#wāhine sisters

[ky-landfill]

i just want to say i’m obsessed with the way you draw eyes. there’s so much emotions there. i’d kill for you to be a legit comic artist, do you make original content?

[ourdreamsareneon]

Piggy backing off my last post, if much like in 2016 you're going "I should just move to New Zealand" head my warning, little yanky

People are not going to like you. People will hear the accent and either think you're a Trump supporter or a stereotypical stoner valley dude with half a brain cell.

Learn a bit of Te Reo Maori. You don't have to learn a lot, just your basic greetings, but you should learn place names and pronunciation

There was a huge cover-up in 1948 when a group of American service men tried to stop Maori bar patrons from coming inside. Naturally, both white and Maori patrons beat the shit out of them. The fight involved hundreds of people. As far as we know, two people died in the Battle of Manners Street, both Americans. This was during an event called the American Invasion, where Aotearoa asked for British aid during the war and were sent Americans instead. Americans who were documented as mostly sitting around, being incredibly racist, and assaulting our wāhine. So maybe don't walk down Manners Street at night. It might be haunted, I dunno.

While you're looking at Te Reo, look a bit into Tapu and Noa. This is about things that are considered sacred, but it also just gives you good kiwi manners, like taking your shoes off when you go into someone's house and not sitting on tables.

Learn how to tō waha - shut up. All I hear from the Americans I've met living in Aotearoa is that the second they go home, they realise how loud Americans are. Take a deep breath, listen to nature, and lower your voice

Did you know ANZUS is no longer a mutual agreement of power because America got upset that Aotearoa is nuclear free and so didn't allow any US naval ships into port after 1984 because they had a policy of not confirming or denying if they have nuclear weapons on board? They're still kinda holding a grudge against us for it and disolved a whole allyship over it! All that to say, in 1987, we formalised our anti-nuclear stance, so whether travelling by air or by ocean, please keep all your W.M.Ds at home! (Bill Clinton reinstated our allyship in 1996 and gave us the status of "Major non-NATO ally" but that's the year my sister was born so I don't acknowledge it)

It's crazy that America is so anti-terrorism but when the French sunk the Rainbow Warrior in July 1985 and everyone, including their 'besties' Australia were like "yo bro the French just did a terrorism on New Zealand...that's like not cool right?" America refused to acknowledge it. Only in September, after France admitted guilt did America go "we hate terrorism grr" I don't know what my warning here is I kinda just remembered and went "huh." Don't do terrorism, but if you do it's okay because America will be chill with it?

While the two older halves of the ANZUS polycule were sending military forces into the Vietnam war, New Zealand just sent economic aid and medical aid. We're lovers, not fighters (#FreePalestine). We did, uhm... supply Agent Orange... but that was after America was like, "We'll kick you out of the polycule again," and that's just so much work. Peer pressure works on us. We're people pleasers.

There you go! Those are all my tips for relocating to the Better DownUnder! I could go on, but my therapist said I should avoid thinking about Bill Clinton and the Big Bad War on Terror if I want to make it to 30 ^_^ I hope this was helpful!!

[ierotits]

Hi, I'm currently trying to draw Sister, and I was wondering if it's alright to give her Ta Moko on her lips? My understanding of the lip tattoo is that it's a tattoo done on women, but I just wanted to double-check with you since you're much more qualified to give feedback and advice on Māori culture (than EK Johnston, for one 🥴)

most important thing to note here is that chin moko is called moko kauae!

generally i love the idea of giving trans clones kauae, its distinctly feminine, something only wāhine get so it feels like a great way for her to claim her gender

however

moko is not just tattoos, its a physical representation of our whakapapa or heritage on our skin. its tracing our ancestry which is already under the skin in ink. usually with clones, this would represent jango, and his lineage, and that makes it even more powerful in the context of clones

sister is a creation by e k johnston, a woman who has practically admitted outloud that she does not care about māori culture whatsoever. she is a part of that characters whakapapa, and no matter how far we remove sister from the author, she is still written into her whakapapa

its because of that, that i would suggest not drawing sister with moko. other māori might feel differently, but I personally feel uncomfortable with the idea of a character created by someone who so openly dismisses us as tāngata whenua having moko

[anaheraimaaka]

Sexual Abuse

Sexual Abuse – the traumatic experience that has affected far too much of myself and far too many of my brothers and sisters.

Currently in the space of unpacking the whakapapa of this taniwha within my whānau, I sit here ready and willing to share the experience of breaking the curse, the cycle, the dismantling of characteristics attached to the continuation of this evil.

What does it look like to end this cycle? What does it feel like? What does it sound? And finally, where do I go from here?

Sexual abuse is a kaupapa that has attached to it the wairua of evil, the air that says shush, the shame that assists in turning a blind eye. It is a kaupapa that many prefer to not converse over, that many prefer to tip toe around, it is a kaupapa that has either directly or indirectly affected us throughout our time here together.

What it looks like to end this cycle is an embodiment of courage, of bravery, of mana, it is an embodiment of aroha. It is understanding the intensity of impact this evil has on us as people. It looks like standing tuturu in your truth and allowing no one deter you from your path of righteousness.

My experience has caused divide within my whānau, a divide I willingly allow to take place for the righteous continuation of my line of offspring, for my pepi, for my mokopuna, a divide that only benefits my tamariki who gracefully embark the safe space I have lay out for them to live fruitfully, healthily, peacefully and safely thrive.

This experience has strengthened my alignment to Io, to be a child who is obedient in the face of evil, a child understanding of the strength and power she walks in and with – all praise to Io and gratitude to ngā tipuna. When the going gets tough and evil confronts you for disrupting its cycle, it is God within you, tipuna guiding who gifts the necessary strength to stand up straight, chin up, shoulders back – now breath life – go my moko, you are ready.

Breaking the cycle of abuse that creeps between the trust we gift those to care for and love us innocently and purely looks like taking our trust back and placing the trust within our boundaries, that those we interact with must adhere to in order to unlock the trust necessary to evolve a strong, trusting, honorable and respectful space shared.

“But... I was a little girl, helpless, and he was my Dad, and I was alone – with no one to stop it from happening”.

It is this heartbreak, this mamae that fuels me. It is the spaces where ‘too late’ exists that motivate me to write, to type, to share, to stand staunch, to speak and to show up when it most matters. It sparks fire in my soul to ensure this path of disentangling the discernment of right and wrong, to type to make clear, to articulate smoothly the necessary to put a stop to this evil taniwha.

Breaking the cycle looks like holding space for our whānau who have endured the traumatic experience of innocence stolen. It looks like practicing your understanding of the intensity of impact this evil act has had on they who is speaking. It is being quiet – being silent – upholding a non-judgmental face and space for the stored emotions attached to the words spoken to seep through and express in order to feel and let go. It is not speaking solution, it is allowing the person to untangle, offload and ask questions when they are ready to hear your voice of comfort, your voice of input. It looks like not making the experience related to you or how you feel and allowing this person healing through your space holding of silence, allowing them space to share without interference, without a person filling the space with their interpretation, their perspective.

To hold space is to sit silently, to hold space whilst the emotions pour through. To show they are loved, supported and cared for through the space of silence, where you silently express the point ‘you are worthy of being heard, of healing and this is the safe space where you are heard, and loved – even after sharing.

What does it feel like to end this cycle? I feel conflicted within, whilst staunch and strong in the path I have chosen to embark, I am conflicted because I have separated myself from the only whānau I have known and loved. I feel conflicted because it is them I envisioned creating and binding my offspring around, however as I contemplate the whānau values, morals and belief systems that have been made clear through this experience – I reflect and know within that my children deserve entire safety and entire security and it is through aligning myself around whānau and friends with shared morals, values and beliefs systems that will encourage the continuing of this perspective I share today ‘ the ending of sexual abuse within whānau’ and the ensuring of security and safety for all my children.

This experience feels both liberating and daunting, both strengthening and dismantling. It is courageous, it is bold, I am Mana Wāhine. Although the sadness pours through me for the loss and separation I have caused and enforce, I see my future brighter, more successful, more fulfilling and more secure. I will not feel guilt, shame or prolonged sadness as my heart and doors are always open to those who are willing to rise to the kaupapa and be on board whole heartedly – until then within the space implemented between you and I, my love exists, my warmth too.

This experience has allowed me to utilize my shadow self effectively, to create clear discernment of what I live for, and what I die for. It has meant facing my fears and conquering them. It feels empowering to walk the path of righteousness, despite the projection of hurt, confusion and upset placed upon me – without a moment to stick, the light that is me reflects the horror back toward the sender of energy – through the grace of God, it all falls away with no effect.  

Ending this cycle sounds like having the hard to have korero. It sounds like communicating boundaries with our whānau. It sounds like holding whānau accountable. It sounds like clear and intentional communication of who bathes, clothes, changes nappies. It sounds like intentional and conscious korero and thought of who our children are left alone with.

It sounds like communicating no doors closed when you have manuhiri. It sounds like telling whānau not to awhi our pepi until they are ready to initiate affection. Do not desensitize your tamariki to good and bad touch by forcing your tamariki to kiss and awhi whānau, they will when and if they are ready to put themselves in that intimate space with another through their senses of safety. It sounds like korero with our children, educating them specifically what is appropriate and what is not. It sounds like roleplaying and showing examples of how to effectively communicate their discomfort. It sounds like educating and permitting our tamariki with confidence to enforce they are not comfortable with someone’s touch, with their presence, to have the courage to speak up and out and as parents it looks like respecting and honoring our children’s interpretation of people and adhering to their comfort levels and responding appropriately and empathetically.

It is a korero that teaches them they are safe to speak up when they have been abused – creating open line communication and comfortability with doing so. It is communicating with whānau who and where children are to be spending nights.

Ending this vicious cycle sounds like speaking up and out, even in the face of resistance. It is a korero that is NOT to be shut up and shut out.

Ending this abusive cycle is keeping our tamariki AWAY from the known abusers.

Ending this cycle is creating a new norm where security is placed first and foremost. Leave no space for our tamariki to be sexually traumatized, it is our job to enforce and revise our plan of protection. It is our job to protect.

From here I commit myself to confronting the rape culture that is reinforced daily toward our children. From here I refuse to allow our tāne speak disgustingly toward our wāhine for the exposure of their tinana, from here I educate both tāne and wāhine that our naked bodies are to be honored from childhood throughout adulthood.

From here I confront you of your ill belief systems that you project on to one another creating suppression and discomfort. From here I commit myself to uplifting our tāne to speak up and speak out, to protect and create space for our whānau to be safe. I encourage our tāne to hold their brothers accountable for the level of respect they view our kuia, our mothers, our sisters, our daughters, our sons with. From here I empower our wāhine to stand tuturu in themselves, to cultivate the courage to reinforce boundaries and protection. From here I actively advocate against sexual abuse using my platform, my words of intelligence to enlighten and educate on how we as a community and a whānau can prevent this taniwha from creeping in to our whare by being conscious and aware of the decisions we make. From here I intend on holding space for victims to share, to feel, to let go, to heal. From here I stand in solidarity with all victims, making a commitment to free the trapped child within seeking for an outlet, for help, for healing.  

From here I commit my life to the greater good.

Ehara tāku toa I te toa takitahi, engari he toa takitini

[kahu-learns]

[Sorry about the quality of the recording I just use my phone lmao]

Whakapapa

Your whakapapa is your genealogy; your ancestors and descendants. For Māori this is very important. There are different types of whakapapa we recite, some with spouses, some a single line of decent etc, but for the most part saying three or four generations should suffice.

Some vocabulary: koroua - grandfather kuia - grandmother tipuna - ancestor whaea/māmā - mother matua/pāpā - father tāne - husband (this also means man) wahine - wife (this also means woman) tamāhine - daughter tama - son tamaiti - child hunaonga - in-law (generation below. Before wahine or tāne) hungawai - in-law (generation above. Before matua/pāpā or whaea/māmā) mokopuna - grandchild i te taha o tōku [māmā/pāpā] - on my [mum/dad]’s side

Brother and sister don’t have a one to one from English to Māori. The terms change depending on age and whether they are the same gender as you.

Tuakana - older sibling of the same gender Teina - younger sibling of the same gender

If you are a woman, your brothers, regardless of whether they are older or younger are tungāne. If you are a man, your sisters regardless of their age are your tuahine.

If you’re non binary/genderqueer/agender (etc), You’ll just have to pick how you refer to your siblings. I’m genderfluid so I switch to match my gender. When I’m neither I just use tuahine and tungāne as I figure they’re not the same gender as me so they can’t be tuakana/teina.

Many of these terms change slightly in the plural form:

tīpuna - ancestors mātua - parents wāhine - wives/women tamariki - children tuākana - older siblings of the same gender tēina - younger siblings of the same gender tuāhine - sisters (of a man)

To say ‘my’ (as in my sister) there are a few rules. I’ll do another post all about possession, but for now, this is what you need to know:

tōku - my (of the same generation and higher) singular. Plural = ōku tāku - my (of the generations below) singular. Plural = āku taku - my (neutral. Can use with any relation). Singular. Plural = aku

So, the sentence is :

Ko [name] tōku/tāku/taku [relation].

If you want to say two people, for example, two sisters, use Ko [name1] rāua, Ko [name2] ōku/āku/aku.

For three or more, use rātou instead of rāua, and always put a ‘Ko’ in front of everyone’s name.

You finish your whakapapa with your own name, which you can either say “ko [name] ahau” or “ko [name] tōku/taku ingoa”.

Here is an example of a whakapapa (the person is a woman named Hinemoa).

Ko Te Arorangi tōku koroua i te taha o tōku matua. Ko Sarah tōku kuia i te taha o tōku matua. Ko Wiremu tōku koroua i te taha o tōku whaea Ko Riripeti tōku kuia i te taha o tōku whaea. Ko Nikau tōku matua. Ko Mere tōku whaea. Ko Hanaia rāua ko Rāhera ōku tuākana. Ko Hana tōku teina. Ko Hirini tōku tungāne. Ko Lina tōku wahine. Ko Roimata rātou, ko Elena, ko Mia āku tamāhine. Ko Mateo tāku tama. Ko Hinemoa ahau.

[bryregrad702]

This is such a journey and a wrestle. I’m trying to situate myself, I’m challenges my views, I have to keep reading when I want to stop, because it’s easier to not have to form opinions on things, and it’s hard to break down your own assumptions.

I read the introduction to this beautiful book, written by editor  Kathie Irwin, and I questioned whether it was right for me to be doing this project. The art, the writing and the design of wāhine Māori needs to be seen, needs to be celebrated. Is the role that I’m filling the role of a Māori designer?

I want to advocate for the marginalised. I want to serve. But is it even my place to do so, when I am not a part of the group I am advocating for?

Reading the introduction to this collection of works by wāhine Māori artists made me see that I can’t just create something which is intended to look Māori, because this is an appropriation. Even with understanding, Māori art is Māori when made by Tangata Whenua. Anything else is appropriation. So I can learn from Te Ao Māori and from toi Māori, but I cannot attempt to create ‘authentic Māori art’ because this is a lie! 

So how can I create something influenced by Te Ao Māori which is not an appropriation?

I read the poem ‘Taranaki Aunties’ by Teremoana Pehimana and I was reminded of the love I have known in my Harry’s family. I was reminded of his Aunty Bee and Aunty Phillie. I was reminded of Uncle Ray teaching us how to make fried bread in the wharekai, of sleeping surrounded by snoring family in the marae, of grieving at the tangihanga, of the fantails and the quiet in the urupa. I love Harry’s family. I love the way they work, so hard. I love their generosity and their open homes, the way they feed us, the way they sing! I love the way they have invited me into their family, how at Harry and I’s engagement party Aunty Bee shared a mihi with my family on behalf of Harry’s dad’s family, and called me up for a waiata with them after she spoke. I love these people and this is who I want to do this for. 

And this reminded me of my own friend, who is struggling with an unsafe relationship, who is so strong in holding on to her own faith, who all our friends thought was inconsistent for so long because we didn’t know what was happening in her home, who is a beautiful mama to her two babies. This is who I want to do this for. 

I don’t want to make an appropriation. And I do want to learn. And I do want my heart to be involved. I want to represent this love, because I know this much is authentic. 

I read Hinemoa Awatere’s speech to the Second World Indigenous Youth Conference, and I was met by new perspective on Te Tiriti, on indigenous sovereignty, on how colonisation has impacted the teen pregnancy rates and self worth of tamawāhine, on why culture is a ‘cure’ for these women. My assumptions are being challenged, and everything is very much not black and white

And I read Mereana Pitman’s narrative of a woman who goes to pick her sister up from the women’s refuge, and I was reminded what this is about, how much this issue of wāhine Māori experiencing domestic abuse matters. Surely if I am in a position to use what I have to help, I must.

[malialaka]

Cool image found by @taikawaititi In honour of today's incredible #WomensMarch2018 I'd like to throw it all back to our 1800's Māori Women's Dress Reformers who most deffo wore it better than the dudes. Mana Wāhine! Turns out they were also sheep shearers which makes it even cooler. Imagine a gang of women shearing sheep dressed like frikken Oscar Wilde!! Ahm yass sisters! #OriginalSquad #kanakamaoli #maoli #kaikamahine #manawahine #wahinetoa (at The West Kaua'i)

[mmmanuika15me-blog]

In my perspective of this article  “The Island Race in Aotearoa” by Jim Vivleaere he described contemporary Pacific Island art in New Zealand as being a three legged race both a novelty and a handicap event.  “Such exhibitions allow the involvement of the wider Pacific Island community in preparing for the openings, marked by ritual, prayers, music, dance, and are attended by many who may be visiting a gallery for the first time” Through the practice of the Pacific Sister it shows the passion of Fashion Activists is a celebration of mana wāhine, indigenous identities, and pacifc sisters played over the past 26 years – through their collaborative works across fashion, performance, music, and film in giving voice and visibility to Māori and Pacific peoples in Aotearoa New Zealand. It shows Today the art of the Pacific Islanders is still trapped within its category. The display cases of the institutions have not been shattered. Yet the very act of exhibiting demonstrates that the making and the appreciation of art is a dynamic process. Institutions are caught by a need to both legitimise themselves and acknowledge (and perhaps attempt to control) the art of the migrant communities.

[theroulha]

as is the case with any piece of media, viewer discretion advised. i urge you to consume this video, first, through your own lens (then with other perspectives in mind), at your own pace and with your preferred amount of salt (i recommend a grain, at least). 

i wanted to write a wHoLe dAmN EsSaY explaining what this series of images and sound is about (other than being the fruition of a dream to shoot bad ass south asian wāhine at a ridiculous number of frames per second). i hit delete on the essay - not because this concept isn’t a manifestation of a whole lotta things we need to engage with more thoughtfully like fast fame, heightening ego, women, power, the punjabi media industry, our ageing diaspora, media consumption and critical thinking - but because i don’t want to be the force painting your perspective, drawing your conclusions or creating your meaning. that power and responsibility is first and foremost, yours.

kia ora to my sister jenny for shooting this with me over a blissful summer break earlier this year and the beautiful bani, niki and bhargavi for lending me their power in bringing this concept to life.

[twilight-blossom]

Things I love (and miss) about Hawaiʻi

Hello all. Since I don’t talk about this much (and have gained some new followers of late), a quick summary of why I’m posting this: I am kanaka maoli (native Hawaiʻian) on my mom’s side; we’re both hapa haole (part white - mainly German and English with some Irish, Welsh, Scottish, Portuguese, and French, among others). I grew up all over the place, but spent the largest portion of my childhood in Hawaiʻi after my mom decided she wanted to move back and reconnect with our family over there, and it is the place I most identify with as my childhood home. So for Aboriginal Day 2017, I wanted to write up a list of things I love and miss about Hawaiʻi, in no particular order.

The food. I’m a major foodie, and have a lot of memories and general nostalgia around certain foods I ate growing up. Some foods I am super happy to still have access to include: dried coconut, mango, and pineapple; arare and other senbei (japanese rice crackers); li hing mui (dried plum powder, which is used liberally as a spice for fruits, popcorn, arare, and other sweet and salty foods); dried seaweed, sweet potatoes, sweet bread, malasada, and sushi. But not many of these are actually Hawaiʻian foods, which are a lot harder to come by on the mainland. I love haupia (coconut custard). Cooked taro (a root vegetable that tastes a bit like sweet potato) is delicious. I even miss poi (yes, it’s an acquired taste, and I used to doctor the shit out of mine with sugar anyway). I also really miss shave ice, POG (passionfruit-orange-guava juice), bubble drinks (they have little squishy tapioca balls in them), and Bubba’s mochi ice cream (especially the azuki bean flavor). Seriously, if any of you know ways I can get ahold of any of these here on the mainland, please let me know.

The weather. The sky is always beautiful. I used to love watching the sun set the sky aflame in tones of orange, pink, and violet at dusk. There’s so many different kinds of rain I liked over there too, including one I have yet to experience elsewhere: the really soft, misty rain that sweeps down from the mountains like a gentle cloud. And I loved that the rain, no matter the type, could sometimes only last a few minutes (there was also that time we literally had forty days of nonstop rain... that’s makahiki season for ya). And of course, there are lots of rainbows (we’re called the Rainbow State for a reason).

The everyday sense of the divine. We kānaka maoli are a very ecologically-conscious people (ua mau ke ea o ka ʻāina i ka pono), and much of that stems from our reverence of nature. The gods and spirits are very much alive and well in Hawaiʻi. I felt them watching me whenever I walked the tree-lined route to the bus stop, or passed by Diamond Head on my way to church or KCC. I felt their presence in our stories. My favorite one was the story of Pele and Hiʻiaka, sister goddesses who could not be more different — or more similar, in their shared passion. I have never lived in a place where the gods felt more present than in Hawaiʻi. One of my major regrets is that I did not find out more about my family’s own stories, and in particular our ʻaumākua, our ancestral guardian spirits. I am working on getting in touch with some relatives and am hoping to change that soon, though.

The people. A lot of folks are pretty laid back (a lot use pakalolo, too, which is definitely a factor, lol). The idea of us being happy and smiley all the time is definitely a stereotype, but there is still a lot to be said for what has been called our “Aloha spirit.” I grew up around many people of different races, ethnicities, sexualities, and gender identities, and by and large, we all supported each other. I never knew how unusual this was when compared to most other modern Americans until after I moved to the mainland. We are the most racially integrated state in the nation, with over a fifth (21.4%) of the population being of mixed race, according to the 2000 Census. We’re also doing better at women’s financial and political equality than most in the nation. Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and other kinds of discrimination are still an issue in Hawaii, but they are not as common as on the mainland, and there’s a fair bit of nuance to a lot of it having to do with colonization and Christianization.

The cultural history. Our recent history is, like those of many colonized peoples, rather dark and messy. I am reminded of that often; I actually share a birthday with the date of one of the darkest moments in our history. But there is also a great deal of goodness to be found when you go back further, looking to what our people were like before Western contact. As a people, we were largely polyamorous, free to date whom we pleased and have as many lovers as we wished.  Being queer was a non-issue. Māhū people like me (transgender and nonbinary people) were accepted and honored for our unique perspective as a bridge between kāne and wāhine (men and women). Our economic system was specifically crafted to support everyone, so that very few died for want of food, shelter, or other basic needs. We were not perfect (when the Tahitians settled Hawaiʻi some 800-1000 years ago, they instigated a caste system, the lowest tier of which was composed of war captives and their descendants, and there are elements of the kapu system which were sexist). But there’s still a lot of good to our past, and many modern people striving to carry that goodness forward now and into the future.

Our acceptance of each other. The formal definition of kānaka maoli is anyone who can trace their ancestry back to the people living in the Hawaiʻian islands prior to Western contact. In some ways, this is due to the sad reality that there are very few pure-blooded kānaka maoli left. In other ways, though, it’s a mark of our acceptance of each other, our bond as an extended ʻohana. We are all descendants of Papa and Wākea, after all. I used to think it mattered how much of my racial make-up was kānaka maoli (a bit over 1/16th, as it turns out), and I worried that maybe it was too little, too diluted to be able to appropriately claim my identity as kānaka maoli. My mother is listed as Hawaiʻian on her birth certificate; I am not. I still worry about it at times. But every other kanaka maoli I’ve met and discussed my heritage with has accepted me (though not always without challenge, which is sometimes frustrating but understandable). I have come to understand that my worries largely stem from being raised with the European-originated concept of blood quantum, a concept imposed on the native peoples of the United States and which many (though not all) native groups reject as racist. This is, by and large, what we kānaka maoli have done, as well, for which I am immensely grateful.

There is so much more I could mention, including the language, our traditions of dance (hula kahiko), traditional garments like the pa‘u (skirt) and feathered cape, and so on. The ways I talk, like using the terms chickenskin (for goosebumps) and slippers (what mainlanders call flip-flops; they are not flip-flops, they are SLIPPERS). But I feel like this post has gotten long enough, and I need to get to bed.

A brief and unhappy note: I am also most likely of Chickasaw descent through my great-great-grandmother, though I cannot verify this (My grandma remembers talking with her and is certain that she was native, and I have been able to trace her back to a childhood in Chickasaw county, Oklahoma, where she was adopted by a white family, but there are no records of her birth parents). If this is true, that would mean she was a split feather, the name for victims of a disturbingly common phenomenon in which native children were taken from their birth families and adopted by white people, resulting in large numbers of disenfranchised natives; they and their descendants are now unable to benefit from tribal enrollment. This practice is a form of genocide (a willful attempt to destroy a culture or group of people), and is no less harmful than the many other genocidal activities the US used against natives. But nonetheless, we are still here.

[ierotits]

hi!! i have a question (feel free to ignore if u want) & it relates to your answer about Sister (ik her name is Sandraan now but for the uninformed). i know you said she shouldn't necessarily be drawn with moko kauae bc of e.k. j*hnston being part of her 'lineage' & all. so like. i have a clone oc!! her name is Eopie!! she is trans of gender & i have been thinking about her a normal amount (not really). my question is: would it be okay for Eopie to have moko kauae?? or is that something i should avoid?? just bc i think she should have something that is gender affirming & helps her connect with her culture (i lowkey write her as part of the mandalorian diaspora based on my own diaspora experiences). sorry for the rambling!!

(side note i love your oc Tui!! she's so Shaped & i love her armor design & like!! her😍.)

kia ora! i feel like ive posted about putting moko on your own ocs before but it was probably like a year ago lmao

i absolutely think giving trans clones kauae is a good idea, kauae is specifically for māori women, it helps connect us to our identity as wāhine, and its a beautiful thing to see trans wāhine connecting to that!

i would just give a few notes tho! moko is a practice done by and for māori. while the clone is māori and has a right to moko, you as the artist dont. that doesnt mean you cant draw it! it just means that the characters moko should be described as kirituhi instead, which is moko-like markings done for or by pākehā in appreciation of our culture (tribal tattoo isnt kirituhi, its just racist)

make sure youre doing research into the meanings of different designs too! since it is a physical representation of our ancestry, theres some incredibly cool stuff that could be done with moko on clones, in either jango and his ancestors, or you could even go with a rejection of the fetts and claiming other clones as whānau instead. but yeah, make sure youre checking what designs you are doing, and what locations youre doing the kauae on too. a bunch of iwi have sites with info, tiktok users @/tu_edmonds and @/paakadavis have done some great videos on their own mataora which is the masculine facial moko

but absolutely, go ahead and do your research, and create kirituhi for your clone ocs! ek johnston just doesnt get to have her own clone with moko cos shes a racist cunt