Story of my
Story of my
My experience as a ‘Person of Colour’ (which is apparently the New Politically Correct terminology to use when referring to my ‘shade’) in ‘New Zealand, is not an unusual experience.
Those of my ancestors that sailed here from the Pacific Islands, set up shop along the east coast shorelines and the westocast shorelines. My Indigenous ancestry comes from both sides of my parentage.
I am not Black. I do not have the same history as Persons of Colour within the Americas, Native or Stolen.
I am not a descendant from an African continent, with a history of ancestors who have been stolen, sold and bought. My history with the coloniser is closer to that of the Indigenous from the Americas and other ‘coloured’ continents. In my opinion, while the Blacks in the Americas also have a relationship similar to what we have; it is not the same. Their oppression and response has an added layer of fuckery which comes from being stolen From their roots, as opposed to having their roots removed from them slowly over the course of time.
In this country the prison population is predominantly Maori (tangata whenua), for both male and female. It has always pissed Me off and within my studies, been a topic of interest.
These ‘over – representations’ are labelled as such, by those that came here without any knowledge of who we were. They went about having an opinion on what and who we were. Two of the myths used to build a lie into a stereotype view are;
a. We were a warrior people
b. We were native, unintelligent savages.
It is at the very base of it all, that these little stereotypes have caused some deep seated fuckery within our world. It’s these little fuckers which lead to the arrogance which presumes we can’t learn adequately; we can’t get gainful employment; we need assistance to maintain any and all types of mental and physical health; our ‘families’ are dysfunctional.
It is with the repertoire of twoddle that the Crown sets about setting up ‘help’ or assistance for the culturally deprived. Because apparently We need their assistance.
But they presumed we were like them. That our way of being was inferior to theirs because it was different from theirs. In my opinion, our way of being was far superior to their diseased and deeply infested way of being.
I wonder though; how much assistance do We need from an entity that fucked Us over in the first place?
And this seems to be a point that I can fight tooth and nail for and it still falls on deaf ears.
If this was an abusive relationship, We would be advised to ditch his ass and get some counselling and move the fuck on.
But in this scenario We are encouraged to access their ‘assistance’, their education, their ‘help’ and are disparaged when we refuse; and locked up when we don’t comply. It seems to be a huge old blind spot that the coloniser and colonised do not understand.
And I wonder at this point, if:
Being ‘White’ is more a state of mind. If that blind spot is what brought them here in the first place. If that arrogance is what keeps them believing they are far superior and need to assist the inferior natives.
Fuck That! There’ll be No conceding from this Camp any time soon!
Moana Jackson asks some pertinent questions in the following video: the most pertinent being:
“Why did Maori never have prisons?”
He addresses the lies that have been told, believed and are continuously perpetuated to keep a system in place that does not work for Us.
I am Brown.
is a lighter shade
but darker beige,
is more accurate.
345. Hehehe Hohoho LOL
i say it often,
but what does it mean, really?
as i am
really, 2016, and still bitching on about “it wasn’t our fault, we weren’t even there” bullshit…
your ancestors buddy…did we say we were blaming your ass?
but you too ig’nant to even ‘hear’ whats been said…
if you could hear with those big ass pointy ears of yours, what youd hear, is a lesson…is grief…is me trying to school your dumb ass…
I don’t require you to give a fucking opinion…especially an uneducated one…
you just have to fuck up for a second…
to hear whats I’m sayn…
which is…we was done wrong…I mourn that fucking loss every single day…but I live with it…not you and your pointy hat friends…you have no idea what colour looks like…what it feels like…
but I know what white feels like…I have to be that bitch on the phone…in an interview…at the store…when I walk in the room…when I ask a question…
cos white is right…
but I just wanted you to listen…hear what the fuck it is that we say…its not aimed at your funky fucking ass…its just…just out there…to hear
for fucks sakes
My Beautiful Beach
My first attempt at photographing the sun setting…
The river mouth and beach are changing with the weather.