 in an emergency

OCTOBER 5 SEPTEMBER University mental health hui with Chlöe Swarbrick continue at Vic

The Wait is Over: Hundreds of students march from Pipitea to Parliament

Vic employs and starts training four new counsellors

VUWSA holds wānanga in Island Bay

FEB 11 JANUARY 2018

TBA MARCH 15

Piki launched in Porirua, annoucing that Wellington region would receive $10.5M funding

Piki to be officially launched at Vic Uni

News.

COMPLAINTS OF INAPPROPRIATE, DRUNKEN BEHAVIOUR FROM UNI HALL STAFF EMMA HOUPT “When I followed up to see what had been done about it, Louis said he’d spoken to [Bryan] and had given him a verbal warning. Louis had said that he didn’t want to tell his manager as there weren’t enough staff and Bryan would be fired.”

CW: Sexual violence, harassment Uni Hall staff members allegedly demonstrated drunken, inappropriate, and sexually abusive behaviour towards residents last year.

A Uni Hall resident also complained to management about Bryan’s inappropriate drunken behaviour.

Two staff members had concerns raised about their behaviour at the Victoria University of Wellington (VUW) hall; Bryan*, a Residential Advisor (RA) and Joel*, a Senior Resident (also known as a Kiwi Mate).

Bryan found out about these complaints and went into the resident’s room, reportedly causing damage to their belongings.

RAs and Kiwi Mates are covered by the university’s Staff Conduct Policy. The policy strongly discourages “entering into an intimate personal relationship with a student, particularly with a student for whom they have responsibility.”

After this incident, hall management moved Bryan to his own flat and implemented an alcohol ban. According to Caitlin, no staff member enforced the alcohol ban and no compensation was provided to the resident whose room Bryan went into.

VUW hall staff members also sign a code of ethical behaviour which states that the “staff-to-resident relationship requires strict boundaries so that a positive and trustful Halls environment is maintained.”

Salient brought the complaints to the attention of the university.

Both were able to continue their positions at Uni Hall for the rest of 2018. However, VUW were unable to provide a list of names confirming staff who are working at Uni Hall in 2019.

In response, VUW said that the allegations against hall staff members are “concerning”, and acknowledges that it appears complaints made to hall management were not well-handled.

Bryan had multiple complaints raised against him of indecent behaviour and sexual intercourse with residents, with little initial response.

VUW says “a review of how the complaints were handled and addressed in these cases will be undertaken with the aim of getting to the bottom of how the matters were handled and, if failings are identified, how the University can do better in future.”

Former Uni Hall RA Gracie* told Salient she was disgusted by Bryan’s behaviour within the first few weeks of residents moving into the hall.

Joel, another Uni Hall Kiwi Mate, had sex with residents, and supposedly made regular unwanted sexual advances towards them.

“I had been shutting down a party where I overheard him talking to another Kiwi Mate about how he was trying to hook up with one of his residents,” said Gracie.

He allegedly groped female residents, and persistently bothered one resident in particular.

“Another time [Bryan] was so intoxicated his eyes were glassed over and he wasn’t responding to me when I was trying to talk to him.”

Caitlin told Salient that Joel often tried to take advantage of this resident when they were drunk, despite them repeatedly saying no.

“He ended up being taken to hospital in an ambulance from town that night because he was so intoxicated.”

Staff members found it alarming that it was commonly accepted within the hall for RAs and Kiwi Mates to have sex with residents.

Uni Hall staff members and residents were dissatisfied with how management responded to their complaints in regards to Bryan’s behaviour.

When Gracie took this matter to the Head of Hall, it was suggested that management couldn’t do anything about it, and that they tended to just turn a blind eye to staff and residents having sex.

Former Uni Hall Kiwi Mate Caitlin* and Gracie, both confirmed with Salient that hall management did not substantially respond to any initial complaints about Bryan.

“It felt like it had just been really unethical for so long that they’d all just been conditioned to think it was okay.”

When Gracie first complained to management, they disregarded her concerns claiming that Bryan’s behaviour was to be expected.

VUW urges any students who have concerns to come forward, by contacting the university’s student interests and conflict resolution team.

“I [...] talked it through with the Acting Head of Hall immediately, sure that he’d lose his job. But all I got was an eye roll—apparently, Bryan had always been like that in his two years as a Kiwi Mate prior to being an RA,” said Gracie.

* Names changed. If you have had similar experiences in halls of residence, you can contact news@ salient.org.nz. Anonymity is assured on request.

Gracie went to hall management a second time to complain about Bryan’s behaviour after more alcohol-related incidents occurred. The Acting Head of Hall Louis* said he would speak with Bryan, and asked her not to tell anyone about his behaviour.

If you require support regarding sexual violence or an abusive relationship, you can contact:

Gracie was told that if management found out about how Bryan was acting, Bryan could lose his job and that this would cause further problems, as they were already understaffed.

Student Interest and Conflict Resolution Manager, Emma Mossman: 04 463 5023 VUWSA Advocate, Erica Schouten: 04 463 6984 Safe to Talk: 0800 044 334 or text 4334 Wellington Rape Crisis: 04 801 8973 Call 111 in an emergency

ISSUE 3

SALIENT

UNIVERSIT Y TO LAUNCH SEXUAL HARASSMENT P OLICY LAURA SUTHERLAND Victoria University is due to release a stand-alone sexual harassment policy for staff and student consultation this week.

Staff and student forums on the new policy will be held later in the trimester. Larner hopes that students will actively engage with the consultation process—“It helps us with the wider work of having a culture in our university that says this is never okay.”

VUW’s Student Code of Conduct currently defines misconduct as “conduct that is detrimental to the safety or well-being of other people, the effective functioning of the University or to the reputation of the University.”

VUWSA have been consulted in the policymaking process, along with the Postgraduate Students’ Association, the Tertiary Education Union, the Sexual Abuse Prevention Network, and the university’s own experts in areas such as law and criminology.

There is no direct mention of sexual harm. It is addressed once in the Staff Conduct Policy.

“Having a stand-alone policy is in line with advice from the State Services Commission which indicates that research shows sexual harassment is less likely to occur in organisations with a policy,” said VUWSA advocate Erica Schouten.

Victoria University Provost Wendy Larner said that the need for a standalone policy had been underscored by cultural shifts, including similar policy developments across Australia and the #metoo movement. The new policy is part of a broader programme to promote conversation and action around sexual harm.

VUWSA Welfare Vice-President Rhianna Morar emphasised the importance of accessibility when dealing with long and technical policy documents.

While the university has existing processes to deal with staff and student reports of sexual harassment, this new dedicated policy will provide an entrenched framework for doing so.

“VUWSA has recommended that it work in partnership with the University to produce a readable, non-intensive version of the policy and procedures that can easily be found online and distributed throughout the university," she told Salient.

A key feature of the new policy is its distinction between a disclosure of sexual harassment and a formal complaint. A student or staff member may make a disclosure anonymously if they want to record the incident, without the university launching an investigation. Under the current system, a student must make a formal complaint, which cannot be done anonymously.

The universities of Otago, Canterbury, Massey, Waikato and Auckland universities all mention sexual harm in behaviour, harassment and bullying policies. However, the new policy would put VUW on par with Lincoln University, currently one of the few (if not the only) New Zealand university with a stand-alone sexual harm policy.

A GAY OLD TIME: WE LLINGTON PRIDE FESTIVAL 2019 BEN NELSON The Wellington Pride Parade also made a splash, taking over the whole of Courtenay Place from 6 p.m. until late into the night, full of colour and celebration.

You can’t have missed all the new rainbow flags and posters around town over the last couple weeks, but what’s it all for? The Wellington Pride Festival is here. It started last week and finishes on March 24. There’s plenty of cool stuff on, both for queers and anyone who wants to support the community.

Events will continue to run until the end of the week, with Four Winds: An Interfaith Spiritual Gathering at St Andrews on the Terrace this Tuesday; Ivy Karaoke on Wednesday; the Disney Drag Supershow on Saturday; and a whole lot more.

The first couple of weeks of Pride were packed with plenty of comedians and drag shows, karaoke nights, and even a roller derby. You really missed out, though, if you didn’t go to Out in the Park and the Wellington International Pride Parade on Saturday, March 16.

VUWSA and VUW didn’t put anything on themselves, but VUWSA said they were “looking forward to Pride Week on campus to celebrate our Vic Community".

Out in the Park has been going since the 80’s, with a bunch of free entertainment right in the middle of town at Waitangi Park, so it’s always worth checking out.

VUW is sponsoring this week’s ILGA World Conference, and will be supporting UniQ Victoria’s Pride Week in July, as well as giving broader support to the queer community at Victoria throughout the year.

News.

MAORI AND PASIFIKA SUPP ORT SERVICES: NEW PHONE, WHO DIS? POIPOIA TE TAONGA POA Excited about the rebranding, Marie Cocker, Director of Te Herenga Waka Marae, believes the transformation gives Māori and Pasifika students a single, simple pathway to services, and hopes it will improve engagement.

Gone are the days of Te Rōpū Āwhina and Te Pūtahi Atawhai. Previously combined, Māori and Pasifika support services have been separated in an attempt to improve student recruitment, retention, and results.

Whānau rooms across all three campuses will still be maintained as shared Māori and Pasifika spaces.

The two individual teams, Āwhina (for Māori students) and Pasifika Student Success (for Pasifika students), aim to offer comprehensive, university-wide support in all faculties.

Ngāi Tauira (NT) Academic Officer, Te Mapihi Tutua-Nathan, is aware students already accustomed to Te Rōpū Āwhina and Te Pūtahi Atawhai ways may need extra support to transition smoothly. Otherwise, she agrees the change is for the best.

Splitting enables both teams to streamline their services without making the cultural compromises they would have prior to 2019. Ali Leota, Academic Officer for the Pacific Students’ Council (PSC), sees the change as a great opportunity for Māori and Pasifika to achieve more autonomy.

Both PSC and NT were given opportunities to contribute to the planning processes but lacked the student involvement to properly utilise them. Despite the absence of student input, PSC and NT are happy with the changes and agree they are a step in the right direction.

Data will also be more distinguishable, allowing better assessment of growth and strategic framework alignment.

It will be some time before the results of the changes are noticed, but with staff and students on board, there may be no need to cross fingers.

Assistant Vice-Chancellor (Pasifika) Hon Luamanuvao Dame Winnie Laban has noted a greater “capacity for longer-term strategic thinking.”

Āwhina can be found at Te Herenga Waka Marae (46 Kelburn Parade). Pasifika Student Success is located at Pasifika Haos (15 Mount Street).

The teams’ relocation reflects their change to a ‘hub and spoke’ approach; operations are being centralised to one point (the ‘hub’) from which students can be directed to faculty-specific support (the ‘spoke’).

STAY HEALTHY: FRESHER FLU IS BACK KII SMALL In the last few years, halls of residence at Victoria University of Wellington have been a breeding ground for contagious diseases.

If the student has been isolated, but the rate of infection has increased, the halls are allowed to re-house infected residents onto the same floor.

Wellington’s reputation for ‘damp, cold and mouldy’ housing is uninviting for many newcomers and isn’t helped by the inevitable ‘fresher flu’ that follows an influx of 20,000 new residents.

Outbreaks of contagious diseases around the country have led to calls for better funding and promotion for some vaccines. Meningococcal disease is one potential concern for students in halls of residence, as three University of Otago students were diagnosed last year.

With reports of staff and students becoming sick with the flu and other pathogens, questions have been sent to Salient about the processes the university uses to deal with infectious diseases.

Measles outbreaks have hit the headlines too, with up to 55 cases identified in Canterbury and two cases confirmed in Auckland at time of publication.

Salient talked with the university and Mauri Ora to ensure that the safety of students and staff is a top priority. All halls of residence are guided by procedures which can change depending on the situation, the severity of the illness, and advice from healthcare professionals.

Both are examples of highly infectious diseases. New Zealanders, especially those living in close quarters such as in halls of residence, are advised to get vaccinated, be hygiene-conscious, and to talk to a healthcare professional about any concerns.

According to Mauri Ora, the first step in the procedure is to isolate infectious residents. This requires provision of separate bathroom facilities, delivery of meals and water, and keeping on-site staff and the student themselves informed.

Vaccinations are available at Mauri Ora. There is a flu vaccine available from April which is free for students.

OPINION

SALIENT

Opinion. C H A N G I N G MM P ’S 5 % T H R E S H O L D New Zealand's electoral threshold prevents parties with less than 5% of the national party vote from entering Parliament, unless they have won an electoral seat. This threshold should be lowered.

NO CHANGE

YES CHANGE

RICHARD BEERE

REID WICKS

The argument for lowering the threshold is a simple one: it will increase the diversity of views represented within Parliament. Ostensibly, this seems better simply on the basis that having more diverse representation is more democratic. But could lowering the threshold come at a cost?

MMP is, in my opinion, the best voting system in the world. With that being said, it could do with an upgrade—one of those upgrades is a change to the voting threshold. MMP works well because it enables voters to support parties that better represent their views—rather than voting for whichever of the two big parties they dislike the least.

What the threshold provides is a small, but significant enough, barrier to democratic representation. As it stands, minority parties are required to prove that their beliefs have some kind of appeal to an internal constituency, whether through the threshold, or through winning an electorate seat. It requires a movement to electorally prove a level of legitimacy.

However, we’re getting close to having a parliament that looks like it was decided by a First Past the Post system—with only four political parties making that 5% threshold. This puts parties at a disadvantage at the negotiating table by limiting the number of potential coalition partners.

Currently, minority parties can still achieve representation, but the barrier to entry that the threshold creates prevents the kind of fractionalisation seen in Israel. It prevents too many small parties who don’t have a legitimate electoral mandate from entering Parliament and destabilising its ability to form a government. This is how the New Zealand Electoral Commission justifies our threshold.

Lowering the threshold reduces wasted votes. In past MMP elections, parties with as much as 4% of the vote didn’t get a single seat. That’s a lot of wasted votes, and a lot of voters not being represented. As it is, voters can be discouraged from voting for parties that might not make the threshold. This is tactical voting, and something that a good voting system should work to reduce. People should be able to vote for the parties that they think will do a good job—rather than voting for the closest party most likely to cross that threshold.

The threshold is a protective measure. The current 5% bar is a careful balance between a sufficiently low barrier for minority representation and preventing fractionalisation and demagoguery. Parties are required to prove their legitimate appeal to the electorate and therefore some kind of mandate to enter Parliament on.

Tactical voting can be a barrier to newer parties looking to get into Parliament. In 1996, the year of the first MMP election in New Zealand, there were 22 registered parties, but we were down to 16 in 2017. This isn’t good for our democracy, as there are fewer and fewer parties to challenge the more wellestablished parties.

A classic example of how the threshold prevents Parliamentary representation is the Māori Party in the 2017 election. After supporting a National government, they lost a lot of previous support. They no longer had a mandate from Māori voters to fight for Māori issues, as they had in previous elections.

A lowered MMP threshold would give voters more confidence to vote for the parties they want to see in Parliament, enabling better representation and therefore a healthier democracy.

The threshold is not dissimilar to many other protective measures that could be viewed as undemocratic. One example is the Portuguese constitution’s ban on far-right parties being in Parliament. With the recent global rise in nationalism and other fringe movements, the threshold serves to protect New Zealand democracy from such destabilising forces. It serves to maintain the integrity of voters’ ability to provide a clear mandate to politicians about the nature of our government.

We should change the threshold.

We should keep the threshold as it is.

News.

Politics. THE PA RT Y L I NE The MMP 5% threshold has come into the cross-hairs again, with suggestions it should be dropped to 4%. Lowering the threshold could let more political parties into Parliament, but the proposal has been criticised. Greens@Vic

VicLabour

ACT on Campus Wellington

VicNats

The Greens support lowering the threshold, and have long supported implementing the Electoral Commission’s 2012 recommendations, which the National Government conveniently chose to ignore. We shouldn’t be letting smaller political parties with significant support, like TOP or the Conservatives, go unrepresented due to an arbitrary & high threshold that distorts the proportionality of parliament. The Electoral Commission recommends 4% as the level that best balances proportionality and stability, and suggests that it could even be lowered to 3%. Unfortunately, over the 7 years since the report, National opted to ignore it out of self-interest. A better democracy should trump partisanship.

If all votes are equal, then any threshold to enter parliament greater than that needed to gain a single seat is undemocratic. Yes, we must always fight for further suffrage and perfect democracy, but lowering the threshold isn’t the only path.

We believe the threshold absolutely has to be lowered immediately. The current 5% barrier negates the possibility of diverse politics. With the bar so high, much of the public can go without proper representation, unless they bite the bullet and vote for a major party with a higher chance of entering parliament. This squanders MMP, a system designed to allow smaller parties the ability to enter the debating chamber and really have a powerful impact on our legislative process.We would support any threshold change that helps our democracy be a better representation of the public and their views.

Since the introduction of MMP, the 5% threshold has been an effective way to ensure that all parties in Parliament represent the views of a wide range of people. Tampering with it risks opening the doors for further changes and manipulations to suit the Government of the day. New Zealand has a proud history of seeking consensus-based change to our electoral system. We have concerns around the motives of the Green Party in putting forward these changes so close to an election without the consensus-based approach or allowing a public referendum on the issue.

We should be always endeavouring to ensure MMP works the way it was intended - minor parties having an opportunity to be represented in Parliament. Therefore, if our two largest minor parties cannot maintain their footing with this threshold and if it is too high for our new parties to reach, then we probably should look into reevaluating. - Jackson Graham

- Grahame Woods

- Not attributed

- Lachlan Patterson

P O L I TICAL ROU NDU P THOMAS CAMPBELL First day back for Salient in the Monday afternoon media scrum as Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern faced questions from media about the conduct of one of her Cabinet Ministers.

Thursday, she travelled down to the east coast to Ashburton, in order to make an education announcement. Salient is unable to confirm what this is, due to our print delay.

The Week Just Gone On Tuesday, Ardern presented at the Prime Minister’s Science Prizes. The ceremony recognises scientific discovery which benefits everyday New Zealanders, and acts as a way of promoting the science sector in New Zealand. There are five prizes in total, with the prize money totalling one million dollars.

On Friday, she opened New Plymouth music festival WOMAD, which reportedly boasts a strong Kiwi lineup alongside other diverse international acts. She then opened the Wellington Pride Parade on Saturday.

On Wednesday, she met with her Business Advisory Council. The council, which was formed in October last year, comprises of business leaders who act to advise the Prime Minister and Cabinet on promoting positive economic growth, and discuss issues brought up by businesses in New Zealand.

Media Questions A possible Cabinet Manual breach by Minister of Regional Economic Development Shane Jones was questioned heavily by media. In the meeting, Jones declared a conflict of interest surrounding funding for a new cultural tourism centre in Northland. Whenever the project was discussed Jones had to pass his ministerial responsibilities to other ministers, although he was not obliged to leave the room.

The same day, she met with Wellington College students and discussed with them the issue of climate change, with Ardern referring to it as a ‘town hall-style chat’.

Ardern expressed her continued confidence in her minister, saying that the conflict of interest was managed properly based on the advice given by Cabinet Office officials.

ISSUE 3

SALIENT

P RO B I N G T H E P U NT E R S GETTING TO KNOW THE STUDENT POPULATION

QUESTIONS:

What are you waiting for?

Where do you wish you were from?

What’s the maximum time you could wait in line for food before you snapped?

Give us a two-word clue about where you’re from, without telling us the name of your hometown.

If you were going to lose half of your face, which half would it be? Top, bottom, left, or right?

AKASH, 20, BA

JAK, 18, BA

1. Probably just a pork bun.

1. Sunlight.

2. Ten minutes.

2. 15 minutes.

3. Many Aucklanders.

3. Church, wreck.

4. Queenstown.

4. Some sort of hood...

5. Left.

5. I feel like I don’t need a forehead. Top.

LENA, 17, LLB/BA

CALLUM, 19 IN NINE DAYS, BA

1. Fries.

1. An adventure.

2. Ten minutes.

2. Depends on the food.

3. City, windy.

3. Middle class.

4. I don’t wish I was from anywhere else.

4. Overseas.

5. Top; you wouldn’t lose any of your senses.

5. Bottom; I don’t like my jawline.

ABBI, 20, BSCI

AMY, 20, MSC 1. For people to want to use reusables.

1. For you to take the first step.

2. 35 minutes, but I probably wouldn’t line up for food.

2. Ten mins.

3. Maple syrup.

3. Murder Mountain.

4. Wellington.

4. Plastic Diet

5. Left, because I’ve got a lazy eye.

5. Top

News.

RI G H T O F REPLY TO “ NEW ST U D E NTS G ET OR I E NTAT E D ” Last issue (Issue 02) Salient published an article on OWeek by Laura Sutherland, “New Students Get Orientated”. VUWSA requested a right of reply for some of the comments made in the article. Salient News always strives for accuracy, and we will always offer a right of reply.

A RES P ON S E F ROM V U WSA C EO MATT T UC K E R : Every year, VUWSA tries to make the start of university experience a fun and safe one. Our staff of five full and part-time workers put together a massive two-week schedule of events. We do it every year, because we know there should be more to your university experience, than textbooks and late night library study sessions. We agree that the Hunter Lounge as the main OWeek venue is unsustainable. Not just because students like Erin and Eliza feel like it was a bit crowded and busy, but because we would love to offer more than 1000 students the opportunity to come to our OWeek events. So when the story says tickets sold out in record time – that's not quite right. They sell out every year because we have more students wanting to come than our capacity allows. VUWSA has been trying for over 6 months to look at other, more suitable, venues and we will continue to do so. We want OWeek to grow and be more successful and we can’t do that with the current space available to us on campus. As for our Safe Room – VUWSA is proud of the work we do to make sure that all our students are kept safe at our events. The 58 students that came through our Safe Room were for the most part polite, apologetic, kind, and fun to talk to. They also made up just 1.45% of the total people coming to our evening events. It was a great year – it's good to see a cohort of young people wanting to socialise, build community and party, but not go too overboard.

A RES P ON S E FROM V U WSA P R E S I D E NT TA MAT H A PAU L : Straight up, “it was great”. It’s been an awesome start to the year and it’s been great meeting all the new students here at Vic. I’m so stoked to see a group of passionate, keen young people ready to get stuck into mahi this year and strengthen our student community. It’s gonna be a good year!

THE P E O P L E WA N T M ORE CAPITAL GAINS TAX— WHAT WILL IT REALLY DO?

L I A M PO W EL L

The Capital Gains Tax might seem like a complex and confusing political issue, but Salient is here to help. With our handy guide, you too can be informed about what people think of the CGT, with no need to actually understand the tax itself.

National

Labour

NZ First

Green

Will raise property prices

Will lower property prices

Will raise property prices for foreigners, lower them for real New Zealanders

“Property” and “prices” will mean nothing; we will live together in peace and harmony

Will steal your money and give it to the Godless communists

Will steal someone else’s money and give it to the Godless communists

Will steal the foreigners’ money and give it to real New Zealanders

Will share the money so that everyone always has exactly the same amount

TAXATION IS THEFT

Will reduce the supply of housing

A new house will magically appear for every dollar taxed

Doesn’t matter, just chuck houses on the provincial growth fund tab

Anyone can live in whatever house they choose; ownership no longer exists

TAXATION IS THEFT

Will make the country poorer

Will make the country richer

Will make the country richer, specifically not foreign countries

Any extra money will be donated to Bernie Sanders’ presidential bid

TAXATION IS THEFT

Threatens the Kiwi way of life

Threatens the rich, white Kiwi way of life

Threatens the city slicker way of life

Threats are violent language; the tax will abolish all violence

TAXATION IS THEFT

Will make the All Blacks lose the Rugby World Cup

The All Blacks will never lose a test match again

The All Blacks will never lose again AND your horse will always come in the top three

The All Blacks are a hypertoxic masculine ideal, there will be no rugby ever again

TAXATION IS THEFT

Will take your firstborn children from you

Will give each of your children their own house, to keep

Will give your firstborn a house—but not before their great-grandparents are comfortably dead

We are all children of earth, and we will live again under the stars and the trees

TAXATION IS THEFT

ACT

TAXATION IS THEFT

T W E E T S O F T H E W E EK “Celebrating International Women’s Day by getting my period extremely hard and running away to the woods with a bunch of women and nonbinary people to howl at the moon all weekend” - @kendrawcandraw

“the true miracle of asmr is that i’ve spent an hour listening to a dude talk about movies without any interjections from me and i would never ever ever let that happen in real life” - @em_ma_maguire

WOMEN ’ S D AY, W I L DF I R E S A ND W H AT EV ER THE FUCK : HI G H L I G H TS F R OM TH E W O RS T W E B SI TE I N TH E W OR L D

“Metal Gear doesn’t need a fucking movie, just watch Escape From New York and Evangelion at the same time it’s the exact same thing” - @coffinsyrup69

C O LLAT ED BY EM M A M AGUIRE

“Within the next few years, Funko will run out of characters to make figures out of and will begin picking random, normal people. Like, you’ll walk into a Gamestop and see a Funko Pop of you. Then 7 days later, you die.” - @sciencecomic

“When I was 23, I was doing improv and was afraid to let people in the scene know I was gay. Now, I’m happy to be gay and ashamed to let people know I used to do improv.” - @samttaggart

“Today for International Women’s Day I would like some RESPECT and also one McFlurry” - @meladoodle

“Girl: come over I’m dummy thick. Sapiosexual: no thank you.” - @LeftAtLondon “honey who needs an IUD when i can just look up when my crush has been on a podcast and realize he is simply bad!” - @ayoedebiri

“It’s a little known fact that the new high rise in London - the tallest in the city - has gone up quicker than the new bus shelter by the Karori tunnel.” - @VernonSmall

“really uncomfortable about seeing a guy at the supermarket and thinking he was hot and also familiar then realising i recognise him from the act stall at clubs week. this is why i need to stop being attracted to every dude in a pair of dickies with an alty haircut.” - @bitterdeluxe

“The only thing worse than the captain marvel discourse is knowing that we’re going to be repeating this with every nerd movie with women in it until we’re all driven into the seas by continent-sized wildfires” - @33mhz

“Someone tell first years there’s a middle ground between nothing and an entire can of Lynx.” - @johaganbrebner

“brunch doesn’t have to be inaccessible. u could have a single piece of marmite on white toast and call it brunch. brunch is a state of mind.” - @bitterdeluxe

There is only one dream which has ever truly frightened me. I cannot tell you how frequently I have this dream, only that it is often enough that if I think of it while I am trying to sleep, I feel sickened and unsettled.

To be asked where I’m from is to be asked to interrogate myself. I can rattle off an answer, but I am troubled by the glibness of my developed response, and all that it does not reveal about me.

I am alone in a desert. The sand goes on, and on, and on. I am afraid, and the sand grows bigger—or perhaps I become smaller; the details are overwhelmed by the blurred delirium of recollection. I am afraid, and the world is empty and flat, and this place is all I have ever known, and there is no escape.

This confusion of identity is perhaps an inherited one; both my parents were born in India, and have been navigating what it means to be from India and Aotearoa ever since, bequeathing that same question to their children. Perhaps we ask as a family, but we find different answers.

There is an escape, of course: waking up. After I have this dream, I go running up, into the hills. This is almost a cleansing ritual, a release from that empty, empty world, from the aloneness of a flattened earth.

I have never known my grandfather. He died in 1980 while climbing a mountain in Nepal. He fell and was severely injured, and told his friend to go back. His body has never been found.

*** I am one of many people who will struggle to tell you where they’re from. I possess a multitude of belongings, have loyalties divided between two countries.

My grandmother wrote a book about my grandfather in the years after he died, and self-published it in 2015. It is for the people who knew and loved him, but it also for her grandchildren, who did not get to meet him.

I have an easy answer: New Zealand and India. There are several optional extrapolations to this, the when and how and why of my birth and upbringing, and of my parents’ births and race, which are pulled out depending on who I’m talking to and which follow-up questions they ask.

She seems almost sanguine about the loss, now. It has been almost 40 years. But mourning can look like a lot of things. Rereading the end, where my grandfather does not return, reading my mothers and aunt’s reflections on it, once left me slippery-faced and sobbing on a sunny Auckland afternoon. She held me, then; she held my sister through her own stormy tears at this least surprising of endings.

I do not fault people for wanting to know where I’m from; it’s a crucial question, and one that is easy to ask upon any first acquaintance. I am more troubled by how being asked where I’m from reminds me that I do not have easy answers to even this most straight forward of questions.

My grandmother opened an old box, and we looked at it together. Documents and photos: the last photo ever taken of my grandfather, standing with a big pack, looking out on a valley, smiling. She showed us letters

I LIFT MY EYES UP

that had been written to her family in New Zealand in the weeks after her husband had died in the mountains. In one, she wrote about how it was the way that my grandfather would have wanted to go, that he always loved the mountains and found comfort in them. On that final climb, my grandfather and his friend spoke of their love for the wilderness, of their love for their families, and of their love for the world they lived in. The conversation was, the survivor reported, holy. The mountains are infallible. They are cold and remote, spectacular and storied, but they are just rocks and water, held by the earth, ignorant of the human hopes and desires tangled around their flanks like clouds. They are not unfair, they are not cruel. They are. Even a few weeks later, the grief still raw, my grandmother did not blame the mountains or God for the death of her husband. When she returned to New Zealand, she took my mother and aunts on many tramping trips, until they belonged in the hills as easily as their father had. There are no words for what the mountains have taken from me; and the loss is larger for my mother and her sisters, larger still for my grandmother and great-grandmother. They are mountains of grief, rising. In a scrapbook about my infancy, my mother says that I was conceived “in the Sierra Nevada de Cocuy at about 4000 m, a cold and misty evening, a tent, a double sleeping bag…”—and that is where the details mercifully stop. My parents were there to escape the thick heat and violence of the Colombian jungles where they worked at the time. They lifted their eyes to the mountains, and found help there. They accepted the promise of the hills: there is an above, there is a beyond, there is something higher than the grime and despair.

about the beauty of them; the power of the erect ridge, firm under your boots, on and on, more and more breathless. White men write about their love of the mountains with a fervor, descriptions bordering on the phallic. These men came to the Himalayas and decided if they went high enough, condensed the minutes of a climb into numbers and facts, later maybe a book, they could call it discovery. The indigenous people who have known and loved those mountains are ignored. I, too, can follow in these footsteps, for mountains are exquisite, and they challenge and invite me, call me deeper and higher. But I will tell you this, instead of explaining all the things that mountains are and may yet be to me: I have never needed to ask myself if I belong in the mountains. I call to mind moments that were crucial to me, and I remember mountains: Explorations in Arthur’s Pass with my parents just before I started university. The valley where we returned each summer, camping by an alpine stream; landscape cleaved by fat, retreating glaciers. The pilgrimage when I was eleven, to the Annapurna Sanctuary, closer to my grandfather’s body, but not quite reaching the mystery of his final hours. Solace in icicles and sunsets, in lifting my eyes to the mountains and finding more. I went running most days in high school, and would look for the mountains. From the road along the ridge above our house, distant tips of 6000 m peaks sparkled, and seeing them rendered me whole. I do not love mountains for the feeling of success upon reaching a summit. I prefer to stick to the valleys, to follow the rivers, to be held between peaks with the certainty that I can look up and remember that there is yet more to know.

When I was six months old, my parents took my twin sister and me to do some real tramping in the Southern Alps. My mother remembers walking down from some high pass in the middle of winter, two daughters howling, the milk in her breasts almost frozen—and yet, we were in the mountains, the air sharp and freeing.

In the mountains, I feel at home in a way that I do not anywhere else. I walk up; carrying easy burdens or heavy ones; carrying dark and frightening dreams, or the buoyant promises of possibilities.

I have inherited my parents’ tangled belongings, but they have also bequeathed me their mountains.

I am still frightened by that dream, certain that I will dream it again. Perhaps what I am really afraid of is a world without mountains. Without something above me, I cannot orient myself. Without mountains, I cannot answer that inevitable question.

I speak of mountains, mostly, in the generic sense. Mountains, any mountains, this word I am tired of typing. My Himalayan upbringing has made me snobby about what counts as a mountain. Mount Victoria, for the record, is a nice hill, but it’s no mountain. I am willing to concede, however, that standards for what a mountain is are decided by your belongings, and that my belongings sometimes require technical equipment—perhaps a rope—to reach. There is a long tradition of rhapsodising about mountains,

***

Ask me where I’m from. I will listen, I will inhale, oxygen and ice all at once, I will lift my eyes to yours, and then I will reply.

The following is a true account. It’s real and it’s not okay. It was my first tutorial at university, and it started off in a very normal way. We walked in and sat down in dead silence; the only thing connecting us the deep-seated fear of having to be that one kid who had to sit awkwardly close to the tutor. The tutor started a bit early, 2:05 instead of 2:10, (the classic, “Looks like everyone is here so let’s get started, shall we?”) She introduced herself; made a few jokes to ease the tension of the small, sweaty room. Then, the death sentence: “I thought we could do an ice breaker to start. Just your names and where you’re from, that kind of thing.” I was still blissfully unaware of my fate at this point, just as nervous as everyone else to speak out loud. First it was Katie from Auckland, then Tom from Wellington, Jessica from Kerikeri, Leah from Christchurch. It was going so well. I had so much hope and the anticipation I felt was intense. Blake from Wellington, Petra from Dunedin. My turn. Hi. I’m Marie, and I’m from Hamilton. I had barely gotten out the Ham when the laughter started. It started small, but boy did it grow larger by the time the whole word was out of my mouth. “Hamilton” seemed to echo around the room, and in that moment, I began to sense that I had made a mistake. A mistake of mediumsized city proportions. Apparently, the first rule about being from Hamilton is that you don’t talk about being from Hamilton. I must have missed the memo. This was only the first time. It kept happening, over and over, every time I met someone new. “So where are you from?” Hamilton. “Oh haha don’t get too close, I don’t want to catch something haha”. “Oh really? I’m so sorry for you ” “Glad you made it out”

“What a hole” “I might be from Gisborne but f*** it’s still better than Hamil-hole.” Even my new friends from Whanganui thought they were better than me, and most of them have trouble reading at a primary school level. I was devastated. Hamilton, how could you let me down like this? I didn’t know what to do. I started saying I was from “South of Auckland”, because I didn’t want to say South Auckland, though somehow even that seemed like a better alternative to Hamilton. East of Raglan. North of Taupō. West of Rotorua. Anything to avoid the H-word. It was hurting my social status. Everyone expected me to have the alcohol tolerance of an 100 kg rugby player and sink a box of Waikatos and taccy in the garden before town every night. Impossible expectations. The STD teases were constant. One time I walked around the hall in bare feet, and never have I felt like such an outcast. “Makes sense, she is from Hamilton.” “Probably goes to the supermarket in pyjamas too lmao.” Eventually, I stopped caring. I realised that everyone’s hometown is shit, Hamilton is just a bit more shit. (It has some lovely gardens though.) So this one goes out to every first-year from Hamilton who finds themselves feeling judged. Good luck. It’s a shit town, but at least it taught us how to swear in creative ways and distinguish meth-heads from regular homeless people. If you find yourself losing faith in Hamilton, just sing the Matamata Post & Rails radio jingle in your head or think about how that guy named Possum used to bring a real chainsaw to the rugby. Never change, Hamilton. Kia kaha. (Unless you’re from St Peter’s. This doesn’t apply to you. If your school has its own equestrian arena, I’m not too sure you were living the authentic Hamilton experience. Just saying).

One day, I asked my Te Reo tutor what the difference was between a mihimihi and a pepeha. Thus began the biggest existential crisis of my life. A mihimihi is a short speech given to introduce yourself at a hui, a meeting. Basically what your name is, where you’re from, what you do, that sort of thing. A pepeha can be incorporated into a mihimihi, and establishes your ties with your country and your genealogy. You recall your waka, your iwi, your maunga, your awa, your whakapapa—you stake your claim in Māoridom as tangata whenua and take your place among your peers. This immediately raised more questions—is a pepeha specifically a tangata whenua thing? Because I didn’t feel qualified to recite a pepeha, as someone who is nonMāori. I can definitely tell you who I am and where I’ve lived. I could tell you what the closest mountain to my home growing up was, but that’s not quite right. I swam in a lot of rivers and beaches, but that’s not the same as

belonging to them. Even my spiritual connection to Piha up in Auckland, where I used to throw myself into the waves to wash my mental health issues away, doesn’t quite cut it. The idea of belonging to the land and the idea of spiritual roots aren’t concepts that appear in any of the various ethnicities that make up my patchwork background. To put it simply: I don’t belong to the land the same way tangata whenua do. To say otherwise would be to ignore the deep spiritual and cultural ties our native culture has to the land. My tutor stopped me after class. “I understood exactly what you were getting at with that question,” she said, almost excitedly. I didn’t tell her that I’d actually not known the cultural context, and just wanted a translation of the two terms. “I don’t think I can recite a pepeha,” I replied. “I don’t have a mountain, not in the same way. And for me to claim something that’s not mine…”

PREYA GOTHANAYAGI

“Exactly. People might get upset. But I don’t want to tell you that you can’t—who says what people can and can’t do?”

I came to this conversation from an extremely personal place. My background is a patchwork mess of ‘otherness’, of colonial mishaps and deep ironies: Going way back, I am ethnically Indian, but my ancestors moved to Malaysia with the British (goddamned British) to work on the rubber plantations. My Dad’s family have Sri Lankan ancestry, which means they were a bit snobby about him marrying my non-Sri Lankan Mum (because that’s a whole thing). My parents then had me in England, making me British by birth (goddamned British), before moving to New Zealand. There are two different stories of colonisation in my history, and I consider myself as belonging to both the colonisers and the colonised.

Good question. Vini Olsen-Reeder, a lecturer at Te Kawa a Māui, was kind enough to kōrero with me about the issue. Essentially, he explained, the terms mihimihi and pepeha have come to mean similar things, and many people won’t differentiate them. “These days, they can often be treated as the same thing,” he assured me, “so in any situation you should feel comfortable saying whatever you’re comfortable owning as yours. That might mean that you don’t include a maunga or a waka, although you might often feel like you have to.”

I know my history because I’ve been asked “where I’m from” my whole life. As if I’m not from here. As if my ‘exotic’ features override the way I walk, talk, and dress; as if my past is an educational textbook for others to peruse, rather than just part of me. Forgive me if I sound bitter, but after being ‘othered’ for so long, being hesitant to answer wellmeaning questions is part of my defence system. There’s only so much casual racism one person can take.

This solved the issue of what I should do on a marae. But on a deeper level, I was worried about crossing cultural lines that would be better left preserved. Besides, there is a debate raging nationwide about whether there should be any lines at all.

So when I started searching for answers, I wasn’t being honest about my questions. I did genuinely want to know what the difference was between a mihimihi and a pepeha, but I was also desperate to find a term that fit me, a person who is neither Pākehā nor tangata whenua; that I could point to and claim as my ticket to ‘belonging’. I wanted to find the term that incorporates me into the story of New Zealand, with all the privilege and problems that this entails.

“People asked me the same [question], like I can’t do a pepeha, I’m not Māori,” said a te reo-speaking student and tutor, “Well, did you have a mountain? ‘Yeah, there was a mountain by our home.’ And it’s like, well there you go. That’s our perspective of connecting us back to the land.” “But [connection] is just inherently part of the culture,” I pushed back, “in a way that it’s just not for other cultures.”

I did find it in the end: tauiwi. It means foreigner, but more literally, it translates into “landing bones”. Tauiwi is a term used for people who are not indigenous, but have come to a country and made it their home. Any country, not just Aotearoa. While technically I could fall under the blanket term of ‘Pākehā’, which once referred to Europeans but now refers to anyone who is not tangata whenua, I don’t like the term because of its ties to colonists who are not my ancestors. There is too much colonial strife in my own background for that to ever feel right.

“I think once you, like, really understand the connections that Māori have to our whenua, to our maunga, and our awa—I think that once you have that down, you start understanding pepeha more,” mused another student. “To teach te reo Māori is a privilege and a positive thing,” my te reo tutor put it. “Obviously, you become a kaitiaki of the language, and making sure there’s understanding and authentic connection is so important.”

So tauiwi it is. And it feels like home. Which is why, when she began teaching us how to construct a mihimihi, she recited her own pepeha, and added a caution.

As for my pepeha, well, I concluded at the end of the day that I can’t claim an affinity to anything much, no matter who says what. But I can tell you where I’ve been, what’s important to me, and who I am.

“My priority is to keep you safe,” she said, “and to guide you through understanding the importance and significance.”

I do not whakapapa back to Aotearoa, but I have swum in the harbours of Tāmaki-Makaurau, and grown up under the watchfulness of Maungarei. Nō Īnia ōku tīpuna. Nō Ingarangi ahau. I tipu ake ahau ki Aotearoa. E ako ana ahau ki te whare wānanga o te Ūpoko o te Ika a Māui. Ko Preyanka ahau.

There were nods of agreement from the class. It was something inherently understood, by this group of people who had volunteered to learn te reo, that culture and language are intrinsically tied, and to learn one meant to respect the other. If only the nation were as accepting as my te reo class.

Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa.

“Where are you from?” has always been a loaded question for me. If the people who knew me in high school (yikes) are reading this, they’ll definitely think that I’m back on my bullshit. Truth is, I never got off my bullshit—at least not this specific strand. I just internalised it because of the fear of being seen as too loud, too divisive, too much of a killjoy; because somewhere along the way, I got tired of being The One Who Made Everything About Race. Internalised racism really does that to ya. But I wouldn’t still be talking about it if it wasn’t important, and always, always relevant. “Where are you from?” My answer has changed over the years. Once I moved down to Wellington, my default answer became “Auckland”. I get mixed responses to this answer, and that response very helpfully lets me place the other person on the Asshole Continuum. Here’s a handy chart to visualise:

Of course, the chart didn’t always look like this. Here’s what it looked like when I still lived in Auckland, and my answer was “New Zealand”:

And here’s what it looked like when I went to visit family in China over the summer:

“Where’s home for you?” is an equally daunting question. Is it where you’re living? Where you grew up? Where you quote unquote “found yourself”? Where you had your first kiss, in the alleyway between the dairy with the broken glass, and the tiny, dried-out field? Loads of people move to a different city for university because they want to get away from home: something new, something exciting, something different. For me, one of the defining experiences of moving down to Wellington has been being asked “Where are you from?”, answering “Auckland”—and being able to leave it at that. Because everybody was from different places around New Zealand. So the follow-up, “where are you really from?” wasn’t necessary. It’s a weird kind of relief to get ribbed about being from Auckland, rather than my place in NZ being questioned.

And here’s the thing: Wellington, for all its warmth and friendliness and colour, is White. In Auckland, people will ask “Where are you really from?”, but there’s also thousands more of people who look like me, who grew up like me, who understand what it is to be a person of colour, and how it colours everything. In Wellington, people won’t question my place. But they also won’t ask about it. Do I feel grateful that I (mostly) no longer get racist microaggressions? Of course I do. But I also miss discussing shared experiences, making bilingual jokes, the abundance of milk tea shops, and dirt cheap karaoke lounges. Moving away from home means that you go back and you start to draw up a comparison chart between now and then:

People might be just curious, but there’s only so many times you can hear it before it starts to sound like something a lot different: Why don’t you look like you’re from here? Why don’t you fit my perception of someone who’s from here? You don’t seem like you belong here.

Home now has a lot more hills than home at 16. Home now has more independence. Home now means I can say I come from Auckland casually instead of challengingly. Home now means I’m losing my mother tongue because I don’t have anyone to speak it with anymore.

I used to get angry: I would stare them straight in the eye and repeat my first answer, or I would get up and walk away. But never did I think of sitting down with that person and trying to explain why that question got under my skin so badly. And I would still never do it, even to this day. How do you begin to explain why something like this bothers you, when it’s the tip of an iceberg you’re too exhausted to unpack? How do you unpack a history and a lifetime of otherness and be sure the other person cares enough to listen and your energy won’t be wasted?

I spent $263 on a single pair of earrings yesterday. They look something like this:

I’VE NEVER BEEN WITH AN ASIAN BEFORE

ARE YOU ASIAN OR CHINESE?

I guess we all deal with our dislocation in different ways.

David Kim, Here I Give Thanks To Robb N

Nai, Acrylic on Panel, 38cm x 78cm, 2019

TE PAEA HOORI

Flaunting confidence in the form of a heavily selfcurated swimwear pic is one thing. But as I recently discovered: doing so when you’re half-naked in front of a production team, is a whole other thing. If I’m being totally candid, up until very recently, the Body Positive Movement had meant little to me beyond a hashtag. My physique fluctuates between thiccthin and thicc-thicc—depending on how far into exam season I am. I’m not sure if it’s because I have a body type that can easily be moulded into an hourglass-figure, regardless of mass. Or whether my parents just really sold me with the whole “most beautiful girl in the world” shtick growing up. But most days I don’t have too much trouble mustering the kind of confidence an only-child is often afforded. Recently, however, I was invited to model for Wellington underwear label Nisa Women. This presented the challenge of walking the walk when it comes to supporting the fight for more inclusive representation of bodies within media. Retweeting a body diverse editorial is one thing, but could I get my (currently size 16) booty into a set of tummy-exposing separates for a shoot that would be shared in a series of Facebook and Instagram campaigns? Cheeks, collar bones, and cleavage contoured, with every cosmetic I own stuffed into a duffle bag, I nervously loitered around Willis Street, waiting for someone to let me into the studio. Sunday Night Club is a shared creative space with sculpted ceilings and gorgeous lighting. Three brand team members, two other models, and a photographer already occupied the space. Coffees were offered. Garment samples were assigned. Before I knew it, I was wearing a pink-and-red high-waisted brief and bra, staring down the barrel of an intimidatingly large camera lens.

The cotton pink fabric of this underwear set was accented with contrasting maroon elastic details. I was presented with a beautiful pink rose and placed in front of a white wall. No studio lights. No textured terrain to melt nervously into. No promises of the power of airbrush. It was just me, a forced positive self-talk looping internally, and a little bit of shimmer powder. I can’t be certain if it was the caffeine, the security of a flower to cling to, or the affirming words of the production team. But within the hour, I found myself balancing one foot on the windowsill, my weight suspended mid-air. One arm clinging to the window frame, I was racking my brain for every little nugget of advice I ever saw Tyra Banks dish out on America’s Next Top Model. “Smile with your eyes.” “Think long neck!” “Clench and release your hands to make them look natural.” I may have literally been climbing the walls, but I was feeling anything but helpless. Naturally, behind-the-scenes images of the photoshoot were shared. No more than two hours later, I checked my phone to find 28 private messages on my phone from women I know, expressing their appreciation to see a full-figured underwear model. It wasn’t that I needed the validation for my own confidence—though I would be lying if I said it wasn’t nice. A few hours of teetering at the edge of my comfort zone might actually have value beyond some racy new content for my ‘gram. This is your aspiring fashion-lover, with dreams of Ashley Graham-style modelling grandeur, signing off before this column digresses into bumper sticker wisdom. But I will leave you with this: I believe the collective effect of actions as small as an exposed midriff, displayed with confidence and intent, might just one day amount to a culture where everyone feels empowered to wear whatever they damn well please. Wishing you once again: styling serendipity and headto-toe sass,

Hi I’m Lena. My dad is a sex therapist and I’m studying to be a sex educator—we’re here to talk relationships and sex, so send your queries and worries our way (sex@salient.org.nz) I feel like I’m not even that old but sex just feels like the same thing over and over lately. We just kiss for a bit, we go down on each other then it’s penetration for a bit till one or both of us cum. How do i get out of this sex rut?? New position to try?? Idk help! Lena: New positions are one approach and they can be fun, but tbh I think they can be a bit of a band-aid fix. Also, you can definitely google them and get a wider variety, with detailed descriptions far beyond what we can provide here. In that vein, limitations are something you could add into ze bedroom that bring a sense of creativity and could help you out of this sex rut. By limitations, I mean making certain things off-limits in a session/for a bit. For example, simply taking penetration off the table can change up the usual played-out routine, so handjobs or oral sex become the main course. Other limitations can include no touching of genitals at all, no touching at all (think mutual masturbation—v hot), only using your hands, only using your mouth, not having sex for a week or two but sexting to build anticipation. A fun way to enjoy non-penetrative sex is to be clear about when someone is the giver and when they are the receiver. By this I mean when someone is receiving pleasurable touch all they do is focus on enjoying and feeling the sensations, rather than worrying about pleasing their partner at the same time. Obviously this requires some communication and that both partners are just as willing to give as they are to receive, but it can help elevate ‘foreplay’ beyond a rushed prelude. Even beginning to have conversations about what limitations might be fun or sexy can help move things beyond rut-like routine. I find that the conversations leading up to sex can really change how the sex feels; specifically, having intimate and/or vulnerable conversations can help both parties feel in the moment and close to each other rather than playing out the usual proceedings.

Dad: Magazines often talk about “spicing things up” by trying something new, and it’s true that we do get excited by novelty. However, what the mags often miss is that this only works if the novelty meets you where you are at. If the recommended kinky move is far beyond anything you and your partner have tried before, or doesn’t even sound hot, chances are it’s not going to catapult you out of your sex rut. Recognising and sharing a new part of your own eroticism is what really spices things up. So, expanding on what Lena said, thinking and then talking about what YOU find erotic can be a path to changing things up. It isn’t always easy to know. We are bombarded with images and ideas about what is “sexy” and, especially if you identify as female, often these notions are far removed from your experience of your own sexuality. In contrast, but no more helpful, if you don’t neatly fit into the heteronormative binary you may never have seen your sexuality reflected in movies, TV, books, or porn. Allowing yourself to think and feel about what turns you on without judgement or censorship is something of a revolutionary act for many of us. Another aspect is working out whether that which appeals to your imagination is something you want to try in real life. Then you have to work out how to communicate that to your partner without being prescriptive or demanding— and tolerating the vulnerability this requires (“what if they think I’m weird/boring….?”). But if you can do all this, chances are your sex life will be a lot more interesting AND intimate.

TE KAINGA Nā Pounamu Tipiwai Chambers

It’s hard knowing that to many tauira home is “a box” or a cold and lonely building. We as Māori need connection; we need stability and we need comfort and the one thing that supports all of these needs is the idea of a kāinga. When I hear the word ‘kāinga’ I think belonging and meaning, I think of warmth and care and the idea of whānau. I am fortunate to have been given the opportunity to stay in our Māori accommodation here at Victoria known to many as ‘Whānau House’. This gives me a connection to a place, a group of students that are my family, and more importantly a roof over my head that doesn’t leave me with negatives in my bank account. Although it is not cheap, a whānau house is the most affordable place to live, in a great location, with a view over the city and the ocean.

Te Herenga waka I E! Ko Te Herenga Waka taku tai tuarā, taku whakaruruhau. Tīhei Te Herenga Waka! Our marae is more than just a building, it is a representation of what a ‘home’ should be. It is a support network, a connection to our people, and a place to hitch our canoe. Te Herenga Waka is our place of belonging, and more importantly—our space to be Māori. From the O-Week pōwhiri to the end-of-year graduation, Te Herenga Waka is our centre point. Without this grounding space and place to be who we want to be, it is very likely that tauira would struggle within the westernised environment of our university. On the windy path of university, it becomes clear that a simple structure with four solid walls can actually go a long way. A stable and safe living environment is a mandatory requirement, because without one, students are left unsettled and unbalanced. As tauira we are trying our best to stay afloat in the unfamiliarity of this big, crazy city and it is not an easy place to live. The rent prices are ridiculous and the availability of quality homes is one of the biggest factors we are challenged by—which in the end, sadly stops the rest of our whānau from coming to university. Our own parents can’t even afford houses near our university campuses, hence tauira are forced to live on the outskirts which creates further problems as the cost of transport brings further financial pressure.

The student living experience has taught me some of the greatest life lessons. It is kainga such as Te Herenga Waka and whānau house, indigenised ways of living, which truly bring a lot of benefit for tauira Māori, providing both shelter and support in more ways than one could imagine. Having balance, stability, and a sense of connection to the places we live in is what differentiates a house from a home. I am lucky to live where I do and am truly grateful for the fights that have been fought, so that we can have the kāinga we have today. Ngā mihi

V UWSA

O NE OCEAN

TE PUAWAI O TE ATUA WALLER

LENA & SULANI

Kam na bane ni Mauri, Malo ni tatou & Ni sa bula vinaka!

Nō hea au? Kua whakatō tāku kākano ki Rangiātea, ērangi e puawai ana te putiputi ki raro ia Matua te Tapu, a Maunga Taranaki. My seed is sown into the roots of Rangiātea, yet the flower blooms on the Taranaki mountain. Wellington City is the extended home for Taranaki. As a university student I find comfort, strength, and resilience in the history of my tūpuna. They led a life of passive resistance and peace that went on to inspire the likes of Mahatma Gandhi, Daisaku Ikeda and Dr Martin Luther King Jr. To ask me where I am from, is to ask me whose shoes I have the privilege to walk in. To ask me where I am from, is to then ask me where I am going. It is the past that will guide us into the future. So here I am, a second-year Māori university student on the VUWSA executive as the Engagement VicePresident, living out the visions and dreams of those who paved the way for us. My education comes from two wells of knowledge. One, being the education of my tūpuna. The other being the western education system. The latter has provided me with many challenges, but I understand that the education of my tūpuna affords me the ability to know my place in the world and how to stay true to my values. In my role on VUWSA this year, I want to start new conversations and highlight the need to be more diverse in our endeavours. From mental health, to sexual harm reduction, to what’s being said on governance boards, to the community within the university, etc, it is time to bring new solutions to the table. In 2019, it’s time to change the status quo. My name is Te Puawai o te Atua. I am a descendant of the Taranaki maunga and I, too, stand tall. Kia tau te rangimarie ki runga ia koutou katoa, Paimarire

2929

Lena and Sulani here, 2 BROWN/WOKEBUTBROKE/ BIG(hearted) teine extremely BOTHERED by climate change and the lack of political action to address this. Straight up, the world is effd if we’re going to watch others fight over our future while we sit in our lecture theatres and do nothing. Consider all future plans DENIED by Mother Earth (and the IPCC report) until mankind gets their sh*t together. School Strike for Climate is the brainchild of Swedish girl Greta Thunberg who protested to reduce CO2 emissions during school hours. This was her response to years of climate inaction from politicians, and led to her handing out flyers with “You adults don’t give a sh*t about my future” while camped outside on strike. This inspired millions of students worldwide to stand up in solidarity and join the #Strike4Climate movement. What this movement encompasses is the need to push authorities to actually listen to scientists—a unified partnership, and for stronger sustainability legislation to be implemented—now. People tend to forget that the effects of climate change are closer than we think, especially when it’s in our very own backyard! Rising sea levels threaten nations like Kiribati, Tuvalu, and Tokelau (to name a few) which results in increasing acidity (salt) levels, which then contaminate freshwater sources, disrupting the delicate ecosystems (and obviously decreasing land mass). The Pacific is fighting at the frontlines and the rest of the world is not far behind! By the time you read this, we will have joined together at Civic Square to show solidarity for Strike 4 Climate and our communities who are at the frontlines facing the effects of climate change. Love to Bob Marley, “Get up stand up, Stand up for your rights”—So get up… and stand for the future of this world we call home.

SWAT

ASK SISSY

ANONYMOUS

I like to joke that my mental health diagnoses are like alphabet soup: ASD, GAD, BPAD-2, C-PTSD… the list goes on.

I’m in university, dating my first boyfriend! I’ve been dating this one guy for about six months. I’m about to meet his parents. I love the boy. He’s awesome and hilarious and sweet. But... he’s going on to postgrad, while I’ve got 2–3 more years left.

It’s been quite difficult throughout my university experience and I’ve experienced a number of setbacks, including frustration over having to withdraw from classes, not being able to get the grades I wanted to progress, being too anxious to speak in tutorials, and often just spending days in bed wrapped in a duvet eating cold pizza and watching Netflix because doing anything else was too painful, including the mountain of readings that I was avoiding.

I feel extremely guilty for thinking that, in the future, I might want to break up because I want to have experience with other types of guys, but a small part of me tells me that I should not be “tied down” my whole uni life, especially to the only boy I’ve ever kissed. What if I marry him one day? I feel like I don’t want to get married without experiencing the rest of the dating world a little bit. Besides, what if he wants to meet new girls at his new school?

However, with a careful regimen of medications, counselling, exercise, social activity, accommodations, and acceptance of my limits, I have found that I can still achieve well at university, and I am happy that I finally made it to postgraduate study, which I will be starting part-time next year.

Listen to your intuition! It’s understandable you’re reluctant to let your first love go, especially as there haven’t been any real problems or issues, but the reality of the situation is hard for you to ignore. I think you’re being mature about this. He’s going away, you’ve still got a few years of study left, you’ve got a bunch of selfdiscovery you want to do; you’d like to be available for other experiences and he likely feels the same way. That doesn’t mean your relationship didn’t work out! You’re at a crossroads in your life and it’s important to take stage directions from the universe (RuPaul, 2015). This relationship has likely boosted your confidence and provided you with some new tools and insights going forward, therefore this relationship will always be special. Talk, agree to remain friendly, and if you’re meant to be together in the future, your paths will cross again. X

Contrary to what I believed when I was diagnosed five years ago, a diagnosis is not a death sentence. It can mean a shift in expectations, though not in ambition. I am just as ambitious as I’ve ever been, but my mental health has made me re-evaluate what I can achieve on any particular day. Now I know to never put my work before my wellbeing. If an assignment is due soon, but my body is shutting down from overstimulation, then home to bed I go. The frustration never quite goes away, but I try to quiet it with things that I enjoy, along with mindfulness. If I can’t leave my room, I might download a book or watch a movie. If I can’t bear to be around people, I might try to chat to someone on Facebook instead. Over time, I no longer identify quite so hard with my diagnoses. Everybody wrestles with demons and limitations—mine are just found in the DSM-V. Labels that describe, rather than define.

Need advice? I want to support you! Send your queries and concerns to sissyatsalient@ gmail.com (strict anonymity assumed unless you specify otherwise).

U NIQ

I N O UR EN V I R ON MEN T DANICA SOICH

BROCK STOBBS

Grunion fish beach themselves to mate. I watched the video of it—thousands upon thousands of writhing, gaping fish, beaching themselves and fucking. Meanwhile, there’s hundreds of birds swooping in, plucking them off for dinner. Only a few grunions return to the sea.

Wouldn’t you know it, it’s only our second column for the year and ya boy already has writer’s block (bodes well, I know). All my attempts to adhere to this week’s theme have resulted in disastrous columns attempting to do too much with the little room we have. Who could’ve guessed getting queer people to remember where we come from is not as easy as it is for others? So as I sit behind our clubs expo stall (praying I don’t have to take over), I’ve decided to just say fuck it.

This is a metaphor for something, though I’m not sure what. The world we live in is ridiculous and beautiful and horrific, and often I don’t know what to make of it. Climate change governs our lives. It’s not a car running in the lane parallel to us, but the car we’re in. Waste pours out of nations, the bees are dying, and so on. It’s very gloomy stuff. But I believe that looking into the calamity of our natural environment is a dark doorway we must step through to reach a solution.

Despite the number of people I grew up with who turned out to be queer, it is only recently that I have been able to connect with them in a meaningful manner and embrace my own queerness. My queer upbringing, so to speak, was an isolated and ignorant one.

The great refugee Albert Einstein once said, “A new type of thinking is essential if mankind is to survive and move toward higher levels.” So much about how our society is structured is ideology, and therefore can be changed. The seeds of this principle have blossomed into the current climate change strikes, where young people in droves are wagging class to protest climate change inaction. Wellington had its own protest outside parliament this past Friday (March 15). I admire these young people’s rage against a government that is not doing enough to ensure a viable, sustainable future.

Anxiety, internalised homophobia, and all those other delightful staples of queer childhood dominated my time. I spent so long trying to avoid entertaining the idea of any connection to queerness, and for a while it worked. But as you can see, it didn’t last. There are lessons, I think, in remembering where I come from. Not for any kind of positive memories or sense of stability, but as a reminder of the progress I have made as an individual (and as I write this, I realise this is what my counsellor has been trying to convince me of). Remembering where I come from reminds me that it is a place I don’t want to go back to. Life might not always get better but that doesn’t mean it won’t.

Whatever path you’re treading this year at university, you’ll find the tools you need along the way. A sustainable earth needs a new economy with radical changes in food production, transport, energy, governance, and education. What role will you and your knowledge play in this change?

And that is something I hope other people can take away from this hot mess of a column. Where you come from might not be great, where you are now might not be either, but that doesn’t mean that change isn’t on its way.

Saving the earth also requires a fiery sort of kindness. This kindness is grounded in a kindness to others and to self. We are all very small creatures, on a fragile blue dot in a space full of nothing, where fish are beaching themselves just for a bit of love. Surely that’s worth protecting.

MAX NICHOL

Wellington has always been home to me. While my friends left for Auckland, Christchurch, or Dunedin, I stayed put. There’s nowhere else in the world I feel as comfortable as here. I’ve lived in other cities for a few months at a time, and I’d like to live somewhere else again. But speaking for myself, I find that Wellington is a difficult place to outgrow. The city is a lot different to when I was a little kid. So is the way I experience and move through it. Change is a constant in cities.

home of Heritage New Zealand on Boulcott Street, has had that same view obscured. It’s evidence of how much Wellington City has changed. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Higher density will no doubt be part of the solution to Wellington’s housing problems. Thankfully, heritage legislation is stronger today. Public outcries over the demolition of historic buildings led to the passage of the the Historic Places Act 1993 which strengthened protections for heritage buildings, meaning the level of demolition of heritage buildings in the 1980s is unlikely to be repeated.

The current architectural landscape of Wellington owes a lot to a period of rapid change in urban construction in the 1980s. Before heritage legislation was coherent or wellresourced enough to protect old colonial-era buildings, property developers in Wellington and Auckland embarked on a campaign of doing away with the old and putting up high-rise offices. As demand for office space increased, developers seized the opportunity to profit off not only the ground floor of a building, but also the space above it. The tension between the commercial imperative of land use and the charming character of older, smaller buildings was captured well in a feature in an 1987 issue of Salient:

The old and the new: The Old Town Hall, and the Michael Fowler Centre under construction in 1983.

“For every new building constructed in Wellington an older building is lost. There are some who see the demolition of Wellington’s old buildings as a good thing, because they are outdated and uneconomic. Others see their demolition as destroying a vital part of the city’s landscape and character.” The results of this wave of high-rise building are clear: I lived on The Terrace last year. The residents of Katharine Jermyn Hall and Boulcott Hall kept me awake every weekend while I was trying to get bed at the sensible hour of half past ten, instantly transforming me into a letter-to-the-editor-writing “Concerned Citizen”. It also meant looking at the backs of office buildings and the grey guts of the city you never see from the street. Our flat, which was built in the early twentieth century, would have had a view out to the harbour and all the way to Mount Victoria. There’s an irony that Antrim House, the

The Kirkcaldie and Stains Building, with the newly developed Bayleys Building in 1987.

Prologue II Coming home for me, is an ode to finding out what this body of bones and too much flesh will feel like when I discover the key my mental illnesses have maliciously hidden from me. It is an exploration of the moments and the motions and the men who have traipsed through my memory during times I once chose to hide from. Finding out why my front door has been locked for so long. This is me knocking with kindness, no longer with fear. With hands I only now recognise as my own, I am exploring what â&#x20AC;&#x153;homeâ&#x20AC;? means. This body; my home. The only one that I, in this life, own. Writing for me, has been a vice, a wonderful cathartic release. Feeling at peace with open wounds and open words. Horror and heartfelt prose. This is my confession, I have an unsatiated hunger for words and I have chosen/deserve to be heard. - Jami Kerrigan

Send your limericks, elegies, and odes to poetry@salient.org.nz

GIG DJ P I E R RE R E VI E W: SO PH I A K ATS O U L I S

Recently, Meow welcomed DJ Pierre to the stage. Armed with a TB-303 drum machine and some revolutionary basslines, the Chicago House music pioneer built the foundations of what Acid is today. The genre was born into the mid-eighties where it took its place on the dance floor alongside disco culture. Imagine voluminous basslines supported by squelching synthetic melodies, and a “four-on-the-floor” beat. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, give his track “Box Energy” a listen. With its generally positive and uplifting vibe, Acid has maintained relevance to this day. DJ Pierre’s role in the dawn of Acid House is important to ravers young and old, so his gig was something worth getting excited about. I arrived at the event around 10 p.m., to catch some of the support acts. Local DJ Benny Salvador was playing some minimal acid, à la Surface gigs at Valhalla. There was but a very small turnout at this point. This, I thought was unsurprising, given the empty-walleted nature of most dance gig regulars, and the fact that doofs generally don’t start until closer to midnight. By midnight, the crowd had grown a notable amount, as had its energy. It wasn’t a hectically large crowd, but the buzz intensified as DJ Pierre finally took to the stage. His set began as we all expected it to, with some Acid. His mix was very much on brand: distinctive bass, underground grooves, and that serotonin-releasing highhat. The apparent generational difference of fans in the crowd disappeared. Though the show went off, I was mildly disappointed by Pierre’s mixing techniques. It wasn’t as tight as I would have expected for such a renowned and respected DJ. The use of EQ’s was rough, transitions didn’t flow seamlessly, and there was a lot of clichéd use of filter. In ordinary terms, it just wasn’t that good.

To add more controversy to the mix, DJ Pierre decided to play disco once he got Acid out of the way. I could imagine purist fans cringing out of dismay. From then, the crowd began to wax and wane. In fairness, it’s been thirty years since DJ Pierre’s career popped off. You can’t really blame the guy for wanting to play something different. We all go through growth and developments in our careers, and the same could be said for DJ Pierre. The man is a legend—he can do what he wants, really. Not wanting to completely bag on Pierre, I will say that his mix was fun to dance to. Through flashing, coloured lights and a hot mix of Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”— I’m guessing this is the closest thing to an 80’s rave experience that I’m going to get. I could appreciate the fondness Pierre would have felt seeing that “today’s youth” still had some soul and boogie left in them. I danced until 3 a.m. when there were only ten people left on the floor; DJ Pierre was still grinning. As he faded down the volume, he reached out to shake our hands and thank us for trooping on. He began introducing his final track, a song he said reminded him of us “down under”. I appreciated this intimate moment he shared with us as the night ended with disco basslines still reverberating through my head. DJ Pierre may not have completely sent us on an Acid trip, but he certainly led us to the party.

FASHI O N L A NYA R D LOV E , L AN YA R D L I F E R E VI E W: NI N A WE I R

50 Ways to Love Your Lanyard (Actually five, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to make a Paul Simon reference) You’re a couple weeks into uni now, and you’ve hit the sobering fact than you were the seventh person to walk through the doors of your English lit class in a denim jacket and vintage sundress combo, and that maybe this whole style reinvention thing isn’t going to be as easy as just buying a KeepCup and a Penguin Classics tote bag. So gather round, kids: I’ve cracked the secret to individuality, and it isn’t giving yourself bangs (seriously babes don’t do it). It’s—drum roll please—the swipe card lanyard from your hall! You heard me right, you lucky fresher, you’ve been blessed with the hottest, limited edition merch, ready to complete any outfit. Victoria has brought the heat for this year’s design with a very wearable forest green, and a bold white print, straight from the work desk of Off-White’s Virgil Abloh. Read on for how to make the most of your new sartorial saviour. 1. The jury’s still out on whether Avril Lavigne died in 2003 but the wallet chain trend doesn’t have to! The 2000s called and they’re very concerned about you keeping your swipe card safe on a night out. For the complete Lewk as worn by a baby Justin Timberlake, ask your weird older cousin if he still has his JNCOs, and you’re good to go. This is also a good his-and-hers unisex styling tip if you wanna match with your fashionconscious boy, but I’d also like to make it clear that all the style tips in my column are unisex (so long as you’re not a pussy). 2. You don’t have to have read my previous column to know that scrunchies are back in a big way—and not even Supreme, who have branded everything they can get their hands on, save breakfast cereal, has come out with a branded scrunchie. Lead the pack as you channel your inner Insta hypebeast and rep that VUW logo.

3. While I’ll be the first to admit the choker trend died in 2016 (I personally put a nail in the coffin wearing a leather shoelace out to town after my trusty Lovisa chain snapped), there is nothing the fashion industry loves more than a comeback. Pair with a denim jacket and space buns for that authentic 90’s grunge vibe. Bonus points as this is both a fashion and fitness tip, since your booty will be poppin’ after all the squats you’ll be doing to get eye level with the swipe card reader. 4. Last summer, the sunglass chain came out of retirement, literally: this hot festival look was snatched straight from your local RSA bingo night. Get your lanyard, some staples, and a pair of white cateye glasses, and you’ve got a look Audrey Hepburn would 10/10 have worn to Bay Dreams, had she been 18 last year and got the tickets from her parents as a present for finishing private school. 5. Seen everyone’s holiday picks on Insta? Ran out of cuties to superlike on Tinder? Need yet another barrier between you and second-year law acceptance? Read on for your next source of entertainment AND the accessory to complete every nostalgia-inspired outfit: the Tamagotchi. I couldn’t finish off a lanyard review and not include a tribute to the toy of our childhood. Grab a pair of matching pastel earrings and the glitter eyeshadow that came free with the One Direction special of Creme magazine and live your best tween life.

ART RE FL E C TI ON S O N T H E S E L F R E VI E W: M AYA N E U PAN E

Robert Laking is a name to watch out for. The exhibition he curated at The New Zealand Portrait Gallery, Reflections on the Self (RotS), makes me feel that the future of New Zealand art is in very safe hands. Both current shows at Portrait Gallery are brilliant but I have a word count to meet, so this review is only on RotS and why, if you usually find art galleries boring and pretentious, you’re going to love this one. RotS highlights four New Zealand artists who work in the offbeat style of conceptual portraiture. One of my favorite art pieces is Tracey Emin’s infamous bed, a derelict, unhygienic, crumbled-sheet creation that acts as a self-portrait of Emin’s mental state at the time. It’s a piece we can all see ourselves accidentally creating, especially as fresher flu floats around campus right now. This artwork is important to me because it validates the idea that we imprint a piece of ourselves onto everything we touch. This exhibition frames those small expressions of self. There’s always something so welcoming about walking into an exhibition and seeing the word “shit” on the wall. It’s like Gatsby’s green light beckoning you, assuring you you’re meant to be here. Blown-up posters of Bryce Galloway’s scribbles on life, sex, and everyday trials from his zine Incredibly Hot Sex with Hideous People line the walls like blockbuster advertisements for normalities. Due to its association with punk and grassroot movements, minorities, and youth culture; the zine is one of the most overlooked artistic mediums. Galloway’s work sets the tone of the exhibition with its artistic vulnerability and lack of ambition to impress. A pile of zines sit upon a table, available to be taken away from their stand and read (as long as you return them afterwards).

relate each portrait to a different movement in art. It’s an intimate experience seeing how the artist’s impression of himself evolves. Born in 1923, even Day’s materials and mediums (such as oil paint on hessian fabric) reflect the times he has lived through. Jordana Bragg’s photographic self-portraits stand across the room from Day’s work, in an interesting parallel. What both artists’ work share is an artistic passion, and acceptance of the artist’s changing form. It’s interesting to examine the similarity of artistic passion and spirituality present in the works of both this dead male art historian and this young non-binary artist. The final artist featured is Alan Pearson. Pearson’s pieces aren’t his usual gorgeous, loud paintings, but each of them have their own understated beauty. Charcoal abstract self-portraiture is undeniably romantic, however this artist’s work has to be the most “cliché gallery” out of this exhibition. It made me think about how certain exhibitions by the previously mentioned Tracey Emin of this same nature get constant hate from male critics for being too “safe” and “cliché”. If I had to change one thing about this exhibition, I would swap out this small section and highlight an artist better suited to the theme. Nonetheless, the shared fear and excitement about the vulnerability of change that these four artists share is what makes RotS an exhibition worth visiting. And Robert Laking, I can’t wait to see what you produce in the future.

Presenting a sombre and academic contrast, Melvin Day’s area of the gallery showcases a series of selfportraits done by the artist following his stroke. As an art historian, Day uses his historical knowledge of art to

FIL M TH I S W E E K' S F I LM S R E VI E W: E VA LO C K H A R T & M E G D O U G HT Y

PADDINGTON 2

recommend you get to it. These films will heal your soul and make you want to be a better, politer person.

As a companion piece to our guest writer’s Aquaman review, I thought it appropriate to discuss the best superhero film of 2018: Paddington 2. “Eva, Paddington isn’t a superhero!” you say. Isn’t he, though? Take a moment to consider that, because I think you’ll find our polite boy fills all the superhero criteria: Power: All superheroes (except Batman) possess a physical difference or “power” that sets them apart from others. Paddington is an English-speaking bear that makes excellent marmalade and has such a formidable hard stare that he can intimidate anyone into being polite. No parents: His biological parents are not in the picture, thus he is taken in by an adoptive family. Twice. Tragic backstory: Like all superheroes, Paddington witnesses the death of a loved one. After the death of his etiquette-loving Uncle Pastuzo, he decides to be the most polite bear the world has ever known, and reprimand illmannered heathens with his hard stare. Mayhem: You’re not a real superhero unless you seriously fuck up the infrastructure of large cities. Just ask the Avengers. Luckily, Paddington is a very clumsy boy. Vigilante justice: Sure, Paddington didn’t set out to be a superhero, but that’s precisely what makes him the best superhero. He didn’t decide to fight crime because it’s his predetermined fate, or for revenge, or because he’s the God-king of an alien planet with a hankering to join a superhero gang. No, Paddington and his adoptive human family, The Browns, fall into crime fighting because they are noble, marmalade-loving people who refuse to sit by idly when they witness impolite shenanigans. So there you have it. If this comprehensive list doesn’t prove to you that Paddington is a superhero, you’re obviously in cahoots with the Oscars and I will find you. If you haven’t seen Paddington or Paddington 2 I

AQUAMAN Aquaman has Jason Momoa’s Arthur Curry going on an emotional, aquatic journey to find the famed trident of Atlantis in order for the city fight the dirty “surfacedwellers” and eventually, their tyrant king. Through flashbacks of trident-throwing-queen Nicole Kidman and a man-bunned Willem Dafoe, the audience learns that (aside from never having been to Atlantis) Curry seems pretty qualified for the role of king. That is, until we meet Mera (Amber Heard). Lip-glossed and wearing a sequined catsuit, Mera initially appears to be a classic damsel-barbie-love interest. That is, until she stops an entire tidal wave (including a drowned plane) from crushing Arthur’s dad by waterbending the shit out of the Atlantic Ocean, making the role of king a toss-up. It’s explained the True King/Ocean Master will be of noble birth and, well, super strong. Looking at Jason Momoa’s Curry as the Queen’s son, you go, “ok, that’s fair”. Until we discover Mera is a princess raised in Atlantean politics and frankly is still the biggest baddest sea witch you wouldn’t want to cross in a liquor store. From this point on, the penis-, I mean, trident-waving by Arthur Curry and his half-brother Orm (the current nasty on the throne) seem less interesting and less high stakes. Overall, Aquaman is a shiny, flashy affair with excellent moments of comic relief, and some pretty cool CGI (excluding the laser-wielding sharks). There’s some rad underwater world-building and the film is an adequate origin story for the character. Aquaman is very entertaining, especially when sea-monster Julie Andrews rocks up. However it would have been more enjoyable if the writers acknowledged the hole they dug themselves into by not considering that a woman fulfilled all of the necessary qualities to become Aquaman, apart from the obvious lack of a trident.

T E LEVIS IO N W H E RE A RE YO U F R O M ? R E VI E W: E MM A M AG U I R E

New Zealand has a history of short-lived but often very gripping television shows. Here’s a few from the last ten or so years you may have missed. The Blue Rose On her first day on the job at the law firm Mosely & Lovebridge, humble office temp Jane (Antonia Prebble) discovers she’s sitting in a dead woman’s chair. The dead woman is Rose, whose best friend Linda (Siobhan Marshall) insists was murdered, despite police reports to the contrary. Jane must commit office espionage, find Rose’s killer, and avoid getting caught up in the web of lies surrounding the law firm. A promising crime thriller show from a few years back, The Blue Rose (2013) is thrilling, sexy, and will keep you on the edge of your seat. Full show available through Amazon Prime.

Reservoir Hill In TVNZ’s Emmy-winning series, Reservoir Hill, Beth Connelly (Beth Chote) moves into a new suburb of Wellington and is immediately mistaken for a missing woman. She’s the spitting image of Reservoir Hill’s resident bully, Tara. However, as she spends more time in the suburb, her paranoia grows. We begin to discover that Beth has a history in Reservoir Hill, a history that’s far more sinister than most... For a show made in 2009, it was a revolutionary work. Viewers could text in a decision (or send it via Bebo) that they wanted the characters to make each week and they’d be able to see it on the TV screen in front of them. Reservoir Hill added a very 2009-esque interactivity to a strong short-form drama. Full show is available from NZ On Screen. Sunny Skies

The Radio Jeremy Corbett and Paul Ego’s sitcom-style show, The Radio, is set in, well, a radio station. This show aired in 2013 and apparently no one except one disparaging reviewer and I remember it—there’s absolutely nothing about it on the internet. Vaughan Smith (ZM) plays the faceless station manager. His comedic timing is the highlight of the show. Good luck finding any versions of it on the internet.

Oliver Driver and Tammy Davis play half-brothers thrown together after the death of their father in Sunny Skies. Set in the Sunny Skies Holiday Park, this show is a comedydrama with all the feels of a Kiwi summer. Driver and Davis are funny guys, and although the show isn’t a constant barrage of laugh-out-louds, it is a quintessential Kiwi watch, featuring some kind-hearted moments.

Short Poppies Rhys Darby’s true character comedy skills come through in his 2014 television show, Short Poppies. Helmed by adorable journalist David Farrier, this mockumentary series follows several different Kiwis, all played by Darby himself. A favourite character of mine is Mary Ledbetter, the town’s local gossip, who has a fantastic episode, alongside a thoroughly gay hairdresser called Alexander Turnbull (played by Karl Urban). Full show is available through TVNZ OnDemand.

BOOKS TH E M AGI C I A N S R E VI E W: M I C H A E L WE L L S

The Magicians sees Lev Grossman developing one of the most enjoyable pieces of fantasy literature in recent times. “Harry Potter for adults” is a simple yet accurate summation of the plot. Quentin Coldwater is a bright teenager with a love for fantasy novels. His attempts to get into Ivy League universities trigger a series of bizarre events that eventually lead him to discover his magical aptitude. He is then inducted into Brakebills, a secret magic college in secluded upstate New York. Like many university students, Quentin is often unsatisfied, insecure, and a bit self-obsessed all at once. He’s an imperfect person, and like most people his age, thinks he has it all figured out, when the reality is anything but.

Grossman also places his narrative firmly in a world where fantasy series like Harry Potter are well-known. His characters often demonstrate that they are aware that they are living in something that could be construed as a Rowling satire. Though a bit gimmicky, it reinforces the discord between fiction and reality that Quintin and his friends often experience, and that Grossman is trying to illustrate to the reader.

The novel is split up into three separate ‘books’ which follow Quentin as he settles into life at Brakebills, a school full of equally brilliant magicians. However, what makes The Magicians particularly compelling is the overarching story—a young fantasy fan who suddenly finds themself confronted with the existence of real magic; a reader of escapist books who becomes aware that the fiction they used as an escape is not fictional at all. This at first seems like nothing more than a subplot, but gradually becomes more apparent.

Aside from this meta-fictional showmanship, Grossman doesn’t pull any punches when showing what life may be like for a bunch of intelligent, magically gifted young adults. There’s a lot of boredom, depression, and cynicism. This is Hogwarts if it had bitchy cliques, alcoholic students, and sex. Lots of sex. This is not a novel to read if you’re looking for faultless, likable characters, and that includes the very fallible Quentin. It’s an excellent illustration of an escapist novel: it reveals magic is real, and then makes it clear that those lucky enough to wield it struggle to use it wisely, or even appreciate it. Grossman drives home the point that even people who can manipulate reality can still be as miserable and unsatisfied with life as the rest of us. Magic doesn’t fix your problems, it just creates a whole set of other ones.

Grossman does more than simply build a world (or worlds). Rather, he’s having a yarn with fantasy lovers about tales that involve magic and different realities. It’s about what would happen if our escapist fantasies became reality. It is easy to be comfortable with something when you know it is a fantasy—Grossman lifts the curtain and shows you the reality behind the magic.

Though it revolves around young adults in a magical university, and at times has a ‘Rick and Morty high IQ’ vibe, The Magicians has genuinely complex characters, surprising twists, and a depth that I didn’t expect. It both ridicules the fantasy genre, while at the same time having an unashamed love and respect for it.

The book provides further entertainment by pissing on some staple fantasy tropes. Magic isn’t waving a wand and uttering a few choice words. It’s more akin to learning complex mathematical equations, excruciating hand movements, and hundreds of different languages. It’s hard, tough, and requires sacrifice. “Pain is what makes a magician.” Magic education at Brakebills makes Contract Law with David McLauchlan look like a cakewalk.

FOOD H UT T R I B S N E WTOWN R E VI E W: K I I & TO M

In fried chicken news: KFC is about to open on Courtenay Place. Before you get sucked into the convenience of frequenting a big chicken mogul, why not check out Hutt Ribs? When your boo-thang @kiidotcom calls you up on a Saturday morning with the “you tryna eat?”, you know what to do. Hutt Ribs in Newtown, “multi-cuisine takeaway”, really does go out of its way to provide for everyone. Vegetarians, do not be deterred by the mention of ribs; there is a pretty selection of fried rice and aloo available. If you’d told me a few weeks ago that I’d be a regular at a joint that sells ribs, chicken, curry, fried rice, burgers, and garlic bread—I would have scoffed. A general rule of thumb with menus is that the bigger they are, the lower the quality of the food. A masterclass of small menus from the new school of Welly eats is Good Boy Food + Drink. But Hutt Ribs is no doubt the exception to this rule. Admittedly, I haven’t tried a lot of the menu, but the half-chicken and chips is the go-to for reviving your liver and kick-starting the serotonin for the day.

My sauce of choice was Lemon and Herb, while Kii got Honey Mustard (underrated). The third sauce option is Peri-Peri. There aren’t heat levels like at Nando’s… but do you really need six levels of heat? Food should be about the flavour. The impact of the fork to mouth-hole is immediate. While being cooked, the chicken is basted with their extremely flavourful sauce, creating a charred crust around the skin for ultimate pleasure. The chicken is delicious. My one critique is that both times I have had it, it has been a touch dry. The chips are crispy, with a mystery seasoning. Not your standard chicken salt mix, Hutt Ribs has come through with the X factor. Recommended Dish: Half-chicken and chips with a can of sprite ($19)

If we’re comparing this to Nando’s, the only half-chick and chips I can think of in Wellington, Hutt Ribs has them beat in damn near every category. Bigger portions, more flavour, cheaper, and a more wholesome experience overall. The décor is stuck in 2005 despite only being open for a few years. The atmosphere is dimmed by music on autoplay from Youtube, subjecting unwilling participants to Florida Georgia Line, Maroon 5 and Imagine Dragons. I try not to be a music purist; everyone has their tastes. I am sure some people like the taste of orange juice after toothpaste and eating shoe polish. It just goes to show that not everyone can be trusted to make rational decisions. The food comes out in cardboard—the first green light. Bourgeois luxuries like plates are not necessary at Hutt Ribs, where the food is the focus. This quote from their website sums it up nicely: “We cook from the heart which make our food addictive to the palate.”

W HI CH STAR SI G N ARE YO U? DO WE GO T O GET HER?

ARIES

LIBRA

The second half of the week gifts you a strong sense of self, marking an end to the sensitive, spiritual air that has surrounded you in recent weeks. The moon resides in your sixth house Monday through Thursday, helping you find work a little less insufferable than usual. Your friends are your strongest asset for the moment. Throw a party.

Your embittered approach to romance creates the risk of hurting people you love this week. Be careful of over-intellectualising matters of emotion and spirituality. You’re full of hot takes, but we don’t need to hear them. Take a bath, write a poem, learn to be alone. Things will get tasty soon, I promise.

TAURUS

SCORPIO

Romance fills the first half of your week, but be careful, old flames may still flicker. It’s likely a new love interest will appear in your workplace or class; if this isn’t what your heart desires, eat root vegetables to keep the butterflies away. Expect a little internal conflict, get plenty of sleep.

The weekend drags the moon into your first house, making this an ideal time for self-reflection. Take yourself out for dinner, get really into crosswords. With lucky Jupiter in your second house, you may find yourself receiving gifts or finding long-lost objects. Time is on your side, buy a nice watch.

GEMINI

SAGITTARIUS

With your ruling planet Mercury still in retrograde, you may feel like you’re forever driving the wrong way up a one-way street. Wednesday brings excitement and a little sexy flair to your friendships and dreams. Your worldview may be romanticised, with everything always in soft focus. Others will ground you, don’t spend too much time alone.

Although conflict may find its way to your workplace this week, a sense of security will be brought to your love life. Your room is a mess and your flatmates are being weird, but don’t fear, sweet aggie, chaos won’t reign for much longer. It may feel like gravity is stronger for you only, but that weight will ease soon enough.

CANCER

CAPRICORN

Dreamy, sultry Cancer, you have us all wrapped around your little finger this week. With your ruling moon passing through sulky Virgo in the first half of the week, expect a romantically and glamorously sullen feeling to wash over you. The moon is full on Thursday, and so is your heart.

Unfortunately for Capricorn, the people around you are growing tired of your neuroses and oh-so-carefully-curated personality round about now. Don’t look at me, I’m just the humble celestial messenger. New friends, romantic interests, and hot baristas will bring spark to your frankly tragic life. The water signs have wonderful things to teach you.

LEO

AQUARIUS

Stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming stop being so charming. Let the rest of us live, you’re driving us all wild.

Now is a creatively productive and loved-up time for Aquarians, with Venus occupying your home constellation. Self-love is abundant, and you may be partial to self-indulgence. For now, this brings you no harm. Due to Mercury retrograding in your second house, make sure you lock your doors.

VIRGO

PISCES

This week will have you feeling terribly self-indulgent. Stop pretending to be mysterious and tell us what’s going on. Secrets, whether your own or someone else’s, will bring you trouble this week. And with Mercury nearing the end of its retrograde, miscommunications will only make this worse. Remember to drink water.

Your perceptions of yourself are a little off for the moment, and this may have you feeling pretty lost. Your heart is wandering, an old flame may catch you offguard. Immerse yourself in the things you love, read a book, ask lots of questions, say what you mean.

PUZZL ES A ND MO RE PUZZLES FRO M PUCK

CROSSWORD: MIXED EMOTIONS

GUESS THAT DAD BOD

LAST WEEK’S BOD: JOHN WAYNE

ALL THE CLUES IN CAPITALS ARE OF THE SAME TYPE ACROSS

DOWN

1. PERSONISED (10) 6. VOLE (4) 10. ADDER (5) 11. America’s Cup vessel (5) 12. Winner of two recent Oscars Mahershala (3) 13. Speedy savannah animal (7) 15. BEDROOM (7) 16. DRACONISTIC (11) 19. TOENAIL (7) 20. Tall cactus from the Americas (7) 22. James Bond creator Fleming (3) 23. Stage of an insect’s life cycle (5) 25. STRUT (5) 26. RUTH (4) 27. HUMAN SITES (10)

1. Draw conclusions like Sherlock Holmes (6) 2. Section (5) 3. Opposite of a beginning (3) 4. Harry Potter house for Crabbe and Goyle (9) 5. Fantasy race that, in Dungeons and Dragons, tend towards evil (although mine are always huggable friends) (3) 7. Without stopping (2,3,2) 8. Difficult puzzle, a café on Courtenay Place (6) 9. Beginning (8) 14. It’s connected to the epididymus (8) 15. It’s just to the right of the square bracket, on a QWERTY keyboard (9) 16. Device used to reduce/remove liquid (7) 17. BDSM or feet, to name two that Quentin Tarantino almost certainly has (6) 18. Shakespearean character who gets the head of an ass (6) 21. Caribbean island with the capital Oranjestad (5) 24. Harry Potter character who steals a car but isn’t in 4-Down (3) 25. “Indeed, my liege!” (3)

LAST WEEK'S SOLUTION

A SUDOKU A DAY KEEPS THE DOCTOR AWAY

EASY PEASY

F*CK YA LIFE UP Puzzle 1 (Hard, difficulty rating 0.63)

Puzzle 1 (Easy, difficulty rating 0.38)

3 9

3 8

7 7

1 3

9 4

4 6

4 Generated by http://www.opensky.ca/sudoku on Tue Mar 12 02:25:17 2019 GMT. Enjoy!

5 4

4 1

1 5

4 7

Generated by http://www.opensky.ca/sudoku on Tue Mar 12 02:25:35 2019 GMT. Enjoy!

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