Tapu Misa: Cultural identity a bit difficult for kids to figure out

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One afternoon, soon after shifting into our new neighbourhood, my brood went off to play with some of the children in our street. Somehow, the subject of who was and was not a New Zealander came up. Ten-year-old Jessica wanted to know what they were, where they came from.

Auckland, my lot said, a little mystified by the question. We were born at National Women's. We're New Zealanders.

No, you're not, came the firm reply. Where are you really from?

A tense discussion ensued, from which the children emerged a little downcast and in need of reassurance. "Are we New Zealanders? Because Jessica said we weren't."

That got us all thinking and talking about the complexities of cultural identity. It was easy enough to state categorically that they were New Zealanders, and no one could tell them otherwise, but what did that mean?

Could they be Kiwis and also Tongan and Samoan, and if so, which bits were Tongan and which bits Samoan? How were they supposed to see themselves? Did it matter how others saw them?

As my eldest found, the questions defied simple answers. At primary school when asked to state an ethnicity she was told she could tick just one box. She chose Tongan and looked guilty when she told me about it. She joined the Tongan club and learned a couple of Tongan dances.

But though she always got on well with the other Tongan girls, they saw her as not quite one of them because she couldn't speak the language.

At her predominantly white and Asian intermediate, though, she was seen quite definitely as a Pacific Islander. It didn't stop her making close Asian and Pakeha friends but the irony was not lost on her. My daughter's experience is by no means unique.

Why does cultural identity matter? Because it does. We can't on the one hand claim to revel in our multiculturalism and on the other insist on narrowly defining what being Kiwi means. The colour-blind society is not much removed from the colourless society.

I have a friend who describes herself as an Indian New Zealander because, she says, she wants to be known as that kind of Indian and as that kind of New Zealander. It's not cultural separatism, simply an acknowledgment of the cultures that make her who she is.

Those of us who identify with several cultures (often it's more of an emotional rather than strictly biological attachment) understand this implicitly. We like the things that bind us with other Kiwis, but we also draw strength from the things that make us different.

Its a concept that seems beyond the grasp of those who have been used to a more monochromatic view of the world. Like the letter-writer who sneeringly asserted (in response to last week's column on one initiative to raise the educational achievements of Maori children) that Maori would be a lot better off if they abandoned silly notions of Maoriness and just concentrated on being Kiwi.

That study, by the way, made the point that, alongside more effective methods of teaching, Maori kids would benefit from a system that affirmed and respected Maori culture but which didn't limit them to dominant perceptions about Maori, whether good or bad - that they needed to be free to determine their own diverse personalities.

That matters, too, because as Helen Morton Lee observed in her book Tongans Overseas, it's the Tongans who have managed to achieve educational success and competence in Tongan language and culture who are emerging as the new leaders in their communities.

That's the challenge for all new New Zealanders - how to adapt to the new without losing the best of a rich cultural heritage.

It's why many Chinese children take language classes after school, why young Koreans attend Saturday school in their thousands.

It's why friends of mine suffer peak-hour Auckland traffic to drive their children from South Auckland to a Samoan-language preschool in Ponsonby every day.

And why another friend, born in Mangere, was sent to Samoa as a teenager for a stint at Samoa College and some deep cultural immersion. That, combined with a solid Kiwi upbringing, means that today he embodies the best of both cultures and skilfully navigates his way between the two. It means he can visit his family every Sunday driving a BMW.

He's one of the role models my children look to as they work out what being Samoan-Tongan-Pacific Island-New Zealanders means for them. For now they don't seem particularly conflicted. If anything, they have a broader and richer array of possibilities before them.

They like taro as much as potatoes, and Indian, Chinese and Italian as much as Pacific Island fare. Their sporting allegiances switch easily from New Zealand to Tongan and Samoan (depending on who's winning at the time) and back again. This year, in her diverse high school, my daughter was as happy to join the kapa haka group as the Samoan club. She's learning Maori and plans to learn Tongan once the school offers it.

Of course, they're New Zealanders. They just might want to define that a little differently from most.

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