In December, journalist Oriini Kaipara became the first Maori woman with a traditional chin mark, called moko kauae, to appear on television news in the country. And in 2020, New Zealand MP Nanaia Mahuta became the first Maori woman to be appointed Foreign Minister – and therefore the first to wear a moko kauae on such an international stage. Moko kauae is a sacred tattoo traditionally worn by Maori women and covers most of the chin and lips. The corresponding male is the matora, which can cover most of the face. The growing visibility of these labels, commonly known as tā moko – or simply moko – in New Zealand is a dream come true for Julie Paama-Pengelly, a Maori activist and artist who helped revive her in the 1990s. “When we started the revival all these years ago, that was what we envisioned,” she told Unreserved presenter Rosanna Deerchild. “But I do not think we really realized we were going to claim this place again, you know, in such a strong way.” Julie Paama-Pengelly is a Maori activist and artist who has helped revive traditional tattoos and marks called tā moko. (Lars Krutak / Courtesy of Skindigenous 2019)
From Maori to New Zealand to Inuit to Canada, Indigenous peoples around the world are reviving traditional tattoos and scars on their faces after being stigmatized by the continuing effects of Western-led colonialism. In Canada, former Nunavut MP Mumilaaq Qaqqaq was the first elected official on Parliament Hill to wear marks on her face and chin. In an interview in 2019, she said she preferred to call the signs “traditionally inspired”. The recent resurgence of Inuit tattoos – including facial marks, called kakiniit – in Canada was done in part by Hovak Johnston, creator of the Inuit Tattoo Revitalization Project. Johnston learned a technique for creating tattoos called hand poke after noticing that ancient art was on the verge of being completely erased. He has since traveled to communities in northern Canada to teach the techniques and their historical significance. Aedan Corey attended an Inuit Tattoo Revitalization Project event in his hometown of Cambridge Bay, Nunavut in 2016. Before that, Corey had never seen anyone in the community with a traditional Inuit tattoo. Corey got a small tattoo on the back of their neck in that session. They describe it as an “incredibly special moment”. Julie Paama-Pengelly works in a tā moko in her studio. He was a key figure in helping revitalize art in New Zealand in the 1990s. (Lars Krutak)
A few years later, while feeling isolated during a lockdown for COVID-19, Corey sat down at a table in their home and began applying V-shaped lines to their foreheads – the beginning of their own face tattoo. “I feel like it’s part of myself at this point. Like, I’m looking in the mirror and I can not remember a time when I did not have them. I mean, I feel like they’ve always been there.” said Corey. Corey’s chin tattoo is of particular importance. Their great-great-grandmother, from whom they took their name, had the same marks. “It is believed in Inuit culture that the people we named after them take on parts of this person. Then I thought it would be very appropriate to get a tattoo that my namesake also had,” Corey said. But it’s not just personal. Reviving art, Corey said, also decolonizes the indigenous experience in Canada, as it has been largely erased from the memory of generations. Aedan Corey is an Inuk artist from Cambridge Bay, Nunavut, and is currently studying at Carleton University in Ottawa. They recently learned the art of Inuit tattooing from the Inuit Tattoo Revitalization Project, created by Hovak Johnston. (Submitted by Aedan Corey)
“Through the process of assimilation into Christianity, essentially as Inuit we were not allowed to get our tattoos because it was forbidden. It was considered bad by the missionaries and became somewhat of a secret practice,” Corey explained. Isaac Murdoch, singer and narrator of Anishinaabe, has 17 tattoos on his body. Many of them depict adult and baby thunderbirds, who play a central role in a story that his father often told him as a child. In history, lightning fought with snakes and thunderbird babies represent the next generation of life on the planet. She says she shares the details of the story only during ceremonies, to give her the respect and integrity she deserves. “It was a very, very beautiful story of how our people are returning to the country and going back to the old way of life,” Murdoch said, likening it to the revival of the tattoo art itself. Isaac Murdoch is an Anishinaabe singer and narrator from the Serpent River First Nation in Ontario. His tattoos tell a sacred story with lightning that his father often told him as a child. (Alex Usquiano)
The act of wearing these stories on a more permanent medium, such as his own skin, makes them a symbol of strength and integrity, he says. “Because the Canadian government removed this knowledge on purpose, it’s a good idea to really wear it on our bodies,” said Murdoch, of the Serpent River First Nation in Ontario. “It’s just a beautiful feeling to enter society, to say, ‘Hello, I’m a native. I have a native tattoo. They tell a story. We are still here. We survived. “History has survived.”

Reversal of colonization efforts

Paama-Pengelly said the same deportation happened to the Maori at the hands of the colonial missionaries. The Tohunga Suppression Act of 1907 banned Maori practitioners, called tohunga, from all traditional practices, including medicine and the arts. For almost a century, he said, tā moko had essentially gone underground, as among Maori in prison. Paama-Pengelly worked alongside politically motivated artists, language and culture experts in the 1990s to revive it. Thanks in part to their efforts, the stigma surrounding tā moko in New Zealand has begun to fade – but not completely. Corey applies traditional Inuit signs. (Submitted by Aedan Corey)
Shortly after being promoted to New Zealand Foreign Minister, Mahuta faced criticism from some public figures, including a post on social media calling the tattoos “uncivilized,” according to the Guardian. “I think there is an emerging awareness of the revitalization of Maori culture and that facial moko is a positive aspect of it. We need to move away from associating moko with gangs, because that does not represent moko at all,” Mahuta said. . in response at that time.

Ownership concerns

As tā moko has grown from obscurity to popularity, Paama-Pengelly is concerned that they are slowly becoming appropriated or trivial. Some non-Maori, he says, have chosen to get Maori-style tattoos. They are often called kiritouchi. “I do not have much tolerance [for] that “, said Paama-Pengelly about kirituhi. “When I started doing moko, you know, I would not do any moko that was not Maori because for me it had to belong to our communities first,” he said. Last year, Corey began tattooing Inuit friends, helping to transmit the tradition they had just rediscovered. Corey is not sure if they want to see Inuit tattoos, including kakiniit, to become “mainstream”. But they hope that by practicing the sack by hand and perhaps teaching it to others, they can help normalize it in Inuit communities and beyond. “I hope future generations see these tattoos and say they’s normal, they’s okay. And maybe even that is something I want to represent,” they said. Written by Jonathan Ore Produced by Kate Adach, Laura Beaulne-Stuebing, Erin Noel, Kim Kaschor and Rosanna Deerchild.