I recently discovered that my family role in my maternal village within Tailevu, Fiji is the Bati, the Warrior. Given my passion for defending my beliefs surrounding racial equality, climate justice, my ancestral country, and my people, it makes sense that it was in my blood to be a fighter.

I spent most of my childhood in the South-Western suburb of Lakemba. I have fond memories of devouring manoush and homegrown fruits provided by my elderly Lebanese neighbour, who insisted I call her Tayta. I remember navigating Yangoora Road during the busy time of Ramadan just to catch the 450 bus to school. Growing up in a predominantly Middle Eastern neighbourhood had its perks and challenges as an Australian-born Fijian man. As an adolescent, I began to notice the social differences between my family and everyone else around me. Tayta would wear her hijab everywhere, even on hot days, while she tended to her garden, whereas my parents would be doing chores in a sulu and an old t-shirt. Tayta’s iftar leftovers that she offered to us over the fence were a stark contrast to the suruwa or the rourou my family would make. I grew to appreciate these differences and the wealth of diversity I was exposed to early on.