Part 2 - Raising Bicultural Tamariki – Thoughts on Parenting Children with Roots and Wings

I’m grateful to have a quiet moment today to jot down some reflections on raising our bicultural tamariki. This week in Granada has been especially rich, Semana Santa in full swing, and friends visiting who are another global family, each of us raising children with roots in different places. These conversations always get me thinking about what it actually means to parent children who carry more than one heritage, and what it takes to help them grow both roots and wings.

The Black Sheep Legacy (and Its Shadows)

One thing I keep noticing, both in our family and in the families we connect with—is how many of us parents were the “black sheep” growing up. The ones who didn’t quite fit, who questioned things, who wanted to do life differently. It’s funny how that thread weaves through so many bicultural families I meet. Perhaps it’s our curiosity, or our willingness to embrace difference, that led us to partners from other cultures and, now, to raising children who are learning to hold multiple worlds inside themselves.

But I also want to be honest: being the black sheep often comes with its own layers of trauma. For me (and for Dani too), the last few years have meant doing our own work, therapy, self-reflection, and a lot of uncomfortable conversations. We realised that if we wanted to build a strong, healthy family culture for our children, we had to look at our own wounds first. It’s not always easy, but it’s been so worth it. Healing some of those old hurts has helped us show up more fully for our tamariki, and hopefully, break a few cycles along the way.

Sitting with Ambiguity

A big theme in our chats this week has been ambiguity—how much of it there is in intercultural family life, and how quickly you have to get comfortable with it. Our children are learning to navigate situations that don’t always have clear answers, and sometimes even we as parents are still figuring it out as we go. I see it in our teenagers and pre-teens, especially: adolescence is already a confusing time, and adding in questions of cultural identity just ups the ante. The need to belong, the self-doubt, the push and pull between different worlds—it’s a lot.

What Dani and I keep coming back to is the idea of family culture. There’s the culture of the country we’re in, the wider family, the online world (which is a whole other conversation!), but the one we can actually shape is the culture inside our own home. That’s our anchor. When the outside world feels confusing, I hope our family can be a place where our children feel safe and seen.

Roots, Wings, and the Messy Middle

So how do we help our children grow roots and wings? For me, it’s about giving them as much of both cultures as we can—language, stories, food, traditions—while also letting them find their own way. I try to remind myself that their journey won’t look exactly like mine or Dani’s, and that’s okay.

We talk openly about the hard stuff: the times they feel out of place, or when one language feels like a struggle, or when they wish things were simpler. I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that being able to talk about it matters.

Spending these months in Spain, after so many years in Aotearoa, is stretching us all. It’s a test of our family culture, and some days feel like a mess, but I also see the strength that comes from sticking together and making space for everyone’s experience.

The Gifts and the Challenges

I really believe there are massive gifts in raising bicultural children. They learn empathy, flexibility, and a broader view of the world. But there are real challenges too: feeling “othered”, not quite fitting anywhere, or having to explain themselves over and over. Our job isn’t to make all that go away, but to walk alongside them, and to keep the kōrero (conversation) open. The more we talk about these layers, the more we support each other—and maybe, the more we help our children feel grounded, even when life feels a bit in-between.

Belonging - a Poem I'm guided by :-)

by Toko-pa Turner

For the rebels and the misfits, the black sheep and the outsiders.

For the refugees, the orphans, the scapegoats, and the weirdos.

For the uprooted, the abandoned, the shunned and invisible ones.

May you recognise with increasing vividness that you know what you know.

May you give up your allegiances to self-doubt, meekness, and hesitation.

May you be willing to be unlikeable, and in the process be utterly loved.

May you be impervious to the wrongful projections of others, and may you deliver your disagreements with precision and grace.

May you see, with the consummate clarity of nature moving through you, that your voice is not only necessary, but desperately needed to sing us out of this muddle.

May you feel shored up, supported, entwined, and reassured as you offer yourself and your gifts to the world.

May you know for certain that even as you stand by yourself, you are not alone.

Final Thoughts

If you’re raising bicultural tamariki, or you’re a fellow black sheep, just know you’re not alone. This path is full of questions, but also full of beauty. There is so much for us to discover and unpack.

One thing I'm learning is live moment to moment, and a gratitude practice is helpful ;-)

If you ever want to chat, I’m here—whether it’s about parenting, identity, or just finding your way in the messiness of it all.

Hold on for the ride, I got ya.

I use a needs-based, NVC-style coaching approach to walk alongside those who want to work through whatever’s alive for them in the moment. I offer sessions online and also provide coaching via email exchange—something that’s working really well for a client at the moment, and which I’d love to offer to anyone who feels more comfortable expressing themselves in writing.

Find me @ interculutralconnections.net

Let’s keep sharing our stories. The world needs more of this kōrero, because it’s our global tamariki who are going to make the difference!