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.

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.

I am not a migrant or a refugee

I am not a migrant or a refugee

Sometimes that still shocks me

The me that is not quite white

The me that listens as people trip

over the soft round vowels of my name

The me that refuses to cover

the tattoos that show me as other

and knows that neither my father nor mother

are Australian

I am not a migrant or a refugee

Though my people are of the sea

So that when someone is a true leader

We call them
Tautai

Navigator

One who has warred with waves.

It is a title of respect, of honour

But here, here, I hear

Stop the boats

And wonder where the honour is 

in people playing politics with people's lives

As Machiavelli thrives, and they sharpen knives, and we don't stop as they dehumanise

And 'welcome to Australia'
gets drowned

Like those children THEY like to throw overboard.

WE
 are so much better than
THEM

We'd only put those children in detention

And call that civilised.

We call it humanity and generosity
as we send them off to Nauru and PNG

And we say
oh well

I am not a migrant or refugee

I am not a migrant or a refugee

I'm an Australian by accident of birth I say blithely

To explain that I was born when my dad was doing his PhD

And we left when I was three

to a place where the Southern Cross meant something other

then a badge for bogans

who tell you to get the fuck out of the country

that Captain Cook claimed to have discovered

when it had long since
been found. 

No, I am not a migrant or a refugee

But if this is the quality of our discourse

Then God, oh my God

Allah huma Allah

We really need the diversity.

A Lament

Oi aue

In Samoan love stories

We would turn into

Turtle and shark.

Nature tells us

One will consume the other.

Oi aue

In Samoan love stories

Sina’s prince is an eel

And happily ever after

Is when her beloved

Is beheaded

Transformed into a niu

So she can finally (safely) drink

His sweet sweet juice.

Oi aue

In Samoan love stories

Men chase beautiful white women

Into woods

and are never seen again.

And one

blessed so that he could not lose in battle

was beguiled by beauty

into bed

and ambushed, betrayed, killed dead

a pale of lau maile

still around his head.

They say the fires of A’ana

Burnt bright

Fuelled by fury

and revenge

and lit John William’s journey

into harbour.

Oi aue

Aue

Aue

Aue

For mine is a Samoan love story

And we all know

How they end.


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Author's Postscript

What effect do our stories have on us?

The Samoan love stories I grew up with all contained dire warnings about investing too much of yourself in romantic love... after all that may distract one from the all consuming love for the aiga so

important in our culture

Of course no race has an exclusive claim on charm (and of course I am biased), but I have always found my people charming- quick to laughter and to song, with an easy confidence and a fantastic sense of humour. Conversely, there is a cavalier attitude to relationships and to monogamy. Not for us the outrage and universal condemnation when someone steps out on what is supposed to be a committed relationship.

This poem is a reflection and a lament

on Samoan love

Australia

Pervasive racism
is in the slips of tongues,
in that joke
you didn't really mean to say
(well not on radio anyway).
It's in the expectation
that a half hearted 'But I'm not racist' apology
should be accepted
with 'good grace'
because after all

everyone makes mistakes
and though the comments,
you concede, were racial vilification
we can in no way conclude that
you
vilified
an entire race.

Denial

They say diabetes is a silent killer
a thief in the night
that creeps up to you like a moetolo
embracing you against your will 

but I saw him coming
in the WTO siusiu pipi and mamoe
and 5 cans of coke I had
before lunch

I saw him coming
but in my Samoan pride
I scoffed.

laughed like it was a fale aitu

and said

aga ou te le fefe i le oti.

They say diabetes is a silent killer
so we don't say much about him
as we shovel suka into our koko alaisa
and sneak off to shove a needle in our stomach

and when he strikes
and takes my eyes
                      my teeth
                               my legs

I will say

the Lord works in mysterious ways

and be praised

for my faith.

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Postnote
I don't have diabetes. Yet.  But when I hit 99kg I knew I was staring at it, and a whole lot of other heath problems, down a barrel. 99kg is severely obese for someone who is 5'6.  And no amount of telling everyone, especially myself believing that I have 'big bones' or that the BMI is different for Polynesians is going to change that.

Sia Figel's bravery in speaking out about her very personal struggle with diabetes showed me how we all have to speak out and own that our health statistics are a tragedy. It also showed me that I have to take action to not be one of them.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HXVx-4HeIc

Sia was brave enough to put this harrowing and very personal video on youtube, to show us her very roots, literally.  I watched it.... right through. Because if some is brave enough to share this sh@#, to say 'F%#$ pride, this my friends, is diabetes, take a good hard look', I will honour that, by watching it right through. I hope you will too.

Lou sei

I love that white flower
in your long black hair
Unapologetic

I imagine I can smell its scent
though I am standing
across the street
It is salt and sun
like the backs of my forefathers
who refused to bow

I love that white flower
in your long black hair

It speaks to me
in soft vowels saying

you are

quietly confident

in who

you are

and where

we are from

I love that white flower
in your long black hair