Embracing "other-ness"
"Where are you from?"
Is a question I am often asked, more times than I would like to admit. My standard response is always "I'm from here". And although I would love to say the conversation veers into some interesting topic, nine times out of ten the exchange turns mundane and follows the same pattern.
"No, where are you from? Are you from Fiji?"
"No, I'm Samoan"
Astonished and not yet convinced it is quickly followed by
"Oh, just Samoan?"
"I'm also Maori and Cook Island"
"Oh yes"
Satisfied. End of conversation.
Its a dance I have become all too familiar with. At first it was offensive that my response of "I'm Samoan" was somehow insufficient to satisfy their curiosity/nosiness/suspicions/judgement. The more it happened, the more alienating that question felt. "No, where are you from?". I was left to feel that I was something other than Samoan. Sullied. Sub-Samoan even. It would always make me feel homesick...and confused...wait hold on isn't this my home? I would wonder aloud.
For the past 14 years I have lived between NZ and Samoa, spending equal amounts of time in both countries. And while I would like to conclude that 7 years is enough time to meet everyone in Samoa, I haven't, which translates into many first-time conversations that follow this same template.
Recently when I started a new role in a sector where I know 1.5 people, I braced myself for the onslaught of these rather pleasant exchanges from my new colleagues. As the first week rolled into the second and I got to meet more people in my organisation something dawned on me: I was beginning to find that question less confronting. In fact as funny as it sounds, I began to look forward to answering it.
So what changed? As they say perception is everything. Somewhere along the way I began to view that question not as something intended to alienate or exclude me from belonging, but as an opportunity to remember and acknowledge that yes I am equally Maori and Cook Island, as I am Samoan. In a sense I was finally building my own turangawaewae, a place to stand in my island surroundings.
Being an other in Samoa has helped me to ask annoying questions. Not to be difficult or mimika or even fiapoto but because there is an insatiable longing to try to understand why we do what we do. While being other allows me to ask these questions, being Samoan makes it safe. Thankfully I have good and knowledgable people in my circles who entertain my endless questions, and patiently and gracefully answer them. What I have learned on this journey is that while there maybe a lot of people who know how to speak Samoan, there are very few who can answer those fundamental questions of why we do what we do. And that often the learning experience is not only for my benefit, but also theirs as they sit in and listen to the conversations and discussions that follow.
Moral of the story therefore is, embrace your other-ness. Use it to be more enlightened and to enlighten others.
Is a question I am often asked, more times than I would like to admit. My standard response is always "I'm from here". And although I would love to say the conversation veers into some interesting topic, nine times out of ten the exchange turns mundane and follows the same pattern.
"No, where are you from? Are you from Fiji?"
"No, I'm Samoan"
Astonished and not yet convinced it is quickly followed by
"Oh, just Samoan?"
"I'm also Maori and Cook Island"
"Oh yes"
Satisfied. End of conversation.
Its a dance I have become all too familiar with. At first it was offensive that my response of "I'm Samoan" was somehow insufficient to satisfy their curiosity/nosiness/suspicions/judgement. The more it happened, the more alienating that question felt. "No, where are you from?". I was left to feel that I was something other than Samoan. Sullied. Sub-Samoan even. It would always make me feel homesick...and confused...wait hold on isn't this my home? I would wonder aloud.
For the past 14 years I have lived between NZ and Samoa, spending equal amounts of time in both countries. And while I would like to conclude that 7 years is enough time to meet everyone in Samoa, I haven't, which translates into many first-time conversations that follow this same template.
Recently when I started a new role in a sector where I know 1.5 people, I braced myself for the onslaught of these rather pleasant exchanges from my new colleagues. As the first week rolled into the second and I got to meet more people in my organisation something dawned on me: I was beginning to find that question less confronting. In fact as funny as it sounds, I began to look forward to answering it.
So what changed? As they say perception is everything. Somewhere along the way I began to view that question not as something intended to alienate or exclude me from belonging, but as an opportunity to remember and acknowledge that yes I am equally Maori and Cook Island, as I am Samoan. In a sense I was finally building my own turangawaewae, a place to stand in my island surroundings.
Being an other in Samoa has helped me to ask annoying questions. Not to be difficult or mimika or even fiapoto but because there is an insatiable longing to try to understand why we do what we do. While being other allows me to ask these questions, being Samoan makes it safe. Thankfully I have good and knowledgable people in my circles who entertain my endless questions, and patiently and gracefully answer them. What I have learned on this journey is that while there maybe a lot of people who know how to speak Samoan, there are very few who can answer those fundamental questions of why we do what we do. And that often the learning experience is not only for my benefit, but also theirs as they sit in and listen to the conversations and discussions that follow.
Moral of the story therefore is, embrace your other-ness. Use it to be more enlightened and to enlighten others.
E kore au e ngaro, he kakano ahau i ruia mai i Rangiatea /
I will never be lost for I am a seed planted in Rangiatea.
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