Is It Time to Reframe How We Talk About Te Reo Māori?

Language shapes more than conversation. It shapes how we understand our history, how we make meaning of our experiences, and how we imagine the future. The words we choose influence the stories we tell - not only about our language, but about ourselves. As te reo Māori continues to flourish across Aotearoa, perhaps there is another important conversation waiting to occur. Not about the revitalisation efforts themselves, but about the language we use to describe that revitalisation. Over the years, terms such as language loss and language trauma have become frequent features in stories of cultural reclamation. They have helped to articulate the deep and profound impacts of colonial policies on te reo Māori and on generations of Māori. These terms have given language to experiences that were often difficult to name. As our understanding grows, perhaps it is worth asking whether these phrases still tell the story we want to tell. Take the phrase language loss. Connotations associated with the word loss often suggest that something has been misplaced, forgotten, or somehow slipped away. It carries an implication - however unintended - that responsibility lies with the person who has lost it. That is not the story of te reo Māori. Te reo Māori was not carelessly misplaced. It was subjected to the deliberate and sustained impacts of settler colonialism, where policies, institutions, and social systems undermined the status of te reo Māori and negatively affected its natural transmission and use between generations. Describing this as language loss can unintentionally soften that history, while placing subtle responsibility on those who inherited the consequences of those actions. The reality is that many Māori did not lose access to te reo Māori by choice. Access was diminished through systems that created barriers to learning, speaking, and passing on the language. Perhaps there is an opportunity to describe this more accurately - not as language loss, but as the state-driven suppression of te reo Māori or the colonial erosion of its place, use, and transmission across generations. These descriptions tell a more truthful story. They acknowledge historical truth while recognising the resilience of those who ensured the language endured. They acknowledge what happened, locate responsibility accurately, and remind us that te reo Māori was never lost - it was carried, protected, and is now being reclaimed by a new generation. A similar opportunity exists with the phrase language trauma. The term has helped bring visibility to the very real impacts experienced by generations of Māori as a result of the suppression of te reo Māori. It has provided a way to acknowledge that many people’s relationship with language has been shaped by experiences beyond their individual control. However, as we continue to deepen our understanding of language revitalisation, it is worth considering whether this phrase places emphasis in the right place. The trauma was never in the language. Te reo Māori has always been a source of identity, belonging, knowledge, and connection. It has carried whakapapa, mātauranga, and the voices of our ancestors across generations. The trauma arose from the impacts of settler colonialism, which created barriers to accessing and inheriting te reo Māori. Systems and successive government policies halted intergenerational transmission for many whānau, marginalised the status of Māori knowledge, and reduced opportunities for many people to learn, speak, and pass on their ancestral language. This distinction matters. When we use the phrase language trauma, there is a risk that the trauma becomes associated with the language itself rather than with the systems and experiences that interrupted people’s connection to it. Te reo Māori was not the source of harm. It was the taonga that endured, despite it. As we move forward, there is an opportunity to shift our language towards terms that more accurately reflect what occurred - such as the impacts of colonial language suppression, the systematic barriers that restricted intergenerational language transmission, or the effects of language displacement. This is not about denying the experiences captured by the term language trauma. It is about locating those experiences more accurately and ensuring that the language we use reflects both the truth of the past and the hope of the future. There is perhaps an even bigger question beneath all of this. If colonisation shaped the way te reo Māori was treated, could it also have shaped the language we now use to describe that experience? The words language loss and language trauma have helped us understand the past. They have served an important purpose. But perhaps they also reflect a vocabulary centred on the deficit - one that emerged while we were explaining what had happened to us. Today, the story is changing. Across Aotearoa, whānau are reclaiming te reo Māori. More children are growing up hearing and speaking the language. Communities are restoring ancestral names. Workplaces are embracing bilingual practices. Every new speaker adds another voice to a language that has never stopped living. What was once a story centred on the impacts of the past is now equally a story of reclamation, revitalisation, and possibility. As te reo Māori continues to thrive, perhaps our language should evolve alongside it. Perhaps our conversations can move beyond words that centre absence and trauma, towards language that reflects truth, resilience, reclamation, and possibility. In doing so, we don't simply describe the revitalisation of te reo Māori - we champion it. Because revitalisation is more than bringing back a language, it is also about reclaiming the narrative. And perhaps one of the most powerful acts of reclamation is choosing words that remind us not only where we have come from, but where we are going.