I am brown.
Brown
like the bark of the palm tree that supports my heritage. Brown like
the table of which my family sits and eats upon. Brown like the paper
bag containing burgers and fries by which my people consume. Brown like
the mud on a rugby field by which my people play. Brown like the coat of
the guitar by which my people strum. Brown like the sugar or the crust,
the grain or the nut, whatever ingredient you want to use to mix up and
around, you see my brother, I am Brown.
My
demographic is: high school cleaning ladies, fast food burger-making,
factory box-packing, rubbish truck drivers, bus drivers, taxi drivers,
sober drivers and living off the pension joy riders — I am a dropout. I
hate science, math, English. Love P.E, music dance and drama — I play
rugby. No, I am good at rugby. And if I am lucky my future in rugby
might be sealed, not to reveal my flaws in education which are faulty
because hey, who needs to be able to quote Shakespeare if you can play
rugby?
I
will probably never graduate and if I do then I will be the first.
Either by myself or with a baby in or beside me, victim of teen
pregnancy with a guy in high school I thought was ‘skux’. Which really
sucks. You see ‘cause when push came to shove he couldn’t pay the bucks.
While I was focusing on this relationship I was trying to get through
NCEA one, two and three purely on luck. Now I am stuck in a muck trying
to scrub my skin with ‘lux’, soap. Trying to scrub away the fact that I
have added to the brown statistic. While my mother is a gambler and my
father is an alcoholic.
I
will always blame the government and everybody else around me but never
myself — because I am brown. And whenever someone tries to breach my
comfort zone or whenever I don’t have anything else to say in defense in
an argument, I’m going to say that “you’re a racist”. That your words
are a mockery to my skin tone and my colour. Oh but brown brother you
were doing that the day you performed Sinarella, Brotown, Sione’s Wedding and do I have to mention The G.C.
Now
I don’t mean to condescend, these shows are great, don’t get me wrong.
But can anyone explain? Will there ever be a time when our
representation goes deeper than putting our own people to shame? Will
the stereotype of an illiterate, misbehaved, unintelligent Polynesian
still be the same? Will it ever change? Or are we still going to sell
ourselves short for a few seconds of fame? Are we not capable of an art
form that is thought-provoking or seen as a form of intelligence? Or are
we still going to keep to our low standards of what we feel as
‘culturally relevant’.
Not
teasing or mocking our foreign traditions, but instead being real about
the world that we live in. Like being real about our fight against
gambling, or our fight against violence and our fight against what
‘reasonable force’ is, with our kids. Or how statistically Māori and
Pacific Islanders are low academic achievers — brown brother. Now I’m
not saying that we need to forget our culture in order to gain — for we
are all the same. I’m just sick and tired of my people always thinking
they belong at the bottom of the food chain — brown brother.
Are
we not more than an F.O.B? Immigrants from the islands in search of a
J.O.B? Are we not more than the eye;[I] can see? Can we not move
mountains from point A to point B? Are we not more than assets to the
first fifteen? Are we not more than gamblers at a pokie machine? Are we
not more than fathers at the T.A.B? Are we not capable of attaining a
Bachelor’s, a Master’s or a P.H.D? Brown brother, look at me.
“You
can do all things through Christ, Philippians 4:13. You are more than
capable. And I don’t say that to make you feel better, I say that
because I know. Cause your creator told me to tell you so. You will go
places, you will tell stories, so do not feel afraid or alone for your
God and your family and your home will forever be inside the marrow of
your bones. So do not fret, do not regret. For where you go, you take us
with you. Brown brother, do not be afraid to be the first, the first to
graduate, the first to climb, the first prime minister, or the first
good wife — brown brother, do not be afraid to be the change. Not in
skin tone or colour, but a change in mindset. From one brown brother, to
another.
