Power of a Name
In precolonial times, the dynamic in whānau Māori was different to what many of us are familiar with now. The wider whānau/hapū had a lot to do with the raising of a child, and the naming of a child was a part of this. In many indigenous cultures, naming a child was the role of the grandparents. Sometimes they would give them a name of whānau or tūpuna, a name related to their whakapapa, their tūrangawaewae. Or they might name them something that represented who that child was to become.
My name is Arpége Taratoa. I have a mixed heritage of Māori, British, Scottish, Welsh, Italian and Chinese descent. Still I mostly identify with my Maori and British whakapapa. I suppose you are wondering why the French name? My Great-Grandmother who was still in England, sent the Arpège perfume by Lanvin to my mother when she was younger. She always wanted to name her first daughter after that fragrance. Jeanne Lanvin created the perfume in 1927, dedicating it to her daughter, who was a musician. Arpége is derived from the musical note Arpeggio; the story of a mother’s love for her child.
My tūpuna Hēnare Taratoa is recognised for writing the code of conduct for one of the biggest battles during the New Zealand Land Wars. The Battle at Pukehinahina (Gate Pa) was a disaster for the British military. Despite there being over 1600 British soldiers to 200 Māori, they were forced to retreat with heavy casualties. However, after the Māori deserted the Pā and moved to Te Ranga, a mass slaughtering occurred. Hēnare was found amongst the dead with the scripture in his hands, “if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink” (Romans 12:20).
Knowing elements of the honourable life that my eponymous ancestor led, greatly influenced the way I lived my life. I wanted to ensure that I lived up to the mana he gave to our family name. Yet in my early years, I was very much at odds with my French name; nobody could say it right, and I always felt like it didn't suit me.
See, growing up Māori wasn't easy. As an urban Māori with two parents who’d grown up disconnected from their māoritanga, but with the foresight to enrol us in bilingual education, I found a dichotomy in my life. In some settings I was too Māori, and in others, I wasn’t Māori enough.
My perception of what it meant to be Māori was warped by the constant depiction of Māori as over-represented in the justice system. As alcoholics, ‘druggies’ and abusive. I remember the prejudice of classmates towards the low numbers of us in the extension level classes and I'll never forget the pressure I put on myself to work THAT much harder to prove I wasn't the ‘type of Māori’ represented continuously in the media.
My French first name and Māori last name reflected the polarity I had inside about my identity. I wanted so badly to connect to my Māoritanga, to have a name that reflected that. But on the other hand, I was grateful it wasn't, out of the fear of prejudice or mockery. If I’m honest, I was secretly glad that amongst others, my name meant that I was considered foreign, exotic even.
I have since grown to appreciate how my first and last name relate to who I am as a person; and how they've guided me through life. I recently came across fragrance notes which are incredibly harmonious with the name of my new business Aesthete Studio. Aesthete, is someone with a deep appreciation for art, beauty and nature, and is very reflective of who I am. My name Arpége means ‘the symbol of all women passionate about beauty, love, sophistication and luxury.’ When researching the root of my first name, I realised that although it isn't Māori, it maintains the relevance of a name expressly set to guide it's bearer. I have and always will be a passionate woman! I feel blessed to have a symbolic first name that carries its own narrative, and a surname with such strength and noble tales. But why do many Māori and other indigenous peoples have this kind of relationship with their names?
Burdened with shame, fear, or a lack of confidence in correcting people's pronunciation? I considered all of this in the process of my son's naming. Torn between giving him an easily pronounceable, fashionable western name, or a Māori name that I was incredibly drawn to. I wondered what challenges he may face growing up in modern Aotearoa with a Māori name. Would he feel ashamed? Would he resent it? Would he opt to go by his pakeha middle name to avoid bullying or mockery?
He’s now three and proudly flaunts his Māori name. I only hope that he continues to have that sense of pride as he ages. I love that he was given a strong cultural name that will tell stories of his whakapapa as he grows up.
My adult years provided me with an opportunity to learn about my heritage and deconstruct the societal portrayal of what it is to be Māori, through tertiary education. Not everyone is that lucky. Our country, our society, needs to address the very core of prejudice within our systems. The byproduct of this? A generation who grow up with an ability to connect to their identity without shame, fear or prejudice. A generation who are empowered by their whakapapa and their cultural roots.
What is the power of a name? It’s an intention. Guidance. A connection. An expression. A story. A creation.
I encourage you to look into the meaning of your name and to wear it with pride. If like me, you are blessed with a beautiful name from your cultural background, from your whakapapa I invite you to stand even taller. To hold your head high with the knowledge that you represent something greater than yourself.