28-05-2025
Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke on Her Viral Haka, New Zealand's Treaty Bill, and Fighting for Maori Rights
Photo by Apela Bell
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A spark flashed across the internet last November. Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke, a member of Te Pāti Māori, or the Māori Party, broke out into a powerful haka on the floor of New Zealand's Parliament, disrupting a vote on a controversial piece of legislation known as the Treaty Principles Bill. Another lawmaker was supposed to tear the bill in half and start the haka, a traditional Māori dance, but 22-year-old Maipi-Clarke was incidentally handed the paper instead. The lawmakers' protest went viral, lighting up social media and making global headlines.
On April 10, the legislation, which critics believe would have rolled back the rights of Indigenous New Zealanders, was defeated. In Maipi-Clarke's speech preceding the bill's rejection, she said, 'The real problem is that this institution, this House, has only ever recognized one partner, one culture, one language.'
Maipi-Clarke tells Teen Vogue, 'It's basically the cat out of the bag; the attitude of that bill is represented across so much legislation.'
The bill sought to redefine New Zealand's founding document, the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi (Te Tiriti o Waitangi), which established the rights of Māori and non-Māori people. Though the principles of the treaty are referenced in law, it is not integrated into the country's legal structure.
In creating a rigid reading of the treaty, the bill would have supplanted the treaty itself. It was promoted by the right-wing libertarian ACT Party, which argued that Māori have special legal rights and privileges due to the treaty's interpretation, as the BBC reported. Māori politicians and activists saw the legislation as yet another example of the current conservative-coalition government's efforts to erode Māori rights.
The Māori Health Authority was established by the outgoing Labour government in 2022 to address historical inequities, only to be dissolved by the current National government in 2024; officials have also rolled back the use of Māori language in public services — moves that a Guardian analysis found could 'deepen existing inequalities in the country.'
'The rules of Parliament don't really see or fit Māori people,' Maipi-Clarke says. 'There's a lot more resistance and advocation that we're doing because, basically, our rights are being stripped left, right, and center. It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience that we shouldn't be going through, but we have to find coping mechanisms to defend it.'
Days after the bill's first reading — and Maipi-Clarke's viral haka — people took part in a nine-day march from the north of New Zealand to the capital, Wellington, culminating in a protest that was attended by more than 40,000. It is believed to be one of the biggest protests in the country's history. Additionally, more than 300,000 written public submissions flooded in, with an estimated 90% opposing the bill, according to the parliamentary justice committee, which recommended the legislation be stalled. When it was finally voted down at its second reading last month, cheers and waiata, or song, rang through the chamber.
But now Maipi-Clarke faces censure from her own colleagues. A committee found her and two other lawmakers behind the haka protest in contempt of Parliament, alleging they intimidated their opponents, and recommended unprecedented unpaid suspensions. According to the Associated Press, these would be the harshest penalties ever assigned to New Zealand parliamentarians. Parliament's debate on the censure is delayed until early June.
As the story continues to unfold, Maipi-Clarke has emerged as the young lawmaker who catapulted this story of Indigenous strength, of Māori mana, or spiritual power, into international news. The Treaty Principles Bill is dead, but her work is not done.
Inside Maipi-Clarke's parliamentary office in Wellington in early April, a week before the treaty bill was killed, she cut a stately figure. Elected at age 21 in 2023, she became the youngest member of Parliament in 170 years. Politics was never part of her plan when she was growing up ('At 21, you just want to be 21 and… do 21-year-old things'), but activism was all around her.
Even now, signs of activism cover the walls, wrapping Maipi-Clarke in mementos of her purpose: The phrase 'Tupuna Fed, Mokopuna Led' (to be nurtured by the ancestors and shepherded by the next generation) shines in neon orange; the Street Fighter logo, altered to read 'Tiriti Fighter' ('Treaty Fighter'); and records that fueled her on the campaign trail, including All Eyez on Me by Tupac Shakur and DAMN. by Kendrick Lamar. (Maipi-Clarke calls hip-hop and Black American culture 'an inspiration of movements.')
'Ka ora tōnu mātou, ake ake ake,' Maipi-Clarke's words, are scrawled across a hanging jacket and written in red on her framed, torn copy of the bill. 'We shall live forever and ever,' she translates, before adding: 'Yes, we can fight. We know how to fight easily. But I think the biggest message is for us to survive.'
For Maipi-Clarke, her activism — that deep need to stand up for what's right — seems almost genealogical. When her mother, who is from the geothermal lands in the country's north, was pregnant with her, she was advocating against building a prison on what they consider to be sacred land. And in the 1970s, Maipi-Clarke's grandfather was a member of Ngā Tamatoa, a Māori activist group that was heavily involved in treaty activism and sought to have Māori language taught in schools. So it's no surprise that she's in Parliament today.
Maipi-Clarke's whānau, her family, are with her every step of the way; her mom and dad are even part of her parliamentary team. It's the Te Pāti Māori way: 'It may be a conflict of interest for some, but the biggest thing that will keep us safe is whānau,' Maipi-Clarke says. 'When you come into this place, it's very unique, and if we're driving kaupapa Māori, we're coming with three generations.'
There's a refreshing lack of territoriality when Maipi-Clarke opens up about her role in Te Pāti Māori. 'We are just the messenger stick for the bigger kaupapa,' she explains, using the Māori term for core principles and beliefs that are passed through generations of Indigenous New Zealanders. At the end of the day, she continues, the constituents of her district — Hauraki-Waikato, one of seven Māori electorates for which voters of Māori descent can opt in to vote — are represented by only one seat. 'There's gonna be other MPs that fill this seat, and it just happens to be us for the day.'
Maipi-Clarke grew up in Auckland with her mother and grandmother, and traveled about 60 miles to spend weekends with her dad in the town of Huntly. Having been waitlisted for Māori-immersion education programs, she attended mainstream school until age 11, when she relocated to Huntly to attend a Māori school, known as wharekura.
That experience informed her campaign ethos, 'Kōhanga Reo Generation,' a reference to young Māori who attended immersion schools and are deeply connected to their language and culture. It was met with 'a little bit of backlash' from people who felt she was excluding those who attended mainstream schools from the conversation, but she says it was 'more about children who had grown up with their grandparents.' Maipi-Clarke's grandparents didn't have their language, but they had their knowledge of customs, of working by the maramataka — the Māori lunar calendar — and she learned by their hand.
'Kōhanga Reo Generation' was a clear statement to Parliament: 'This place once wanted us to literally go extinct, and we have come back stronger by being one million strong who know their reo (language), their whakapapa (genealogy). That was the biggest weapon we could ever bring to them, is surviving. But actually, we're on that level thriving for our kids.'
In February 2021, Te Pāti Māori co-leader Rawiri Waititi refused to wear a tie in Parliament, instead wearing an Aotea stone necklace. It sparked conversation about what was considered appropriate business attire, with Waititi himself asking, 'Why are Pākehā (a term for European New Zealanders) making Māori dress like they want us to dress?"
This inspired Maipi-Clarke from afar. 'It wasn't a law that he changed on paper, but it was changing the minds and society,' she says. 'All the time now, you will see taonga Māori, or prized possessions, represented across the board and in corporate spaces.'
Maipi-Clarke got her first real taste of the politics realm when her grandfather gave a submission regarding the creation of 'Māori wards' with their local government in 2021. She explains, 'Māori wards is when you have one representative who is Māori from that place to advocate on council.'
At the time, Maipi-Clarke stood up to give her Pop's submission on his behalf, and she questioned the lack of Māori representation in front of her. ''You have Māori doing your cups of tea and your karakia, or prayer, but you don't have Māori at the decision table,'" she recalls. 'I said it at that point, 'I've never experienced racism like that,' and oh my God, I came here [to Parliament] — now I know all about it."
When the proposal was voted down by the council, Maipi-Clarke and others blasted it across social media. She thinks the public scrutiny and pressure is what ultimately solidified the unanimous vote in favor of creating Māori wards in Hamilton.
But the future of Māori wards is again in jeopardy, due to a law introduced by the coalition government; another breach of Te Tiriti, she adds. 'That's all the conversation we're trying to have — there's nothing bad about us being at the decision table. It's actually a good thing, but people think it's a threat and [are] intimidated by it.'
Despite becoming the worldwide face and voice of a major moment of Indigenous resistance, Maipi-Clarke isn't aggrieved by the burden of legacy. Instead, she's looking to the future: 'There are so many of our people out there who feel disconnected, and the way we want to articulate ourselves in here is feeling you're a part of it. What is a typical, stereotypical Māori? What even is that? …We just want to empower people to feel that they're enough.'
For rangatahi, the youth, she says, the issues critical to them are mental health, the cost-of-living crisis, and affording groceries. 'And then, obviously, our rights,' she adds with a laugh — the kind of chuckle that rises from outrage and shock because of the plain fact that rights are actually on the line. It's painful, but it's reality.
'Indigenous people around the world are fighting the same struggle,' Maipi-Clarke says. 'When I think of Kanaky (New Caledonia), when I think of Palestine, when I think of… our whānau (family) from Te Whenua Moemoeā (Australia), when I think of Native Americans and what they're going through with [an] extreme right-wing government — we all kind of face the same struggles, right?'
On May 20, 2025, she unveiled her first proposed bill. It would place a statutory obligation on members of Parliament to uphold and learn about Te Tiriti, and require Parliament to develop a Māori strategy.
Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke remains grounded and steadfast in her fight. 'We're Indigenous through and through,' she says. 'We're not left or right, because left or right is still part of the system.' Te Pāti Māori is willing to work on either side of the aisle, but they'll always push for Māori rights. Maipi-Clarke's reminder to her community and opponents in Parliament is simple: 'We're the treaty. You're the partner.'
Originally Appeared on Teen Vogue
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