Tahuna Te Ahi (Setting the World Alight) is a series dedicated to showcasing ringatoi Māori – both emerging and experienced – across Aotearoa, celebrating the vibrancy and diversity of Toi Māori. It is a partnership between The Big Idea and Te Manawa.

Sarah Owen (Rongowhakaata, Ngāti Porou) started working in the music industry at a distribution warehouse during the school holidays. She then worked in community support roles before returning to music around 13 years ago when she became the manager of the Aotearoa Music Awards. Now Sarah focuses her time as the Kairangaranga for Ka Korokī Ka Maranga, the Māori Music Industry Collective (MMIC) – an organisation that exists to uplift and strengthen the Māori music ecosystem. Their kaupapa is to provide mana-enhancing support for Māori working within the music community through wānanga workshops, strengthening relationships with the other industry bodies, and ensuring that Māori are visible and supported in every part of the ecosystem, not just on stage. MMIC hopes to build capability, connection and advocate for systems that work better for Māori. 

A life surrounded by music

I was born and raised in West Auckland and that's where I've chosen to raise my two daughters. I count myself very lucky because I grew up in a two parent household with a really big extended family on my mum's side – my Nana and Granddad, my aunties, my uncles, my cousins were always around. I believe that that kind of upbringing not only gives you a really deep feeling of belonging, but also a sense of responsibility, and I think that's shaped who I am. 

Music was a constant. Mum and Dad are huge music fans and there was always music playing in the house. My brother and I used to pretend we were in a band all the time! I used to play the ironing board (which was my keyboard) and he alternated between the cricket bat or tennis racket (which was his guitar). My dad had a huge vinyl collection and I loved going through it. The album artwork fascinated me. I learnt quite early on that the identity and storytelling of music does not just come from the sound; it comes from the culture, aesthetics and mood that surrounds it. There’s a sense of belonging when you see yourself reflected in the music. 

My mum started working at a record company, not for any rhyme or reason, when I was about 11. It just so happened that our neighbour’s friend knew of a job at PolyGram Records. That was a huge turning point for me. Music became an even bigger part of our lives. It was a place we could physically be a part of. We visited her at work a lot, went to concerts and I even worked at Music Carriers, their distribution warehouse, during the school holidays. When I started university, I worked at Trutone Records in St Luke’s. That was a dream job and I worked with the coolest people. We had heaps of laughs, but we also soaked up heaps of music knowledge without even trying. 

I didn’t want to work in the music industry though and I actually started out working in community roles out West. I supported families struggling with school attendance, which seems as far from the music industry as you can get, but I'm really proud of that work. I uplifted and empowered families to come up with their own solutions, walking alongside them to offer support. It was important mahi, but it was really heavy and I burnt out. So, I started looking for other types of work and there was an opening at the Aotearoa Music Awards. I applied, I got the job, and the rest is history. 

My journey was a long time of skating around the periphery of music, but I’ve now spent 13 years actually in it. My mum is also still in it. And my daughter is too. So we have three generations in this crazy industry. 

Navigating the industry machine: Being māori in the music scene

When I think about the challenges that we, as Māori, face, it feels like pressure coming from a whole heap of directions. Inequity and fatigue is persistent. We carry a constant load – at work, at home, in our communities. And on top of that, we're expected to educate or translate or advocate in spaces where the system itself hasn't done any learning. That’s tiring and, depending on the workplace, it can be really isolating. 

Industry networks and funding is one of the biggest places I see Māori getting stuck. Māori have very strong networks within their own communities and that's a huge strength. But if you don’t have a pathway into those industry rooms or networks, it can be really difficult to navigate funding applications. Reporting, timelines, budgets, and contracts are not always intuitive if you haven’t been taught them. And it’s even less intuitive if you have been excluded from these spaces in the first place. I often call the music industry an ‘industry machine’. 

But if you want to work in that industry, you need to be able to move within it or have a conduit who does. That’s a big reason why the MMIC advocates for Māori to be working in all parts of the ecosystem – not only as artists, but managers, producers, engineers, publicists, funding advisors. That visibility and support is crucial. When Māori are present across the machine, it changes the experience for Māori. It makes the pathway clearer, safer, and Māori success is more sustainable. 

The need for resilience and reflection 

My mahi responds to those challenges through resilience and reflection. Resilience for me is about building the scaffolding that helps people stay in the music space. Making sure that we are not constantly reinventing the wheel, but actually creating spaces where people can come together, share knowledge, access support and build knowledge – especially in those parts that can feel really intimidating. We also want to ensure that we're working alongside the other industry bodies so we are strengthening the pipeline together. That sounds very lofty and idealistic, but that’s the hope. 

It’s important to be able to reflect back on patterns and be honest about what isn’t working. Sometimes the work is holding a mirror up to ourselves and other industry bodies to ask what needs to change. It’s not about blame. It’s about making sure that the solutions are real and not just a box-ticking exercise. 

Looking to the future: Māori hope, joy and power

Hope looks like Māori feeling confident enough to step into spaces that they used to feel locked out of. The funding process shouldn’t require you to be fluent in bureaucracy. We should be resourced properly. Creativity needs to flourish without burnout. People should feel like they belong and that they don't have to compromise their reo, their tikanga, or their worldview in order to be taken seriously. 

There needs to be less tokenism and performative consultation. When Māori are asked for input, we need to be given influence too. There is so much extraction of us; our stories, our labour, our cultural knowledge. With proper resourcing, we can share the load and there can be less burnout. Institutions need to do their part and have Māori in the room as a first port of call – not as a second or third conversation down the road. 

I want to see more Māori with power; Māori decision making, Māori governance, Māori control, Māori shaping settings where culture is valued and invested in. More Māori across the whole music ecosystem, and not just on stage – we need Māori in management and production, in media, in funding spaces. And talent is not the issue at all! We know Māori have talent in spades. It’s about that access into the machine. Having people in the right places to demystify the process and open doors will change things. Māori being visible across those roles is important. That visibility can change mindsets.

I hope to see more Māori artists on the world stage. To me, that feels like a no-brainer; our artists, our reo, our perspective, our true point of difference. Nobody else has that in the world. And there is an appetite for it! We need stronger export pathways for Māori and decision makers should treat that as a smart strategy, not a nice-to-have.

What’s next for the Māori Music Industry Collective?

We will keep strengthening relationships, developing engagement opportunities, and pushing for those big structural shifts. The goal is that we want a space where Māori can thrive in a system that is fair, clear, and aligned. Māori success needs to be defined by Māori, rather than as a compromise that requires us to soften ourselves or fit into a frame that wasn't made for us. That’s not just about music, but for industries everywhere. We will push for more Māori authority, more Māori wellbeing, more Māori joy. It’s not ‘by Māori for Māori’, it's ‘by Māori for everyone’. We need to get everyone on board. When pathways are clear, and loads are shared, everyone can move through the world with their mana intact. 

Te Manawa is an initiative for Māori artists grounded in whakapapa, organised by tikanga, and shaped by collective voice. This is a movement to amplify, activate, and advocate for Māori arts and artists in Tāmaki Makaurau – guided by the pulse of Te Manawa, Pumanawa, Whatumanawa. These three life forces are essential, shaping how we uphold Rangatiratanga, Manaakitanga, and Auahatanga in everything we do.