My entire life I’ve been faced with the harsh truth that if I don’t make it into a career, I’ve somehow failed not only myself, but also the Tūpuna before me. That somehow I’ve completely tarnished my whānau if I’m not elbow deep in a rectal exam as a qualified doctor. But honestly, I find that seeking validation in my own journey to be far more worthy of what’s considered an understood success.
When I was 5, I told everyone that I wanted to be a sparky, or a farmer like my dad. I watched as those around me found happiness in forming a trade or understanding the craft of career-driven-growth. My dad, amongst the many things he is, is my hero. As a Māori man from the mighty King Country (up the Benneydale), he’s constantly been fighting for his seat at the table. Now as a middle aged successful farmer in the North, the once perceived unattainable goal of success is in his grasp. My dad is a superhero. Well he’s my superhero. Or some version of that.
When I was 12, I told everyone I wanted to be an All Black. Tana Umaga, or Saimone Taumoepeau were my idols, and I thought that I’d one day be just like them. To be successful, for me, meant that I could represent my mighty country on the world stage with pride as I beamed to my parents, applauding my successes as a sport’s star with the best captain in the world (no one tell Sam Cane that Richie will stay my king). That was what I thought success looked like, being a face of a brand that represented Kiwi people.
My 18th birthday saw a shift, me thinking that I had to become a teacher to influence the lives of young tauira to make a difference. Teaching is well-respected, and it’s not giving up your dream of architecture because teaching art and dvc is just as rewarding. Well that’s what I kept telling myself. Don’t worry, it’s just as successful to be a teacher than a life-changing painter and creating worlds for people to admire. You’re an artist but at changing lives and not dirty paint water.
- What the fuck does success mean to me? It means waking up everyday and doing things that make me happy. It’s corny, and I promise I’ve not lost my shitty cynicism with age, but no longer am I driven by traditional ideologies surrounding success. As I speak to those around me, the kōrero about monetary gain is brought up. I can safely say that I don’t equate money to success. Otherwise I’d be hella unsuccessful right now wouldn’t I? I love what I do, and I get to create alongside some amazing artists and meet incredible writers. Sure, I want to fall in love one day and start my life with someone who shares the same passions as me, but I’m also honestly okay at the minute with where I’m at. I know that one day I’ll want to move on and figure out the path that works for me, but for now I may return to making coffees and saying mōrena to the friendly faces on the other side of the machine.
That’s all from your illegitimate uncle, stay safe out there kids – and just take it easy.