Privilege

When I was doing my bachelors degree

Nothing annoyed me more

Than the temerity

Of those mature age students

You know the earnest kind

That asked questions

Or wanted to discuss

the feminist perspective

that seemed interested in the actual course

like they may have done the actual readings

and wanted to actually discuss

the actual ideas

acting like they came here to learn

when the rest of us

just wanted

to go

to Shadows

and get

CRUUUUUUUNNNNNNK

wake up in someone else’s bed drunk

but it’s ok

because I can’t actually remember

how I got there anyway

and there are songs that tell me that I can

blame it on the a –a –a –a alcohol

I was doing law

and you KNOW there is nothing as arrogant

as a fucking law-student-straight-out-of-high-school

(the decile ten ones where everyone’s daddy is a doctor

or a judge)

who think they own the world

even when

they’re barely

scraping through

those golden children

who tell themselves their parents

should be grateful

because they are fulfilling

their dreams

who sit in class

playing candy crush

or waiting to see how many people like

their statuses

on facebook

and

who can’t wait

                    to cross-examine

the shit

out of someone

in real life.

But in real life

I work in a male dominated industry

And get paaaaaiiiiiid (hi 5 to me)

much more than my sisters ever will

despite their Masters degrees

in early childhood education

and I barely even have time

to reflect on that

or on life’s other little ironies

as I pass off my children off

to them

at 8am

and kiss their foreheads

and say confidently

“Mummy’s going out

to change the world”.

In real life

There are hardworking

intelligent

people

Who will never get the opportunity

To go to university

No matter how much we talk about equality

Who won’t know

that they are smart enough

Who haven’t been told

how clever they are

Because their mum’s busy mopping the supermarket floor

and their dad is going on another night tour

those kids don’t need

to learn humility

they see it

in the eyes of their parents

every

single

time

they get off the phone

with WINZ

so they can’t even imagine

taking on a loan

they just want to go out

and save

their family

from drowning in debt

and yet

When I was doing my bachelors degree

Nothing annoyed me more

Than the temerity

Of those mature age students

Acting like

they came here

to learn.

I have a daughter

I have a daughter

I dress her in pink

And tell her to try very hard not to think

Its dangerous you know

To believe fairytale prose

Like equal work for equal wage

It really could happen some day

I have a daughter

I dress her in pink

I have a daughter

I dress her in green

And tell her to grow up not to look like me

Grow up to be tall, long, lean

Hide your face behind makeup before you are seen

Because beauty is currency and you can trade

No one is interested in your soul anyway

I have a daughter

I dress her in green

I have a daughter

I dress her in blue

And tell her she will always have a right to choose

Unless she is forced

then we’ll ask with remorse

But what did you wear, what did you drink

and why were you there

I have a daughter

I dress her in blue

I have a daughter

I dress her in red

And tell her if she guards her virginity one day she’ll be wed

And then she can stand proudly as the Minister intones

About how woman was made from Adam’s bone

And how her husband, like Jesus, shall be the head

And she, the church, his body that bled

I have a daughter

I dress her in red

I have a daughter

I dress her in white

And tell her how to avoid getting into fights

Because boys will be boys and they can’t control

And as women we must learn this role

Be meek and mild, know your place

To ensure his fist doesn’t connect with your face

I have a daughter

I dress her in white

I have a daughter

I dress her

in black.

Kept safe in five syllables

                                    Photo Credit: Lynne-Marie Eteuati

Kept safe in five syllables

a haiku for my

faraway parents
        alofa tele atu

Parents in Japan

See cherry trees blossoming

Here grandchildren bloom

Fleeting beauty bolts

past like childhood much too fast

and we clutch at both

constrained by ingrained

tautua mo Samoa

My father’s duty

We know no beauty

can compare but true service

is a sacrifice

and both of them have

always been so generous

of spirit and self

honour them knowing

their Facebook smiles do not show

they left their hearts here

Ta - ni - fa -te - a

Kept safe in five syllables
Ti - gi - i - la - gi

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Author's postscript: I honour my parents and I honour the work they do for our country, and I have the deepest respect for the beautiful cultured country that they do that work in (which is why I clumsily tried to use the haiku- a Japanese art form).  But we miss them- terribly.

Just another Pasifika poet

I am just another Pasifika poet

a token, a sound bite

No matter what I write

my words cannot stand

on their own

because I am not quite white.

I am just another Pasifika poet

so I must speak in iambic pentameter

    or you will conclude

I don’t know what that is

and I learnt my craft on youtube

You will say I must be copying Def Poetry Jam

Because you know

We are

both brown.

You

who have never heard the beauty

of a tulafale’s words

unfurling in full flight

   dipping and soaring

on wings of light

                      the sound of a gafa

melodious and sweet

                                                and deep

a dangerous lullaby

that can rip you apart with its teeth

and

you

who

would not understand

anyway

you say

I am just another Pasifika poet

On a search for identity

As if I don’t know

my entire geneaology

you say I am obsessed with the other

because I do not talk about you

as if Aotearoa is not part of the Pacific

and Pasifika

does not belong here too

and the most disturbing thing is

you didn’t even

seem

to realize

that what you were saying was offensive

or how it was a stereotype

you truly seemed to believe

you 

were

reporting

facts.

because you are

palagi

(I assume…

like you did)

and your words

stand

on their own.



and I

I 

am

just another 
Pasifika poet

No matter what I write

My words cannot stand

on their own

Because I am not quite white
and this

this

is just another sound bite


I hope it rips you apart

with its teeth.

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Author's postscript:  I was not going to dignify an 'article' that was published in The Big Idea with a response.  I went instead to SUP and performed a couple of the poems (Denial and A Lament -that are already up on this blog) in solidarity.  But it was not enough.  Too often we look the other way.  As evident by the title of this blog-  I normally live in Sydney.  I have lived in Australia for more than 10 years now.  As an Australian (as well as a Samoan and a New Zealander) I own that Australia has issues with racism.  Popular culture tell us that New Zealand is more accepting, a place that truly embraces its Pacific heritage.  I was looking forward to this change during my 'gap year' (as I am referring to it so I can sound youthful like that). So I have been somewhat shocked that New Zealand hasn't quite been the utopia of multi-cultural respect that I fondly recalled.  I can honestly say that I have had moments since arriving in Auckland where I have listened to people speak, or read an article such as this one, and thought that I have never felt more brown.  This is my response.