My Thoughts on Lorde's Te Ao Marama

Who we are and where we come from has a huge impact on how we experience the world.  I live with white privilege - this unreservedly impacts the way I view things.  But I also have Māori whakapapa, which has also shaped how I walk through the world, and how I perceive things.

I don't look super Māori, but it's still
    an important part of who I am.

When I first heard about Lorde's album Te Ao Marama, I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.  It was a literal gut reaction - I had no information this was just my immediate feeling.  So I posted an article by Jack Gray on Facebook.  I posted this because I felt it helped articulate this discomfort.  This article upset quite a lot of people.  Not just on my Facebook, but all over the show.  So much so in fact, that Jack Gray wrote another article, a softer article.  His gut reaction had been similar to mine.  Bigger because he was so much closer to the album, more painful because of his experiences working as a Māori artist. 

More recently I read another article which also spoke to how I was feeling.  I posted a link to this article on my Facebook wall.  I decided not to finish writing this blog post - I didn't think I needed to given the other fantastic discourse already out there.  But people were still confused by this article.  And there was another thing - I don't agree with the title of the article.

So I'm finishing my post.  It will be rough, sorry.  Being at Level 4 I do not have much time to myself nor regular access to our home computer (which is where I write).  And my partner's health has been not great.  After many days of seizures every day, he ended up in hospital, and while he's home now and doing better, it's still been a tough week.

I have read The Spinoff article by Leonie Hayden and yes, I agree that Lorde did her absolute best to make sure everything was tika in the production of this album.

This is not my issue.

I have no issue with Pākehā learning or speaking te reo Māori.  Our youngest daughter is in a bilingual English/Māori class at school.  She's blonde with blue eyes and her whakapapa is predominantly Pākehā.  She has peers in her class with no Māori whakapapa, peers with parents who are tau iwi.  What I love about that is that it shows how valued both te reo and te ao Māori are by so many New Zealanders.  I see our daughter thriving in this environment in a way that she did not thrive in mainstream education.  I am so grateful that she has this opportunity, and while whakapapa is an important part of her learning, no matter where you whakapapa to, you are welcome in her class.

This is how I view te reo.  It is a beloved national language.  A taonga to be shared.

But being able to learn te reo is a privilege.

My relationship with te reo has been tricky.  I've always been drawn to it.  Not just because of seeing the power of it in karanga and waiata on the Marae, but because it just resonates with who I am.  I did kapahaka around intermediate age - it was compulsory.  At that time I went to a school which had a strong Māori kaupapa.  For our school trip we stayed at different Marae around Northland and learned about local history.  I absolutely loved it.  But when I tried to learn te reo at High School I was bullied for it and even told 'it is not for you' by one of the kaiako**.  So I did not continue learning at school.

Kawhia Marae - where I did my noho Marae with Unitec   
and had the privilege of leading the waiata onto the Marae. 

By the time I got to Unitec the approach was different.  I have always called myself both Pākehā and Māori on any official forms.  Consequently, I was shepherded into a class of random folk on one of my first days there.  As Māori students, Unitec made sure we knew how to access services to help us succeed in our education.  While this felt weird at the time, it was wonderful for me as it helped me to connect with other Māori students and Kaiako.  This was a complete U-turn from how I felt at High School - I enrolled in a free te reo night class and learned some basics.  But sadly for me, that's as far as my reo journey has made it so far.

When last surveyed, only 11% of Māori adults considered themselves fluent in te reo Māori.  While I appreciate that this is an old survey, and these rate have likely increased, what must be acknowledged is that there are many barriers for Māori - particularly urban Māori - in being able to learn te reo.

When I had that gut response which seemed contrary to so many of my peers I really had to process some stuff to understand why.  Then I re-read this:

'Remember that time is a privilege. Taking time from whānau once or twice a week, plus assignments, plus weekend noho is something many people can’t even dream of. Taking a year off to learn full time – impossible. If you’re lucky enough to have had that opportunity as a Pākehā, please think long and hard about the gifts you have been given and to whom they’ve been denied.'

Yes, there have been other Pākehā artists that have released songs in te reo.  I watched Waiata Anthems and absolutely loved every minute of it.  But this is different.  These artists were invited in by Māori to work within a Māori framework.  They were gracious and humbled by the processed - some - like Hollie Smith - expressed concern about participation - because they understood the compexities in doing so.  These artists were chosen for who they are, and for the songs they sang, which spoke to Māori in a certain way.

This is not the case with Lorde - this was her idea.  Yes, she ran it by some friends who are Māori - but she asked, she wasn't invited.  Her privilege is such that she has been able to get people on board that many Māori couldn't even conceive of working with.  People like Sir Tīmoti Kāretu.  People like Bic Runga.  People that many artists would never have access to, let alone be able to have conversations about what is tika and what is not.

It's the complete lack of acknowledgement of that privilege that I am struggling with.

There is an enormous wealth gap between Pākehā and Māori.  In 2018 that wealth gap was a whopping $109,000 based on median incomes ($138,000 to $29,000 respectively).  And that gap increased by 17% since 2015.  With our post Covid K Shaped economic recovery, this it's looking likely this will only grow.  And that's not the only gap.  Of any ethnic group in NZ, Māori account for 26% of all mental health service users whilst making up only 16% of our population.  You don't have to read much or look far to see there are many, many gaps in how Pākehā and Māori experience life in Aotearoa.

So it feels odd to me that no-one has addressed this.

Especially given Lorde has grown up with so much privilege.

She grew up in an affluent Auckland suburb which is far from diverse.  Both of her parents are highly educated.  She attended drama classes from the age of five and had access to a vast library in her home.  And her friend's Dad had a friend that was the scout for a music label.  She was signed to Universal at the age of 12 because of her connections.  She was mortgage free by the age of 18.  Today, her net worth is over 16 million dollars.

Yes, Lorde is a talented young woman.  But many, many, many privileges have paved her path.

For me this absolutely impacts why I've had the gut reaction that I have.  It is hard seeing this privilege juxtaposed against such inequality.

What is harder is seeing no-one talking about this.

No-one has addressed this because it's not smart marketing.  Talking about colonisation at an album launch of a privileged, white artist singing in an indigenous language is just not a smart thing to do.

In music, just like in business, branding is key to success.

“Many talk about storytelling – it’s most common word used in marketing along with engagement, reach and branded content. Yes, we need to tell stories and touch people,” Robert-Murphy told attendees.
“But you need to really connect and that’s why storyfeeling is so important.”

This quote comes from Universal Music Group’s Chief of Possibilities.

This is literally their game plan in terms of capturing audiences.  There is no way Universal was unaware of what they may gain with this album.  The story that is Te Ao Marama does exactly that.  It aligns her with indigenous peoples worldwide.  It is designed specifically to broaden her appeal.

She is the one who will benefit from this album.

Yes, she is donating the profits from Te Ao Marama to charity.  The proceeds from this album go to Forest and Bird and Te Hua Kawariki Charitable Trust.  Yes, it means we'll hear more te reo on the radio.  But little EP's like this for big artists like Lorde aren't about the money.  This EP is marketing for her new album.  And it is virtue signalling.  This is a wealthy Pākehā woman profiting from te reo Māori.  And to me, that's colonisation.

So, so many people I've spoken to have only good things to say about Lorde, that she seems genuine in her desire to engage in te reo, and to understand te ao Māori better.  And I cannot say this isn't true - I cannot know this isn't true.  But it seems odd to me that this is not something she's shown any interest in before, and Māori issues are not something she's touched on at all.  And I feel that if she did genuinely care she would be aware and addressing the issue of inequality in Aotearoa, rather than toeing the marketing line.  This week is the launch of Te Ao Marama aligned with Māori language week, and Lorde isn't even here.  She's in New York City for the Met gala.

*          *          *          *         *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *       
I know I may sound bitter.  That's because for me, timing wise, this really hurts.  Because while I live with white privilege I see racist acts toward my darker skinned Māori friends and family often.  I witness racist acts toward Wahine Māori doing well in our media.  It hurts because we have racist people in power.  From National criticising Māori Health Wards to David Seymour tweeting out a priory access code to encourage Māori to get vaccinated.  Every single racist word, mispronounced place name, negative news article hurts.  And I do not feel anything remotely close to the brunt of it.

Morgana Watson - one of many successful wahine Māori regularly sent threats 

If Lorde genuinely cared about te reo, she would show more care for the people that it comes from.  As a person of fame and privilege she has a lot of power.  She could have used this to address the vast disparities we have in Aotearoa.  She could have used this as a platform to talk about racism, and colonisation, and the huge impact it has on our lives.  But she didn't.  She's said nothing.  For me, that speaks volumes.

It's Māori language week and yes, absolutely we should be celebrating te reo. 

We should be celebrating its growth in use.  We should be celebrating our record numbers for Kura Kaupapa this year.  This shouldn't be something to celebrate, but maybe we can even celebrate our mainstream media outlets no longer responding to complaints about it.  These are all great steps forward.  But I want more than that.  I want better for tangata Māori.  And I want those people with privilege and power to start addressing this.

He aha te mea nui o te ao?
He tangata, he tangata, he tangata.



* Her Mother is a published poet with a Masters degree and her Dad is a Civil Engineer

** This was during the mid '90's in a smallish, rural High school.

Rethinking what health looks like

So earlier this year I wrote about 'Getting Strong'.  In that post I wrote about how I wanted to lose 5% of my body weight this year to improve my health.

When I wrote that post in February, I had already lost 2kg through exercise.  Until three weeks ago, I had maintained that 2kg of weight loss but hadn't lost any more.  But I didn't beat myself up about it and I didn't give up on exercising.  Being able to lose 2kg, JUST 2kg and maintain that weight loss for five months without giving up, getting obsessive or depressed was a massive achievement for me.

      My favourite chip of all chips.

But there was a reason why I'd only lost 2kg.  With the stress of Covid coupled with Murray's epilepsy, smashing back a bag of kettle chips at night had become a fairly regular thing.  Plus we were eating more takeaways.  Being tired and having our routines bent out of shape made it easy to justify not cooking.  While for the most part I ate a healthy diet during the day, I often binged on chips or sweets or too many glasses of wine at night.  To have something to look forward to.  To drown out the noise of the stress of my life.  And because I was exercising most days I wasn't gaining weight, so I felt vindicated.

My relationship with food is something I've always struggled with.  Whether it's obsessing about what I eat and how much I'm exercising or I'm shoveling chips into my face, basically since puberty my relationship with food has been problematic.  And I've known that since I was a teen.  At one point my body became so unused to consuming saturated fats eating any high fat food made me horrendously ill.  That really scared me.  It took some years before I could eat foods like icecream again (and I still don't really like it).  I've done lots of therapy around these issues and was extremely lucky to be introduced to OA meetings not long out of my teens.

While OA was helpful, unlike the other issues covered by the 12 Step Programs, it's not like you can just 'quit' food and work through your issues.  Humans kinda need food to survive.  Whether your issue is eating too little or eating too much.  Whether it's about body image or lack of self-confidence, what it all comes to is control.  And this issue is much bigger than considering what you're eating.  This issue follows you around where-ever you go.  So when parts of my life become uncontrollable, there they are.

About a month ago I had a massive reality check.

It's not just about diet, but it's a good start.    

Murray got some blood results back and his cholesterol was crazy high.  Like, he told me the number and I thought he'd misread it and asked him to read it again.  Before we'd even been to his GP for the follow up we'd downloaded a calorie and exercise tracking app and completely overhauled how we eat.  Because while there are other factors as to why that number was so bad, diet is the one thing we could do something about.

We're a team.  So if Murray needed to change his diet to manage his health then I would too.  It was the kick in the butt I needed to start making an active effort to address my bingeing.  Part of me hadn't wanted to address it because it needed that crutch to help me cope.  Another part of me was scared I'd replace it with different unhealthy, obsessive habits.  But when we got that news I didn't even consider any of  those things.  I just went 'righto' and we made those changes*.

I was worried that using a tracking app would make me fall into old habits.  But so far, that hasn't happened.  I think this is in part due to being very aware of these issues.  The app allocates an amount of kilojoules (or calories) you can have per day based on your age, height and weight and how quickly you want to lose weight (if at all).  I record everything honestly.  And I try not to eat more than 10% under my allowance.  I have days where I eat more than my allocated amount and I don't beat myself up about it.  I haven't cut chocolate.  Or chips.  Or wine.  I have upped fruits and veges and cut way back on cheese.  I'm not starving, or hungry or depriving myself of anything (like earlier iterations of me would have done).  I'm just very aware of what I'm eating**.

Last year this exercise felt impossible

 

I think the other reason it hasn't happened is because the way I think about my body has changed over the past year.  I have to credit this in part to the amazing osteo I was seeing for some issues with my hips***.  Because even though his other job was as a fitness instructor, even though I was overweight and he had to see me in shorts and a bra most weeks he only ever made positive comments about my body and what it was capable of.  And this helped me realise how capable my body was.  It was strong.  It was flexible.  It was fit.  I was now able to do exercises easily that I had previously struggled with.  At this time I was also spending a lot of time in the sauna.  Being in a close environment with other people wearing very little clothing forces you to feel more ok in your skin.  In the sauna I've met folks from many ages, shapes, sizes, ethnicities and genders - and we're all there for our health in one form or another.  This really impressed on me that what we look like and how healthy we are doesn't always look like what we expect it to.

Charity Witt: power lifter.  Superwoman.    

Plus The Titan Games.  The host, Dwayne Johnson, handpicks athletes that represent diversity.  Contestants come from a variety of backgrounds including disability, health conditions and overcoming great adversity.  One of the contestants was Charity Witt.  Charity was diagnosed with cardiac arrythmia at the age of 18.  She was told she'd be on medication for the rest of her life.  She didn't like the sound of that so she sought a second opinion, and was told that with exercise and a healthy diet she should be able to mange without the meds.  And she started exercising. Not only did Charity set records in US power lifting, but she won the first season of The Titan Games.  Watching her pull a giant ball weight so easily blew my mind.  She made it look like she was taking her dog for a walk while other contestants struggled to even get it moving.  And in regular clothes, she didn't look at all like what we're taught 'health' looks like.  Because we're not taught to equate strength with health with women.

And this made me think about all these amazing female athletes performing at the top of their fields.  All these different bodies.  All exceptionally healthy bodies at their absolute performance peak.  Not all of these bodies look like what we're taught 'healthy' looks like.

Look at all these bad ass women's bodies.  All in peak form.  All different from each other.

And this reminds me of this awful weight loss/health trope.   I've seen it on almost every fucking weight loss miracle thing that's ever existed: The aspirational before and after pic.  I don't mean the one where they flick up a picture of 'before' when they are over 100kg and it's at a bad angle and they've chosen a bad outfit and they've 'overcome' that image of themselves.  I mean the 'before' they got big pics.  The photos you 'should stick on your fridge' pics.  The 'I wish I looked like that now' pics.  Because being smaller does not necessarily mean being healthier. 

If I were to choose a 'fridge' pic that represented me at my aesthetic best I would probably choose this:

This pic was a local magazine cover.  I was just a guest singer in this band, but the magazine wouldn't do it without me because then it wouldn't fit the aesthetic they were looking for.  Yes, it's been photoshopped - my regrowth was shopped out, my skin has been cleaned up.  But my size was not shopped.  At the time of this shoot I was 24 years old and quite mentally unstable.  I was a size 8 and underweight.  I was exercising excessively, I was eating erratically and I was a pro at putting away vast quantities of free wine at exhibition openings.  I cannot deny that I look like what we're told 'pretty' looks like in this photo.  But I was definitely not healthy.  This should never be an aspirational pic for me, or for anyone else.  Yet women this size (usually smaller) and just as unhealthy grace our magazine covers with far more regularity than women like Charity Witt ever do.  It's unsurprising as to why so many of us have messed up notions as to what 'health' looks like.

And the reality is that whether we've been this ill or not, aspiring to look like we did 10 or 20 years ago is just weird.  I've had kids since this shoot.  I have less organs in my body than when this photo was taken.  I'm 16 years older.  Without extensive plastic surgery, it's literally impossible for me to look like the person in this picture.

I understand why people use these photos of themselves - visual cues are a great aid when we're trying to make behavioral changes.  But the problem is that for many of us, a 'healthy' version of ourselves now does not have a visual we can attach to it.  I don't know what a healthy today me should look like.  So I'm doing my best to let go of visual cues other than those I'm starting to see when I look in the mirror.

A more accurate aspirational pic.  Me last year.           
A little lighter than now with my Millenium Falcon.        

I've even let go of the idea of 'my ideal weight' because I honestly don't know what that will look like.  BMI is a shit measure of health.  And it's especially shit for anyone at either end of the bell curve.  I'm short.  And I'm trying to increase my muscle mass.  So I don't use it.  Now I'm tipping 40, what's considered 'healthy weight' is also different than when I was 24.  I do want to be a little smaller than I am now, but I have no aspirations to ever be as small as the waif in that picture ever again.  I've set a weight goal, but if I feel good in myself before I get there then it just means I got there early.

And I've now lost 5% of my body weight!  This was the first of many things I have in place to mark progress in terms of my health.  It means my heart health is better, my cancer risk is lower and I'm less likely to get type 2 diabetes.  But I have other things in place to mark progress.  I want to chafe less.  I want to fit some of my clothes more comfortably.  I want to have better body tone and I wouldn't mind having more definition through my cheekbones and chin.  And I want to teach my kids that size is not an indicator of health.  I want them to have a healthier relationship with food than I've had.  And I want to live a long time so I can spend as much time with them as I can.  These are the indicators I'm using to measure my health.  These are the things that truly matter.

I want to live until my kids are old enough THEY need regular colonoscopies

* This was easier for me than it would be for many due to my existing experience and skill sets.  My love/hate relationship with food has meant I've had many jobs where I work with food.  For a while, writing healthy recipes was a part of my job.  And as a lapsed vegetarian, cutting red meat out and replacing it with healthier, vege based options was not difficult.

** When I do feel like bingeing a crunchy snack I have replaced the chips with carrots.  After one carrot, I'm full so don't feel like eating any more anyway.  And I really like carrots.  And I still occasionally knock back a bottle of wine - but it's one of those 187ml teeny dealios.  And only sometimes.

*** Ahhh, broken ankles.  The gift that keeps on giving.

On Just Getting By

So it's been a while.

Four months without blogging is a long time for me.  But I just haven't been able to.  I've started and deleted a bunch of things.  I've thought deeply about topical issues and wanted to share those thoughts, but couldn't articulate them clearly.

But I haven't been able to read either.

Before last week I hadn't finished reading a book* since February.  That's five months without reading.  That's a long time for me.  And again, it's not for lack of wanting to.

I just have no brain.  And while I do have some downtime I'm too exhausted to use it in the ways I usually do.  Murray's epilepsy has been a huge adjustment for us.  Our days are never predictable.  Our workloads fluctuate, but seem always greater than they used to be.  There is no space to process the crazy days.  We just have to trek forward while juggling work, parenting and all the basic household stuff alongside very real and often pressing health needs.  It's exhausting.

And it's no-ones fault.  There's no-one to blame.  Sure, hospital appointment wait times and GP limitations are frustrating, but there are reasons for that**.  We could get mad at our health system, at the government and the lack of services available for folk like us, but frankly it's a waste of energy.  All we can do is live in the now and do the best with what we have.

Instead, I put the little energy I have left toward being grateful.  I am grateful for my education.  I am grateful for the years of therapy I've had before this point.  I am grateful that I have had access to texts and books and people that make all of this easier for me to compute.

Because I'm so tired.  All the time.  This feeling reminds me of being a new Mum.  Not so much a depression, more of a fog.  That feeling of trucking on with little sleep.  Of being physically tapped out.  Of having to learn as I go.  Of letting go.  Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is what I cling to.  It keeps those feelings of failure at bay.  Being able to be creative and political and engage socially are all top tier things.  And the reality is that at the moment we are struggling to meet those basic needs near the bottom.  Because it's just hard to at this point.  Knowing this allows me to somewhat let go of my ego around art and writing practice.  I am so grateful because that guilt is so futile, and just another thing I'd have no energy to feed.

Our reality is a cycle of struggling to meet the basics.  If I work extra, it helps me feel more financially secure because we can put more away in savings.  And it allows us to put money aside for things to look forward to so life feels more bearable.  But when I do work more, I spend less time with the kids and their behavior starts going sideways.  And then they don't sleep well and wake up with nightmares which starts an energy sucking cycle which affects everyone.  And when we're not well rested, we get run down and sick or (for Murray) have seizures.  And then we can't work and this impacts our finances, so we feel we need to work more...

It's a crazy balancing act.

I am just so grateful for all the support we have for the kids.  To my Mum who not only comes and helps two days a week so I can go to work, but also drops stuff to help out when Murray's unwell.  To both our workplaces who are so understanding in terms of our situation so we both still have jobs and enjoy going to them.  And to our school.  Who not only provide an environment that our kids thrive in but, according to Murray, are ace at handling seizures because they do so calmly with kindness and dignity.  While I know we're struggling to meet our kids psychological needs, I feel grateful at this point that they safe, they have enough to eat and they are surrounded by people who love them.

So yeah, I'm not writing, but I am coping.  The great thing of having grown up with a crazy home life, and having lots of therapy as consequence, is that not only am I used to managing crazy situations, but I have mad tools in my coping tool belt.  I can handle Murray having seizures while I'm driving, or choking on a carrot when postictal*** or having a bad fall, and then wake up the next day, put on my face and go to work and be ok because of those tools.  I swim a lot.  I sleep as much as I can.  I revel in shitty Netflix and mindless phone games.  I try to care less about the state of my house.

 Me, about to leave to Warkworth, after a swim      

And I make sure there are always things to look forward to.  Murray does too.  We have to have things to look forward to to make those bad days feel less hard.  I try and get away (situation willing) to somewhere close by a few times a year.  If I want to see a movie - I go and see that movie.  Murray still goes to as many Bloodbowl tournaments as he can.  We plan family outings and short breaks.  And if stuff isn't great on the day, we always have a plan B.  Sometimes we miss out - but sometimes we don't.

I guess this is just writing for writing's sake.  Because I've managed to bribe the kids with Roblox.  Because Murray made it to work today.  Because today is a good day.  And I have no idea what tomorrow will bring because that just isn't what our lives look like right now but regardless of what it is, I will be ok.  Because there is always something else to look forward to on the calendar.

Murray and I in a fancy hotel for one night without kids

* Besides kids books.  Not that they don't count - I LOVE reading kids books and the awesome stuff Etta likes to read (Ripleys Believe It Or Not, non-fiction books about cats, tween graphic novels), but I haven't been able to read anything that takes more than one sitting to finish.

** So, um, there's a pandemic happening.  And while we live on a series of isolated islands far away from it all, this does (and has always) restrict our access to certain treatments here in Aotearoa.  There are very few specialists that deal with what we are dealing with currently (being 'special' really isn't a great thing in medical terms), and with a growing population on top of the pressure of backlog from last years lockdowns, progress with tests and specialists is slow going regardless of whether you have health insurance or not.

*** After a seizure.

Scars

So I recently fractured my thumb.  It was a ridiculous accident.  I was playing air hockey and, intent on winning, accidentally smacked my thumb on the edge of the table.  That was it.  But as you can see in the xray that little thing caused a small section of bone to fracture off the base of my top thumb bone.  It's a small thing but has been quite debilitating.  Eight weeks on, I still have some pain, some weird nerve stuff, decreased movement.  I'm still in fortnightly physio.  I still can't use it to turn the keys in the ignition.

And although I was somewhat surprised that I'd managed to break it so easily, that wasn't the biggest surprise for me in this xray.  I have circled the interesting thing.  Another fracture.  A fracture that has healed very well over time and causes me no problems.  But I never had an xray when that fracture happened.  I know it didn't happen in my adulthood as I've been damned good at having things xrayed when I've suspected injury.  And being someone who isn't super coordinated there have been a few.  But this is the first one I've taken the time to look at myself.

I remember how this fracture happened.  At least I'm pretty sure this is how it happened.  Unless it happened when I was very small where my memories are patchy.  I'm pretty sure it happened the only time I can remember thinking I'd broken my finger.

It was after school.  A girl a few years younger than me asked me to help her regarding someone who was bullying her (her brother).  So I had a chat with him in the classroom.  The chairs had been put up on the tables ready for the cleaner.  He threw one at me*.  I put my hands up to protect my face and it hit my right hand.  My finger hurt and had a lump sticking out the side.  Not wanting him to see that it hurt, I didn't cry.  Instead, I pointed my weird looking finger at him and chased him.  He ran away.

Now I know this happened.  I remember this happening.  But I never told my parents that this happened.  I may have taped them together myself - it seems like something a 12 year old me might have done - but maybe I didn't.  Maybe I didn't want to draw attention to my injury.  Whatever I did I didn't tell a single adult about what had happened.  I didn't seek medical help.  I just kept on trucking.

Here's me dressed up for Halloween aged 9ish
in our kitchen in South Head              

This probably seems crazy to most people so I'm going to break it down into two parts.  This is the first part.  It's the easy and logical part - the believable part.  And that part is that we were poor.  We mostly lived in very isolated places - at times more than an hour from even a dairy or petrol station.  We hardly ever sought medical support because we simply could not go.  We could not afford the petrol to get there let alone the medical fees.  Since he was little my brother has been prone to skin infections**.  At one point he had some awful ones on his back.  Dad lanced them with a hot poker in our dining room.  I once got a 2cmish piece of bark stuck in my foot from running the inter-school cross-country barefoot.  I had seen the medic at the event and they had diagnosed a cut filled with dirt and put a sticking plaster on it.  Back home, Dad cut open my foot to extract the bark.  It hurt like hell.  While home surgery was generally as sterile as home surgery can get, it was never accompanied by pain relief.

Now this is the second part.  This is the hard part, the part I've always struggled to talk about in a way it can be made sense of because we're discouraged to talk about these things.  This part is that I was afraid.  I was afraid that if I told my parents what had happened I would get in trouble for 'fighting'.  As a girl in an at times*** extremist Christian household, this kind of behaviour was certainly not deemed to be ladylike.  And I was afraid of creating another problem in a home that already had enough problems.  And I felt this way because I lived with someone who gave me good reason to be afraid.

This is hard to write.  Even harder to publish hence the revisit since the first draft about five months ago.  It's hard because I have always tried to protect the people that were part of my childhood, that are still living and still part of my life.  But I know this silence is exactly what perpetuates family violence issues.  And in Aotearoa, family violence is a big problem and big reality for many of us.  Here, in about half of all homicides the offender is a family member.  And one in three women will experience physical or sexual violence perpetrated by an intimate partner.  There's plenty more awful stats which you can read for yourself here.  And while some people are not safely positioned to talk about what's happened, I am hoping I am not one of those people.  As such, I feel it's important I try and articulate aspects of my experience so that those not living with family violence can gain some kind of understanding.  And so that those living with it feel less alone.

The second part is that I was afraid of my Dad.  Growing up, my home was not a safe space to be injured in, not a safe place to be sick in and definitely not a safe space to speak up or disagree.

When I was about eleven he beat our puppy so badly he broke its leg.  He beat it because it was howling at night.  Because it had been put outside alone in the kennel.  Because it was not used to sleeping alone because it was just a baby not long weaned from its mother.  And in the morning when he realised how badly he'd injured it, he shot it.  He put it out of it's misery.  He never said this, but I'm sure it was because he was ashamed of what he'd done.  He told us it was because we couldn't afford to take it to the vet.  This was equally true.

I was afraid of my father because his behaviour was erratic.  Because sometimes he could be patient.  Because sometimes he answered my questions about the world as honestly as he could.  But other times I was expected to maintain complete silence - to be seen and not heard.  Because he taught me that a woman's place was in the home, but I was still expected to go and work on the farm.  And once, when I questioned this imbalance regarding washing dishes, he threw his cutlery at me.

I was afraid of my father because he threatened us.  He threatened to take my brother and I away from our mother to Australia.  Sometimes he threatened to kill my mother.  He threatened to kill us all and himself afterward.  I was small when he first said these things - but he was still saying them when I was fourteen years old, and I still believed him.  I was afraid of my father because he was so charismatic that many, many people in our local community sang his praises.  Because my mother voluntarily went back to him after fighting so hard to get away.  Because I didn't understand what this magical power he had was, and why it seemed to work on everyone but me.  Because I knew if I told, no-one would believe me.  Growing up, I felt afraid and very, very alone.
          

*            *            *           *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

My thumb is completely healed now.  Sometimes it hurts a bit, but by 12 weeks my flexibility and strength were basically as good as new.  The finger that I broke also healed completely fine.  On the xray I can see it has healed in place with the slight calcification on the outside you'd expect from a simple fracture.

I'm not missing that giant thumb splint!

I have told the story of how I broke my thumb to countless people - customers at work, friends, whanau, people on the street.  I had never told anyone how I broke my finger until I checked in with Mum before writing this post.  Bones can knit.  And muscles can regain their lost capacity.  Through physio.  Through witnessing progress in movement, through gaining strength as time passes.

When we don't talk about our other scars, we don't allow them to heal cleanly.

We all have scars.  Whether physical or emotional we all have them.  Our lives, and the lives of those who shape us, are imperfect and we cannot change our past.  For those of us who have scars like mine, scars that impact how our synapses form as toddlers, scars that change us markedly from our unscathed peers, it is so important that we talk about them.  That we acknowledge that pain and loss.  That we treat them more like we would a fracture, we diagnose, triage and physio them.

And hopefully by talking about our scars, we can prevent future injuries.

* This incident doesn't even rank in the worst bullying/physically violent things that happened to me whilst at school.

** He still is.  He can literally scrape his knuckles on something and it'll be red and infected with lines going up his arm the next day.

*** I am very certain that Dad had undiagnosed bipolar.  While he had grown up in a Christian household, we were not a church going, Bible thumping family.  He would go off on religious benders.  At those times, simple things like me cutting my hair into a short bob were considered major breaches.  I was 'unfeminine' and short hair on a woman 'went against God'.  He wasn't like this all the time.  Religious mania or Messiah complex are commonly experienced during bipolar episodes.

On the whole Dr Seuss Thing

So this Tuesday Dr Seuss Enterprises stated that they would no longer be printing six of his books.

And the world seems to have lost its mind.

A tiny part of me gets it.  I grew up with Dr Seuss.  My kids are growing up with Dr Seuss.  I do not think he's a total hero - his books are super gendered and have little female representation.  But his books are good at teaching kids literacy in a fun way.  It is hard to envisage a world without Green Eggs and Ham, The Cat in the Hat or Fox in Socks (my favourite).  And we don't need to.  Because none of these books made the list.  This is the out-of-print list:

And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street (1937)  
McElligot's Pool (1947)
If I Ran The Zoo (1950)
Scrambled Eggs Super (1953)
On Beyond Zebra (1955)
The Cat's Quizzer (1976)

While I've read some of the books on that list, none of them are books I'd consider 'Classic Seuss'.  Seriously, when did you last sit down and think 'Hmmm, I really need to buy McElligot's Pool for my kids.'*  Or 'Man I miss reading On Beyond Zebra, I wonder if it's at Whitcoulls?'  Sure, it's a shame the first kids book he got published no longer will be.  But this is small fish compared to the reasons not to.

The reasons for not continuing to print these books is because they contain racist imagery**.  That's it.  As quoted directly from the statement from Dr Seuss Enterprises:

'These books portray people in ways that are hurtful and wrong.
Ceasing sales of these books is only part of our commitment and our broader plan to ensure Dr. Seuss Enterprises’s catalog represents and supports all communities and families.'

Because at it stands, the magic of Seuss is for white kids.

Having a relationship with an author that not only excludes you but actively makes fun of your heritage is complicated.  It's easy to love Seuss if you're white.  Even easier if your male.  It's easy to shrug these few books off as 'whoopsies'.  It's a lot harder if you're not.  If you're not, his is just another racist voice in the crowd.  Even if you love some of his books, how do you feel comfortable reading books by  someone who creates racist imagery?  Especially in a world that already treats you differently.  The discontinuation of publishing these books is an effort to make the rest of Dr Seuss's catalogue more accessible to more people.  And while this cannot rectify the issues caused by them being published in the first place, it is at least an effort to acknowledge this issue.

One of his cartoons depicting Hirohito

And honestly, I think Dr Seuss would have applauded it.

Before he was spitting rhymes in kids books Geisel was a political cartoonist.  He drew over 400 cartoons for the New York Newspaper between 1941 and 1943 .  Many of these had racist content - particularly aimed at the Japanese.  He was a product of his times.  Pearl Harbour was bombed in December 1941.  I am not justifying his actions, but I understand that this was essentially his job.  Much of the US lived in fear of what their future held, and fear is a big driver of prejudice.

 
But at his heart, Theodor Seuss Geisel was a liberal and a moralist.  Many of his books convey liberal messages - The Sneetches is a critique of anti-Semitism.  The Butter Battle Book conveys the dangers (and futility) of the arms race.  And Horton Hears A Who! is about listening, and helping uplift the powerless.  Geisel passed away in 1991.  He never witnessed the LA riots of 1992.  He never saw the rise in Islamophobia following September 11.  And he never heard about the murder of George Floyd by a Minneapolis Police Officer in 2020.  If he had, I really don't think he would have backed the racist imagery a younger Seuss had drawn.

Because around the same time he was drawing these awful cartoons he was also drawing these:

He understood the dangers of prejudice.  He was concerned about how they were affecting things at home in the US.  And as he got older, his books became more inclusive.  Of the more than 50 books he published from 1954 onward - only one of those books made the list.  Geisel made an effort to change with the times.  His books addressed not just issues from earlier times, but climate change, political freedom, and the importance of creativity in an ordered world.

But I think the reason we value Seuss so highly is because of how successfully he has shared his love of words.  The Cat In The Hat was written as a response to the debate about early literacy in America.  He wrote it in an effort to rid the world of Dick and Jane and the terribly boring world they occupied.  And in doing so he introduced fun and colour and rhyme which helped to engage young readers.

So if you're one of those people who is upset about this I want you to really consider what it is you're upset about.  What have you lost?  Are you really upset that these books are no longer being published - that they will be harder to get?  I honestly think this is about fear.  Fear of a changing world.  Fear of a world that looks different to the world many of us grew up in.  And it's so important to remember that fear is a dangerous thing.   Fear was used by Hitler back in the 1930's to engage the masses.  Fear was used by Donald Trump in recent times to do the same thing.  Fear is the food of racism.  Fear is the starter of wars.  But fear also halts progress, it maintains the current hegemony.

If we want this world to be more accessible, if we want people to have equal opportunities we need to acknowledge the mistakes of our past.  We need to accept that while change is scary, it is necessary for us to move toward a more balanced world.  This is a small change.  Real change requires much more.  And in the famous words of Dr Seuss himself:

* And I seriously wouldn't.  Not just because of the racist imagery, but that book is super creepy.  I think that as a child it was the second most scary Dr Seuss book I ever read (the scariest was definitely What Was I Scared Of.  The third scariest was The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins).

** I do not need to repost those images here.  You can look them up for yourself if you want.

Getting Strong

When someone close to you is diagnosed with a chronic illness, it really puts things in perspective.  You cannot take your health for granted.

These days I feel like I have to be the strong one.

And it's not because my partner is weak - he isn't.  It takes great strength to adapt to new ways of doing things.  To accept that at times your body does things beyond your control.  It takes strength to keep finding ways of being yourself within new limitations.  To not give up in spite of these.  I need to be strong to support my partner in staying strong.  To support our children in living a life which differs from their peers.  And I need to be able to meet these challenges, and all the usual ones that just come with life, without falling apart.

It's not like I'm not already strong.  In many ways I'm circus strong man strong.  I'm stubborn as hell.  I'm goal oriented.  I've lived a life full of unexpected hardships and have my own health challenges to manage.  I've learned to love problem solving.  I'm the perfect person to have with you in an emergency.  While I do suffer from mental illness, I am also mentally strong.  But at the moment the rest of me needs a little work.

That time I broke my ankle trampolining...

I am by no means a lazy person.  I've mostly worked in jobs that clock up the steps: hospitality and retail keep you literally on your toes.  I work in a job where one day I might move a fridge, put away a bunch of microwaves or carry a carseat to someone's car.  Where I regularly run between floors authorising transactions.  And in my spare time I like going for walks, exploring the beauty in nature around me.  I've just never really been into sports.  As a young person I was teased for doing sport, so doing this in a public, competitive forum triggers my anxiety.  It's not super surprising to me that even my short forays into fun sports have resulted in serious injuries.  It's hard to be co-ordinated when you're fighting a panic attack.

But my lifestyle isn't technically proper exercise.  It's not 20 minutes of something a day that lifts my heart rate.  While I'm reasonably fit for someone who doesn't play sports, there is a lot of room to improve.  And with my Dad's family's heart health history, if I want to still be here when our kids are in their 20's - and I do - I need to start making some serious changes now.

I did start this last year.  I worked on getting fit and eating better and I managed to lose 9kg!  But with lockdowns, Coronavirus and Murray's increasingly frequent seizures all that work fell by the wayside. I started comfort eating.  I have always had a love/hate relationship with food and when things get tough, this is where things fall apart.  The lockdowns made it hard for me to exercise in the way that suits me best, and the inconsistency meant the routines I'd set earlier in the year fell apart.  By Christmas, I'd gained most of it back.  So this time my approach to strength is a little different.

Just gotta lose 9 butters.  Already lost 4

There are plenty of studies that show losing just 5% of your bodyweight can have some significant health improvements.  For me, that number is around 4.5kg.  So that's my current goal.  So far this year, I've lost 2kgs through exercise alone, so I am feeling like I'm on track for that particular measure.  But weight is not necessarily a good measure of health or strength.

I'm focusing on my flexibility.  I'm interested in increasing my upper body and core strength.  Most importantly, I'm wanting to revise my relationship with food.  But I want to take this slowly.  My plan is to institute one big change at a time every two months.  Science says on average it takes 66 days to make a new habit automatic.  Last year, I went in all guns blazing.  Then when things got tough, everything fell apart.  This year, I'm taking my time.  And I'm starting with building a habit I know is achievable for me - increasing my exercise.

Starting with something that I enjoy is just smart.  It forms a positive connection to the work I'm doing so makes building that habit easier.  I really like swimming.  Even though I've gained back the weight, I have still been swimming sporadically.  In the last year I've increased my average swim from about 500 metres to over 1 kilometer, and moved from doing my comfortable stroke (backstroke) to swimming a mix of breaststroke, backstroke and freestyle.  If I have time, I can break my swim into chunks and swim more in a day than I thought I could - more than 2 kilometers.  During school holidays I set my goal at swimming 3 - 5km per week.  Since school went back, I've upped that to 4 - 8 kilometers.

Obviously, this is the ideal.  It won't happen every week.  Last week we had a 3 day lockdown which impacted my swimming schedule*.  But I swam when I could, as much as I feasibly could.  And I still managed to swim more than 4 kilometers  The week before I did 7 kilometers.  In my ideal week I'd swim 5 days a week and spend at least 2 short sessions in the gym (I still hate the gym so I'm not pushing it).  But I'm realistic that this won't happen all the time - this weeks goal has been impacted by poor health.  But I'm doing my best to get my body used to pushing its boundaries beyond what is comfortable.

Not skinny, but quite bendy

I also do a lot of stretching in the sauna.  I use this time to focus on my breathing and balance.  Through this, plus swimming I have increased my flexibility through my quads.  I've increased my upper body strength enough that picking up a bowling ball feels easy.  I'm starting to get some muscle tone in my stomach.  My balance has improved.  I may not have dropped a dress size but I'm starting to feel more comfortable with my body.

And this isn't just about physical strength - swimming has really aided me in being mentally tough.  For me, water has always felt therapeutic.  I grew up near the ocean and swam a lot as a kid.  When I was pregnant with Etta and had hip dysplasia**, I waterwalked so that I wouldn't have to spend more time in bed.  I laboured with both of our kids in water.  It just soothes me.  And, like many exercises designed to help you feel calm, swimming forces you to focus on your breathing.  I have to regulate my breathing to swim.  This physical calming transfers to slowing down my thoughts.  Swimming really helps with my anxiety.  It makes my life feel more manageable.

Me and Abby at baby swim lessons.  It's funny looking back as I was so uncomfortable with my body at this time.  Now I'm much bigger than I was then, but feeling better about myself.

I haven't got to the hard part yet - the food is the hard part.  And I'm trying not to get ahead of myself.  I'm in the sweet spot right now.  This is the reveling in my bodies ability to do more than I thought it could.  I'm slightly nervous about April -   when I start changing my diet.  But I'm just making one achievable change at a time.  I am trying to live in today.  Today I swam 2 kilometers.  Today, I am strong (and also, quite tired..).

* I'm currently a pool swimmer.  While ocean swimming would be ideal - and still possible at Level 3 - I'm just not quite that confident yet.

** Many folk with hip dysplasia end up either using walkers or having to rest toward the end of their pregnancies.  I really, really did not want that to happen, so I exercised a lot to increase my strength so I could stay mobile.

On Our New Normal

So it's been a while.

I have a few half-written blogs I haven't posted and have had a lot of thoughts about this evolving world we live in that I haven't managed to write down.  And there is a solid reason for this.  Our family is slowly coming to terms with our new normal. Not just in regards to Covid, but in regards to Murray's epilepsy.

Murray is a much more private person than I so I will not share the specifics.  What I will say is that he's been told medication will not manage it well (it took a year of playing with meds to ascertain that) and we need to look into other options.  And we are trying, but even our private health sector is slow and difficult to deal with - particularly in neurology where, as a small island nation, there are just not enough specialists to go around.

So at the moment we're in limbo.  I can't remember the last time there was a seizure free week - it might have been Christmas because that was a surprisingly* good week.  As it is, we just have to take each day as it comes and do the best we can.  Murray's work has been amazingly supportive - mine has too.  Now, Murray mostly works from home.  It really takes the pressure off.  I feel extremely lucky that we already had a computer and an office space to facilitate this change.  But because of this change, I currently don't have a solid writing space.

A surprisingly seizure free Christmas

I am not one of those people who can just write anywhere.  I'm an extroverted introvert - it may seem like I love being around people - and I do - but I need space alone to recharge and regroup.  A LOT of space.  I struggle to write around others as it's a less stable environment for me.  It doesn't matter how well I know the people - I feel other peoples thoughts and feelings and words floating everywhere.  I need to be alone to hear my own voice.

And I just don't have the headspace to manage more changes at home.  So much has changed in the way we live our lives that I just don't have the energy.  Consequently, I've taken writing off the table.  I've been so tired lately** I don't even feel guilty.  Frankly, it's nice having a break from writer guilt.

While my brain hasn't been up to writing, it has been working hard on keeping well.  The biggest recent challenge was surviving school holidays with all of us at home together on the days I wasn't at work.  I had to come up with a new way of accessing some space from my whanau outside of the house so I didn't start losing the plot.  I found that space in the water.  I worked out a swimming schedule around when Murray was definitely working from home and left early in the morning (6.30) so I could be finished before he started work (8.30).  I went swimming on Sundays when the pools opened at 7am.  I wasn't perfect at this, but I did get some time out every week which helped me survive those seven long weeks with no school.

For me, the hardest part of our new normal is having to negotiate unknown territory.  A large chunk of my social anxiety comes from not knowing the etiquette around things - how I'm expected to act or behave.  With epilepsy - there is no guidebook.  Everyone experiences it differently.  While some triggers and types of seizure are commonly experienced, how it feels and presents for each person varies greatly.  There is no one solution - we are making up the rules as we go.  Yes, there is Epilepsy NZ and various other supports - but they don't offer any black and white solutions.  Yes, there are some first aid basics regarding the event of a seizure, but the rest is a free for all.  I regularly need to make decisions on the fly - like prioritising school pick up over monitoring Murray post seizure, or deciding whether or not to go on a booked trip.  It's scary not knowing whether or not I am making the right choice.  It is hard balancing everyone's needs.

A bittersweet trip out on the Kaipara without Murray after an early morning seizure.
Luckily Auntie Anne was free to join us,and we'll do it again another day.

This probably sounds awful, but I think these things are par for the course with managing many health conditions or disabilities when you're also a parent.  And while yes, it's not ideal, it's not without positives.  And it's really important to focus on those.  Murray is home more which means he has more time with the kids.  He cooks dinner more often, works less, and generally seems less stressed.  Both of us have made more of an effort to be kind to each other.  To accept each others strengths and limitations.  No, this is not what either of us were expecting when we committed to each other, but no-one knows what the future holds.  I feel this unexpected turn has only strengthened our relationship.

Not only that, but it does teach valuable lessons to our whole whanau.  While the kids are pretty used to seeing seizures now, every now and then one will still scare them.  They have had to learn skills most other children their age don't have - Etta can use Murray's phone*** to negotiate my work phone system and calmly tell me that Dad's having a seizure.  She has gone to the neighbours to get help when it was needed.  She sets a timer to monitor the length of his seizures, and can communicate to others its severity****.  No, this is not ideal, but it is our reality.  We have a mortgage and we all need to eat.  I do stay home from work when Murray's obviously unwell, but sometimes there are no signs.  We do the best we can with the situation we are in.  I am so grateful to have such strong and capable kids, and I try to make sure they know it.

We call her 'Dr Nettie' because she always knows
when you are sad or sick and she sleeps with you.

And they're empathetic.  Living with someone with health issues helps you view the world differently.  You see the inaccessibility of certain spaces and places.  The ways in which society does not accept people who are different.  The economic impact of living with ongoing health issues becomes apparent, the ways in which having less excludes people.  Our kids see this too.  They are learning the value of hugs, of time together, of the difference small actions can make.  They are learning how to adapt to unexpected situations and how to talk to us about difficult feelings.  They even get to see how animals show empathy (Murray has come to from a seizure with cats on him more than once).  These are difficult gifts to receive, but we still have to view them as gifts.

So this is where we're at now.  This is our new normal.  I am hopeful that in time this will change, but if it doesn't I know we will adjust and adapt.  I'm also hopeful that more writing will happen soon now the kids are back at school which does give me some headspace.  But I'm not going to feel bad if it doesn't.  Right now, I'm focused on the little things that bring us joy each day.  Whether it's cuddles with cats or kids, eggs from our hens or an unexpected win on Fall Guys.  Those things are enough for me for now.

* Surprising just because it's generally quite a stressful, busy and hot time of year.  And stress, tiredness and heat are the three biggest triggers for Murray's seizures.

** And no, it's not iron levels/lack of sleep/other logical explanation - it's emotional overload.  While with me it may not be noticeable in ways folk expect (crying, struggling to cope, depression) it physically manifests as exhaustion.

*** There is an emergency button set up on the front screen so the kids can easily call my cel, my work, Mum, or one of our neighbours.  It is seriously so worth us having.

**** It hasn't hurt that during the Level 4 Lockdown she became obsessed with a medical show for kids (Operation Ouch) on Youtube.  Since then she's been quite obsessed with facts about the human body and health stuff in general - we've even watched a surgery on someone with epilepsy together before.  She is quite matter of fact and this is very helpful when it comes to these kinds of situations.

Dr Xand and Dr Chris from Operation Ouch - Etta is OBSESSED