At Whiria te Muka, we are working on carving out a space that allows us to embed a culture of noticing, of connecting ... When you walk down the street, how many times have you noticed the person you just walked past? I mean, truly noticed them? Looked at them as a miracle, an accumulation of unique experiences or circumstances, past and present?
Perhaps they are somebody's loved one, a father, aunty, partner or child. But you're late and you've got many things on your list to get done — "I'll do it later." But later often never comes. What we didn't realise is that we just walked passed a whole world, with a viewpoint unlike anybody else's. This is all too often how I feel when walking through town. I just didn't notice. I wished I had taken more time to connect, to manaaki, to care about more than my own tasks.
But if we never stop to notice the people we share our place with, how can we ever connect? How are we ever meant to build a sense of empathy or understanding towards those who need it most? Did they smile at me? Did I even look at them? I wonder what their story is. I wonder what they hide from the gaze of public life. But how can I help anyway? I'm just one person, right?
Whānau harm is often embedded into the fabric of our society. It runs deep, hidden in the private spaces of our homes. And the I just don't have time right now mentality seems to be a common refrain.
Whānau harm, in its many forms, impacts us all in some way, whether it be through our own immediate whānau or our wider community interactions. Left hidden, whānau harm will continue to grow within the private lives of our homes, in the depths of the emotions of our people, possibly even unconsciously passed on from generation to generation. I believe it is one of the biggest threats to our vitality as individuals, communities and society. Furthermore, it is an abuse on our mana.