Content Warning: Mentions of Discrimination, Racism, and Homophobia

Interviewer: Tall, queer, brown and beautiful. I’ve always had a fascination with how people walk, the purposefulness of their direction, led with their own two feet. Sounds easy doesn’t it? But as young Pasifika people, who are navigating family, religion, and the politics of bodies versus the reality of fluidity, it can be incredibly difficult to put one foot in front of the other.

I had the privilege of sitting down with Mareta from Tāmaki Makarau, who is the Sex Siren of Avant House of Dawn. “Dawn is like the first light spilling, breaking up the darkness of the night,” they said. We got together to discuss everything Samoan, queer, and how judgement only restrains joy. Mareta has an assurance about themselves, an effortless swag and comfort in their skin. A tangible magnetic energy you’re drawn to, when they walk in the room.

Where do you source your power?

Mareta: I know I love a song when I start to envision myself doing the damn thing. In karaoke, on stage, in my room. Making up a whole ass routine, in an outfit I don’t own, with flexibility that my parents didn’t give to me.

Power comes from my dreams. In the moments with myself, when I’m listening to what’s out there and what’s within to allow this energy exchange. In embracing the divine feminine and divine masculine inside me. It is then that I’m able to share that power with myself and others in a free and safe space. I feel that power continues to make more sense of itself.

How has Samoan / Pacific Island culture influenced your performances?

It just does, because it is within me, it can never not be. My culture is something I keep learning about more and more everyday, in how I feel it and what it looks like in this new age. It will keep growing stronger in my practice and I hope to feed back into it.

In the documentary ‘Paris is Burning’, Venus, a trans woman, competes in the Ballroom category of ‘realness’. She embodies her real self, occupying a space to be who she truly is, as the streets of reality constrain her to their interpretation of her physical form. Her performance is her truth. Minorities and people with neurodivergence have been conditioned to ‘mask’, embodying social norms for safety and acceptance. This spoke to me, as a white-passing queer Samoan, in institutions such as VUW. Authenticity is daunting. My worst moments are when I slip into this mask, when it takes hold of me and keeps me passive and the same.

Have you had experiences where you perform as ‘real’, or ‘mask’ to fit in, like Venus?

I think Venus just wanted the world to see her how she knew herself to be, and I think a lot of people want that. To be seen and heard, received in love, in empowering ways. Masks can be created to protect ourselves as queer POC when navigating and shifting into spaces. For me that mask shifted from how I thought I was supposed to be, to knowing and creating my own way of being. Both are as real as each other, because I am too.

There are different categories that you can walk in Ballroom, such as Runway, or themes like Business Woman. Ballroom offers opportunities that are denied in reality. A chance to be celebrated as well as share our stories. Queer people, especially queer kids, need to be received with love. Ballroom allows you to stand in power, a celebration of who you are when you walk. It’s a celebration of your story and your reality, the ones we deserve to live.

As someone in this kaupapa, as a face of the future, how does this make you feel?

It feels new, a little spiky but really exciting.

Is this a responsibility?

Yes, but a beautiful opportunity.

How do you stay strong?

Through teardrops, kindness, and replenishing my joy. Whether it’s retreating back to the moana, to the masina, remembering and listening to this exchange between us. Which is just as important as coming back to my people again, because we make each other stronger.

How has Samoan / Pacific Island culture influenced the people around you?

I think we have such power. It’s bold and beaming, yet still able to be grounded. I think the unapologetic love and attitude we have for ourselves, our culture and each other is one of the special things about us and how it can influence other people. We’re a beacon for the youth and the older generation that will keep glowing brighter.

Do you have a piece of advice for Pacific Island performers?

You’re a gift in this world, keep that fire within you. But also protect yourself and the ones you perform with, you have each other and those bonds are blessings.

How is this new reception and investment in queer and brown performers for you? Are you excited? Fearful? Optimistic?

It’s pretty scary. We have to protect ourselves as we become more visible. But we deserve to have spaces, we need to have a platform and share our stories, because they’re important and so are we. We need to see more, because the world would be basic without Queer POC. I’m full of excitement because we love to see it.

Have you found freedom?

Haha, yea I think I’m on my way. I’ve let go of this idea that I wasn’t allowed to love myself and deny myself exploration. To love and live in joy — that is radical is a freedom. Life has changed for me, as a proud, multicultural, slightly dirty and very pan individual.

I haven’t found myself quite yet, but every morning I look in the mirror and put on a face for the people around me to see. And that face is looking more and more like my real self, as I come into my power — finally.

Practice gratitude for what we have inherited, respect for your being through confidence in the wisdom of the past. There are no binaries. There is no judgment. There is no sin. Love is abundant, an infinite gift. What a beautiful person you are, to have the capacity to love those who do not understand you. Stand in your truth. There are people who understand you.

You are not alone.

There is a family waiting for you, to welcome you back home.

In Conversation with a Siren: Mareta from Ballroom’s ‘House of Dawn’