Feeling awkward, she sought refuge with the small group of Pacific Island pupils already at the school. They were a safe place, where she could reduce the emotions of being different, not belonging, and feeling awkward.
With the support of these new friends she grew, her English flourished, as did her Tongan language skills and this week she got excellence in her te reo Māori exam. Had she stayed in Tokelau, she would have missed these learning opportunities.
Recently I started a new job working for an iwi health provider. It’s a beautiful place to work, full of inspiring, kind and caring people who have given me large doses of manaaki and aroha. Mostly they have shown me patience. Patience, as I learn to navigate a world where I am the minority, where I feel awkward, different, not quite belonging.
Being a straight white male has previously insulated me from many of these feelings. For most of my life, I have been in the majority, able to feel comfortable in groups because the people I surrounded myself with looked and thought just like me.
I know what it means to be a Pākehā New Zealander, the “she will be right, number 8 wire” mentality mixed with a dose of tall poppy syndrome and a large dash of cockiness, sipping on a cold beer, commenting on my mate’s barbecuing skills while dissecting the inadequacies of the All Blacks’ kicking game.
I’m now in a career where I need to think about everything I say and do to avoid making cultural mistakes. Viewing my words and actions through a tikanga lens of te ao Māori, a lens that is still blurry but each day gets slightly more transparent as I use my taringa (ears) rather than my waha (mouth).
Please don’t think I’m trying to make myself out to be a martyr here. This was my choice and it is so rewarding; it is invigorating being awkward because that’s where we learn the most. I’m starting to understand what it’s like to be the odd one out in the room, a feeling many Kiwis have felt their whole lives purely because of what they look like, their gender or who they love.
One of my daughter’s dreams is to return to Nukunonu to teach the skills she did not have when she first arrived in Aotearoa. The skills she learned by feeling awkward.
My dream is to watch her do it.
Dave Mollard is a Palmerston North community worker and social commentator.
