E ngā mana, e ngā reo e ngā karangarangatanga maha, tēnā koutou.

Welcome to the Youth Issue of Fightback Magazine, Redefining Activism.

There is a well-known whakatauki (Māori proverb) that says: ‘Ko te mahi a te tamariki, he wāwāhi tahā.’

This is often understood as meaning that the activities of children break the calabashes (gourds, liquid vessels). Some say that it is the very job of young people to test the values and beliefs of their past and present. That those broken calabashes are not always misguided mistakes, but a conscious and significant moment of clarity. A question; a prompt, a challenge to one’s surroundings. Fresh eyes on old ways, a possibility of a new vision.

As a teenager, I could count on one hand the adults in my life who were open to peering through those cracks in the gourds. Sitting with me amid the broken pieces and unanswered questions. Unafraid to have challenging conversations, and consider how strange society can look to the young. The unwritten rules of justice/injustice that you don’t find in a school book but you see and feel in the playground. Past the most frustrating phrase – ‘it’s just the way it is’ and towards ‘what will make this better?’

This issue is an attempt to capture both the wisdom and the challenge presented by young people, who are already engaging within community, activism, ideas and politics. As a 26 year old, I asked four young people under 25 to help guide the direction of this issue. Their kaupapa included ideas such as:

Asking the questions: what do we see as “real” or “legitimate” activism and why?

How do we challenge negative narratives around youth activism?

Why are older activists so cynical about youth activism and the future of activism in Aotearoa?

At the core of this issue is searching for a redefinition of activism. To do this we are looking at narratives of survival and resistance by youth under capitalism, colonialism, patriarchy, and homophobia/transphobia/biphobia/interphobia. We want to challenge the idea that youth are disaffected and show the ways in which they are transforming activism in Aotearoa.

This issue features eight pieces by people under the age of 25 on the topics of: the activist tradition in Aotearoa, decolonisation, colonialism, xenophobia, sexism, sex work, voting and what alternatives look like to our current political systems. This isn’t a silent peering through the cracks in the calabashes, this is an unashamed explosion. It is a multitude of thought out, planned out, felt out wero to not just our current political structures, but often, the existing forms that resist them as well.  And still, these whakaaro, are only the tip of an iceberg, in a churning sea of discontent as we inherit the rising tides, global crises, swelling inequalities and deep poverty in this century.

So this issue is in essence, a challenge. The calabashes are broken, but their shards are a cause for conversation, for action, and for change. Will you sit with us and envision a new world? Will you stand with us and fight for it?

Ngā mihi aroha, in solidarity and with love,

Kassie Hartendorp

Editing Team Coordinator

Massive thank you to the awesome editing team: Huriana Kopeke-Te Aho, Aaliyah Zionov, Sophie Mui Sim Weeber and Hugo Cordue.

Contents:

1. #activism – Brett Tinkle
2. African Young People and The Battle of Colonialism – Joya Tiana
3. Teenage Girls, Language, Social media, Activism and Survival – Ali Burns
4. Decolonisation Love Song – Huriana Kopeke-Te Aho
5. Whose Future Is It? Xenophobia and Nationalism on the Left – Tyler West
6. WHAT DO YOU DO // OUTSIDE OF THIS – Kī Foster
7. Beyond the Ballot Box – Brodie Fraser
8. We Can Go Further: Alternatives to Our Political System – Charlie Prout

Charlie Prout is a 22 year old student completing a BA in Sociology and Political Science. He has an interest in communicating big complicated issues to the public in simple ways.

Youth cannot get involved in economic activism without a dialogue of an alternative system. I sat down with Dr Dylan Taylor, Lecturer in Social Policy and Sociology, and Dr Greta Snyder, Lecturer in Political Science, at Victoria University of Wellington to discuss alternatives to neoliberalism and how activists can make anti-neoliberal activism appealing to youth.

What is the current economic system? How does it hurt people?

1. The general tendency is towards privatisation, greater efficiency, deregulation, all of those components. One of the really interesting things about the current economic climate from the work perspective, there has been this introduction of flexibility to labour. The flexibility you see today is thought to be a good thing [but it is] to the detriment of a lot of the working population.

DT: The current economic system is, of course, a capitalist one. Capitalism is by definition, for the vast majority, a system based on exploitation. And this exploitation can take place in areas you wouldn’t normally think. For instance, when you’re engaging with your peers on social media you’re also generating information that companies like Facebook or Twitter can sell on and make a huge profit from. The genius of capital lies in its ability to extract value from all facets of our lives.

What are the alternatives to neoliberalism? How do we create a counter narrative?

GS: It’s got to be done at a lot of different levels… Occupy Wall Street is a great example…of the potential for a large-scale rejection of the kinds of forces [that perpetuate capitalism].  At the local level, there is all sorts of great stuff that is being done… On the more radical side, you have groups like the Zapatistas who are like “opt out, we will create our own world with emphasis on group autonomy, and self-sufficiency, and sustainable development”.

DT: First we need to ask if we want an alternative that still sits within the capitalist paradigm? If so, then we can turn to historical alternatives such as Keynesianism, and retool them for the current moment. As seen in the bailouts given to financial institutions following the global financial crisis of 2007, states still have the capacity to undertake significant interventions in the economy. Although considering the deepening levels of inequality and homelessness “developed” countries face, this was not an intervention that benefited the majority of people. So a Keynesian style approach would see the state intervene to do such things as create more jobs, build social housing, and regulate capitalism to curb its worst excesses. A counter-narrative in this sense could run along the lines of “we’ve done it before, let’s do it again.”

More exciting, however, is to think how we might move beyond capitalism. Historically the alternative has been called “communism”. The catchphrase of communism is “from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs” – it’s a profoundly egalitarian idea. We each do our bit, what we can, and in turn we’re guaranteed a dignified life. One of the justifications for capitalism is that it fosters innovation and, in turn, improves living conditions for us all over time. But we’re now faced with declining living standards in Aotearoa and elsewhere, along with the wider issue of environmental catastrophe, and innovation is stifled because the most important thing seems to be making profits for the rich. So how about this for the basis of a counter-narrative: “capitalism is holding us back, we can do so much better!”

How do we develop activism around these alternatives that get youth involved?

GS: A resignification of activism is necessary. There are lots of discourses out there that paint activists as virtuous [and promoting them]. It is fighting against economic forces, but [also] against social forces that are really harmful to people. Youth in New Zealand are facing a particularly fraught moment in terms of mental health. A lot of people feel really alienated…by the forces that face them – going to university, paying for university, finding a job. To say “hey this isn’t just your problem, this is our problem and you are not alone” is a pretty attractive thing.

DT: A starting point is developing an understanding of the systems and relations of power we live in. Not just capitalism, but patriarchy, racism and colonialism (and I’m sure there’s more). We need to think about the ways these intersect, and how these “big issues” influence the conditions of our day-to-day lives. So this is a negative process, in a way, asking: “how am I exploited, or oppressed, or held back?” – and also, “how do I exploit, oppress, or hold others back?” This involves critical self-awareness and dialogue with others.

More positively, we can ask what aspects of our everyday lives might, if amplified, form the basis for a better society? Think about the way you treat the ones you love, the way you cooperate with your workmates, how you feel when you’re doing something creative. To scale this upwards, however, we need to build enduring connections with one another. Organisation is needed. And if it’s systemic change we’re after, then we need to find ways of linking different projects and struggles together. We need to think big. Have a vision. Realise our communities, this country, the world as a whole, can change for the better.

Brodie Fraser

Political participation is an important facet of democracy. In recent years there has been a rise in the study of alternative forms of political participation. There are a number of reasons for this, however the main one is global trends of declining political participation. This is said to be a “crisis of Western democracy,”[1] which has led to studies exploring alternative forms of participation that are less institutionally recognised. One of the main subsets of alternative participation is online participation. Online political participation covers a range of actions including online voting, online campaigning, and social media use. Both Members of Parliament (MPs) and the general citizenry use social media as a way to participate in political life, hence the need to take separate looks at online political campaigning and everyday social media use. As these forms of participation are growing and evolving, there are a number of gaps in the existing thought. One of the most obvious gaps is how to translate these forms of participation into engagement with formal political institutions. Another gap relates to online voting. Voting is regarded as the pinnacle of political participation; online voting is then the main form of online participation we think about. However, much of the literature about online voting focuses on why it will not work; we fail to look for solutions to the issues online voting poses. There is also a gap when it comes to the ways in which politicians use social media platforms such as Instagram. Social media is an important tool in promoting policy, personality, and a party’s brand, so it needs to be studied in depth.

While political participation is synonymous with voting, it does include other forms of engagement. It encapsulates voting, petitions, protests, and engagement with Members of Parliament, amongst others. As Riley, Griffin, and Morey note; “Political engagement has traditionally been thought of as a set of rights and duties that involve formally organised civic and political activities (e.g. voting or joining a political party).”[2] These forms of participation are institutionalised, and are recognised as being legitimate. Online voting is a form of political participation, while social media use is a less institutionalised form of participation.

Online voting is a major part of debates about increasing participation. Vesnic-Alujevic argues that the internet has the potential to attract citizens and widen participation.[3] The internet can then be seen as an equaliser, and a platform through which diversity can be increased and upheld. Estonia was one of the first nations to adopt online voting, and studies have shown as online voting increased throughout the country, so too did voter turnout.[4] Online voting is shown to increase youth turnout, as the majority of young people have now grown up with the internet as an integral part of their lives.[5] There are also arguments against the adoption of online voting. Lust found that online voting in Estonia reinforces socioeconomic biases in voting as online voters tend to be more urban centred, well educated, and richer.[6] He argues Estonia should abandon online voting due to technological security threats, and the inequities of the medium.[7] One of the main arguments against online voting is to do with security; it is seen as being too easy to hack into and there are concerns that voting from one’s own home could result in family and friends pressuring voters to make certain choices.

Much of this literature focuses on the reasons why online voting should not be adopted. While this is a necessary and valid stance to take, there is a lack of people who are attempting to address and find ways around the issues with online voting. So much of our way of life now relies on the internet that it does not make sense to merely dismiss online voting. Instead, we must work to find creative and lasting solutions to current issues with online voting. This will result in an open and robust form of political participation. It is important we address how these issues can be rectified, rather than restating the issues with online voting.

As the internet becomes ever more important in day-to-day life, politicians are focussing more of their energy in campaigning online. The internet and social media are simple and fast ways for politicians to communicate with large numbers of citizens. Alongside this, online campaigns are often cheaper than offline ones. Facebook can be used to easily spread information and engage people in events politicians host and attend. New Zealand-based research found that while MPs think they use Facebook for two-way conversations with the public, posts on their pages suggest they predominantly use the platform to broadcast information.[8] This suggests that MPs need to reconceptualise the ways they are using social media to ensure it is being used to critically engage with their followers.  Twitter is a means for MPs to engage directly with their constituents and the public as a whole; it is frequently used to interact with the media and citizenry. Finally, Instagram can be used to convey a particular image politicians wish to present. For example, many use Instagram as a way to show the ‘behind-the-scenes’ aspects of a politician’s job. Social media is becoming an integral facet of life as an MP; it enables greater communication and breadth of campaigning.

As social media trends are constantly evolving, it can be difficult for the literature to keep up to date. One of the largest gaps in current literature is to do with how politicians use Instagram. It is being used by both politicians and political parties alike; parties use it as an extension of their party brand, and MPs use it to share visual snippets of their life as a politician. It is becoming an important part of campaigns and requires a greater focus on how it is used, the demographics it is reaching, and the influence it has on campaigns. Instagram can be used to cultivate a personal brand. It would also be beneficial to analyse MPs’ social media use through a social institutionalism lens. Social institutions “influence behaviour by providing the cognitive scripts…that are indispensable for action…”[9] This approach would provide a useful conceptualisation of social media use. We already see MPs being prevented from posting on their social media platforms on election days due to the influential nature of such posts, which suggests we need to closely examine the impact of social media use in the political sphere to ensure it is being utilised in the best ways possible.

Social media is an important facet of political participation. It has grown exponentially in the past decade and become a pervasive part of life. As forms of social media evolve, so too do the ways in which it is used. Platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram can all be used as conduits of political participation. Each platform is used in different ways; thus political participation varies across them. Much political debate now takes place online, with a large portion of this occurring on Facebook.[10] Studies have found Facebook users participate in debates and share political information with their networks.[11] This is a new and simple means of opening up political dialogue. Velasquez and LaRose found that social media serves as an alternative form of collective activism, which contributes to the engagement of young people.[12] Social media has the ability to increase individual and collective political participation.

Social media can significantly alter the way we conceptualise political participation. It has rapidly become a ubiquitous part of life. There is, however, a lack of literature about whether or not social media based political discussions result in an increase in institutional forms of individual political participation, as well as the intricacies of how various platforms are used to engage in politics. As Fenton and Barassi argue, “all creative human activity has the potential for political transformative capacity but to understand how this potential can be translated into a reality requires an appreciation of enduring social and political structures…”[13] We must look at how and why current political institutions are so enduring, and find ways to translate this to online forms of participation.

Political participation is a necessary aspect of any functioning democracy. New technologies are changing the way we participate in politics, so activists, political scientists, and policy creators must ensure they work together to institutionalise them. The three main facets of online participation are online voting, social media as a campaign platform, and social media as a form of political participation. As the field is relatively new, there is a lack of comprehensive theory and literature about it. There are gaps that need to be addressed. This includes; ensuring we have the tools to translate online participation into institutionalised participation, focusing on how to remove barriers to online voting, and studying the intricacies of how social media is used in politics. In addressing these, political scientists will further institutionalise online forms of political participation and provide theoretical frameworks for public policy creators to be able to create comprehensive policy that addresses the necessity of online participation.

Bibliography.

Fenton, Natalie., and Veronica Barassi. “Alternative Media and Social Networking Sites: The Politics of Individuation and Political Participation.” The Communication Review 14, no. 3 (2011): 179-196. doi: 10.080/10714424.2011.597245.

Hall, Peter., and Rosemary Taylor. “Political Science and the Three New Institutionalisms.” Political Studies 44, no. 5 (1996): 936-957.

Lust, Aleksander. “Online Voting: Boone or Bane for Democracy?.” Information Polity 20, no. 1 (2015): 313-323. doi: 10.3233/IP-150373.

McCaffrie, Brendan., and Sadiya Akram. “Crisis of Democracy?: Recognizing the Democratic Potential of Alternative Forms of Political Participation.” Democratic Theory 1, no. 2 (2016): 47-55. doi: 10.3167/dt.2014.010205.

Riley, Sarah., Christine Griffin, and Yvette Morey. “The Case for ‘Everyday Politics’: Evaluating Neo-tribal Theory as a Way to Understand Alternative Forms of Political Participation, Using Electronic Dance Music Culture as an Example.” Sociology 44, no.2 (2010): 345-363. doi: 10.1177/0038038509357206.

Ross, Karen., Susan Fountain, and Margie Comrie. “Facing Up to Facebook: Politicians, Publics and the Social Media(ted) Turn in New Zealand.” Media, Culture and Society 37, no. 2 (2014): 251-269. doi: 10.1177/0163443714557983.

Velasquez, Alcides., and Robert LaRose. “Youth Collective Activism Through Social Media: The Role of Collective Efficacy.” New Media and Society 17, no. 6 (2014): 899-918. doi: 10.1177/1461444813518391.

Vesnic-Alujevic, Lucia. “Political Participation and Web 2.0 in Europe: A Case Study of Facebook.” Public Relations Review 38, no. 1 (2012): 466-470. doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2012.01.010.

[1] Brendan McCaffrie and Sadiya Akram, “Crisis of Democracy?: Recognizing the Democratic Potential of Alternative Forms of Political Participation,” Democratic Theory 1, no. 2 (2016): 47, doi: 10.3167/dt.2014.010205.

[2] Sarah Riley, Christine Griffin, and Yvette Morey, “The Case for ‘Everyday Politics’: Evaluating Neo-tribal Theory as a Way to Understand Alternative Forms of Political Participation, Using Electronic Dance Music Culture as an Example,” Sociology 44, no.2 (2010): 346, doi: 10.1177/0038038509357206.

[3] Lucia Vesnic-Alujevic, “Political Participation and Web 2.0 in Europe: A Case Study of Facebook,” Public Relations Review 38, no. 1 (2012): 466, doi: 10.1016/j.pubrev.2012.01.010.

[4] Aleksander Lust, “Online Voting: Boone or Bane for Democracy?,” Information Polity 20, no. 1 (2015): 316, doi: 10.3233/IP-150373.

[5] Lust, “Online Voting: Boone or Bane for Democracy?,” 466.

[6] Ibid., 320.

[7] Ibid..

[8] Karen Ross, Susan Fountain, and Margie Comrie, “Facing Up to Facebook: Politicians, Publics and the Social Media(ted) Turn in New Zealand,” Media, Culture and Society 37, no. 2 (2014): 251, doi: 10.1177/0163443714557983.

[9] Peter Hall and Rosemary Taylor, “Political Science and the Three New Institutionalisms,” Political Studies 44, no. 5 (1996): 948.

[10] Vesnic-Alujevic, “Political Participation and Web 2.0 in Europe: A Case Study of Facebook,” 467.

[11] Ibid..

[12] Alcides Velasquez and Robert LaRose, “Youth Collective Activism Through Social Media: The Role of Collective Efficacy,” New Media and Society 17, no. 6 (2014): 914, doi: 10.1177/1461444813518391.

[13] Natalie Fenton and Veronica Barassi, “Alternative Media and Social Networking Sites: The Politics of Individuation and Political Participation,” The Communication Review 14, no. 3 (2011): 194, doi: 10.080/10714424.2011.597245.

Tyler West

I entered the loose assortment of radicals who make up the New Zealand far left (or at least, left-of-parliament) in the aftermath of Occupy, which probably makes me among the newest batch of young activists. My first exposure to politics was being mistaken for an Occupier and (nearly) bottled while in school uniform. First protest I ever attended was against the GCSB in my last year of high school, and first campaign I was involved in organising was the TPPA movement. I spent every computing class doing absolutely no work whatsoever and pouring over every new report from the Arab Spring. Watched, as did a great many others, in absolute awe at the revolutionary movements which seemed on the verge of toppling tin-pot dictators and ‘the corporations’ (which I can now articulate as neoliberalism) alike. I remember the feeling of something surely changing soon, and the optimism it brought in the wake of the crash. For me at least, and I suspect others, that optimism lasted until around Gezi Park and refocusing from the Libyan to Syrian civil war. After that the current mood of defeat in the face of each worsening new disaster set in. I start off like this not to build lefty credentials but to contextualise the political situation that the current generation of budding radicals grew out of. We grew into politics not only in the aftermath of the ’08 crash, but also the disappointment of those who failed to overcome it. For those of us who were first exposed to radical politics in and after 2011, it is the memory of working towards something genuinely new that remains an underlying motivator. But in the process of going from starry eyed to actually participating in political debates and organising within the left, I’ve encountered more regression in the face of that defeat than progress.

It is out of this that I believe the disconnect between elements of the radical and progressive left, and typically fairly young far leftists stems. Overall, the primary opposition to neoliberalism which spurred the revolutionary movements in the West in 2011 is in fact a regression. A hearkening back to the protectionism of the welfare state, and to the varying levels of nationalism inherent in that. While apparent elsewhere on the NZ left, it most recently and clearly appears within the TPPA movement. I’ll focus on the nationalist aspects of the movement, which dominate any internationalist tendencies in it. This visibly manifests in the overabundance of national flags and the branding of organisations with a distinctly nationalist focus, the slogan of It’s Our Future often paired with posters depicting NZ with a Kiwi defending it from some menacing outside threat.

This isn’t restricted to one movement, it is one of the most striking parallels between the TPPA and State Asset Sales movements. Both had significant participation from the radical and progressive left, which either did too little or were simply too marginalised to overcome the Kiwi Nationalism which came to dominate both. More or less harmless, if vaguely irksome, by itself this works into a problem where the continuing expansion ‘patriotic’ rhetoric is left unchecked.

Last year’s Fighting Foreign Corporate Control Bill, pushed by NZ First MP Fletcher Tabuteau, had support from various progressive and radical leftists at the time. It was pushed on the premise of foreign corporations being the problem, the word ‘foreign’ held as much negative connotations as ‘corporation’ in the discourse. When Lori Wallach came over from the US to go on a speaking tour with Jane Kelsey, I posed the question of whether a locally based company could exploit Investor-State Dispute Settlements to have just as much power to sue governments. While some assured that it wasn’t possible and foreign corporations were the problem, Wallach informed the audience that it was possible and had actually occurred. In fact such an attempt had failed just a few months earlier. Philip Morris set up a branch in Hong Kong in 2011 to exploit the 1993 Australia-Hong Kong investment agreement, which it attempted (fruitlessly) last year.1 While there was some dissent, not a huge amount of work was done to actually critique the foreigner focussed NZ First bill. What was certainly a time to make the case that we’re working against an attack by the ruling class, or at least ‘corporations’, and not foreigners, was either missed or ignored.

Herein lies the problem, this discourse over foreign corporations serves only to reinforce the (sometimes vaguely, sometimes expressly) xenophobic protectionism of the old welfare state. The focus of the discourse has been fundamentally about specifically foreign threats to ‘the average Kiwi battler’. The debate on housing hasn’t been all that much better, lest we forget Labour’s moronic ‘Chinese sounding last names’ position. Followed in turn by various erstwhile leftists simply supporting it as is, or at least excusing it for trying to solve the housing crisis. While certainly more heavily critiqued then the nationalist elements of the TPPA movement, I still noticed that comrades from a couple of progressive and radical socialist groups took a stance defending Labour. While I honestly didn’t expect a unilateral rejection of Labour’s position from the centre-left, I did find various people I knew on the socialist left that tried to defend Labour. Again, the same problems as before. Even though there was some (certainly much more in this case) critique of Labour’s xenophobic stance on housing, there was likewise just as much indifference or even support for what is patently an underhanded hearkening to economic protectionism. Indeed I even find that the calls for rent control, which find more comfortable footing on this end of the spectrum, tend to come primarily from self-identified revolutionary socialists. While certainly something which could help a fair amount, it’s a fundamentally welfarist solution which relies on the state intervention and protection within the housing market. This would be fine if it were coming from people who earnestly came from a position of re-establishing the old welfare state. But it’s the supposed revolutionaries who push it forward, while even more watered down variants are proposed the closer to the political centre you get. Without some broader idea as to how simple rent controls flow into fully socialised housing further down the track, there’s no claim to socialism involved. It’s simply a retreat, a regression back into relying on the welfare state without a broader attempt at explaining why or critique of what it was before.

And this is the case with all of the above. There seems to be an overwhelming give up feeling inherent to this. That we’re fighting on these political fronts just to break even, and not to strike forward. I find more purchase suggesting that we take an internationalist perspective and instead of trying to defend what we still have actually fight on the grounds we can make things better among random folk who turn up to rallies than many activists I’m usually around. For me, and I assume others, giving up on the project started in 2011 isn’t an option and we can’t just regress into a default position of defending the welfare state. In a recent interview on Radio NZ Noam Chomsky mentioned that even during the darkest days of the Depression there was an optimism that it had to get better afterward, something lacking in the aftermath of the GFC.2 While for those who saw the radical upsurge in 2011 and the defeat afterward may feel this, for us who started in 2011 there is no going back. The awe and enthusiasm of that year will remain.

1 Tobacco Giant Sues Australia, 28/7/2015, The West Australian.
https://au.news.yahoo.com/thewest/wa/a/29064155/philip-morris-sues-australian-government-over-plain-packaging-laws/

2 Noam Chomsky on the death of the American Dream, 6/5/2016, Radio NZ
http://www.radionz.co.nz/national/programmes/ninetonoon/audio/201799712/noam-chomsky-on-the-death-of-the-american-dream

Huriana Kopeke-Te Aho is takatāpui activist, “artist” & survivor currently residing in Tāmaki Makaurau. They whakapapa to Tuhoe, Ngati Porou, Rongowhakaata, Te Ati Haunui-a-Paparangi & Ngati Kahungungu Ki Wairoa. Their special interests include decolonisation & indigenous resistance, prison abolition and talking shit about the illegitimate settler state.  

Decolonised love is a radical act

Decolonised love is a howl and a scream

Decolonised love is this:

some stories have more space to exist than others, some stories were destroyed completely, they took so much more than land.

I keep thinking about how arohanui is so different to i love you

How tapu doesn’t really mean sacred

How wairua doesn’t really mean spirit

But we have to translate the feeling behind the language so that the colonisers understand.

These are hands that are always shaking

This is a body that never healed

but they tell me, my grief is so beautiful, we have never seen this type of heartache

please teach us, please teach us how to hurt like you

Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between the hurt and the history, between a war cry and a mourning song, between my hands and theirs.

My mother said: always love your big feet, always love your big hands, always love your big head, they are so sacred.

Love your brown skin,

always.

Love your brown skin,

always.

Love your brown skin,

always.

I want to tell you

I want to tell you that when you lie with me, the weight of our histories seem a little less heavy, at least in this small moment and I am so grateful.

I want to tell you that there is something so beautiful about our brown bodies together.

I want to tell you that Aotearoa is a land full of ghosts but when I’m here with you, I feel a little less haunted.

Do you know how safe i feel with you?

Do you know how safe i feel with you?

Do you know how safe i feel with you?

When you touch me, it feels like rapture

When you touch me, it doesn’t hurt to remember

When you touch me, my tupuna cry.

They whisper

“They are safe here with this one,

they are safe here with this one,

they are safe here with this one and we are so glad.”

When we fuck it is a chorus, it is a small stirring wind, it is mourning for all the ones that came before.

It is all of our ancestors coming together.

We bury them here

in all our soft thighs, big hands, wide flat noses pressed to high cheekbones, brown skin on brown skin on brown skin on brown skin.

Our bodies together is a eulogy,

our bodies together is an ancient love song,

our bodies together is revolutionary,

our bodies together is a small act of resistance.

I am safe here with this one,

I am safe here with this one,

I am safe here with this one and I am so glad.

You tell me my scars look like the confiscation lines.

They do to our bodies what they did to the land

You trace them and say: you are not theirs.

I am not theirs they had no right to claim me.

I am not theirs they had no right to claim me.

I am not theirs they had no right to claim me.

When we are together, I remember the old stories,

You are always calling me home,

Kei te aroha au ki a koe

(i love you)

Kaua e tangi

(Don’t cry)

Kaua e haere

(don’t go)

Haere mai ki konei

(come here)

Korero mai

(talk to me)

You are my manu tioriori, my songbird.

You are my Hina-keha, my light in the dark.

You are my matariki, you bring new and precious things.