{ pākehā, pānokehā & trans taniwhaism }


“Would you deliberately call a cheese camemberte?”
“Hell no, I know better than that!”
“But you would mispronounce Opoho? | Ōpoho |. If I told you how it was pronounced would you do it?”
“No. Because it’s mine. My region”
– Newstalk ZB radio call in show, October, 2019.[1]

Signifieds are essential to what all positionalities of decoloniality gather around. Semiotics is the very foundation of conceiving conceptualisations of decoloniality. Deep listening, responding, profaning and shifting of Te Āpatu | The Gap, meddling between the sign and the signified, is an ongoing conscious and subconscious constant for all, not least this transTaniwha-freak-monster-puppet.

Decoloniality fission is the deconstruction of matter, the laying bare of wounds, atrocities, shame and trauma which have a toxic waste that will last thousands of years. However, this is processed via art, truth and reconciliation; discussion, therapy, consultation, reparations, profanings, research, repatriations (of stolen lands, objects and souls but not migrants and refugees); and so on, until all toxicity is removed. Decoloniality fission is the putting in of energy that generates more energy than was expended. Infinite exponential decoloniality. Superficially perhaps too reminiscent of modernity, as an action of force. However, unlike modernity and colonialism, it is not based on lies. Rather, it is based on the truth of the latent potential of entities’ energies and fabric. It is a physics of rupture that aknowledges feelings as facts to support the intuitive metaphysical engagement that colonialism feared.

This praxis includes artistic creative processes but also reference-gathering through one-on-one sessions of hypersensitive body listening. Researchers of decoloniality and expert practitioners, often auto-ethnographic, constitute the main pool of one-on-one guests. Writing with text and video essaying will most likely occur, though the moment of exchange more than suffices. The production of text or video writing is at the bequest of Taniwha, not neo-liberal or institutional research expectations.

Comedian Dave Chapelle calls Trump an “honest liar”; after Trump said: “I know the system is rigged because I use it… that makes me smart.”[2] Perhaps the Pākehā puppet is a Machiavellian alter ego? Pānokehā? A dishonest truther; a conniving, conspiring demon to counter potential vulnerabilities in the naivety of a Pākehā puppet as site. An ethical exploration relating to Preciado’s taniwha.[3] It also helps to acknowledge perhaps real Pānokehā: Pākehā in denial of their Pākehāness, which is denial of Māori taonga whakaaro and the many other forgotten cultural heritages and wisdoms damaged or destroyed by colonialism.

The puppet’s intent is not to become a (naive) real (good) boy; it is to become a taniwha, one that is connected to transformative energies, body, mind and soul.

Jag är it(i), det är utomeuropeisk, men det är vit, men det är Pākehā, men det är Londonisk, så tyvärr är det/jag på ett sätt Brit(isk), men det/jag är pitty lite svinsk svensk(isk). Det är en odjur he taniwha iti

[1] “Marcus Lush shuts down woman who insists on mispronouncing Māori place names.” Marcus Lush Nights, aired Oct 26, 2019 (New Zealand: Newstalk ZB, 2019), radio broadcast.
[2] D. Chapelle. Saturday Night Live (New York: Peacock, 2020).
[3] Paul Preciado, Can the Monster Speak? (London: Fitzcarraldo Editions, 2021).

Robin Dingemans