Why health? Because without it, I wouldn’t be here.

At 10, I spent two years in the hospital after being hit by a car. Nurses, doctors, physios, teachers, and whānau inspired me to survive, adapt, and dream differently.

Since then, health has been my constant focus, from radiology to Enabling Good Lives, to leading COVID-19 Disability Responses, and to every emergency since the Christchurch earthquakes. And most recently, Frankie and I were helped by Te Puāwaitanga o Ōtautahi Trust and Māori Midwives Ki Tahu as we prepared for Hiwa-i-te-Rangi’s birth. Now I serve on the board to give back.

Health is not just where I work. It is my why. It is my way of giving back to the system and communities that gave me life.

We don’t just build health systems to treat illness. We create them to give people the chance to live, dream, and thrive.

🔗 Read the full article here:

My why isn’t written in strategy documents. It’s written in my whakapapa, my scars, and my whānau.

I’ve lived the impacts of colonisation, disability, bisexual and takatāpui erasure, and the shame of learning te reo Māori in systems that didn’t value it. These challenges have shaped my purpose: to build systems that don’t leave people behind.

Simon Sinek says, “People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it.” For me, my why is simple: to ensure equity, dignity, and inclusion are not privileges; they are rights.

In my latest article, I share how this shows up in my work, and in raising Hiwa-i-te-Rangi.

✨ We don’t just raise children. We raise futures. And my why is to make those futures safer, fairer, and more inclusive.

🔗 Read the full article here:

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had the privilege of speaking with newly qualified nurses, administrators, and practice managers at Health New Zealand | Te Whatu Ora and in General Practices.

What struck me most wasn’t just their excitement, but their values. This cohort is more focused on equity, inclusion, and sustainability than I dared expect, and that gives me real hope for the future of healthcare.

I reminded them:
Inclusion isn’t a “nice to have.” It’s clinical excellence. It’s whether someone feels safe enough to tell you the truth and be their true selves.

In my latest article, I reflect on:
- Why intersectionality matters in daily healthcare practice
- The small actions that make patients feel seen and safe
- How equity is woven through every shift, every patient, every interaction

I’d love to hear your thoughts.
- How do you bring equity and inclusion into your practice or workplace?

🖤 Ko te pae tawhiti whāia kia tata. Ko te pae tata whakamaua kia tīna.

Read the full piece here.

Intersectionality isn’t just theory; it’s about who our systems choose to see and who gets left invisible.

Too often, policies treat Māori, disabled people, Rainbow whānau, or rural communities as separate categories. But what about the people who live all of these realities at once?

If you don’t name them, you don’t see them. And if you don’t see them, your policies will fail them.

In my latest article, I reflect on:
- The limits of single-issue thinking;
- What intersectionality looks like in action; in policy, governance, leadership, and whānau; and
- How can we move from good intentions to real equity?

“The future isn’t built in silos. It’s woven at the intersections.”

I’d love to hear your thoughts:
- Where have you seen intersectionality in action?
- How can we make it more than a buzzword in our mahi?

🔗 Read the full article here:

Te Wiki o te Reo Māori is a reminder that language is more than words; it’s whakapapa, identity, and resilience.

For me, the journey of reclaiming te reo Māori has been complicated. As a kid, there was shame in learning it. Colonisation left scars on many whānau, and when I was 10, a head injury left me disabled and with learning impacts that made picking up languages even harder.

It’s been a struggle. Some days, I feel setbacks more than progress. But being Māori isn’t about fluency alone; it’s whakapapa, aroha, tikanga, and commitment. And te reo Māori remains central to who I am.

Now, watching Hiwa go to kōhanga and start learning reo in ways I never could at his age is both healing and hopeful. His reo is part of the future we are building together.

Being Māori isn’t only about speaking te reo. But speaking te reo is an act of survival, resistance, and aroha.

I’d love to hear from you:
- What does Te Wiki o te Reo Māori mean to you?
- How do you carry reo and whakapapa into your mahi or whānau?
🔗 Read my full article here:

Navigating two worlds is something many Indigenous leaders know well.

In a recent EMBA class, a Māori guest lecturer shared how he proposed vape and liquor stores as tenants for an iwi-owned property. From a corporate perspective, the returns looked strong. But his iwi reminded him: at what cost? They said no, and ultimately, he found a tenant that delivered a better financial return and aligned with their values.

I found this kōrero incredibly humbling and deeply relatable. As someone who has spent much of my life moving between Māori and Pākehā systems, I know the trauma that comes with navigating those different worlds. It can be exhausting, sometimes alienating, but also transformative.

Humility, values, and intersectionality matter.

I’d love to hear your thoughts:
How have you navigated different worlds in your mahi?
What values guide you when the “obvious” commercial path comes into conflict with community wellbeing?

Read the full article here:

🎉 Our tama Hiwa-i-te-Rangi just turned TWO!

The house was full of laughter, Bluey-themed cake, wrapping paper chaos, and so much aroha. As we celebrated, I couldn’t help but reflect on what his name carries, Hiwa-i-te-Rangi, the star of dreams and aspirations in the Matariki cluster. A reminder that our hopes, dreams, and responsibilities as whānau are tied to the futures of our tamariki.

In my latest article, I write about how for Frankie Karetai-Wood-Bodley and me, raising Hiwa isn’t just about teaching him to navigate the world as it is; it’s about teaching him that he has the right (and the responsibility) to help shape the world it could be.

We don’t just raise children. We raise futures. ✨

Read it here. I’d love to hear your thoughts:
What lessons have your tamariki, mokopuna, or young ones taught you about hope and leadership?
How do you consider future generations in your mahi?

This month is Bisexual Visibility Month 🌈 🩷💜💙

I identify as bisexual and androphilic (attracted to men and masculine people), and like so many in my community, I’ve seen how often we’re erased from data, policy, and even our own Rainbow spaces.

Bisexuality isn’t a minority within the Rainbow, it’s the majority. Yet we remain the most invisible. That has to change.

I’ve written about bi-erasure, intersectionality, and what can be done:

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what courage in leadership really means.

For many of us at the intersections, Māori, disabled, takatāpui, Pacific, or working from the margins, courage doesn’t always look like standing at the front of the room with confidence. Sometimes it’s simply turning up, speaking when it’s risky, or holding space for others when systems don’t.

That’s where intersectionality matters. We don’t live one identity at a time, and courage looks different when those identities overlap.

I wrote an article exploring this idea, and I’d love for you to read it and share your thoughts.

“True courage is not just leading from the front. It’s leading from the intersections, where the risks are highest and the change is most needed.”

Read the full article here:

The past few months have been full of contrasts, celebrating highs like our EMBA team reaching the finals in the 2025 Strategy Live Case Competition, while also navigating the challenges of a car broken into, hospital visits with Hiwa and Frankie, and grieving the passing of loved ones, including a mentor and role model who shaped my journey.

Frankie and I also completed major mahi, including the Maternity Commissioning Framework and the Bereavement Care Pathway, and I was grateful to connect with midwifery leaders across Te Waipounamu.

Leadership, for me, is about holding both the highs and the lows, and carrying forward the lessons of each.

Read my reflections here:

Intersectionality is a word I use a lot, so much so that in some circles, I’m known as “the intersectional guy.”

But a recent comment from former Local Government Councillor and CEO Sue Wells made me stop and think. Sue pointed out that intersectionality might not be widely understood or accessible. She was right.

If intersectionality is at the heart of my work, then I have a responsibility to make sure it’s not just a buzzword, but something people can connect with.

For me, intersectionality is deeply personal. I am Māori, disabled, and takatāpui. I carry rural roots, urban experiences, and the perspective of a queer parent. I don’t live one identity at a time, and neither do the people our systems are meant to serve.

Karaitiana Wilson shared beautiful kupu that captures this beautifully: ngā matatini: the many faces, the nuances, the many energies people bring into spaces.

That’s what intersectionality looks like through a te ao Māori lens.

In my latest article, I share:
- What intersectionality means in practice.
- Why ignoring it creates policy blind spots and service gaps.
- How can we make the concept more accessible, in language and in leadership?

Read it here. I’d love to hear your thoughts. How do you see ngā matatini or intersectionality showing up in your work?

When our son Hiwa-i-te-Rangi was born, Frankie (my husband, a trans man) carried the pregnancy.

We were “the first” family the medical professionals that joined us along our pregnancy journey had seen like ours. Not the first to know inequity — but the first to notice how our lived expertise was treated as an exception, not a source of leadership.

This isn’t just our story.
Too often, disabled, Indigenous, and Rainbow voices are invited to inform change — but rarely to lead it. That’s tokenism, not transformation.

In the following article, I share:
- The problem with inclusion without power
- What leadership from the margins really looks like
- Where we are already leading — from Te Whatu Ora to global human rights forums
- A model for change that embeds equity as a core system principle
We are not “edge cases.”

We are the architects of the future — and the future is already under construction.

Have a read and tell me what you thought.

It was a great privilege and honour to have helped Te Kawa Mataaho Public Service Commission work on Te Taunaki | Public Service Census. Have a look here and see what Simon England APR had to say about it on our intranet at Whaikaha - Ministry of Disabled People

Human Rights Day: A Call to Action for LGBTI+ and Intersectional Justice

“We must continue to champion our human rights and embed them for all,” said Rāwā Karetai, Co-Chief Executive of Karetai Wood-Bodley & Co (KWB & Co), marking International Human Rights Day. As the world emerges from the shadow of the pandemic, Karetai reinforced the organisation’s commitment to advocating for the rights of those marginalised by their sexual orientation, gender identity, gender expression and sex characteristics (SOGIESC), as well as those who face intersectional discrimination—particularly disabled and indigenous communities.

Reflecting on the challenges of the past year, Chief Executive Frankie Wood-Bodley noted, “Global lockdowns and the Black Lives Matter movement highlight why we must remain vigilant in advocating for the rights of disabled and indigenous LGBTI+ people. Those at the intersection of multiple identities face compounding discrimination and significantly poorer outcomes.”

The leaders also voiced urgent concerns about the gaps in New Zealand’s human rights protections. While Section 19 of the Bill of Rights Act and Section 21 of the Human Rights Act prohibit discrimination on the basis of sex and sexual orientation, trans and intersex people remain unprotected due to the lack of explicit inclusion of gender identity, gender expression, and sex characteristics.

“We call on the Government to amend the Human Rights Act to ensure trans and intersex New Zealanders are afforded the same protections as everyone else,” said Wood-Bodley. “The current framework relies on broad interpretation, which is not enough.”

KWB & Co also reiterated their commitment to several key campaigns, including adoption law reform, safer schools and aged care for LGBTI+ communities, increased awareness of bisexual+ safety, and ending HIV stigma.

Human Rights Day, observed annually on 10 December, commemorates the adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948—a reminder that equality, dignity, and justice are for all.

KWB & Co is a professional network of LGBTI+ and intersectional consultants specialising in human rights law, strategy, and governance. Their sister organisation, Queerly Legal, provides legal advocacy and support for LGBTQIA+ people, allies, and their whānau.