Moko Kauae, The Right Of Passage Of Cultural Identity For A Wahine Māori

Candy Black (Aunty) has given Cleo Shortland permission to share her story of receiving her moko kauae, which was a privilege to witness as she ignited her rite of passage of cultural identity for a wahine Māori.  This is an opinion piece based on Aunty’s individual journey and we do not claim this to be the view of our Iwi or Māori. 

I am Māori, I am enough.

“I am Māori, I am enough.”  This is the mantra that Aunty carried with her in the journey to receiving her moko kauae.  She isn’t sure when this journey began, but that in the years since her mother (Nana) passed, she has had what she describes as a calling.  

“I have been slow to respond to this calling.  It’s been there.  Slowly getting louder.” Aunty said.

Aunty’s tā moko journey began when she sought to express her identity through ink on skin.  Her first piece encompassed Ranginui and Papatūānuku surrounding the names of each of her tamariki.  Her forever.  She went on to receive a lot more tā moko over the years.

In 2019, Aunty’s dad died.  She spoke about during this time when she was standing at the waharoa of Mangatu marae and came across a wahine toa, about the same age as her.  This wahine was wearing her moko kauae.
“I wondered, why was she allowed this?”  Aunty said.

Our nana always told us that we required permission before we (wāhine) could receive our moko kauae.  

The journey

Culture is the shared characteristics of a group of people, which encompasses , place of birth, religion, language, cuisine, social behaviours, art, literature, and music. ~ National Geographic.

This rite of passage recognises the formal journey and the understanding of one’s cultural identity.  This journey brings deep insights and learnings through a structured and intuitive practice that can challenge the status quo.  Meaning that the person initiating this journey plays an active role in the evolution of their culture, especially when integrating new practices into the old.

Aunty chose Te Wānanga o Aotearoa for her formal journey.  Learning te reo Māori, tikanga and the history of our people.  Aunty felt that if she was proficient in these areas that she would have the mana to wear her moko kauae and that this would alleviate any fears of what others would say.  

While on this journey, Aunty found the answer to her earlier question “why was she allowed this?”  

“Her whakapapa allowed her.  It is our birth rite.  Something lost after colonisation began.”  Aunty said.

The paintings by the likes of Goldie showed only kuia with moko kauae and this influence gives the impression that only old and wise women could wear such a taonga.  It is of our opinion that our whakapapa Māori is what gives us the mana to where this taonga.

Aunty went to the urupa and received a tohu where her parents gave her their blessing to pursue this rite of passage.  She closed her eyes and there was a reddish orange glow before she asked her parents, “Am I doing the right thing?”  Repeating this sentence over and over again.  Goosebumps followed this and the light went green before she heard the words, Georgie Kokiri, Nana’s maiden name.  She wasn’t hearing things.  The men behind her were discussing who she was and mentioned Nana’s name.  This was Aunty’s tohu to go ahead and the date was set.

The ceremony and marking the rite of passage

The ceremony was divided into two days:
Day One: Whānau and close friends coming together to witness and celebrate as Aunty received her moko kauae.  We will all present while ink married with skin, following with kai, waiata and kōrero.
Day Two: A wāhine circle to share stories on our different backgrounds and experiences to form a connection and introduce the underlying meaning and connection to Aunty’s new and evolving journey.

Aunty’s reflections in her own words

On the day. What a feeling?! So surreal. The only thing I can liken this experience to is childbirth. Waiting with anticipation, not knowing how it will be, what will she look like? Will I love her? Will others love her like I do? Who cares if anyone loves her, she is not for anyone but me. She will pave the way for wāhine in our whānau to embrace their Maori.  She will open the doors and set our wāhine on a path to discovery. 

I felt at peace. 

My husband, tamariki and my mokopuna looking at me, the sounds of everyone chatting and laughing while I lay there. My niece brought a korowai and lay this over my chest and heart, and next to it, a piece from my mum.  A photo of my parents beside me. My big sister on FaceTime beside me. Hands touching my hands. Phones capturing the moments. Trying to stay still. Ink is forever. Then the time came. Karakia. The sound of that tattoo gun. Everything was in place. How it should be. I was the centre of attention. I didn’t mind. Music playing lightly in the background. Chatter. Mokopuna up to mischief. My husband, sons, my daughter, my nieces, my friends, my mokopuna are all there. Holding still was the hardest thing. Keeping my bottom lip tucked in was a challenge. Kind of like panting not pushing during labour. 

When the work was done and she was revealed, I lay there during the karakia and waiata before I sat up. I had my moko kauae and everyone was looking at her. I felt like I was holding my newborn baby. One by one everyone present came and met her, hugged me, congratulated me, told me she was beautiful. I had not seen her finished. I sat for what felt like the longest time before I went inside to look in the mirror. There she was. Like she had always been there. That is the thing I am hearing the most since her reveal. It is like she has always been there. Now I feel completely different to how I was worried I could end up feeling. I am an over thinker and I was a little concerned about what others would say. But since that day I have felt proud. Sometimes I forget she’s there. I’ve had nothing but positive supportive comments. People have been staring and smiling. 

If this story has inspired you to mark and celebrate your own rite of passage of cultural identity, to place a sense of connection and meaning to who you are, where you come from, and where you most feel a sense of belonging, feel free to get in touch with Cleo Shortland by booking a call or email: cleo@wabycleo.com.