I recently attended a high-profile “Asia Pacific” event in Australia. On the surface, it was marketed as a space for regional dialogue and shared learning. But as the program unfolded, it became clear that “Pacific” was included in name only. Pacific voices were few, and the overall focus felt narrow and imbalanced.
There were strong speakers and moments of insight, but Pacific presence was noticeably missing. Most of the spotlight went to one part of the region, with little interest in challenging dominant narratives or raising long-overlooked issues. The event’s theme was “disruption and change,” yet there was little space to question power or offer bold ideas. The ongoing call for justice in places like West Papua, for example, was completely absent. Instead of exploring real, community-led solutions, the discussions stayed on safe, surface-level topics. It seemed the focus was more on appearances than on impact.
As someone who is both Pacific and Asian, I found the representation to be shallow. It was disappointing to see non-Asian speakers leading workshops on Asian cultural activities, reducing rich traditions to simplified material. It reminded me that even inclusive events can still miss the mark when it comes to respect and authenticity.
Small moments spoke volumes too. At a multicultural food fair, attendees were asked to take only one or two pieces of food. Yet not a single Pacific dish was offered. A strange contrast, since generosity and abundance are at the heart of Pacific culture.
What made this even more frustrating was the venue itself. This event took place at an institution known to be home to brilliant Pacific academics, professionals, and leaders. Their knowledge was within reach, yet their presence was barely reflected in the program. How could that be overlooked?
This wasn’t just a matter of underrepresentation. It felt like erasure.
When the Pacific is included, it often shows up as a symbol. A sei behind the ear. A piece of traditional clothing. These are not fashion choices. They are cultural statements. They are markers of identity and pride.
Despite the cold, we showed up proudly in our cultural wear. We changed our sei each day, not for variety but for visibility. We spoke up in panels and in the hallways. We created space where there was none. We reminded others that we are not outsiders in this region. We helped build it. And if we are remembered at all, maybe it will be through the way we dressed. Through our sei, our patterns, our pride. Even if our words and ideas were overlooked.
I share this not just because of my own experience. It speaks to a bigger pattern. The “Asia Pacific” or “Indo-Pacific” is often imagined as everything except Pacific. Our voices are frequently left out or included only in symbolic ways. I was glad to ask questions that challenged this. Many delegates admitted they didn’t know the difference between Samoa and Solomon Islands. Some even confused our countries with Somalia.
This is not just a lack of knowledge. It is a lack of recognition.
Pacific peoples are not foreign to these lands. Our Torres Strait Islander family are Melanesian. They are Pacific. They are First Nations. The Pacific is not distant. It is present here, deeply rooted in the story of this continent.
One of the biggest things missing from the event was the opportunity to truly talanoa. To sit in circles. To share, to listen, and to learn together. Instead, we were expected to sit quietly for hours while others spoke at us. The most valuable knowledge was not always on stage. It was in the delegation. In the lived experiences, the informal conversations, and the questions that never made it to the mic. Our cultures thrive in connection, not hierarchy.
It was both beautiful and humbling to witness that we do have allies across the wider region—fellow delegates genuinely eager to learn about our experiences and disappointed that the event itself offered so few opportunities to do so.
So how do we speak these truths without being seen as too emotional? How do we call for change without being labelled disruptive?
Some spaces say they want honesty, but only when it feels safe or convenient.
Still, we will not shrink ourselves. We do not need to fit in quietly. Our inclusion is not optional. It is essential.
Five steps we can take
1. Centre First Nations Australians
Every conversation about inclusion in Australia must begin here. Acknowledging Country is not enough. We need First Nations leadership, knowledge, and co-creation.
2. Include Pacific Peoples from the Start
Do not bring us in at the last minute for diversity. Involve us early and meaningfully. We are leaders, not just performers.
3. Call Out Performative Inclusion
Culture is not content. If you showcase Pacific or Asian traditions, let those who live them lead. Borrowing culture without care is not representation.
4. Rethink the Asia Pacific Frame
Ask who benefits. Who gets funded, heard, and seen. If the Pacific is named, it must also be centred. Not sidelined.
5. Support Pacific-Led Spaces
Come to where we already lead. Attend our events. Fund our work. Collaborate with respect. If you admire our cultures, show it through your actions. Admiration without investment is not allyship.
The Pacific is not just a word in a regional title.
We are navigators, survivors, and caretakers of the future.
Our ocean does not divide us. It brings us together.
We are not asking to be included.
We are reminding the region that we have always been here.
