Has anyone ever stopped to think about the story of Jack and the Beanstalk? How Jack had the audacity to go into another man's house (well an oversized man...okay a huge giant) and steal from him and then kill him. Then we're all expected to celebrate Jack as the hero and pass this story on to our kids.
I know there are many different versions of this story but majority of them set Jack up with circumstances and reasons as to why we accept his behaviour in this story.
But what if we heard it from the giant's perspective?
What if Jack is actually the villain?
How will you ever know who is telling the story correctly?
Until the lion learns to write, every story will always glorify the hunter - African Proverb
This proverb always sits in the back of my mind with stories (as well as mainstream media but that's a discussion for another time) like what if we saw Harry Potter through the eyes of Voldemort, Money Heist through Arturo or the Lion King through Scar. I can guarantee our viewpoint of who the villains and heroes in these stories will change.
This also made me think about how it applies to our own stories.
We are the writers of our stories and they are ours to tell since we are the ones living it. So that means we can glorify the amazing parts and then downplay or hide the not so amazing parts.
And this my friends is where I decided to take a central part of my story and flip it, after all this is my story.
So if you've been along for the ride from my first blog posts on my original now defunct website, then you will already know how I feel about the pressure of measuring up to what a "real" Samoan is.
Quick recap for those just tuning in:
Samoan parents, New Zealand born and Australian raised. Skin is a little on the light side, potential to look like vampire in photo with flash; many instances of "you don't look Samoan" throughout lifetime with questions on blood status and people with culture detectors to measure how Samoan you are.
I had such a hard time trying to figure out where I fit in probably because I didn't know who I was either. Then throw in people who made me feel that I wasn't Samoan enough and then you basically have an identity crisis.
In all honesty, I can't help what opinions people have of me or expect people to unlearn old mindsets handed down (this doesn't justify ignorant behaviour but rather unpacks how I can better react to it). But I had allowed other people's opinions to define my connection to my culture and ultimately define who I was.
Once I realised this, I knew I had a lot of work to do because the funny thing about working on yourself and healing is that it opens up a whole can of worms. The acceptance of my part in all of this, held a lot of guilt. A question that kept popping up in my head was 'what have I actually done to ensure my connection to my culture?'
I figured the best place to start would be learning about my genealogy. My dad has always been my go-to any time I have questions about the family. He had started working on his family tree but gave up because he lost track of people and couldn't keep up. If you've ever looked into your own, you would know how confusing and tricky it can get. I figured I'd use my dad's existing information and go from there.
Obviously all this family/ancestry who-am-I kind of searching that I was doing started bringing similar connecting things to my attention everywhere. Sure enough one of the posts I saw on instagram was a sign that I was moving in the right direction.
This was the post:
I read these beautiful words and just sat there in awe and with a sense of pride, then I looked down at the palm of my hand....and continued staring for a very long time. I couldn't see anything. I honestly stared at my hand for so long, I got to the point where I was like 'ooooh okay, I think this line is giving me great-great-great grandpa vibes' but you can never see something if you don't truly believe it. I gave up in the end, thinking that the message was powerful enough for me to not completely understand it.
As all things turn out, it would so happen that my great-great-great grandpa was actually giving me a vibe or was pointing me in the right direction.
I'll have to take it back a bit to sort of set the story up for you. So we'll take it back to the original Mr Heather from England - Mr Dennett Hersee Heather. It's his son, Stanley Heather who started the 15 tribes of Heathers in Rarotonga and the 2 in Samoa.
So here's how I connect in the wonderful world of Heathers:
Me
My Parents - Russell Heather & Lavasi Papalii
Russell's Parents (My Grandparents) - Moe Heather & Fai'ilagi Brown
Moe's Parents (My Great Grandparents) - Peniamina Heather & Milovale
Peniamina's Parents (My Great-Great Grandparents) - Mele Heather & Moe Fu'e
Mele's Parents (My Great-Great-Great Grandparents) - Stanley Heather & Selepa McCarthy
Ta-da! Now you can see that Stanley Heather is my great-great-great grandpa, let's get back to when I had finished looking at that instagram post above.
I had decided to check out a couple of family Facebook groups that I was in to see if there was information there and what do you know, I certainly found some information there. While scrolling, I came across a post that said we had a Maori connection in our family. I clicked on the picture and started looking into it and turns out that Stanley Heather's mother was a woman from Ngati Mahanga by the name of Unaiki Te Watarauhi. I had never heard that information in all of my years of living so it was quite exciting that I could share this new find with my dad (and my work friends and pretty much everyone I spoke to around that time - you know just a couple of people here and there).
At this point, I knew that understanding where I come from through my long line of ancestors was exactly the right direction. It was also such an awesome feeling to be able to chat with my dad about the people in our family, to have discussions on it rather than just be told information.
That's when I went back to that instagram post about the hands and really understood it. Maybe Stanley Heather heard my little joke and thought he'd help out his great-great-great granddaughter because she's pretending to see things that aren't there; or maybe my ancestors knew I needed a sign to keep going - I don't know but I'm bloody grateful the sign/vibe or whatever you want to call it, was received in full.
It really has tied in with walking in my purpose because I wouldn't know what I'm supposed to be doing here on Earth if I don't even know who I am. That's when it truly confirmed for me that I don't need anyone's approval. I wasn't born in Samoa but Samoa was born in me and my heart will always beat to the drums of the Pacific. I've had automatic membership from before I was even born and as long as the blood of my ancestors flows through my veins - I belong and I'm enough.
It's one thing to step in to my birthright and wholeheartedly embrace who I am but I also know that I have to work to keep it alive so this journey continues.
And that my friends is how I took a central not so amazing part of my story and flipped it, after all this is my story.