Maiden Statement

Ēhara i te mea ko te hāngūtanga o te wahine, he taonga tuku iho nō tāukiuki, nō ō tātou kuia, e kāo! Māku e kī atu, ēhara tēnei kauhau mō te wahine e whai mana ana ēngari kē ia, ko te mana o te wahine he mana wahine, he mana tūturu nō mai rā anō, tai timu, tai pari, e kore e mutu!

Ko Whetūmatarau te maunga, ko Waiapū te awa, ko Te Whānau ā Hinerupe, ko Te Whānau ā Tāpuhi ōku hapū, ko Ngāti Porou te iwi. Ki te taha o tōku pāpā, ko Te Ramaroa me Pangarū ngā maunga. Ko Whirinaki me Hokianga ngā awa. Ko Te Hikutū me Ngāi Tūpoto ngā hapū. Ko Ngāpuhi me Te Rarawa ngā iwi. Ko ahau tēnei, tihei mauri ora!

Mihi atu ki a koutou e pupuri tonu ana ki te mana o te whenua nei, tēnā koutou e Te Ātiawa, Taranaki whānui hoki, kia ora!

[Do not believe for a moment that a woman’s reticence is a necessary legacy that has been passed down from your ancient grandmothers. So now I clarify. This is not about women in power, but the power in women. This is not about feminism but mana wāhine—women’s inherent power. Watch the tide. It is unstoppable.

Whetūmatarau is the mountain, Waiapū is the river, Hinerupu and the family of Tāpuhi are my subtribes, and Ngāti Porou is the tribe. On my father’s side, Te Ramaroa and Pangarū are the mountains, Whirinaki and Hokianga are the rivers, Te Hikutū and Ngāi Tūpato are the subtribes, and Ngāpuhi and Te Rarawa are the tribes. This is who I am; behold the breath of life!

I acknowledge you, Te Ātiawa and also Taranaki broadly, who maintain local stewardship over this land; greetings to you collectively!]

I have been inspired by grassroots leadership all of my life. This is a real leadership that understands that the throbbing heartbeat of a community lies with the collective well-being of our people and our environment. I owe my political analysis and my stand in this House to the visions and support of so many grassroots groups. These are the people who uphold our duty of care to each other and our planet. This includes our Green Party activists and members who have entrusted me to enter Parliament only 2½ years after I became a member of the Greens. I am honoured by your faith. The support that my family and I have received is a taonga that enriches my heart daily. My neighbourhood, my friends, and my wider whānau have looked after us in many a demanding moment—you know that I know who you are. I am clear that you ask for nothing except my ongoing contribution to an uplifted future for all of us. In this debating chamber, I am honoured to be a voice for the Green Party and for my communities.

My nana is Patricia Charlotte Broughton, née Hancy, of Ngāi Tūpoto in Te Rarawa. She was born in Motukaraka in Hokianga in 1926. She grew up there, apart from attending St Joseph’s Māori Girls’ College in Hawke’s Bay. She was a native speaker of Te Reo, a staunch Catholic, a mother to seven tamariki, grandmother to nine mokopuna, and great-grandmother to 23, so far. Nan married my papa, Boyd Alex Broughton of Te Hikutū in Ngāpuhi. I had less time with papa as we lost him when I was 9, but I remember him as a beautiful, gentle and kind, loving man, whom my nana loved deeply.

My nan and papa were part of the Māori migration to urban centres in the 1950s. They left their tūrangawaewae in Motukaraka and brought their young tamariki eventually to live in Ōtara in Auckland. I was 14 years old when my nan passed away, so that was a long time ago, but the fact that I can almost never talk about her publicly without crying is testament to the impact she still has on my life. From the start my nana was warm, overly doting, and exemplified our whakataukī: “He taonga te mokopuna”. My beautiful older cousin Jean is the oldest mokopuna, but we did not find out about her until I was 6 years old, and we have been grateful for her ever since. But I, in effect, was the first person to make my nan an actual nan, and I was born on her and my papa’s 25th silver wedding anniversary. I have been told I was a fantastic anniversary present.

My nan, to me, felt physically and spiritually like a soft, squishy, gentle, and caring nana. From a young age, I got a sense of us, her mokopuna, being the absolute centre of her universe. What I did not know of until later was her stubborn commitment to justice. I must have been about 12 or 13 when my nana took me to her work one day. She ran the lunch cafe at a large firm in Ōtara. Extra help was needed on this particular day, and the boss had asked my nan if she knew of anyone. Nan’s boss agreed that I could come in and help them out for the day. I remember helping my nana prepare kai for the workers, wash dishes, serve customers, and clean the kitchen. It was a good day of mahi. At the end of the day my nana’s boss refused to pay me. He tried to worm his way out of the agreement, saying that I had come in for “work experience”. I will never forget my nan’s face as she glared at her boss in the eye. She sent me away to wait in the hall while she sat opposite her boss, trying to sort it, but even from a distance I could feel her staring the unfairness down. Here was my soft, squishy, gentle-voiced, lovable nana, whom I had never seen face conflict in my life, putting up a relentless fight for her wronged granddaughter—for me.

I cannot actually remember what became of that heated debate, but what I can remember is how nan made me feel. To this day my whole being recalls her fierce determination to right a wrong, her courage to not let the power imbalance dominate her, her commitment to ensure that those most vulnerable had someone sticking up for them, and her gumption to hold her line no matter what. If I could bring a tiny bit of my nana’s mana to my work, then I will know that I have succeeded. My name is Marama Davidson, and I come from a long line of stubbornness.

Indeed, my own parents met on these very steps of Parliament. They were young, urban, displaced Māori in the 1970s. They came to protest the loss of land and language that our people had shouldered. They were just hungry for their whakapapa. I am honoured to be a member of this House today, continuing their fight on the very same steps.

Our world desperately needs us to reconnect with each other and our living systems. The challenges that we are facing today are born from disconnection. Everything is supposed to be connected. We are supposed to be connected to each other as neighbours and as a global community. My well-being is supposed to be connected to yours. We are supposed to be connected to the life systems that nourish us. We are supposed to be connected to the future we are designing for our mokopuna and generations to come. My pride in my whakapapa is supposed to be connected to your pride in yours. When we are disconnected we create grossly unequal societies that are unstable, and we damage our living systems and our climate.

These are the challenges of the 21st century, and they are inextricably connected. Inequality and climate change perpetuate each other. Indeed, to tackle either we have to tackle both. What I have seen happening is successive Governments protecting and penalising the wrong people. They have got it completely backwards. They have pulled out the red carpet for the big corporations that have at their core the pillaging of Earth, the extraction of its natural resources, and the exploitation of its people. They want to share the risks, but not the benefits. Meanwhile, they are penalising the people who protect and strengthen our communities, our economy, and our natural world.

What I am inspired by globally are the indigenous peoples who are fighting against the short-sighted agendas that will destroy their place and their people. We have to understand that affirming indigenous rights and supporting our traditional wisdoms is essential to combating climate change and inequality. Thankfully, tangata whenua and non-indigenous people everywhere are melding our wisdoms and our strategies to demand a new way together, because we can see that the very few protecting the status quo want most of us kept out of their fancy club. Together, we all have a bigger club than theirs.

At the beginning of this year my family were priced out of our rental property, and so we sought another cheaper house in Auckland to rent. I looked at 30-something houses and applied for 20-something of them. For some properties there were more than 30 other applicants. I did not get called back for any of them, and I started to feel every bit of whatever it was that meant that we were not preferred renters. Finally, we got a call-back, and it was for a house that no one else was lining up for. It is the house that we are renting now, and we will love it and are grateful for it. It is a great house. Fast-forward 9 months—I am now an MP looking for accommodation in Wellington, and the reception I have had could not be more different. I have gone from being at the back of the house-hunting line to being right at the front. You know what? You should not have to become an MP to get a house to live in.

I will relish the opportunity to make a difference with my social housing portfolio. I recognise that, even then, when I was searching for a home in Auckland, compared with others I was still dripping with privilege. I know that for too many the search for a home is far more desperate. In my community of Manurewa nearly 30 percent of young people were unemployed at the last census. It was only 18 percent in 2006. In my community, people are living in homes so filled with mould that it is making kids sick. In my community, people are working two or more jobs and are still struggling to pay for the food their children need. Families are literally struggling to survive.

Protecting that failed economy is cowardice. Creating a long-lasting economy and society that works for all of us will take some guts, and the communities who have the guts need this place to back them. They need us to feel the urgency and excitement that they feel about creating change.

E Te Māngai o Te Whare, ka huri au ki tōku Reo Rangatira. Kātahi anō au ka tīmata i taku ohonga Reo. E tika ana ka tuku mihi hōnore ki a koutou e hāpai ana i Te Reo, arā, ngā kaiako, ngā kaiāwhina, ngā tohunga o tēnei mahi kia kōrerotia Te Reo. Ā, mihi mahana ki a koutou o Te Whare Pāremata kua whiu atu tēnei taonga tuku iho ki ngā wāhine matatau. Reka rawa ana te whakarongo atu ki ō koutou tū ki runga i Te Reo, anā, a Nanaia Mahuta, a Hēkia Parata, a Mārama Fox mā. Nei rā taku aroha ki a koutou!

Ēngari, te maha hoki o ngā tāngata pēnei i a māua ko Mētīria, kāre anō mātou kia whiwhi! He Māori tonu mātou! Kai a mātou tonu te aroha mō tēnei Reo ātaahua, ahakoa te whakamā ki te kōrero, ahakoa te mamae! I tenei wā, ka mihi ki te ao pāpāho i tō koutou akiaki i a au ki te kōrero ahakoa ngā hapa, auē te maha! E ai ki te kōrero, mā te hapa ka ako! Ā, me haere tonu mātou kia ako tonu ai. Nō reira, ka tino tautoko au i te mahi whakapiki Reo, he mahi whakapapa, he mahi mokopuna, he mahi Tiriti o Waitangi iti nei!

[Mr Speaker, I turn to my esteemed language, which I have just started speaking. It is appropriate that I honour those of you who support the Māori language, namely the tutors, helpers, and experts in getting the language spoken. A warm tribute to you of Parliament House for tossing this treasure that has been handed down for competent women to use. How sweet it is to listen to you, Nanaia Mahuta, Hēkia Parata, Mārama Fox, and others, in terms of your position in regard to the Māori language. Here indeed is my empathy to you collectively!

But there are many like Mētīria and I who have not yet acquired that eloquence. But we are still Māori! We have the empathy for this beautiful language despite our shyness to speak it and the hurt it creates. At this point I acknowledge the media and how you have encouraged me to speak Māori despite the mistakes, and, alas, there have been many! According to the aphorism, one learns through one’s mistakes. And so, we must continue, so that we can learn. Therefore, I really support activities relating to Māori language. This work upholds genealogy, it upholds our grandchildren, and it upholds the Treaty of Waitangi.]

I am proud to be wearing this korowai, which represents my Ngāi Tūpoto whakapapa, my nana’s people. My uncle said it would be good to get a bit of Ngāi Tūpoto kākahu in the House, because there are too many Ngāti Hine in here, they reckon. Ki ōku whanaunga o Ngāti Hine, Winston Peters, Rino, Peeni, Ria mā, anei taku patipati ki a koutou!

[To you my kinfolk of Ngāti Hine, Winston Peters, Rino, Peeni, Ria, and others, all I seek of you is that you go easy on me!]

My whole family has travelled here for this moment because it belongs to all of us, collectively. I love you all so much. Thank you. Hari huritau ki a koe e taku pirinihi, taku irāmutu, he kōtiro kaitiaki o Te Reo, ko Hana-Āmaia Maringi Paratene, aroha mutunga kore mōu! Kua waru a ia!

[Happy birthday to you, my princess, my niece; a girl guardian of the Māori language is Hana Āmaia Maringi Paratene; my affection for you is endless. She is eight years old.]

My six off-the-charts stunning, incredible children, whose sacrifice is about to get very real: you are my everything. Hīria, Ana, Dakota, Manawa, Horouta, Teina—I love you. To a beautiful man, Paul, who absolutely hates the limelight, does not care too much for politics, and would rather sit in the hidden spaces: I am sorry that you married into absolutely the opposite. Ironically, you still stand with me, and, ironically, it is all that you are and that you do for us that are the only reasons I can be here in this very public, very political space. I love you, and I am sorry.

I cannot wait to get started with this amazing Green caucus. Oh! There you go—we like to keep our water clean and for everybody. I am really humbled by people who made sacrifices to come here—I see you—and people who continually make sacrifices for our causes. You are why I am here. Every time I stand in this House I will remember that, because this place is here to serve the people; the people are not here to serve the Government. As my co-leader Metiria has said, the power in our country belongs to the communities, and part of my job is to get the Government to step aside: to set up systems so they work well and then to get out of the way and let communities take control of what they need and deliver for their people. Nō reira, nei te mihi aroha ki a koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, huri noa ki a tātou katoa, kia ora!

[And so, my fond regards to you collectively; accolades, greetings, and salutations to you and to us all throughout; thank you!]

The House adjourned at 5.37 p.m.