Are they Māori Māori?

Chances are, that if you’re Māori, you’ll have heard this pātai before. The most recent time I had this pātai asked of me was following a meeting I had with a potential candidate for a vacancy in my team. I had met with a stunning young wahine Māori, and when chatting about this encounter with a work colleague, the following kōrero occurred, “He Māori ia?”, to which I responded, “Āe, nō Whānganui”. This question was to be expected given the role we had advertised was for a Senior Analyst Māori. It was the next pātai though, “Are they Māori Māori?”. This one caught me a little off guard, but only for a brief moment. Of course, I knew what they were referring to, and so I was able to answer “I think they’re early on their journey”. Our convo flowed thereafter, and we moved onto other kaupapa. It wasn’t until a little later that I thought more about this kōrero.

The fact that I can still to this day remember how I felt in that moment strikes me as profound. This was almost two years ago. In that moment, I knew the intention behind the pātai. The uncomfortable feeling I had was because I wasn’t sure I was qualified enough to answer it. Like taihoa, am I Māori enough to answer your pātai? And anyway, what are we doing here? Why are we questioning and sharing perspectives on how Māori someone is.

 This concept of being ‘Māori Māori’ comes up in our household quite a bit. My daughter wrote about her experiences of being a “lighter shade of brown” for her monologue at performing arts school – too brown to feel comfortable with her Pākehā friends at school, and yet feeling too Pākehā around her hoa Māori. My partner and I frequently discuss what it means to have whakaaro and tirohanga Māori (Māori thoughts and perspectives). Can we ever achieve this given we were raised by our non-Māori Mums despite both being on our journey to reclaim our reo and connect with our whakapapa Māori?

I asked Chat GPT to describe to me the impacts of the Colonial Strategy of Blood Quantum – which was a tactic used to undermine and disrupt Māori social structures and to weaken Māori identity and unity. E ai ki a Chat GPT, the concept of quantifying Māori ancestry by blood quantum sought to categorize individuals based on the proportion of their Māori whakapapa. This was used by colonial authorities to manipulate the allocation of rights and privileges, further marginalising and disempowering Māori communities. Blood quantum was not inherent to Māori prior to colonisation, it was imposed on our culture. Being Māori is rooted in whakapapa, which encompasses genealogy, ancestry, and connections to land, language, and culture. Whakapapa recognises the interconnectedness of being Māori, rather than reducing it to a mathematical calculation of bloodlines. And yet, I’ve been amongst kōrero along these lines more than I feel safe to admit. Most of the time, I pray I won’t be “outed” even though my non-Māori ingoa, fair skin and lack of reo proficiency outed me long ago.

Just this week, at our fifth Kai Whai Hua, we had a beautiful young wahine stand to share whakaaro during the evening. Our night began with a kōrero by rangatira Puawai Cairns on Reindigenising our Crafts. One whakaaro that Puawai shared was around tracing the outline of your taniwha. A technique she uses to save speculating about how scary something is, or how bad you believe you might be at doing something. Puawai explained that drawing an outline of your fear can help you gain the perspective you need to put on your IDGAF maro and do what Māui would do. So back to the beautiful young wahine, she shared an outline of her taniwha. “I was worried coming into a Māori team at mahi that I would be found out that I’m not Māori enough. But I’ve realised that no matter my upbringing, I am Māori because my tupuna made me so, and I am proud to be representing my people”. Girl had her IDGAF maro on, and she stood and spoke in her truth.

Reflecting on this gorgeous moment takes me back to the day that I realised my tupuna had a plan for me. It was sometime around 2019/20, I was a participant in Dr Simone Bull’s Wall Walk workshop. If you’ve been to this workshop, you’ll know that the content and delivery method really gets the kare-a-roto flowing. I remember sitting there during the final part of the day. This is when Simone reveals the last of the wall panels which is blank, and she challenges those in the room (mostly public servants) to decide how we want to be remembered, what legacy do we want to leave for the next generation to learn from in 20 or 30 years’ time. I had an overwhelming sense of knowing in that moment that my nanny had a plan for me. That there was a reason why I look the way I do. It sounds strange, but it felt like it was the first time that I really accepted who I am. I knew then that to achieve what she desired for me will only be possible when I step into my own rangatiratanga. If it’s to be, then it’s up to me. I didn’t leave there and develop a carefully laid out plan. But since then, I have channelled more and more time and energy into learning about my whakapapa, growing my reo Māori, expanding my tirohanga Māori, and discovering ‘Ko wai au’. This yearning to invest in myself and my whānau is becoming stronger and stronger. This is what I want to bring my ‘A’ game to. This was a big reason why I decided to give sobriety a go at the start of this year, he kōrero anō tēnei, I’ll save this for another time.

Last weekend, myself and two of my close hoa left Porirua before the dawning of the sun to travel to Pōrangahau. I’ve been to Pōrangahau many times before, ko tēnei te whenua o tōku taokete me āku iramutu. The last time I was there was for the hura kōhatu mō tōna pāpā, ara, ko poua Piri. But it was the first time I had been to Kurawaka, he wāhi tino ataahua hei whakaako i ngā tikanga me te whakapapa o karanga. Amongst 13 other beautiful wāhine, and guided by Whaea Raina me āna tamāhine, we turned to our womb space, our whare tangata to find our divine goddess given voice, oro, vibration. What a gift of time and space to just be, kia mauri tau. He Māori katoa te wheako, te āhuatanga me te wairua o Kurawaka.

Elena at the Kurawaka Retreat, Te Paerahi Beach, Pōrangahau.

I am on a journey to invest more in myself, to be in the best place I can be for my mokopuna kei te heke mai.  I am learning to accept that my experiences of being kiritea Māori actually relate to social constructs in a racialised world, but it’s my whakapapa that makes me Māori. I am putting on my IDGAF maro, tracing my taniwha and staring it down. I am composting my whakaaro hei whāngai i ngā kākano hou. I am stepping into my Māuitanga.

I am headlining the next chapter “Being my version of Māori Māori” so that my mokopuna will never have to ask that question.