No mountain, no river
| Author | Bruce Munro |
| Published date | 07 February 2022 |
| Publication title | Otago Daily Times: Web Edition Articles (New Zealand) |
It is unexpected. But, probably, inevitable.
The mid-life, early-career academic looks confident, in control, sitting in the University of Otago's de facto second staff club, the Otago Museum cafe. She has a doctoral degree; is a lecturer in Te Tumu — The School of Māori, Pacific and Indigenous Studies; she is conducting research that has won prestigious Marsden Grant funding and brought her to the notice of the Government; and, she is here to talk about her areas of expertise; interracial adoption laws and identity formation.
But, with the third question, tears well and her voice catches.
"Sorry about this," Dr Newman says, drawing a deep breath.
No apology needed.
This is just how it is sometimes — when your life's work is this personal.
Her decision to go to university, aged 30, and all she has done since, has been to understand her own place in the world — as the daughter of a Māori woman adopted by a Pākehā couple — and to help others find theirs.
"Identity is important, because it is who you are," Dr Newman says.
"As a descendant of an adoptee, I've always felt floating, not knowing exactly where I fit. Drifting around, not knowing how to ground myself."
Dr Newman's mum, Beverly Thomas, and her life as a Māori pēpē put up for adoption, raised in a Pākehā world, is one of thousands of such cases; each a life-long mirror held up to New Zealand's adoption laws.
The first adoption law in the British Empire was enacted in New Zealand, in 1881.
Prior to European arrival, the closest Māori equivalent was whāngai — children raised by whānau or hapū members in response to a need of the parents or the guardians. It was always done openly, with full knowledge of all parties.
In 1910, whāngai was officially abolished by colonial law but, in practice, continued.
From 1915 onwards, for Māori and Pākehā adoptions, it became harder to get copies of adoptee's birth certificates.
Secrecy continued to creep in.
From the 1940s, it was difficult to get any adoption records.
At the same time, advertising children for adoption was common.
One day in 1948, New Zealand radio icon Aunt Daisy, as was her regular habit, read out on her nationwide show the details of a Māori baby girl available for adoption. It was Dr Newman's mother, Beverly.
Beverly was 6 weeks old when she was placed in the care of Onehunga, Auckland, Pākehā couple, Erica and Harry Thomas. They adopted Beverly in 1950 and raised her as their own.
Beverly knew...
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