There was a time when we all wore a mask,
hiding our faces, hiding our past.
Behind N95s, our smiles could not show,
in a world of uncertainty, moving so slow.
Then on my birthday, a gift came to me,
a moko kauae — a part of me to see.
She rested on my chin, quiet and still,
a story of whakapapa, purpose and will.
But no one could see her, no one could know,
for the mask hid the beauty she wanted to show.
Yet she had always been part of my skin,
waiting for the moment to be let in.
She was there in my tūpuna, strong and wise,
in the stories and dreams that my whakapapa ties.
She was there in my whānau, my whenua, my name,
a connection to those from whom I came.
The world wore its masks, but mine came away,
and my moko revealed who I am today.
Not something new, not something to begin—
she had always been there, just under my skin.
Now when I look in the mirror and see,
I see my tūpuna standing with me.
I see my whakapapa, my whānau, my way,
the woman I am, becoming each day.
So ko wai au? Let the answer be clear:
I am Māori — my whakapapa is here.
I carry the past, the future within,
and proudly I stand— no longer hidden.
For the veil has lifted, the mask has gone,
and the woman beneath it has carried on.
She was always there.
She was always within.
My moko simply revealed
what was already under my skin.
Ake ake ake
- He uri ahau o Tuhoe, Whakatohea, Te Atiawa me Ngati Mutunga hoki
Ko Maria Tutahi toku ingoa no au te Tiamana o Te Manawa Taki o Waikato.