Reclaiming Te Reo Māori: Trauma, Resilience, and Raising Futures

Te wiki o te reo Māori | Māori Language Week

Te Wiki o te Reo Māori | Māori Language Week

Every year, Te Wiki o te Reo Māori | Māori Language Week reminds us that language is more than words. It is whakapapa, worldview, and resilience. For me, it is also a reminder of the complicated and sometimes painful journey of reclaiming te reo Māori in my own life.

When I was a school kid, learning te reo Māori came with a sense of shame. Society looked down on te ao Māori, and that attitude crept into classrooms, playgrounds, and homes. Even now, the echoes of that shame remain for many of us.

“Language is not just a skill. It is an inheritance, and reclaiming it often means confronting the pain of its loss.”

The Weight of Colonisation and Trauma

Like so many Māori, I carry the impact of colonisation and intergenerational trauma. Violence and systemic erasure tore te reo Māori from our families, leaving scars that go beyond language.

For me, those scars were compounded by a head injury at age 10 when I was hit by a car. The injury left me disabled and with learning impacts that still shape how I engage with te reo Māori today. Reclaiming language has not just been cultural, but cognitive, a daily struggle against memory, processing, and fatigue.

These challenges have often made me feel behind, or not “Māori enough.” But being Māori isn’t defined by fluency alone. It is whakapapa, tikanga, and aroha. Te reo Māori is important, but so is the journey of reconnecting at our own pace.

Ngā matatini | Intersectionality and Whānau | Family

Ngā matatini | Intersectionality, as Kimberlé Crenshaw reminds us, that no one lives a single identity at a time, is central to my reo journey. I carry the intersections of being Māori, disabled, bisexual, takatāpui, a parent, and someone working in systems that often fail our people.

These intersections make reclaiming te reo Māori harder, but also more urgent. They shape how I present myself to Māori organisations, even when I stumble. They remind me that reclaiming language is not only personal, but political.

And now, as a parent, I see the journey differently. Hiwa is going to kōhanga and will continue at kōhanga reo. He has opportunities I didn’t. Watching him learn and speak te reo Māori is beautiful to see and potentially healing for me too.

“Our tamariki carry the chance not just to speak the language, but to live in a world where their reo is normal, celebrated, and safe.”

Holding On and Moving Forward

The last 12 months have been a setback for my reo journey. Balancing mahi, whānau, disability, and study has been overwhelming. Some days, I feel the old shame creeping back. But I know this: te reo Māori is part of who I am, whether I am fluent or not.

I will continue to engage with Māori organisations. I will keep supporting kaupapa that uplifts te ao Māori. And when time allows, I will look for in-person reo classes, because being kanohi ki te kanohi matters for me as a learner.

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

For me, this journey is not a linear process. It is full of starts, pauses, and struggles. But it is also full of hope. Hope that my son will never feel the shame I felt. Hope that his reo will be his strength, not his burden. Hope that the horizons he looks to will be broader than mine ever were.

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🖤 Ko te pae tawhiti whāia kia tata. Ko te pae tata whakamaua kia tīna. | Seek out the distant horizons so they may become close. Hold fast to the close horizons so they may be secured.