This simple statement captured something many students at the university felt to a varying degree — the hesitation, embarrassment, or self-doubt that can hold us back from fully engaging.
Whakamā, as per Te Aka the Māori language dictionary I often use, is to be ashamed, shy, bashful, or embarrassed.
It is notably deeper than that, though, and has no exact equivalent in Western societies.
Whakamā is a holistic concept encompassing feelings such as shyness, embarrassment, uncertainty, shame, and pouritanga (sadness).
Whakamā diminishes our capacity for action and may result in withdrawal behaviours. It can be pervasive and ongoing or tied to one particular action.
For anyone on any journey, embarrassment can slow you down. Still, the nuance of embarrassment and whakamā is that there is a society-preserving aspect of it, feeling whakamā about a mistake and learning for next time.
The power of whakamā is so widely recognised that it has its own whakatauki: patau te taniwha o te whakamā — beat the monster of shame.
The imagery of a taniwha reflects the strength of whakamā and the power of overcoming it.
It is not just a fleeting feeling but something deeply embedded in social structures, influencing behaviour and interactions profoundly.
We all encounter embarrassment throughout life, but it takes different forms.
For students, it can be academic — hesitating to ask a question in class for fear of seeming behind, even when lecturers repeatedly assure us questions are encouraged.
It can be social — feeling invisible social pressure to participate in certain activities, perhaps getting up early to drink on St Patrick’s Day not necessarily out of personal want, but to avoid any embarrassment of missing out.
The student experience is filled with moments of self-consciousness. Many students experience whakamā in different ways, but for Māori and Pasifika students, these feelings may present differently.
Whakamā is not just about personal hesitation; it is tied to cultural dynamics and systemic challenges. To name one reason, speaking up in predominantly Pākehā spaces may be daunting. There is a unique pressure for Māori and Pasifika students who feel disconnected from their cultural heritage. Some may experience whakamā over an inability to speak te reo Māori or being unfamiliar with tikanga or cultural norms.
In contrast, others may feel the weight of representing their whānau and community, increasing the embarrassment stakes.
Individual efforts matter greatly. Some lecturers provide special tutorials for indigenous heritage students when sensitive content is addressed, while others consistently encourage questions and cultivate a safe environment for curiosity.
Another effective strategy is easing potential nerves by promoting small group discussions first. These accommodations show respect for students and respect for diversity.
The good news is that whakamā, similar to any taniwha, can be confronted. Like in Witi Ihimaera’s The Whale Rider, Paikea’s initial shame and embarrassment can transform into resilience, power and leadership.
The university community has a role in ensuring that students do not feel isolated in their struggles, and they do a fantastic job of this.
As residents of Ōtepoti, we also have a role in uplifting these students. Symbols on campus and throughout the city serve as quietly powerful reassurances for students navigating the challenges of university life.
For instance, the pou on campus and the waharoa in the Octagon are more than just cultural markers; they signal belonging, safety, and support — especially for those who may feel whakamā.
These symbols, alongside governance and leadership efforts, contribute to a changing institutional culture that prioritises students’ health and fosters an environment where students feel happy and their whānau feel good sending their tamariki to study here.
The redesign of George St strengthens the link between the university and the wider city. Students walk this route daily, encountering cultural touchstones affirming their community place.
The play areas and whānau-friendly spaces reflect a broader shift towards inclusivity, reminding students that their presence is valued both in academic settings and in the city they call home for these years. Creating this sense of connection takes goodwill and effort. Senior leadership at the university is showing this at the moment, and as a student, I am grateful.
By embracing these symbols and the values they represent and creating and expanding safe spaces, we help students overcome the taniwha of whakamā — transforming uncertainty into confidence and isolation into a shared experience of belonging.
• Dunedin resident Grace Togneri is a fourth-year law student.
