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Kirsty Dunn

interview with Philip McKibbin
​Kirsty Dunn (Te Aupōuri, Te Rarawa) is a writer, photographer, and academic. She is currently pursuing her PhD in English (focusing on Māori literature) at the University of Canterbury, and learning te reo Māori at Aotahi, the School of Māori and Indigenous Studies. Recently, she published ‘Kaimangatanga: Māori Perspectives on Veganism and Plant-based Kai’ in the Animal Studies Journal. She lives in Ōtautahi, and is māmā to 4-year-old Kāhu.
http://www.kirstyhdunn.com/
https://kaimangatanga.wordpress.com/
Tell me about your journey toward plant-based kai.
​I have never been much of a meat-eater, although my decisions in this regard were initially more about taste than anything else; I lived on a farm during my teenage years and just accepted that animals were utilised for kai and for profit.
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During my time at University, I adopted a pescatarian diet – cutting out all meat except for kaimoana on the odd occasion. I became interested in different ways of preparing and cooking vegetarian and plant-based foods, and this intensified when I finished my studies and went travelling overseas. Again, I wasn’t thinking too critically about my diet and consumer choices at this stage; I just felt that plant-based kai was beneficial for my health, and I noticed that my energy levels and general sense of well-being had increased.
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Kirsty with her whānau.
When I returned home, I became aware of the adverse effects of meat and dairy production in Aotearoa. To be honest, I was kind of embarrassed that I’d never really considered the cruel treatment of animals forced to live in factory farms or the stresses experienced by dairy cows, let alone the consequences of intensive farming upon the whenua and waterways. I returned to university and met inspiring academics and fellow students who were involved in activism and research, from lots of different backgrounds and with different inspirations and influences. This prompted me to do my Master’s thesis on representations of Western meat production and consumption in contemporary fiction – I learned more about the different facets of meat production including the experiences of slaughterhouse workers, the lives and deaths of animals in intensive farming operations, as well as the role that language plays in the objectification of certain animals and the ways in which it can mask the harsh realities of industrialised agriculture.

I also became a mum during this time. I thought a lot about the kind of world our tamaiti would be growing up in, and this led me to reassess my own consumer choices and to learn more about where my kai was coming from, the welfare of people involved in its production, where my money was going, the plastic and packaging I was responsible for, and so on. I thought more about the continuing ramifications of colonisation and the capitalist system as a whole – I guess I just became increasingly aware of the connections between these things and felt really strongly about not only trying to make changes to our lifestyle, but to talk more with others to find out their whakaaro, and to learn more about values, practices, and worldviews within te ao Māori that could guide me in that change. Having my son was a catalyst in my decision to once again make a commitment to learn te reo Māori and to stick with it; this has also underpinned my journey and slowly reveals ways of relating to, and thinking about, the world that constantly inspire and energise me.
What are the values that guide your decisions around kai?
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Kāhu in the greenhouse māra made from recycled materials.
The ways in which whakapapa explains our relationships with all things constantly reminds me that our actions, however seemingly small they might be, have consequences for all our whanaunga – human and nonhuman alike. This is the foundation for other guiding values, such as kaitiakitanga and our responsibility to take an active role in caring for the taiao and all those that we share the environment with – including those that will be here after us. The concept of hauora and the ways in which our choices regarding kai affect all facets of our health and well-being, which extend beyond our individual health to that of our whānau and the environment, is also something that guides me. Lately, prompted by your kōrero, e hoa, I am thinking about the role that aroha plays in all of this too.
I also have friends and whānau who live and work on farms, or for whom fishing is their livelihood or who hunt and fish for kai, or who just don’t agree with my opinion or our lifestyle choices. So for me, being strong in my values but respectful to theirs is also something that guides me, which I think also relates to manaakitanga – I want to be able to share kōrero (and kai!) with them, too. It’s also about acknowledging the different pressures we contend with, the privileges that some of us have, the various contradictions present in our lifestyles, and remembering that whilst individual choices are important, it’s even more important to look at the systems in place which have led to the exploitation of humans, animals, and the environment on such a massive scale with such dire consequences.
Recently, you suggested that 'kaimangatanga' could be a useful term for describing Māori plant-based lifestyles. Could you please explain this concept?
I think that 'kaimangatanga' might be a term that can encapsulate a plant-based kai ethic that is based upon concepts and values from te ao Māori, but that is not necessarily confined to either veganism or vegetarianism (‘kaimanga’ means ‘plant-eater’ or ‘consumer of greens / leafy vegetables’). For example, this might be one way that we describe a plant-based diet whilst also acknowledging our continued relationship with taonga that are made from animal materials - veganism might not take these kinds of cultural elements into account. I think this fits more with my own ethics; for example, I might eat vegetarian kai when visiting friends and whānau as it’s a bit easier, or buy second-hand clothes made of wool for my son, and so on.
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Homegrown produce from the māra.
I also think that this is just one term amongst many that can provide ways of describing different ethics regarding kai, including plant-based ones. I also like the term ‘tūkino-free’ or harm-free, ‘kaitipu’, and so on. I am still a fledgling reo speaker, too – I am sure that as I learn, there will be other kupu and ways of looking at the world that come to light that will continue to inform this kaupapa.

​I think that there is power in different terms and ways of approaching this.
In some ways, kaimangatanga resembles vegetarianism and veganism. Are these concepts complementary or opposed to each other?
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A dahl in progress.
​Personally, I think that they can be complementary – vegetarianism is a way of easing into veganism for some people (it definitely was for me). And whilst I understand that it is important to have people who are staunch in the kaupapa and who challenge others to do more in terms of assessing their own lifestyle or exerting pressure on our politicians and so on, I also think that constantly policing other people’s decisions or arguments about what is or isn’t technically vegan sometimes misses the point. I guess I just think that a focus on the definitions of these terms often leads to missed opportunities to discuss things in a more holistic way, or a way that centres systemic issues.
How does your whānau make plant-based kai work for you?
It’s a lot easier than I first anticipated – I think being vegetarian for a long time helped in this regard, so I am used to ‘vegefying’ most dishes. I usually do a big cook-up in the weekend to make some meals we can freeze to use during the week: curries, pasta sauces, chilli beans, lentil and vegetable patties, soups, falafel, and yes, even the classic nut loaf – these are all easy and cheap to make. Vegan baking is also really easy. There are also more and more vegan options available both at the supermarket and eateries, too, which is great.
I think a big misconception is that you need fancy or expensive ingredients to have a plant-based diet – sure, there are expensive and ready-made options out there (which quite often come in plenty of plastic, too), but these are by no means necessary. We try to get as much veg as we can from the local market and grow some of our own, and we do a bulk shop for dry goods every now and then to fill our jars at home, to try and cut down on plastic.

​Our young son eats plant-based kai at home, but when visiting whānau we tautoko him in choosing what he’d like to eat and share with his whanaunga. For us, it is important that he feels comfortable – we don’t want him to feel anxious about kai. As he grows, he will develop his own whakaaro, and we want to support him in that.
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A parakore picnic.
As well as thinking about te taiao and hauora, I know you care about non-human animals. How does your love for animals fit with the kaimangatanga kaupapa?
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Kāhu with Whero and Whetū.
​This is really something that I’ve been thinking about more recently. I never had strong feelings about this when I was younger – living on a farm probably shaped my attitudes in that regard. On the one hand, the more I learn about other animal species, the more amazed I am at their lives and abilities and what we can learn from them, and so I don’t want to cause them harm. And at the same time, I think that our regard for other species should not be contingent on what we know about them or what they can teach us, either – it should be enough that they are here, they live in, experience, and share the same world as us, they are our relations, and so we need to act in such a way as to respect that.
​Interviewed: November, 2019
Published: December, 2019
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