Tapu Misa: Race problems unlikely to be solved in the bedroom

Resolving our race relations in the nation's bedrooms, as Professor Ranginui Walker once said, has always seemed a particularly appealing idea.

Even if those of us who have crossed the cultural divide to find our life partners were driven less by the national interest than chemistry, it has always seemed a heartening feature of this country that we have approached mixed marriages with an enthusiasm seldom seen in other parts of the world.

Here in the Pacific, with its long history of pairings between dusky maidens and pale-faced men, everyone knows someone who is either in a mixed marriage, or the product of one. In my own family, there are now more cross-cultural couplings among siblings and cousins than not. Our children are a study in diversity, and come in varying shades of brown, from very pale to very dark.

Which is, you would think, a cause for optimism. Yet it's clear that mixed marriages aren't always the romantic moonlight walk in the park that we'd like them to be. In fact, as Auckland journalist Carol Archie's new book Skin to Skin points out, they can often be painful, not only for the couples but for the children produced by those unions.

It is one of the ironies of Archie's book, which concentrates on Maori (70,000 of whom are in relationships with non-Maori), that most of those she features aren't advocates of cross-cultural marriages.

And that includes the often-conflicted children who have grown up dealing with their parents' struggles, not only against the racism of strangers - who made it harder for them to get decent accommodation, jobs, shop service or even cash a cheque - but from some family members, who never got over their crossing to the dark side.

Singer-songwriter Moana Maniapoto's Pakeha aunt cut her father out of every photo her mother had sent her. Ranginui Walker's wife, Deidre, had her name cut out of the family Bible by an uncle.

And these weren't even the most hurtful examples of the family histories collected by Archie, who says some stories, such as the Pakeha mother who referred to her daughter's children as "black bastards", were too painful to publish.

Archie's book (on sale from June 7) also shows how complex and charged the issue of identity is for the children of these marriages.

The story of David Gendall, a Pakeha whose mother put him in total immersion Maori schooling until he was 12, illustrates just how confusing issues of identity are. David, or Rawiri as he is called in Maori settings, found the experience of being the only white kid in a Maori system in some ways a traumatic one. At 21, he is fluent in Maori, is comfortable on a marae and feels attuned to Maori values and customs.

Yet he is confused, feeling neither Pakeha nor Maori. When his Pakeha friends call him "Raw" instead of Rawiri he finds it offensive. "I suppose if I was brown I could call it racism. But how can you call it that when it's two white people talking to each other?"

The fact that the offspring of mixed marriages feel pressured to choose a side reflects societal pressures rather than their home experience. Archie says that while we're not as polarised as some people like to make out, there are clear differences between Pakeha and Maori who have been steeped in Maori culture.

"If you marry a Maori," laughs Archie, "you marry all the cuzzies, too. For a lot of Pakeha, that's quite a big thing. The rellies might need money, they help themselves to property and they camp in your house."

There are big differences, too, in attitudes to food, hospitality and money - many Maori think Pakeha are mean - and even death and funerals.

But the differences aren't restricted to just Maori-Pakeha. In one marriage, the Fijian wife was critical of her husband for not being Maori enough in his attitude to extended family. The Thai-Chinese wife of another was so disturbed by the fact that her father-in-law had bought a car without asking for even $1 off the ticket price, that she couldn't sleep for a couple of nights.

So will we solve our problems in the bedroom? Probably not. Marrying a Maori doesn't necessarily guarantee understanding and harmony. Says Moana Maniapoto: "I see Maori women with quite right-wing Pakeha husbands and I don't know how they work it out."

Miria O'Regan married a Pakeha who has never been on a marae and who dislikes it when their children identify themselves as Maori. "He doesn't understand that being Maori is about whakapapa, what you relate to and how you feel. But even being with me 17 years he doesn't have an understanding of how his comments affect us."

Not only were the mixed couples reluctant to recommend cross-cultural marriages to others, but their children said they preferred to marry other Maori.

Archie says that's not surprising. The degree of compromise required in a cross-cultural marriage, particularly on the part of the Maori partner, puts them off. They don't want to sublimate their Maori side.

If there is a lesson here it's that while these marriages are tough, they're worth the effort.

The ingredients of a good marriage - mutual respect, a willingness to compromise, good communication and constant hard work - seem just as relevant to harmonious race relations.

Says Archie: "I think that a marriage is like any relationship and when the differences are greater, you have to work harder. You can apply that to New Zealand. We still have the chance to have good relationships and live harmoniously but we could easily blow it."