On finding space during a pandemic

Happy New Year and such!

It's been a while.  I'm the kind of person who needs independent space and time to write, and what Covid has not blessed me with are either of those things.  Our kids - due to choices best for our whanau - have not been at school in almost 6 months.  And Murray mostly works from home for reasons that go beyond the pandemic.  In short, we have all been cooped up in our lovely little home and that is not a conducive situation for me to write in.

Anyhoo.  Murray has gone to work today.  I've taken a few days leave from work for headspace after all the weirdness (and the working-retail-around-Christmas), and Mum is wrangling our children.  Six months with no school and mostly each other for company is not conducive to them not maiming each other.  I'm glad there have been no hospital worthy acts of violence perpetrated, merely small injustices, slights and owies (although I'm sure they would disagree).

A few years ago I tried to Read Virginia Woolf's A Room Of One's Own.  I quit just a chapter in and honestly, I did not bother trying again* even though I felt like a shit feminist in doing so.  I am fussy about my fiction and some books are just not for me even if I appreciate the themes behind them.  My inability to engage with this classic does not render this quote from it any less true:

“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.”

It could not be said better.

For folk like me with busy brains and wide interests** this doesn't just include fiction.

I cannot write anything coherent if I'm:
- Tired
- In pain
- Stressed
- Around other humans
- Under time pressure

With the conditions of the pandemic (combined with other health issues), it's been very rare that these things align for me.

Prior to the pandemic, other than sleeping and watching TV, writing was one of my main outlets for managing my mental health.

Due to the restrictions of lockdowns, and new ways of living created by managing this pandemic, these days my chart looks more like this:

Not only are there more little colourful segments in this pie, but more of them are things I can do when I don't have time to myself.

And that's the key to surviving these crazy times: adapting, diversifying.

This was not a conscious choice I made.  This was just how things naturally evolved for me during this time.  It has only been recently - seeing self-care pie charts on social media - that I realised what I'd actually done***.

The importance of being able to do things that are good for my mental health while with other people is massive.  Not just because of the current situation, but because I'm less resentful of having to be constantly with our kids.  And it's not that I don't love and appreciate our kids.  But it's hard to be a present parent/partner/daughter/insert-role-here when you're struggling to manage your mental health.   Now I have found things I can do with my family that are still good for my mental health, I am able to be more present with them****.  This makes everyone happier.

The kids helping pick up rubbish at the stream AKA: playing.

And it means you discover things that you like that your kids might also like.  Yes, initially forcing the kids to go on walks was tough.  Some days it still is.  But once we got into it we found a bunch of things that Etta really liked (looking for bugs and plants with me) and some that Abby liked (moss).  I had no idea that the kids would actually enjoy doing a rubbish clean up with me until I tried it.  And while Abby is more keen on throwing rocks in the water than picking up rubbish, it's still quality together time while I nature bathe.  And Etta can sing!  Being stuck at home meant I wanted to crack out the old Singstar (we've since upgraded to something that works better on PS5) because singing makes me happy and hot damn!  That girl has some pipes!  It's something we regularly do together now.  We take turns.  She likes her independence as much as her Mama.

But I digress...

While I don't have a room of my own, nor do I have time or resources to use one, I have found other ways to create space for myself.  Not space that helps me write.  But space that helps me manage my self care.  And it's not just a metaphorical space.  I bought a desk.  This desk is not situated in a room that could be considered mine.  It's in our open plan living area next to the dinner table, looking into the kitchen, and out to the front lawn.  But the desk, and everything inside the desk is mine.  I use this desk to paint, to talk to the kids, to consider the mess in the kitchen, to sew buttons back on favourite jerseys, to look out the window.  I do Paint By Numbers because I don't have a room of my own and I like that I don't have to mix my own colours.

My desk.  Huddle's space is next door.

An artist needs money and a room of their own to make art.
A parent needs self-care so they can be present with their kids.

One day I will find space for both.

* Frankly I struggle reading a lot of stuff from this era and earlier unless it's bleakly funny (like Nabokov).  And no, I don't like Jane Austen.  I just don't care enough about rich white ladies and their problems.  Everything is over descriptive and irrelevant.  It's not just the lady writers - I could not get through Lord Of The Rings either with its lengthy descriptions of foliage and made up languages.  Even though some parts are funny, they weren't funny enough to sustain me through all 1137 pages of it.  I'm sorry if that makes me a shit nerd but I truly don't care.

** I discovered there's a word for this: polymath.  It refers specifically to wide knowledge or learning, and while my education revolves around one main area (art), I also have small qualifications in food, retail and judging crafts for CWI.  But in terms of interests and reading I have read extensively about feminism and gender theory, neurology and mental health and woman's health and will a growing passion in mycology, water ecology and growing chilies I expect I'll be able to add them to the list soon too.

*** I highly recommend doing this exercise yourself in whatever visual way works for you.  I found it quite useful actually seeing my things represented like this.  Most people's would include a LOT more social stuff than mine does - as an extroverted introvert though this is quite enough.  My cup is so full from social interaction in the necessities of my daily existence that it's generally unhelpful in terms of my self care.

**** I mean, not all the time, but it's definitely getting better.  Being present is hard for folk with dissociative disorder - but it is totally a skill that can be learned and you can become better at it.

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.