Kia Kaha

Kia Kaha - Why Being Strong Isn’t Always Loud

When most people hear the words kia kaha, they picture someone who’s tough. Stoic. Loud. Unshakeable. The type of person who walks into a room and takes up space – confident, outspoken, strong in every sense of the word.

But I’ve learned over the years that real strength doesn’t always look like that.

Sometimes kia kaha means being a toka tū moana - that big unmovable rock amongst the waves in the ocean. Standing still while the world moves around you.

Sometimes kia kaha is soft. Quiet. Gentle or saying nothing at all.

Sometimes kia kaha means walking away from an argument when you’d rather fire back. Or even being the one who says sorry first.

Sometimes it means holding your line, even when no one claps for it. And sometimes, the strongest thing you can do is simply not fold.

A while back, I was in a situation that tested me.

I won’t go into too much detail… not because I’m trying to be cryptic, but because it’s not about the situation itself. It’s about what it taught me.

Long story short, I was part of a hui where some stuff was being said that didn’t sit right with me. Everyone else seemed fine with it, and I could feel that quiet pressure, that internal voice that goes, “Don’t say anything, don’t make a fuss, just go with it.”

And to be honest, that would’ve been easier. Say nothing. Keep the peace. Move on. We did have a long agenda to get through after all lol

But my puku was telling me: Nah this isn’t okay. Why is no-one talking about the other stuff? If you don’t believe this, don’t go along with it.

So I said something. I spoke up quietly, with a calm voice.

It wasn’t about making a grand speech or performance. Just a few words to say, “Hey, I don’t actually feel comfortable with that… and here’s why.”

It was awkward as to be honest. My heart was racing and everyone looked at me like “who the f does this guy think he is?” They probably weren’t thinking that, but at least that’s how it felt.

I didn’t want to argue or try to win anyone over. I just stood in my truth and let the silence do what it needed to do.

And afterwards, a couple of people came up to me quietly and said, “Bro, I actually felt the same way, I just didn’t know how to say it.”

That moment reminded me that strength isn’t about volume - it’s about values.

We don’t have to dominate the room to show kaha. Sometimes we just have to stand firm in what matters, even when you’re the only one doing it.

- Holding a boundary with someone you care about.

- Walking away from a toxic situation, even if everyone else stays for the entertainment - or worse - pulls out their phone to record it.

- Saying “no” when it would be so much easier to say “yes.”

- Letting go of something that’s no longer serving you.

- Asking for help when everything in you wants to pretend you’re fine.

And here’s one I’ve had to learn as a pāpā. Kia kaha sometimes means softening, not hardening. Letting my tamariki see me cry. Admitting when I get it wrong, owning my part and apologising if necessary. Being human.

And I reckon the people who need to hear this most are often the ones who are quietly holding it down.

The ones doing the hard, emotional mahi everyday, that no one sees.

The ones standing in their values, even when it costs them something.

The ones who never fold and stay the course.

If that’s you – kia kaha e hoa. Truly.

That’s strength.

Ngā mihi

Anton