09/10/2026
A Gentle Reminder to Our Whānau: The Beauty of Belonging, Reconnection and Compassion ❤️
Sometimes, we forget that not everyone who belongs to Te Ao Māori / whānau has had the opportunity to grow up surrounded by it.
Some of us have grown up immersed in our tikanga, our reo, our marae, our gatherings and the beautiful customs that help us feel connected to one another. We learn from childhood how to approach our elders, how to greet our people, how to hongi, how to embrace, and how to move comfortably within our whānau spaces.
But for some of us, the journey back to our roots looks a little different.
We may be whānau by blood, connected through whakapapa, yet have grown up away from the everyday experiences that others may take for granted. We may return to our marae with a genuine desire to reconnect, to learn, to understand more about who we are and where we come from, and to feel that beautiful connection with our own people.
And yet, despite that connection, we may still feel shy, awkward, uncertain or a little overwhelmed.
I know this feeling personally.
Although I am connected to my whānau through whakapapa, I haven't had the experience of growing up surrounded by everyone and learning all the customs naturally from childhood. So, when I find myself among my people, there can be moments when I feel a little unsure of myself.
Something as simple as walking around to greet everyone can feel surprisingly daunting. Do I approach everyone? Do I hongi, hug, kiss cheeks? Am I doing this right? Will I look awkward if I hesitate?
These might seem like little things to someone who has grown up with these customs, but when you are learning them later in life, they can feel much bigger than they appear.
Sometimes, when we feel uncertain, we return to our default setting. We become quiet, hesitate, or avoid doing something that makes us feel uncomfortable. Not because we don't want to connect, and not because we don't care, but because we are still finding our confidence in an environment that means something to us.
But something beautiful happens everytime for me.
My whānau helps me.
A gentle reminder from a cousin on what to do, offering that little bit of guidance I needed. Then one of the Tane in the group says, "I'll start you off." He went first, and I followed.
It might have seemed like a small gesture to him, but to me, it meant something.
He didn't make me feel silly for not knowing. He didn't leave me to work it out on my own. He simply offered to lead the way, giving me the confidence to take that next step.
My cousin's gentle reminder and his willingness to go first helped make an unfamiliar but very familiar moment feel manageable.
And I want to acknowledge that, because I am genuinely grateful.
Sometimes, the smallest acts of kindness become the biggest invitations to belong.
We don't need grand gestures to help someone feel welcome. Sometimes, all it takes is a little patience, a gentle prompt, someone showing us the way, or someone quietly saying, "Come on, I'll go first."
For those who have grown up immersed in their culture, these customs may feel as natural as breathing. But for those of us reconnecting later in life, there can be a learning process that comes with vulnerability, uncertainty and the courage to keep showing up.
There may be moments when we feel proud to be reconnecting, alongside moments when we feel like we are catching up on experiences we missed. We may know in our hearts that we belong, while still learning how to feel completely comfortable in that belonging and the knowing.
We can belong to our whānau and still be learning how to feel at home within it.
And this is where compassion becomes so important.
Not everyone arrives at the same place in their journey at the same time. Some have grown up surrounded by their people, while others are finding their way back after years apart, different upbringings or circumstances beyond their control.
Rather than judging someone for being quiet, hesitant or unsure, perhaps we can remember that there may be a story behind their silence.
Perhaps they need someone to approach them first. Perhaps they need a little guidance. Perhaps they need to watch someone else before finding the confidence to follow.
And perhaps, like me, they will remember that kindness long after the moment has passed.
We can honour our tikanga while helping others learn it. We can uphold the beauty of our traditions while making space for people who are still becoming familiar with them. We can share what we know without making someone feel embarrassed about what they don't yet know.
That is manaakitanga in action: caring for others, uplifting them and helping them feel welcome.
To my whānau who offer me that gentle support, thank you. Thank you for the reminder, for going first, for allowing me to follow, and for helping me feel a little more confident among my own people.
Theres something else I have come to understand about myself while obsorbing what im learning, and thats even though I have been to the marae and experienced these moments many times, I can still feel shy or uncertain.
You might think that after doing something repeatedly, it should eventually become easy. But sometimes, even after many attempts, we still need a little patience, encouragement and time.
For me, this isn't about not wanting to participate or not valuing our tikanga. It's about allowing myself the time to become more comfortable with something I haven't had the opportunity to learn naturally from childhood.
I can have a good experience one time and still feel shy the next. I can understand what to do and still hesitate when the moment arrives. And sometimes, I might find myself slipping back into old patterns of avoiding the very thing I am trying to become more confident doing.
I am learning that this doesn't mean I have failed or that I haven't made progress. It simply means that becoming comfortable is a journey, and progress doesn't always happen in a straight line.
This is why those small gestures of support from my whānau mean so much to me. They remind me that I don't have to have everything figured out, and that it's okay to still be learning, even when I have been in these spaces before.
Sometimes, we don't need someone to do it for us. We just need someone to be patient enough to walk beside us while we learn to do it for ourselves.
This is something worth remembering when we encounter others who seem hesitant or unsure. We may not know how many times they have tried, how much courage it has taken for them to show up, or how hard they are working internally to move beyond their discomfort (or other unseen things that others are unaware of)
A little understanding can go a long way. And sometimes, the most supportive thing we can offer someone isn't another reminder that they should know by now, but the reassurance that they are allowed to keep learning at their own pace.
Mauri ora whānau
Written by Not Just Readings
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