Atua Wāhine by Hana Tapiata is framed as an offering – from her kete to yours, take what serves you, leave behind what doesn’t. The book is conceived as a wānanga ō roto (appropriate, then, that Hinekauorohia, the atua of reflection appears within its pages). There are wānanga sections for each chapter (each chapter aligns to an Atua Wahine), in a grey box, a series of exercises that encourage self-reflection and loosely connect to the corresponding Atua Wahine. This book no doubt works best if you actually do the exercises, and that you approach the exercise with an open heart and an open mind. The book encourages you, the reader, to be unselfconscious (be truthful with yourself, Tapiata reminds us - these are just for you). The tone is light, conversational, and feels like a chat with your best friend.

There were some interesting tensions in the book to unpack. I loved the presentation of kōrero about both well-known and little-known Atua Wahine. The rediscovery and reclamation of this knowledge is incredibly important. Due to colonisation and the tohunga suppression act, much of our kōrero tuku iho and traditions went underground and are only now resurfacing and being revitalised. We have lost so much, and our own tikanga and mātauranga have been persistently distorted through the lens of the patriarchy and white supremacy. I appreciate Tapiata’s own re-interpretations, and the invitation to develop our own, however more on the interpretations of others would have presented a more complete picture, including the eminent thinkers cited and referred to throughout the book.

Tapiata is upfront in sharing that these stories are the versions she knows. She has been deliberate in sharing a generalised version that does not rely on iwi and hapū-specific mātauranga. In some instances, she presents multiple versions, allowing these to sit alongside one another. The book is lightly referenced throughout – I would have appreciated a more fulsome referencing to the works of others, including oral histories and tribally-specific narratives. The whakapapa noted is an essential part of understanding the interconnectedness of all things, and the connections between human beings and the natural world, with ngā atua being the critical junction or point of connection.

For many, this may be your first exposure to Atua Wahine, and if you, like myself, are a wahine Māori, this new knowledge can be incredibly affirming. At its best, this book is an accessible, entry-level book on an incredibly deep and complex topic, and this might be the starting point that leads you to read books and academic texts by the likes of Dr. Ngahuia Murphy, Dr Aroha Yates-Smith, Ngāhuia te Awekōtuku and others. Atua Wāhine, helpfully, includes a reading list, and I strongly encourage anyone with an interest in the topic who wants to read more to start there.

The focus on the individual was less appealing. It felt awkward to present a version of contemporary Māori spirituality that echoed, for me at least, some more modern forms of Christianity, where the relationship with God (or in this case, Gods) is intensely personal and what you make of it. At times, the book seems to draw on popular psychology, including cognitive behavioural therapy, as well as aspects of new-age spirituality (which is, in itself, a mash-up and reinterpretation of Eastern philosophies). I am not sure our tūpuna conceived of our Atua in this way, and I’m not entirely confident we should either. Heoi anō, he ao hou tēnei. Our tūpuna were constantly remaking and reimagining our world, and perhaps it is in this spirit that Tapiata approaches this new iteration and interpretation. 

Reclaiming and revitalising our ancestral knowledge with the crumbs we have left or have access to is challenging work, and Tapiata should be commended for attempting to do so. When it comes down to it, this isn’t an academic work; this is one wahine, one māmā, sharing her knowledge and her personal journey. Ultimately, it is up to you, the reader, to decide what is of value to you personally and what isn’t. This is, after all, an offering. Take what serves you and leave behind what doesn’t.