Seven wāhine Māori have been selected for this year’s Y25, one more than last year and three more than in 2024.
Te Ao Māori News journalist Natasha Hill spoke with the seven selectees about their mahi and aspirations across kaupapa including te taiao, hauora, AI, and their communities.
KIA MATAARA: This article discusses violence, mental health issues and abuse. Reader discretion advised.
Jordan Tane (24) | Kaupapa Māori Communication Designer & Researcher
As an award-winning communication designer and emerging Kaupapa Māori health researcher, Tane uses design as a tool for connection and belonging.
She holds a Bachelor of Design and a Master of Design from Auckland University of Technology. Her master’s research fell within Kaupapa Māori approaches to hauora and violence prevention, in which she worked alongside whānau who had experienced state intervention and the removal of tamariki.
Tāne and her team co-created tools grounded in mātauranga Māori, translating lived experience into accessible illustrated resources.
Now beginning her PhD, alongside an international initiative backed by the LEGO Foundation, she continues to explore how Māori design and tākaro can strengthen intergenerational connection and wellbeing.
Q. What have been some of the advantages and disadvantages of AI and technology when it comes to telling our Māori stories?
I have a constant tension with AI, both as an artist/designer and as a researcher/academic. I’ve seen my own toi and the toi of other local Māori artists taken and used to generate new imagery. AI makes this even more complicated because it can replicate visual styles and produce imagery that looks Māori without understanding the whakapapa, mātauranga or relationships behind what it is reproducing.
Our mahi toi isn’t created in a vacuum. There are lived experiences, kōrero, relationships and responsibilities behind our creative decisions. What people see as the final ‘product’ is often the result of a much longer process, and that can’t simply be replicated through a singular prompt.
At the same time, as a researcher, I can see the possibilities of AI when it is used thoughtfully as a tool. It can improve accessibility and help us organise or articulate our thinking, but it shouldn’t do the thinking for us.
Tell us about your artwork and designs. Why did you make them?
I was fortunate to complete my master’s within Kei Roto Tō Tātou Rongoā, a Kaupapa Māori health research project funded by the Health Research Council of New Zealand and developed alongside whānau Māori who had experienced violence, child removal, systemic harm and healing.
My role was to translate the knowledge and lived experiences shared through the research into illustrated, accessible resources that whānau and service providers could actually use. These included visual pathways for navigating complex systems, pūrākau and storytelling resources, healthy relationship tools, kupu resources and advocacy tools designed to support understanding, reflection and healing.
This kaupapa was deeply personal to me. I grew up experiencing sexual, emotional and physical violence, and for many years I distanced myself from being Māori because I associated that part of myself with the harm I had experienced. Working on this project became part of reconnecting with my identity.
Tell us how living with takiwātanga has been, and has it been your superpower in life?
Growing up with takiwātanga was honestly really hard. From a young age, I learned that if I wanted to be loved, I had to change parts of who I was. I learned how to mask, observe other people and make myself appear as “normal” as possible.
I couldn’t speak until I was around five years old and spent years in speech therapy. Although I can speak now, my speech impairment hasn’t disappeared. People often don’t realise how much energy it can take to articulate my thoughts, pronounce words and get what is in my head out in the way I intend.
That is where art became so important. Art gave me a voice before I had the words. Drawing allowed me to communicate what I was thinking and feeling when I couldn’t always express it verbally. As I grew older, that became design and storytelling. Design gave me a way not only to communicate my own experiences, but to help translate, hold and amplify the voices and experiences of others.
Māia Lockyer (24) | Hauora Māori Researcher & Medical Student
Māia (Ngāti Kahungunu ki Heretaunga, Ngāti Porou, Rongomaiwahine) understands the challenges of the medical system and how people are often expected to navigate complex healthcare without the support needed to do so confidently.
As a fifth-year medical student, hauora Māori researcher, and founder of the Haumanu Hauora Charitable Trust, she has made it her mission to help change that reality for communities across Aotearoa.
Māia recognised early in her medical training that many people are asked to make life-changing decisions using information that’s rushed, complex, or not designed for them. She believes health literacy is not an individual responsibility, but a responsibility of the health system itself. She founded Haumanu Hauora to help change that.
Born from experiences in community health spaces, Haumanu Hauora brings together a collective of Māori and Pacific students across different health disciplines to translate medical knowledge into clear, practical information communities can understand. The kaupapa reflects her belief that knowledge should be shared generously, and that understanding our health is a prerequisite to exercising mana motuhake. She’s passionate about strengthening health literacy and supporting whānau to exercise greater agency over their wellbeing.
Destiny Te Ao Marama Ruawhare Ruka Harris (23) | Taiao Regeneration Enthusiast & Māmā
Destiny (Waikato, Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Tūwharetoa) believes teaching whānau to regenerate their own soil is a profound act of climate resilience. This proud wahine Māori and māmā cares deeply for te taiao.
Guided by te ao Māori, her life-changing waste regeneration workshops go far deeper than sustainability; they’re about healing people and place, and exploring social and economic challenges that disrupt our ability to care for the whenua.
Destiny wears many hats, serving as a Waste Regeneration Educator in Māngere and Ōtāhuhu, a Pest Trap Technician, Kaiāwhina for the Manukau Food Forest, and Cultural Team Lead for Manurewa Youth Council. Growing up in South and East Auckland with parents who were barely adults themselves, and where poverty and hardship shaped her community, Destiny’s turning point came when she had a daughter of her own, breaking intergenerational cycles.
What’s one simple habit everyone could start this week that would make a real difference for the environment?
I know it sounds super simple, but my answer is just being kind.
When I talk on kindness, it’s more in the realm of kaitiakitanga. The tīkanga of kaitiakitanga is to care not just for our taiao, but for the people around us as well. For we are the tēina in the taiao. The environmental movement has spent decades making people feel guilty about their plastic and trash, but we’ve completely ignored the foundational issue: community is losing its meaning. Our places are becoming more abstract or like placeholders for the next venture. So, the problems we see become someone else’s and not ours.
Being kind means creating connections that can last your life and onwards. It means holding a relationship with someone who’s really good at hunting and another who owns a garden. Someone who cooked too much kai so they give, and another who can give clothes for someone else’s newborn.
If you could take every New Zealander to one place in nature, where would it be and why?
Harania Awa for sure!!! Right in the heart of the 275.
You know, we’ve romanticised the idea of nature as something you have to drive five hours to see. But in reality, we are blessed to still have natural corridors in Tāmaki-Makaurau. This awa holds extremely vital history as a highway for tīpuna, a source of mahinga kai and a living part of Ngā Hau Māngere and its identity. But for decades, urbanism and neglect turned it into a dumping ground. That neglect wasn’t accidental; it reflects how we’ve historically treated our urban Māori and Pasifika communities. Yet, through the Whakaoranga Awa Hīkoi Program, I got to facilitate something very special. People from all walks of life experiencing their local, natural taiao for the first time! No matter how long they’ve lived in 275. If I took every New Zealander, they would see that restoration is possible anywhere. And it’s not just physical healing, but interpersonal. They would see that our urban nature isn’t as lost as we think!
Plus, I flew halfway around the world to advocate for the space, so it’ll be crazy if I said anywhere else
Many people care about the environment but don’t change their behaviour. Why do you think there’s such a gap between what we believe and how we live?
Honestly? The answer isn’t difficult, but it’s uncomfortable because it forces us to look at social design and historical context.
An example I use often in talanoa is kai. Statistically, food is the champion for the most wasted product in Aotearoa. It’s a huge driver of methane emissions, our carbon footprint and landfill overflow. Yet at the exact same time, we are witnessing a terrifying rise in food insecurity and diet-related health issues. How do we waste so much while people are going hungry? I had this exact korero at a wānanga I hosted for Social Workers.
Initially, they couldn’t see the relevance of environmental education for clients who are struggling to pay rent. To understand the korero, we focused on this. Because the environmental crisis was designed to keep whānau as consumers. It’s got a lot more to do with time poverty, lack of grow space, affordability and supermarket monopolies than it does with a family being too lazy to store food. We aren’t failing the environment because we’re bad people.
We’re failing because our system is designed to make the right choices almost impossible for the average whānau. But all is not lost. Rural communities have never stopped practising kaitiakitanga. And now, in our urban spaces, Pasifika and Māori organisations are taking the charge to revitalise the act of care.
Utilise our tīkanga in the modern era. It’s abundantly clear in places like Māngere Mountain Education Centre, Papatūānuku Marae, Manurewa Marae and my own mahi, Pacific Vision Aotearoa. We’re getting there. But we have to stop blaming individuals and start demanding a social system that actually allows whānau to thrive. Because you cannot heal the whenua if you are starving, exhausted and shut out of the system. I believe that is the biggest gap between behaviour change and action for taiao.
Orini Rokx-Taratu (21) | Kaiako & Te Taiao Advocate
Raised in Tokomaru Bay, Orini (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Porou, Ngāti Awa, Ngāti Maniapoto) is a proud pā kid grounded in te ao Māori. Growing up in te taiao shaped her worldview; the moana and whenua were her first teachers, and mātauranga was passed down through whānau.
At 18, during her first year of teacher training, Orini experienced Cyclone Gabrielle and witnessed the devastation and isolation faced by Māori communities across Te Tairāwhiti. At the time, she was contributing to a research project with Te Weu Tairāwhiti examining extreme weather impacts on hauora for Māori communities. This ignited a passion for ensuring climate education is embedded in her teaching and sharing mātauranga.
Now qualified, Orini has taken part in an Indigenous knowledge exchange with the Mapuche people of Chile and Rapa Nui. Alongside teaching, she’s coordinated climate education kaupapa through Future Unity - a rangatahi-led initiative based in Porirua. Her mahi is grounded in the belief that restoring ecosystems strengthens whānau, hapū and iwi.
If you could spend one week learning from any Indigenous community in the world, where would you go?
If I could spend a week learning from any Indigenous community in the world, I would struggle to choose just one. I would love the opportunity to connect with Indigenous communities across the Pacific Triangle, because I think we would uncover many similarities with Māori. But in all honesty, if someone gave me the opportunity to go back to Rapa Nui, I would drop everything and get on that plane ASAP!
At the same time, the learner in me is drawn toward a community I know very little about. Because of that, I would choose to spend time with Inuit communities. I’m fascinated by how they have developed and maintained their culture, language, and knowledge systems.
I’m especially interested in learning about their approaches to kai sovereignty and how traditional food practices continue to sustain community wellbeing, identity, and connection to place. I would also love to learn more about the revitalisation and preservation of Inuit languages, the meaning and history behind their tattoos and the ways that they’ve adapted since colonisation.
You’ve worked alongside Indigenous communities in Aotearoa, Chile, and Rapa Nui. What common values have you seen across those communities when it comes to caring for te taiao?
One of the strongest things I noticed across Aotearoa, Chile and Rapa Nui was that the health of our people is reflected in the health of our whenua. Caring for te taiao isn’t something separate from caring for ourselves. Our whenua, moana, whakapapa, culture and hauora are all connected. When our whenua is thriving, our people are able to thrive too.
Across each Indigenous community, I saw a strong sense of responsibility to protect what has been passed down to us and to make sure it remains there for generations to come. Although each community has its own unique history and practices, there was a shared understanding that we are not separate from te taiao; we are part of it, and this was shown through ways of living and taonga tuku iho such as waiata, karakia and traditional food practices.
And, I also have to say, the kūmara in Rapa Nui were sweeter and somehow even more delicious than ours in Aotearoa! Maybe there really is something special in the soil over there - Rapa Nui truly is Te Pito o te Henua!
You’ve been involved in both research and community climate initiatives. What have those experiences taught you about where meaningful environmental change begins?
For me, meaningful environmental change begins with tamariki. They are the generation who will live with the consequences of the decisions we are making today. From the way we build our infrastructure and communities, to how we respond to climate change, flooding, sea-level rise, extreme weather and the increasing pressure we are placing on our whenua and moana.
Through my experiences in research, community climate initiatives and as a graduate teacher, I’ve come to understand that climate education needs to begin early and be embedded across our education system. It shouldn’t be something that a small group of passionate schools or teachers choose to teach. Every tamaiti should have the opportunity to understand their relationship with te taiao and feel empowered to care for it.
Growing up in Te Tairāwhiti and attending kura, and then going on to work in kura myself, I saw how naturally connected we can be to te taiao. We were always outside. We were learning through the whenua, the moana, our gardens, the weather, our awa, our karakia, our waiata and the changing seasons. We were constantly thinking about te taiao without necessarily realising that we were doing it. It wasn’t until I got older that I realised what a taonga that way of growing up and learning really was.
Working in the city has highlighted for me that this isn’t the reality for every tamaiti. Only a small number of children have regular opportunities to learn through and with te taiao in that way.
For me, meaningful environmental change starts by giving tamariki that connection and mātauranga early. If we want to create communities that are resilient to climate change, we need to raise tamariki who understand that they belong to the environment, have a responsibility to it, and have the power to shape what our future looks like.
Jodie Rameka (25) | Community Advocate
Growing up in Whangārei, Jodie spent much of her life involved in her community through volunteering, advocacy, and local initiatives. She’s seen both the challenges facing Whangārei and the opportunities for change. Jodie believes strong communities are built when people feel connected, supported, and able to contribute.
Jodie is motivated by her own experience of growing up in an environment of abuse and trauma. She is actively trying to change the way that young people see themselves and believe in themselves, so they don’t face the same challenges she did. She continues to stay involved and aims to strengthen connections across Whangārei and support long-term community wellbeing for everyone.
If you had a community hall and an unlimited budget for one day, what event would you bring to life?
I would turn the community hall into a Free Healthcare Day Event. It would be open to everyone, completely free, with no appointment needed, so people could just turn up throughout the day and access different services for free. From physical health checks, mental health support, dental care, eye tests, hearing tests and other basic health services, all in one place.
You’ve worked with communities, governance boards, and government. Where do you think real change actually starts, from the top down, or the bottom up?
For me, it’s the person that matters more than the position. Change can come from someone in the community just as easily as it can come from someone in government. I’ve worked across both sides, and I’ve seen that every level has an impact. You don’t have to have a certain title or be in a certain place in life to make something happen because it really comes down to what you do with the opportunity you have.
Is there something you needed to hear as a young person that you now find yourself saying to others?
I wish someone had told me that where you start doesn’t determine where you’ll end up.
When I was younger, I looked at what was happening around me and thought that was just what my life was going to be. I didn’t realise at the time that I could choose a different direction and build something different for myself. That’s something I try to remind young people of now. Just because things are difficult at the moment doesn’t mean they’ll always be that way.
Graeson Papuni-Mclellan (25) | Indigenous Wāhine & Youth Voice Champion
Graeson (Ngāti Porou, Te Whānau-ā-Apanui, Whakatōhea, Ngāti Pāhauwera, Samoa, Mauke) grew up in Ōpōtiki surrounded by Māori and Pasifika women who embodied manaakitanga and aroha. From a young age, she witnessed the strength of Indigenous women who carry communities, often without recognition, inspiring her commitment to creating spaces where wāhine and rangatahi are empowered to lead.
At 10-years-old, Graeson began her changemaker journey with Māori Women’s Welfare League (MWWL). She established MWWL’s first youth membership and was elected inaugural youth representative for MWWL in 2025.
As a member of Ōpōtiki Peka, she has contributed to governance, financial management, and initiatives uplifting local whānau. Graeson presented evidence on behalf of MWWL in the Mana Wāhine claim and represented MWWL nationally and internationally, including at the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women in New York in 2024 and 2025.
From community meetings to the United Nations, what have those different spaces taught you about advocating for your community?
Representing and advocating for wāhine in spaces that are worlds apart, from grassroots community meetings to international forums like the United Nations, has taught me that true advocacy always begins at home.
The kōrero we carry into global spaces derives from the lived realities shared in small community rooms, around kitchen tables, and within our whānau. Being in those diverse environments has shown me that advocacy is not about speaking the loudest but about ensuring the voices of our wāhine and communities remain centred, protected, and elevated no matter the scale of the forum.
It’s taught me that the strength of our message comes from staying grounded in our people, and that meaningful change happens when global platforms are guided by the voices and priorities of our communities.
Is there an experience representing the community that has stayed with you? What made it so memorable?
In 2025, I presented rangatahi evidence on behalf of the Māori Women’s Welfare League at Te Herenga Waka Marae for the Mana Wāhine Kaupapa Inquiry (Wai 2700).
Because the inquiry examines how Crown actions have impacted the roles, authority, and wellbeing of wāhine Māori, it felt deeply significant to speak from my own lived experience. I was able to talk openly from my upbringing, drawing on what it meant to be raised in the League: memorising the creed at 10 years old just from attending monthly peka hui, pouring countless cups of tea for our nannies, and being guided by my mum, aunties and nannies through kaupapa that taught me how to serve.
Sharing that personal journey as evidence reminded me that our stories carry real weight in understanding how mana wāhine has been constrained, and how it can be restored. What made the moment even more profound was seeing my name in the official inquiry documents next to powerful mana wāhine such as Dame Areta Koopu, Dame Whina Cooper, Dame Mira Szaszy, Dame Aroha Reriti‑Crofts, and our current MWWL President Dr Hope Tupara.
It was an ‘I made it’ moment, an honour that affirmed the legacy I come from and the responsibility I carry forward. That experience showed me the impact of lived truth and how it strengthens the voice of our communities within an inquiry dedicated to upholding and protecting mana wāhine.
Who has had the biggest influence on the way you lead, and what did they teach you that you still carry with you today?
The first person that comes to mind is my mum, Annette. Where do I even begin? My mum has had the biggest influence on the way I lead because she’s taught me everything I know, from leading with humility and humbleness, to being staunch in who I am as a Māori and Pasifika woman, to staying resilient in moments of failure or challenge. She’s been my ‘devil’s advocate’ for as long as I can remember, and the heated debates across the kitchen table have shaped how I think, how I analyse, and how I stand firm in my values. My mum is it for me, and I count my lucky stars and thank my tūpuna for blessing me with not only an incredible mama, but an incredible leader to aspire to be like.
I also carry the influence of two other wāhine who shaped my journey. My late kuia, Doreen McCorkindale, I miss her every day, and I often feel her spiritual presence when I face challenges and milestones in my mahi. Her strength, her elegance and grace, even in moments where she had every right to be sharp, and the way she emitted aroha- you could walk into her whare and feel it wrap around you. And my tuakana, Caitlin, practically my best friend and my life manager, who taught me all the things not to do, but in all seriousness, she has instilled in me the importance of backing myself, speaking up even when it’s uncomfortable, and never dimming my light to make others feel safe.
These three wāhine are the blueprint for how I lead today: grounded, unapologetic, values-driven, and always guided by aroha.
Natalia Pere (23) | Te Ao Māori Generalist
Natalia (Ngāi Tūhoe, Ngāti Kahungunu ki Te Wairoa) grew up in Waikaremoana with her three siblings, mother, and grandparents, graduating from Wairoa College in 2020. In such small communities, marginalised groups can be nearly non-existent. She has had to navigate what her background dictates about her future. As a Māori, neurodivergent wahine from a rural, low-income background who struggled with identity, Natalia has experienced how traits can shape expectations about the life she should lead.
But it is exactly this that drives her to walk her own path regardless of background, creating visibility for others and proof of what’s possible. Natalia is currently studying her Bachelor of Engineering in Mechatronics at Auckland University of Technology, with a sincere interest in holistic te ao Māori wellbeing frameworks, like her grandmother before her.
She has big aspirations, working toward them by focusing on impacts she can make directly around her, like leading Hackathon, Robotics, and Mathematics teams, being on the AUTSA student council, volunteering in her community, and learning from every experience. Outside of engineering, she focuses on her family, music, and art, having been a finalist for the 2025 Kiingi Tuheitia Portraiture Award.
You’ve studied Mechatronics Engineering while also being involved in art, leadership, and te ao Māori. Have you found those interests shaping each other in ways you didn’t expect?
Well, I think a lot of skill sets are interconnected. For example, being an artist helps a person become more comfortable with utilising their own creativity, which in turn assists in developing more creative solutions to problems. I like to look at things from a holistic viewpoint. I would say my interests do affect me occasionally in ways I wouldn’t expect, like broadening my perspective or inspiring me to do something new. But usually they build on each other.
You’ve spoken about wanting others to see what’s possible. What sparked that passion for you?
I think there is a natural desire that people develop after going through adversity to help others in similar positions. For me, there was a lack of representation around me of people like me doing the things I wanted to do. Going to university, doing STEM, and importantly, investing in health and personal development. A lot of people grow up with mamae that’s left unhealed for a long time, impacting their ability to develop and follow their ambitions. So understanding these struggles is why I am passionate about helping others like me in the ways I can.
What’s a problem in Aotearoa that you’d love to solve?
It’s a difficult question to answer, even more so without being ignorant. But I think the mental health sector could do with some improvements. More long-term individual support for people struggling. And some “third spaces” would be great too. Places where people can go and be out in the world where they don’t need to spend a lot to just exist there. Initiatives for making the arts and music world more accessible to people, especially those of lower socio-economic status, would be amazing too. The list goes on.
