The founding mothers: how Māori women are reclaiming their birthright this Waitangi

Saturday, 6 February 2021

Stuff's NZ Made/Nā Nīu Tīreni project: When the Treaty of Waitangi was signed, Māori owned more than 66 million acres of land. By 1975, almost 97 per cent had been sold or taken. (Last published February 1, 2021.)

There were no flying dildos. There were no Pākehā tears. The most significant protest this Waitangi took place 25 kilometres to the west, as four generations of mana wahine held the Crown to account for writing Māori women out of history. National Correspondent Michelle Duff was there.

When Maireikura Ririnui-Baker heard how her female ancestors were once chiefs who had been stopped from signing the Treaty of Waitangi by Pākehā settlers, she gurgled.

When she heard evidence of how many Māori women now lived in poverty on land that was once theirs, and worked low-paid jobs, and had their babies removed by the state, and were discriminated against at school and trapped in violent relationships, she cooed.

The next generation: Maireikura Ririnui-Baker, 9 months, with her lawyer mother Kalei Delamere-Ririnui, who is representing key claimants in a landmark Waitangi Tribunal inquiry.

At nine months old, Ririnui-Baker was the youngest wāhine in the room. But she was far from the quietest. “She loves it,” says her mum, human rights lawyer Kalei Delamere-Ririnui, 26, bouncing her pēpī on her knee during a break in the Waitangi Tribunal’s mana wahine kaupapa inquiry.

“It was important I bring her. This is a historic moment, and she needs to know how powerful Māori women are, and how great they can be.”

13 women are known to have signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi (from more than 500 signatories.) At the Waitangi Tribunal’s Mana Wahine kaupapa inquiry, they were refered to as the founding mothers. Source: Te Ara – Encyclopaedia of New Zealand

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Hinerangi Cooper-Puru, 84, Dame Whina Cooper’s daughter, said the mana of Māori women was incomparable.

Twenty minutes away, officials at nearby Waitangi began erecting flags for the official celebration. Waka were heaved through the glistening waves..

Dame Mira Szaszy was a champion for Māori women everywhere. Photo taken by The Dominion in 1990.

And in Kerikeri, a line-up of powerful Māori women slowed down time to carefully and deliberately paint an indelible picture of the complete and utter devastation caused to Māori women’s lives by the Crown.

Mereana Pitman, who sprinkled broken glass over a Gisborne field to prevent the Springbok tour in 1981, talked of how family violence had never been a part of Māori culture. Lawyer Annette Sykes, who fought for Tuhoe as Tame Iti's representative after the Urewera raids, said it would be great if Māori women’s voices were listened to before she was dead.

Feminists and activists Dr Leonie Pihama and Ani Mikaere told of how settlers disrupted the natural balance that existed between Māori men and women in pre-colonial times, where women had been considered equals.

Tribunal members (from closest) Dr Robyn Anderson, Dr Linda Smith, Judge Sarah Reeves, Dr Ruakere Hond, and Kim Ngarimu, on day two of the hearing.

“We are not saying we don’t have mana,” Pihama told the tribunal on day two, emphatically. “We are saying we have 200 years of evidence of an intentional, deliberate, degrading marginalisation and denial of mana because we are wāhine.

“The amount of Māori women now living in poverty is phenomenal. We are collectively dealing with these things in our daily life. It was not an event that happened with Captain Cook. It’s an ongoing structural issue today.”

Ririnui-Baker, whose green eyes were taking it all in, turned her head for a cuddle with dad.

This famous painting of Hinetitama, done in the 1980s by Kapiti artist Robyn Kahukiwa, depicts the first woman in Māori cosmology. It is pictured here hanging in Te Manawa.

The Waitangi Tribunal’s Mana Wahine kaupapa inquiry has been a long time coming. The claim that the mana (there is no real Pākehā equivalent, but we will go with ‘status’ here) of women has been trampled on and ripped apart by the state over centuries – with impacts rippling through history – was first lodged by the Māori Women’s Welfare League 28 years ago.

Their claim was sparked in 1993, after Dame Mira Szaszy was passed over for an appointment on the Waitangi Fisheries Commission. A highly-qualified and renowned leader, Szaszy was also the only woman. She was replaced by Shane Jones. This led to a groundswell of protest and the writing of the first claim of which would become Wai 2700.

Evans, Szaszy and other politically active Māori women including Dame Areta Koopu realised litigation was the only way to force change. “Our Māori men were colluding with the white men of the Crown, they were hiding behind the protection of it. There was a boy’s club,” Evans says.

Their claim asserts the Crown has breached the Treaty by deliberately and systemically oppressing Māori women, who have borne the brunt of colonisation’s impacts including racism and sexism throughout all facets of everyday life.

Claimants spoken to by Stuff said reparations could and should include legislative change championing Māori women, preventing discrimination and embedding the Treaty of Waitangi principle of tino rangitiratanga (sovereignty, or self-governance) across health, education, welfare, justice, the workplace and state agencies, overseen and held accountable by an independent Mana Wahine Commission.

There are now 200 claimants, including individual whanau, hapu and iwi alongside groups from the Public Services Association, Māori midwives and nurses, survivors of family violence, women in the shearing industry and the Wāhine Toa chapter of the Mongrel Mob.

The investigation began on Wednesday with the first tuapapa (foundational) hearing, designed to define mana wahine and establish the Crown’s impact. Later in the year, at Ngaruawahia, Auckland and Wellington, more detailed evidence will be heard.

ONCE WERE GODDESSES

Opening the inquiry, original claimant Ripeka Evans said women had played a key role in Māori society, and their power, status and authority had been eroded by the Crown. The denial of their mana, which began with the refusal of Pākehā to let Māori women sign the Treaty, had destroyed their way of life and caused Māori women to sink to the bottom of social statistics.

Tania Rangiheuea is a descendent of Te Rangitopeora, one of 13 women known to have signed the treaty.

Māori cosmology supports the pre-colonial status of women. Gods were not only men. The first person, Hine-titama, was a woman. She had life breathed into her by Tane, bore him children, then descended beneath the earth in a rage to become Hine-nui-te-po. As the powerful goddess of the underworld, she crushed Maui to death when he dared to slither between her legs seeking eternal life. Mahuika had the power to create fire. Papatuanuku is the earth mother.

“We are here today to recognise those goddesses set a blueprint. It’s non-negotiable Māori women should have power, it’s non-negotiable Māori women should have control, it’s non-negotiable that Māori women should have authority,” Evans said.

“That authority must be based on our own tikanga, our own values. If we can get this one thing right for the future, Aotearoa would be a better place for our daughters, for our granddaughters, and for our people.”

She’d waited almost 30 years for the claim to see the light of day. In that time, Māori women had continued to be imprisoned, to be failed by the education system, to have their babies taken by the state, to struggle to feed their families, to have poor health outcomes, and to be beaten up in their homes in disproportionate numbers.

Tania Rangiheuea speaks to Stuff National Correspondent Michelle Duff outside Te Tii marae in Waitangi.

As an indication of how seriously the Government took this, most of the funding for the inquiry itself was for the Crown's defence, not for claimants, she said.

“If there’s been a lesson in the last 28 years, it’s that the Crown ain’t got woken up about mana wahine. The Crown hasn’t learned, it hasn’t learned from the lessons of history.

“Silence has been golden.”

THE FOUNDING MOTHERS

When Te Tiriti o Waitangi was signed in 1840, there is evidence at least 13 women were among the more than 500 signatories.

Rere-ō-Maki. Kahe Te Rau-o-te-Rangi. Ngāraurekau. Te Kehu. Rangi Topeora. Pari. Hoana Riutoto. Te Wairākau. Takurua. Te Marama. Ana Hamu. Marama. Ereonora.

Hinerangi Cooper-Puru: “My mana as a Māori woman, it's not only for the three year period.

These are Aotearoa’s founding mothers. Three of them – Takurua, Te Marama, and Ana Hamu – signed at Waitangi on February 6, long with 40 male rangatira.

These women were chiefs in their own right. There were likely more women who signed other than those confirmed, as Māori names were gender-neutral. But there is also evidence of women who tried to sign but were stopped by Pākehā male settlers, who did not recognise their authority. Instead, husbands or brothers were encouraged to sign for them. Some male chiefs refused to sign altogether, seeing this as an affront.

Educator and researcher Tania Rangiheuea is a descendant of Te Rangitopeora, one of the women who signed the Treaty at Kāpiti on April 19, 1840. Kids run across the paepae as Rangiheuea takes refuge in the shade at Waitangi’s Te Tii Marae.

“These are our founding mothers,” she says. “The prevailing idea at that time by British officials was that only men could sign, because they’d only ever dealt with men. Pākehā women were not in the public sphere, as Māori women were.

“But it was normal for Te Rangitopeora to exert her leadership role within the tribe and sign. She would have been well-known, respected, and followed. This needs to be recognised, that the role of Māori women in Māori society was different.

“When I come here, it is tinged with a lot of sadness. Not just for the struggles Māori have had since the Treaty, but I always think – are we doing enough?”

For Pākehā settlers, the idea that women could own land, make decisions, and have their own seat at the table was beyond comprehension. In European culture, women were oppressed and their place was considered to be at home with the children, or in the kitchen.

Te Rangitopeora – who was known as the Queen of the South and later insisted on being baptised as “Te Kuini” – was a chief, a strategist, a master negotiator, a composer of waiata, and a tribal leader with control over Ngāti Toa and Ngāti Raukawa property, people and land. While not all Māori women would have had this level of influence, some did, Rangiheuea says.

But Te Rangitopeara's hopes for a newly-forged, mutually-prosperous nation were quickly crushed. “She was 40-something when the Treaty was signed,” Rangiheuea says. “They knew there were settlers coming, and they knew there would be many more, but at that time Māori outnumbered settlers 40-1. Within a decade, it had equalised.”

She takes a breath. The sun beats down. She repeats the line, almost to herself. “Within a decade.”

MANA IS FOREVER

Her mum led the 1975 land march, and at almost the same age Hinerangi Cooper-Puru, 84, had this room in the palm of her hand.

Of course Māori women were leaders, she said. “My mum would say the woman is the Prime Minister of her household. She is the Minister of Health, the Minister of Finance, the Minister of Education and the Minister of Children. Women fulfil those roles on a daily basis, it’s not just please yourself.”

“Each one of us sitting here, us women, I say we are the Prime Ministers. In fact, I can not compare Jacinda Ardern to Māori women,” she went on.

“My mana as a Māori woman, it’s not only for the three-year period. The Prime Minister has only three years… But me as a woman, mō āke, āke tonu. A mother’s work only ends with her last breath.”

Traditionally, Māori men and women had different roles, but they were considered equally important and complimentary, like yin and yang. Over time, patriarchal traditions such as the men doing all the speaking on certain marae had taken hold. “Women fulfil many roles in life – we are more than just a karanga and poi bearers for entertainment and it is time to pay heed to the dignity of women,” Cooper-Puru said.

“We pay respects to the dignity of our men – but it has not been balanced. It is time to uplift our young Māori women.”

Not only did Māori women's voices continue to be silenced on many marae, but the work they had done to shape New Zealand had been erased from history, she said.

For example, Meri Te Tai Mangakāhia was a driving force behind women being the first to get the vote, yet Pākehā leader Kate Sheppard is publicly acknowledged.

“It’s time now that we recognise our Maori women who actually did the spade work for us,” Cooper-Puru said.

At this point, tribunal member Dr Robyn Anderson had a question. Should there be differences in roles for Pākehā and Māori women?

“I can’t speak for Pakeha women,” Cooper-Puru said, to riotous applause.

“Pākehā women have really been dominating us Māori women, they need to step aside. When I see Pakeha speaking on our behalf I get hōhā [fed up].

“So, I don’t know,” Cooper-Puru continued. She glanced at the audience, tipping her hat back to Anderson with a cheeky smile. “You’ll have to ask another Pākeha lady.”

Later that day, the news cycle is aflurry. In his te reo Māori speech on Waitangi’s upper marae, National deputy leader Shane Reti has challenged the decision to not let party leader Judith Collins speak. Ngāti Hine iwi leader Waihoroi Shortland responds, saying it would change next year. In interviews, Collins implies the decision was sexist, and she was taking a stand for womenkind. Headline after headline ensues.

'It's actually all about all women, wahine toa, who wish to be able to be able to have their say,' Collins tells media.

'And that's really important – we've spent so much time talking about racism, let's just think about sometimes, every girl gets a chance too.”

On her phone on the way back from Waitangi, Dr Leonie Pihama’s voice is one long eyeroll. There is an obsession, which has not changed since 1840, with trying to view Māori culture from a Pākehā viewpoint, she says. Twisting it into shapes it is not.

Colonisers bought violence, disease, war, and destruction, she says. Māori women were not allowed to own land, the communal way of life was destroyed, urbanisation began, girls were sent off to school to learn how to be “good wives” to Pākehā men. Advances that have been made, such as in language revitalisation like kohanga reo and kura kaupapa, had been made despite the Crown – which included Pākehā women – not because of it.

So, forgive Pihama if she doesn't fall over backwards to thank Collins. As if she was doing Māori women a favour. As if they did not already have power within their own whānau, hapu and iwi, and were challenging tikanga themselves when necessary.

“The marae is a Māori space. I can’t walk into Parliament and say I have a right to speak. She needs to understand she’s in someone else’s house. She needs to check herself,” Pihama says.

“It’s not helping us, it’s not helping this country, and it’s not helping us think about what Waitangi means.”

Soon, politicians will clear out of the Bay of Island’s motels. The press will pack up for another year.

But the waves will continue to crash. The morning mist will still come to rest on the hills. And for Māori women, as it has been forever, the work continues. Mo āke, āke tonu.