Four lessons for my fellow non-Māori when we’re invited into Māori spaces

So you’ve been invited into a Māori space? Lucky you! You will be enriched by the experience. And there are some things to think about to enter that space respectfully and effectively. A number of friends and whānau have asked me what I learned through 18 months working in a kaupapa Māori charity. This blog attempts to capture some of my reflections, in case they are useful to my fellow non-Māori New Zealanders.

Given the polarising rhetoric being shared around our country at the moment, this feels like an important time for us tangata tiriti (people of the treaty) to stand with tangata whenua (people of the land).?

My story?

I’m a Pākeha New Zealander with Scottish and English ancestry (more below on ko wai au - who am I?). In 2021, I joined Jase Te Patu as co-CEO of the kaupapa Māori organisation he’d founded. Over 18 months, I experienced a powerfully different way of working that you can read about in my blog here. This blog offers four lessons that I wish I could have gone back and told myself on day one.

Lesson one: Know yourself - your family history and the history of our country.

Before you step into Māori spaces, make sure you know “ko wai koe?” Who are you? And how that relates to the history of this country we share.

Living and working overseas, I’d always proudly said “I’m a New Zealander”. But I didn’t really reflect on where I’m from - beyond a country on a map.

Introducing myself in my pepeha made me openly question my identity as a New Zealander. My great-great-great-grandparents were early settlers in the Wairarapa and Canterbury, so my whakapapa is deeply linked with the colonial history of this country. At first I felt deep shame about my ancestors' role in colonisation. Then a friend pointed me to this piece by Tina Ngata.? “Be tau (at peace) with your position. You need to be able to speak frankly about the process of colonization that created the space for you to be here in Aotearoa.? Not ridden with guilt, and not trying to explain it or evade it, but ready to respond to the legacy of that story.”?

I picked up my family history books to understand my whakapapa. In the words of my great-great uncle John Deans: “[During] the period from the landing of William Deans in Wellington in January, 1840, to the death of his brother John at Riccarton in 1854….the general pattern of the history of the family is New Zealand was largely determined”. That general pattern stemmed from my great-great-great grandfather John Deans leasing a large swathe of land from local Māori in what is now the western part of Christchurch, centred in Riccarton. I have benefited from intergenerational privilege resulting from colonisation.?

As a child, I felt the deep unfairness of the world, but didn’t understand where it came from. Why do I have enough to eat, when others have to go to food banks? Why do I get to live in the same house from birth to 18, when some of my classmates moved homes, schools and towns dozens of times as they bounced around unstable housing? Why do I feel “at home” in university lecture theatres, and corporate boardrooms, when others don’t??

As I got older, I came to understand that much of the inequality in our country today is the result of colonisation. My intergenerational privilege means I’ve grown up in security - secure belonging, secure finances, in a system that works for me.?

I shared these mixed feelings about my whakapapa at our team noho marae. This is the first time I’d said them aloud to anyone. This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever been about my identity and my place in Aotearoa. Yet it was met with grace and support.? “You are a tangata tiriti, e hoa”. You are a person of the treaty. Someone who understands the history of our country, the promises that have been broken, and the commitment to do better in the future. Now I have a more complete identity.?

So please learn your family history, and look the most uncomfortable bits in the face. Knowing who you are is the starting point for entering Māori spaces respectfully.

Lesson two: go in with an open heart and a thick skin

Stepping into a Māori space, go in firstly with an open heart. There are other ways of thinking, being and doing. Be open to being changed by them.?

One experience that changed me was at the end of my first noho marae, there was a poroaki (a closing ceremony). Sixty of us from Te Wānanga o Aotearoa level 1 te reo class sat in a circle in the middle of the wharenui and shared in turn what the weekend meant to us.? If you’d been closed hearted, you might have thought “what a waste of time”. But we sat in that circle for nearly three hours, and opened our hearts to other people’s stories.?

We laughed as a young guy started off “the free feed was mean”. We listened intently as a young Māori dad shared the dreams for his baby son to grow up with the language he was fighting to learn as an adult. We nodded as a German woman said how welcomed she felt here. How my Chinese friend shared how he felt it was a responsibility to learn the language of this country. Many of us silently wept as an older Māori man cried when he shared that yesterday was the first time he’d ever said his pepeha on a marae. Speaking the language that his parents’ had been beaten for speaking at school growing up.??

How often in your life do you get to sit with a cross section of New Zealand, and talk openly about what’s important to you? The tikanga of a marae - being welcomed with a powhiri, sharing kai together, sleeping in the wharenui, singing together - this created a special feeling that allowed such openness and deepened understanding.

While you need an open heart, you also need a thick skin. You’re entering spaces with lots of maemae - hurt. Many Māori are on their own journey of rebuilding who they are and reclaiming their language and way of doing things. Don’t bring your own fragility into that. If they’re hurting and it comes out in anger because you represent that system of hurt, don’t take that personally.? I found this very hard - at times I did not have a thick skin. I had to go back to lesson one? - do my own work in knowing who I am and understanding the history of our country. The discomfort I felt hearing hard kōrero directed at me is nothing compared to the impact of colonisation and ongoing racism many Māori face on a daily basis.?

Lesson three: get your hands dirty

Firstly, you must listen - understand what’s important, rather than jumping in with solutions. Don’t assume you know. Stop and truly listen to what the leaders of the kaupapa want.

Once you understand what’s important, get your hands dirty. You’ve been invited in because you can be helpful to the kaupapa. Maybe it’s your expertise in marketing, plumbing, or accounting. Maybe it’s an extra pair of hands to help in the kitchen, clean the toilets, or weed the garden. Don’t sit around thinking “I’d better not do anything in case I do it wrong, or offend anyone”. Get stuck in, and then read the room. Continue to listen carefully. You’ll pretty soon figure out if you’re doing it wrong or have overstepped your role.

In my case, I was invited into a kaupapa Māori charity because of my skills in strategy, impact evaluation and finance. I helped the kaupapa move from a limited liability company to a registered charity. I helped build a budget, cashflow forecast and fundraising proposals. This was useful to the kaupapa. I also overstepped my reach at times - in areas of programme development, and sensitive team issues. These are areas I’d supported other charities in, but it was not my place in a kaupapa Māori space. Which leads to the fourth lesson.

Lesson four: respect the need for Māori spaces.

In the words of Tina Ngata: “Respect boundaries. So much space has been taken from us, so primarily you need to respect our boundaries where we lay them down. Don’t argue with us when we insist on our own spaces. Don’t make it about your hurt feelings, or your need for inclusion.? Don’t paint it as divisive. If you are mourning the space we have just reclaimed for ourselves, be comforted by the fact that pretty much the entire rest of the world is either yours, or shared with you. We require safe spaces to speak, just us. That will also require you to self identify and self vacate at times. Be proactive. Read the room. Remove yourself out of consideration for the space we need to safely continue a conversation.”

If you’re not invited into a Māori space, don’t intrude. If you’re asked to leave, then leave. And finally, don’t outstay your welcome. After 18 months at the kaupapa Māori charity, it was time for me to leave. I’d come to the limit of being helpful to the kaupapa, so the founder and I had a beautifully open kōrero. I left enriched by my time in a te ao Māori space - a stronger sense of myself, a stronger understanding of others, a deeper appreciation for this powerful way of being, thinking and doing that is te ao Māori.

We can only get to know and understand each other by spending time together?

Too many of us in New Zealand are scared of te ao Māori, so just stay away. As non-Māori, we may feel paralysed by guilt about the past, or fearful about making mistakes, or angry about our “help” not being appreciated. When Māori graciously put aside many bigger traumas and emotions to invite us into their spaces - please honour that. Even though it can be hard sometimes, spending time together is the only way we are going to build trust and understanding. Spending time together is the only way we can build a bicultural Aotearoa where all of us can thrive.