Theater, Drama, Education, and Pasifika Youth in Aotearoa New Zealand (2024)

Kei aku nui, kei aku rahi, kua hui mai nei ki raro i te mana o te whare e tū nei, tēnā koutou katoa.

This article begins in Te Reo Māori, the indigenous language of Aotearoa New Zealand, offering thanks and greetings to the readers and acknowledging the digital space that houses this work. Although the article is titled “Theater, Drama, Education, and Pasifika Youth in Aotearoa New Zealand,” part of the work of this entry is to understand the contested nature of some, if not all, of these terms and to balance Western colonial worldviews with those of the Oceanian-indigenous people at the center of this subject matter. Aotearoa New Zealand is a bicultural nation, whose indigenous people (Māori) comprise 15% of the population of just over 5 million. This necessarily means that we are a country used to the connections and the tensions represented in the double-naming. For the purposes of this research, the term Aotearoa is henceforth used.

Aotearoa, located in the southwestern Pacific Ocean, occupies the southernmost point of Oceania. Aotearoa-educated Samoan scholar Maualaivao Albert Wendt describes Oceania as

so vast, so fabulously varied a scatter of islands, nations, cultures, mythologies and myths, so dazzling a creature, Oceania deserves more than an attempt at mundane fact; only the imagination in free flight can hope—if not to contain her—to grasp some of her shape, plumage, and pain.

(Wendt, 1982, p. 71)

Tongan scholar, Epeli Hau’ofa names Oceania “our sea of islands” in a rejection of the confining definitions of Polynesia, Melanesia, and Micronesia as small islands in the South Seas. Instead, Hau’ofa (1994) offers a redefined universe, composed

not only [of] land surfaces, but the surrounding ocean as far as they could traverse and exploit it, the underworld with its fire-controlling and earth-shaking denizens, and the heavens above with their hierarchies of powerful gods and named stars and constellations that people could count on to guide their ways across the seas. Their world was anything but tiny. They thought big and recounted their deeds in epic proportions. (p. 152)

Hau’ofa’s seminal article “Our Sea of Islands” has become the cornerstone text of the interdisciplinary field of Pacific Studies, and the understanding of Oceania therein has been adopted and adapted by Pasifika and non-Pasifika scholars alike, across disciplines.

Māori, as tangata whenua (people of the land) and the first people of Aotearoa, are variously included and excluded from definitions of Pasifika and Polynesia, and this is one of the tensions embroiled in the colonial history of this country, often creating a divide between Māori and Pasifika people. Despite this fact, Aotearoa is often seen as hom*ogenous and multicultural because this vision of the country obscures its awkward history and privileges “the power holders without appearing to claim any privilege” (, p. 85). These powers and privileges have shaped Aotearoa and fundamentally determine how theater, drama, and education are experienced by Pasifika youth. Thus, this article, written from this hub for the people of Oceania—both tangata whenua and tagata o le moana (people of the sea)—acknowledges and honors the kinship of all peoples of the mighty Pacific Ocean.

Often at odds with Western scholarship, indigenous ways of being determine that subject matter is inseparable from the author and that “the matter of which stories are told, who tells them, and how, has been an urgent and perennial concern in the decolonizing Pacific” (Looser, 2014, p. 13). Accordingly, it is important to establish that this article is written from the “inside out,” which “presumes neither the will to make rigid claims of ‘ethnic absolutism’ nor the blood-based arrogance of ‘cultural insiderism’” (Wilson, 1999, p. 2). The author is an Aotearoa-born Pasifika theater-maker and educator, working in the contested spaces of theater, drama, and education, where theory meets practice, in the heart of South Auckland.

“Pasifika”

The definition of Pasifika as promoted by the Ministry of Education in the Pasifika Education Plan 2009–2012 is used here. Pasifika is there defined as

a collective term used to refer to people of Pacific heritage or ancestry who have migrated or been born in Aotearoa New Zealand. Pasifika include recent migrants or first, second and subsequent generations of New Zealand born Pasifika men, women and children of single or mixed heritage.

(Ministry of Education [MoE], 2011, p. 3)

It is important to acknowledge that the term Pasifika occupies a disputed space. It is not a term found the language of any individual Pacific Island, and the term is often used by government bodies for convenient hom*ogenization. In 2018, the government changed its term of reference to “Pacific People,” perhaps to address these complaints; however, in current times, the term has been reclaimed by Pasifika scholars and education practitioners alike, both to acknowledge the kinship of Oceania and to harness the leverage afforded by membership in a larger collective. Additionally, as Samoan scholar Suaalii-Sauni comments, there is a “way in which the term brings alive to the senses the indigenous Polynesian languages of most of the people that make up the Pasifika group” (Suaalii-Sauni, 2017, pp. 162–163). It is arguable that this term has come to represent the unique experience of Aotearoa-born Pasifika peoples, and this is the key reason for its inclusion here.

“Youth”

The government of Aotearoa defines “youth” as young people between the ages of 12 and 24 (Ministry of Youth Development, 2010, p. 6); however, it is important to recognize that “‘adolescence’ is a Western category that is constructed from a specific period of physical and social maturation” (Lee, 2019, p. 2). For Pasifika peoples, “youth” is a category that is sometimes synonymous with “unmarried” and therefore may apply to people into their early 30s. At the other end of the spectrum, those under 16 or 18 years of age may still be considered children. The phenomenon of the wide age range of Pasifika youth may be witnessed at church events, where any single “youth group” might include parishioners from 12 to 30 years old. This research accepts that Pasifika youth may or may not fit into the government definition, and that, particularly in theater, this is largely self-determined.

Aotearoa prides itself on a world-class education system (); however, formal achievement in standardized testing consistently places Pasifika people near the bottom of the education ladder, and Aotearoa continues to report a “long brown tail” of underachievement.

In May 2018, the Labor–New Zealand First coalition government hosted two national education summits to begin “Kōrero Mātauranga: the Education Conversation,” with the purpose of developing a 30-year strategic approach to education in New Zealand. In his opening speech, the minister of education acknowledged the “persistent inequities within our system for Māori and Pasifika.” He described an education system that “does not cater well either to those with educational disadvantages [emphasis added] or for the gifted and talented” and referred to the need for “the development of a strategy to raise achievement for Pasifika learners” (Hipkins, 2018a, “Education Today”). This identification of Pasifika as “educationally disadvantaged” surfaces the core problematic of the mismatch between the education system and Pasifika cultural capital, which, in turn, results in the otherization of Pasifika youth in schooling and beyond. Exacerbating this otherization is the systemic failure of all societal structures to recognize noncolonial understandings of success and the consequent perceived “failure” of many Pasifika youth in education (, p. 5; , p. 41; Rimoni, 2017, p. 112; Rodriguez et al., 2015, p. 113). As aforementioned, this widespread systemic failure and dearth of culturally inclusive societal practices is not limited to education. At most data collection points, Pasifika people are playing a game of doubles and halves, where they are twice as likely to be represented in the negative statistic (ill health, unemployment, incarceration) and half as likely to be represented in the positive one (educational achievement, homeownership, income).

Dangerously, these inequalities are reflected in mental health when “only one quarter (25%) of Pacific peoples with a serious mental disorder access mental health services compared to more than half (58%) of the total New Zealand population” (Foliaki et al., 2006, p. 179), which means that “this pattern of ‘greater need’ compounded by the trend of being less likely to have this need met, is a disempowering combination that has become increasingly familiar in studies of the mental health of Pacific peoples in New Zealand” (, p. 10). In addition, mental health disorders among Pasifika peoples, particularly youth, are reported as high in comparison with the rest of the population, and there are rising concerns regarding Pasifika youth and suicidal behavior (Foliaki et al., 2006; ; Tiatia, 2007; Tiatia-Seath et al., 2017). Sharp et al., writing on the “significance of culture, identity and language to wellbeing and educational success, including cultural pride and cultural belonging,” indicate the importance of identity and of “knowing your personal and collective identity, your history and geneology and understanding your place in Aotearoa, are considered attributes of what it is to be successful as well as being core enablers of success as a Pacific person” (Sharp et al., 2021, p. 61). There are significant correlations between success in education and in health and well-being. This is explored by example in later sections of this article.

There is ongoing concern that mainstream schools in Aotearoa remain “largely ‘Western’ cultural institutions, reflecting its British colonial history and traditions in curriculum, teacher education, classroom organisation and staffing patterns” and that in addition, “policies and practices were developed and continue to be developed within a framework of neo/colonialism and as a result continue to serve the interests of a mono-cultural elite” (Bishop et al., 2009, p. 735, as cited in Graham et al., 2010, p. 133). If the purpose of education and schooling is to reproduce society as it is and to continue to reflect the status quo, then Aotearoa does, indeed, have a world-class education system. However, there is work to be done if the true purpose of education is to be

As more and more of Aotearoa’s youthful Pasifika population flood its schools, it becomes more and more urgent that the school system changes and adapts to suit their unique needs. Unless this revolution in school happens soon, another generation of Pasifika people will join their migrant ancestors in the low-skilled jobs for which current societal structures ensure they are predetermined.

Government Initiatives

Under Labor, the new Education and Training Act (2020) came into effect, including initiatives such as resuming work toward an Equity Index and continuing other workstreams that came from the 2018 Kōrero Mātauranga: Education Conversation. Significantly, the Action Plan for Pacific Education 2020–2030, a nationwide strategy, was co-designed with Pacific communities in 2018–2019. The Action Plan for Pacific Education (APPE) outlines a 10-year strategy, replacing the Pasfiika Education Plan 2013–2017, that includes key shifts and actions that incorporate partnering reciprocally with Pacific families and communities, addressing systemic racism, and developing a culturally competent teaching workforce. Drawing “on the resilience and creativity of our Pacific communities whose contribution to education and community life in Aotearoa New Zealand, along with their innovation and commitment to collective values and aspirations, are very real strengths” (Salesa, as cited in MoE, 2020, p. 4), the APPE is designed to shift teacher practice and inform school curriculum design; however, there is no push from the government away from the school structures themselves that are fundamentally colonial in design and purpose and fail to reflect Pasifika, or even Māori, ways of being in and with the world.

Another initiative implemented to address the “long brown tail” of underachievement for Pasifika youth is the MoE document Tapasā: Cultural Competencies Framework for Teachers of Pacific Learners (MoE, 2018a), which details competencies for teachers mandated by Matatū Aotearoa|Teaching Council. Tapasā acknowledges the importance of education to Pasifika families and communities and provides a framework embedded in Pasifika values, which schools and teachers must localize and adapt. The “tapasā” is represented as a compass; however, this English translation falls short of realizing the Samoan meaning of tapasā, which “extends beyond the finite and physical limitations of a compass where the tapasā serves as a guide or pathway in the malaga or journey” (MoE, 2018a, p. 5). At the center of the tapasā are Pasifika learners, families, communities, and Pacific values, identified as essential to Pacific Peoples: “respect, service, leadership, family, reciprocal relationships, inclusion, belonging, spirituality, and love” (, pp. 551–552). The cultural competencies in the document are framed as “Ngā turu.” The “turu” is taken from the Cook Islands language, translated as “support, help or brace” (MoE, 2018b). These turu give prominence to “identities, languages and cultures,” “collaborative and respectful relationships and professional behaviours,” and “effective pedagogies for Pasifika learners” (MoE, 2018a, p. 8–9). The tapasā includes “strategies to enhance teachers’ culturally competence in relation to working with Pasifika learners, families, cultures, resources, and languages” (, p. 552), and teachers in Aotearoa are required to hold up the three turu as they advance through their careers, demonstrating their mastery of the turu as they progress from student teacher to beginning teacher to experienced teacher and finally to education leaders. Both the APPE and Tapasā are part of the government’s strengths-based approach to addressing the needs of Pacific learners (Sharp et al., 2021, p. 60), which is a significant shift from prior strategies that were based on perceived deficits in Pacific peoples.

In late 2019, the MoE made the in-principle decision to move to an “Equity Index” to determine funding for schools. This will replace the decades-old (1989) “Tomorrows Schools” decile rating, which identifies low-income households in mesh blocks and uses this measurement to determine the level of bulk-funding individual schools receive. This already blunt tool has led to highly dangerous perceptions of schools whereby those schools serving poor communities have been deemed “bad schools” while those serving affluent neighbors are “good schools.” These perceptions have long influenced gentrification, urbanization, real estate, and real estate prices being pushed out of the affordability range of Pasifika people, which has, in turn, contributed to the housing crisis described earlier. The Equity Index (2021) is designed to more accurately allocate resources per capita. However, while the index can provide “valuable insights into the impact of disadvantage in early childhood education and schooling,” reasons for that disadvantage remain largely unaddressed. There is a danger that correlations that will be found between “poor,” “brown” and “underachieving” will become self-fulfilling prophecies, failing to consider the widespread systemic failure (and cycles) that have led to their existence in the first place.

The National Certificate of Educational Achievement for Pasifika Learners

The National Certificate of Educational Achievement (NCEA) is the national qualification for senior secondary school students in Aotearoa. Introduced in 2002, and just as the Proficiency and School Certificate before it, the NCEA was created in response to changing educational, economic, and social requirements (Adams et al., 2005). Within this standards-based assessment system, students no longer receive grades that allocate a percentage to their achievement in subjects. Instead, this assessment approach intends to break down required knowledge into smaller, more readily digested components that would give those who were traditionally disadvantaged, (such as Pasifika youth), a better chance to succeed academically (Adams et al., 2005; ). The NCEA was an assessment system designed with strong potential to allow Pasifika students to succeed.

In theory, NCEA has the potential to support achievement by all students in a manner culturally responsive to core values held by Pacific people and indigenous Māori. A standards-based assessment system such as NCEA can be a springboard for collective accomplishment and pride that neither overshadows individual accomplishments nor requires individuals to fail.

(Graham et al., 2010, p. 152)

However, disproportionate levels of underachievement for Pasifika students in New Zealand persist. In the area of NCEA subject choice and university entrance levels, Madjar et al. (2009) report:

Continuing disparities in educational outcomes . . . particularly in relation to the UE qualification and enrolment in degree-level studies, indicate that the NCEA system is not fully achieving the desired improvements for all students. There is evidence that Māori and Pacific students (clustered in lower decile schools) tend to be enrolled in “alternative” versions of core subjects such as mathematics, and in other “applied” subjects made up mainly of unit rather than achievement standards. There is also evidence from current Starpath research that Māori and Pacific students tend to take fewer subjects and complete fewer credits from the approved list of subjects (necessary for achievement of the UE qualification) than other students. (p.11)

The NCEA has effectively abolished any national sense of curriculum (). The power of determining what students will learn and when now falls to the school and often the individual classroom teacher. Students have more power in deciding which standards they will attempt and which they can afford to omit from their course of learning. As Munro (2018) posits, “key criticisms include the fragmentation of student learning programmes as the student hunt for credits dominates courses rather than a coherent and planned programme that develops student learning skills for the present and future” (p. 16). Subjects do not have to be taught holistically and teachers and students are able to co-construct individual courses of instruction depending on the interests and abilities of the student or class. Initially, this seems empowering, but many new problems have arisen because of this system: Who will determine and ensure national “norms” for standards and subjects? Does every teacher in every school have the professional capacity to make judgments that are at the national standard? How will quality assurance occur across classes and schools around the country? Fitzpatrick and Locke (2008, p.88) describe this issue of quality assurance as problematic, “the reality is that there is simply no consistency between schools in terms of the kinds of tests students are sitting for individual standards, the conditions under which the testing occurs and the severity or leniency of the marking.” This is an ongoing concern that needs consideration when educators choose the content of what should be taught in the assessment of these standards to ensure cultural appropriateness and equity.

There have been many changes to the NCEA since its inception including the addition of “achieved with Merit” and “achieved with Excellence” endorsem*nt across the three certificate levels and separately for individual subjects (New Zealand Qualifications Authority, n.d.). Additionally, an NCEA Change Package has emerged from the 2018 Kōrero Mātauranga: Education Conversation, with seven substantive changes to the qualifications, including the creation of fewer, larger standards in each subject; simplifying the overall structure of the NCEA; and fostering clearer pathways to future education or work. As argued earlier, however, these are changes and adjustments within the existing frames and will not, in and of themselves, render the schooling in Aotearoa fit for purpose for Pasifika youth.

The Māngere Arts Centre—Ngā Tohu o Uenuku, also known as “the MAC,” is the home of Polynesian Arts in South Auckland. The building is a multipurpose community arts center and houses the only publicly available, purpose-built theater in South Auckland. The Auckland Council website states that “the center is the home of Māori and Pacific visual and performing arts in Auckland” and that is “showcases the diversity and quality of arts, crafts and cultural activities that underpin the unique character of Māngere and Ōtāhuhu.” (Auckland Council, 2022, para. 1 & 3).

The MAC was specifically designed to meet the needs of the culturally diverse and vibrant Māngere community. The purpose-built complex nurtures and presents the diversity of arts, crafts and cultural activities that underpin the unique character of Māngere’s 60,000 people. MAC is an Auckland Council venue that opened on September 3, 2010, driven by the need for an arts hub in South Auckland. Prior to its construction, the venues commonly used by performing arts were Otara Music and Arts Centre, Metro theatre (Māngere), and Spotlight Theatre (Papatoetoe). Visual artists were limited to Fresh Gallery (Otara) and the Papakura Art Gallery. Given its commitment to Māori and Pasifika Arts and Artists, and the demographics of its immediate location, it might be possible to make the claim that the MAC is the hub of Polynesian Arts in Auckland, and therefore—given the demographics of Auckland—Aotearoa.

The MAC is committed to its community. Several years ago, the not-for-profit organization Affirming Works moved into the building and run one of their two community cafes complimentary to the theater and art gallery. The MAC is very much part of the community of South Auckland, and particularly Māngere Town Centre. It stands apart from the Auckland Theatre scene as a whole not only because of its isolated location but also because of the community and kaupapa which underpin and inform its running. The theater director, Alison Quigan, is an experienced actor, director, dramaturg, producer, and theater manager. She and her staff are devoted to the communities of Māngere, South Auckland, and Pasifika theater.

Since 2013, Quigan has partnered with Samoan actor, choreographer, and director, Troy Tuua to create the Māngere Arts Centre annual “kids show.” As of 2019, the pair have an impressive body of work behind them, including multiple national accolades and awards. Their playbills include the following:

The six shows to date have drawn 3,772 participants to the work, up to 90% of these falling in the category of Pasifika youth. More than this, the productions have been witnessed by more than 18,000 audience members from the South Auckland community and beyond.

Apart from the 2014 show, each of the play scripts was written by Quigan, Tuua, and a small writing team for the specific cast and crew of each year. The theater projects relied heavily on a mentoring relationship, whereby leaders were grown from within the project and nurtured to take up new and more challenging roles across the years.

The production team work to build a village. Tuua particularly speaks about the importance of creating a self-sustaining ecosystem through this work and the joy of seeing the very youngest among the cast rise to the challenge of performing professional theater (Tuua, August 30, 2021, personal communication). Quigan and Tuua (2018) demonstrate Pasifika values in their work, describing a commitment to the relational spaces between the production team, cast, and crew. This relational space is described in Pasifika cultures as the va, which is “not strictly physical space but also describes the intricacies of human interaction and negotiation of space both internal, external and in the transactional space of the fluid ‘in-between’” (Iosefo, 2016, p. 190). Both Tuua and Quigan argue for the importance of creating safe and courageous spaces for creative work. Tuua acknowledges that as Pasifika and “as youth, you don’t think you have the power—you’re taught to follow” (personal communication, August 30, 2021) and says that his own theater company—Sau e Siva—emerged through his own experience in making the kids shows. Both artists argue for the critical need to tell their own stories. Quigan says vehemently, “I used to say, we have to tell our own stories because if we don’t, no one else will. Now I say, we have to tell our own stories before someone else does it badly” (personal communication, August 30, 2021).

The MAC kids’ shows have been an incredibly fertile ground in which to grow and nurture Pasifka youth in theater. Alumni of the productions are now seen in national movies and television, in highly paid advertising campaigns, and, increasingly, in returning to the theater to make their own new and original work. In these ways, this project has nurtured a village of Pasifika theater-makers to continue telling stories that are vital to their worldviews and ways of being. The theater that they create continues to be locally relevant and globally powerful.

Joshua Iosefo-Williams and Odd Daphne—Theater as “Heart Work”

Joshua Iosefo-Williams is a young Pasifika playwright, filmmaker, director, and scholar. He is the founder of the collective “Odd Family” working from South Auckland in a theater of hope and healing, dubbed “heart work.” Odd Family’s landmark debut production, Odd Daphne, has been met with critical acclaim and enormous interest from the education community because of its raw truth, potential for healing, and courageous confrontation of mental health on the stage.

Odd Daphne is an original community stage play supported by The Mental Health Foundation that challenges traditional Pacific attitudes towards mental wellness. It gives insight into depression within a contemporary Pacific context.

Specifically, the story looks at alofa/love and its varying cultural and generational attitudes. It also looks at representation of the LGBTQI community within a Pacific and rugby culture framework. It showcases the amalgamation of the Japanese/Asian Pop Culture community and Pacific youth culture reflecting the complexities of Pacific identity and how that affects mental wellness.

This piece of theatre does not aim to quickly “fix” this problem but hopes to encourage the Pacific community to start having these conversations safely and to raise awareness to services and tools that are available. (J. Iosefo, n.d., para. 3)

Detailing Iosefo-Williams own journey with mental health and coming out as a Pasifika gay young man, Odd Daphne has had two highly successful seasons at MAC, each attended by sell-out crowds and accompanied by mental health training for the audience.

As a new director, Iosefo-Williams brought his skills in conflict resolution and project management into the theater space with a “people first” philosophy informing all aspects of production—“safety was paramount, along with honouring the work and especially keeping the young people safe” (Becht, personal communication, August 30, 2021). From these strengths, the production company that brought Odd Daphne to life have become the “Odd Family,” a new collective, linked by their heart work and deeply committed to healing and hope. Iosefo-Williams’s mother, Fetaui, also a Pasifika scholar disclosed in an interview that

vulnerability is so difficult, but when it is worth saving a life for and when we read the stats for youth suicide and when we read what they are associated with and most of them are around sexuality and that's heart-breaking . . . if our family didn't necessarily know the tools of how to go through this, it makes me wonder and makes me think how many other families, Pasifika families, families from south Auckland may not know what mental health is, what it means to be well, you know what it means to look after your mental wellbeing.

(Hopgood, 2020, para. 10)

Heavily influenced by his experience with his family, and wishing to honor his aunty Fadi in particular, Iosefo-Williams places at the center of his heart work, this commitment:

Today we come together as a Pasifika family who have created a life for ourselves on this land, the land of our cousins.

To the east of us we are surrounded by our ocean, the highway that our genius ancestors traversed. We come together because we are duty bound at heart.

To ensure . . .

That our children are given the best possible chance

To be prepared

For life in this ever-changing world.

This is not their privilege, it is their right.

It is their right to learn in their schools about their amazing wayfinding ancestors and their core values.

It is their right to have a solid foundation

of their stories to hold them steady and true in the changing world.

(as cited in F. Iosefo, 2020, p. 38)

Akin to the work of the MAC kids show, Iosefo-Williams creates a village in his work, with a hope that the work will always remain honest and truthful, and that the Odd Family will nurture the next generation of theater-makers to continue the heart work that has begun.

Southside Rise—Only the Hood Can Heal the Hood

Southside Rise was a leadership project designed to grow young Polycultural Pasifika leaders for South Auckland.3 The project was launched in 2016 by the Black Friars Theatre Company and situated within activist traditions of performance, growing young people to fill the roles of “leader” and “warrior” fighting for widespread attitudinal and structural change.

The South Auckland–based theater troupe the Black Friars was formed in 2006 from a desire to challenge the dominant stereotypes surrounding Pasifika people and to “keep talented young brown people off the street and on the stage.” The Black Friars have created several highly acclaimed productions of Shakespearean plays, true to Shakespeare’s language, but infused with Pasifika language, music, and dance. The Black Friars are equally committed to telling new stories from their South Auckland community and creating spaces for Pasifika youth to do the same—“through such connection and collaboration, creative practice is kept vital by being refreshed with new talent, ideas and enthusiasm” (McWilliams, 2017, para. 6).

As aforementioned, the South Auckland community is an area of high deprivation and low socioeconomic status—one in two children in South Auckland lives in poverty and is subject to stigma and stereotypes that paint South Auckland youth as both endangered and dangerous. South Auckland is consistently misrepresented in media and public discourse, depicted in association with gangs, violence, crime, and poverty. It is this prevailing narrative told of the Southside and held in the social imaginary of Aotearoa New Zealand that the Southside Rise project challenges. In 2019, the third and final year of the project, Southside Rise involved over 100 students, predominantly Pasifika in their ethnic makeup, from the 17 secondary schools in South Auckland that serve low socioeconomic communities. While there are many educational initiatives working in schools to change the status quo, often founded on the best intentions, they seem to be based on a perceived deficit in Pasifika peoples. The Southside Rise project was determined to play to their strengths.

We wanted to build a greater recognition of Pasifika literacies. If literacy is the way we communicate who we are and how we live in, and with, the world, then we (the Pasifika community) do that through dance and song. We don’t do that by sitting at a desk and writing an essay. That’s not how our heritage is carried. Our literacies are embodied, rather than written on paper. We wanted those qualities to be acknowledged. The very first line of the show is “Our stories are carried in bodies and bloodlines.” That’s been true since the beginning.

(Johansson, as cited in McWilliams, 2017, para. 4)

Between 2016 and 2019, the Black Friars tracked progress and success with Southside Rise primarily through talanoa (talking story). Three full-length productions were created over this time:

Of the 100-plus student leaders involved in 2019, 100% had

Students involved in the project had multiple audiences with a wide range of people in power, including local politicians and more than 200 school principals. In addition, many of the students involved were able to achieve academic credit through participation and those who chose to write on Southside Rise in their external school examinations have achieved 100% examination pass rates, contributing to their university entrance scores.

In 2021, the Black Friars have begun to see the long-term impact wrought by the project, as young Pasifika budding engineers, performers, councilors, politicians, teachers, nurses, and social workers continue to testify to the many ways in which the Southside Rise experience has contributed to their success and influenced their understanding of leadership.