Kaupapa Māori vs Western Systems: A Doctor’s Fight for Voice & Identity with Dr Alexander Stevens II

This conversation with Dr Alexander Stevens II is not just about academic achievement or professional success. It is about survival, identity, resistance, and the long, often lonely work of challenging systems that were never designed to hold Māori voices, stories, or ways of knowing.

From the courtroom to the university, from community advocacy to national policy spaces, Dr Stevens’ journey reflects what it means to move through Western systems while holding firm to kaupapa Māori values—and refusing to let lived experience be erased.

Dr Stevens begins by describing a moment in court that captures a wider truth. After listing his qualifications—including a PhD in sexual violence recovery—the judge stopped further questioning and acknowledged him as a credible expert. From that point on, his expertise was rarely challenged again.

While this recognition mattered, it also revealed something uncomfortable: as a Māori academic and practitioner, he felt he had to work three to four times as hard as his Pākehā counterparts to be afforded the same level of respect. This, he said plainly, is racism—often unconscious, but deeply embedded.

The playing field is not equal. To survive and be heard within it, he learned to “level up” relentlessly.

Dr Stevens reflects on his name—Alexander Windsor Stevens II—and how it carries layers of history, power, and complexity. “Windsor” connects to his Māori lineage and colonial legacy. “Stevens” comes from his father, who registered his name without consulting his mother.

That moment, small as it might seem, symbolises much of what follows in his life: identity being shaped in spaces where power is uneven, and choice is not always shared.

Raised in a home marked by domestic violence, Dr Stevens grew up believing that chaos was normal. It was only later—after staying with a friend and witnessing a peaceful household—that he realised life could have been different.

His father lived with bipolar disorder and schizoaffective symptoms, often unmedicated. Some days were warm and loving; others were terrifying. Mental health, violence, and instability were not abstract concepts—they were everyday realities.

These early experiences shaped his eventual path into family harm, mental health, and sexual violence recovery work.

At sixteen, Dr Stevens received his first disclosure of sexual violence. He did not yet have the language or tools to respond. A year later, the man who disclosed to him died by suicide.

That moment stayed with him.

As he later worked across acute mental health services, addiction treatment, community organisations, and Rainbow Youth, a pattern became clear: men were disclosing trauma at incredibly high rates—but there was nowhere for them to go.

Many were diagnosed with severe mental illness, heavily medicated, and cycling through crisis services. Yet when he listened closely, he found that untreated trauma—especially sexual abuse—was often at the core.

Dr Stevens noticed that while services claimed to support “everyone,” men seeking help for sexual abuse were frequently turned away—funding structures, gendered assumptions, and fear of discomfort created invisible barriers.

This question became the foundation of his PhD:

Where do men go for help after sexual abuse?

What do they search online?
Which spaces feel safe?
How do you design support that does not retraumatise or exclude?

Over seven years, he interviewed more than 120 people. Many stayed with him throughout the entire process, committed to seeing their stories honoured properly.

The result was standingtall.org.nz—a free, accessible website designed with men, for men, grounded in lived experience rather than institutional assumptions.

One of the most difficult parts of the PhD was not the research—it was defending Māori ways of telling stories within a Western academic framework.

Some participants were illiterate or used text-style language. Supervisors pushed for “proper English.” Dr Stevens refused.

To change their words would be to change their voice. To change their voice would be to erase their identity.

He wrote entire sections on colonisation, oppression, and voice—challenging the idea that academic “professionalism” should come at the cost of humanity.

Dr Stevens holds more than 35 qualifications. Not for prestige—but for protection.

Each qualification became a tool he could pull out when systems shifted, questioned his authority, or attempted to dismiss Māori knowledge as anecdotal or unscientific.

In court, in government, and in health systems, those qualifications became shields—not to excuse behaviour, but to explain context, trauma, and pathways forward with integrity.

Dr Stevens is clear: this work does not make you popular.

Challenging institutions, naming racism, and advocating for Māori and marginalised men often lead to resistance, discomfort, and isolation. But he never saw walking away as an option.

“No” is not an answer—just a pause before finding another way through.

Knowing how fragile progress can be, Dr Stevens has begun mentoring younger Māori men, preparing them to take over the work eventually. He speaks openly about succession—not because he wants to leave, but because narratives should never depend on a single person.

If he could speak to his younger self, Dr Stevens would not minimise the pain. Instead, he would say this:

All the violence, discrimination, bullying, and suffering will one day be woven into something meaningful. You will find a way to transform it—not just for yourself, but for others as well.

The PhD, he says, is not the destination. It is the handle of an umbrella—allowing all his experiences, qualifications, and kaupapa to open outward when needed.

When asked what he would say to Māori who continue to feel targeted, dismissed, or erased, his answer is simple: We are not going anywhere.

Despite racism, policy attacks, and cultural undermining, Māori resilience endures. Humour, whakapapa, and collective strength continue to carry people forward—even when the systems do not.

This conversation is not just about Kaupapa Māori versus Western systems. It is about what happens when lived experience refuses to be silenced, when identity is defended with dignity, and when survival becomes a form of leadership.

Dr Alexander Stevens II’s work reminds us that systems change slowly—but people change them anyway, one voice, one story, and one act of courage at a time.

Full Podcast: Kaupapa Māori vs Western Systems: A Doctor’s Fight for Voice & Identity with Dr Alexander Stevens II