Photography: Maree Wilkinson
Back in 2023, when Kiritapu Allan was arrested after crashing a car while over the alcohol limit, it seemed like a disaster. Her political career was over and she felt like she’d let everyone down. But now, looking back, Kiri believes that crash saved her life.
“It saved me at a soul level because I was radically unhappy with where I was,” explains the former Minister of Justice.
“I’d got to a point where I knew I needed to change but felt like I couldn’t. That car crash provided an out from a life I was very unhappy with.”
While Kiri, 42, was good at her job, what she now understands is that being a politician wasn’t good for her.
“It was terrible – horrible! – for a personality like mine. I get hyper-fixated on the thing I’m doing and it came at the cost of everything else.”
Choosing motherhood over politics
Kiri became a new mum and a Labour MP at the same time. It was a struggle to balance the two roles and she missed out on time with her daughter Hiwaiterangi, who’s now almost nine.
“The biggest thing about getting out of politics is being able to be the parent I want to be, which is hands-on,” she says.
“Someone who can show up after school to pick their kid up and go to football games on the weekend. I wasn’t that parent when I was in the job and it feels like I missed Bubba’s first six years.”
A lot of things led up to that Sunday night in Wellington in 2023, when Kiri was taken into police custody, and charged with reckless driving and resisting arrest. On reflection, she realises she’d returned to work too early following her battle with stage-three cervical cancer.
Her darkest chapter
She’d also recently split from her partner, broadcaster Māni Dunlop, and was facing allegations she’d bullied staff, which she denies. Her mental health was deteriorating, she was trying to numb her feelings with alcohol and she’d even started cutting her arms again. Then, after a panic attack and meltdown at work, she started to feel like everyone would be better off without her. However, mental health challenges were nothing new to Kiri.
“I’ve had them my whole life,” she confesses.
“At times, I’m better at managing them, but I can remember my first dysregulated moments happened quite early on.”
Making up for lost time
Still taking medication for depression as well as having regular therapy, Kiri’s in a far better place mentally than she was three years ago. While a turning point was a six-week wellness-focused retreat in Thailand, it’s the life she’s built since her exit from politics that’s keeping her steady – and central to that is her daughter.
“I’m lucky that she was six when I left politics so doesn’t remember a whole lot prior to then, so now we’re just trying to do some really cool stuff and create good memories.”
Of Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi and Ngāti Tūwharetoa heritage, Kiri’s now living in the Bay of Plenty, between Tauranga and Whakatāne, a few doors down from her ex-wife, lawyer Natalie Coates, and the pair share parenting. Like her parents, Hiwaiterangi is sporty.
“She’s into football, netball, gymnastics, jujitsu and athletics,” shares Kiri.
“She’s smart too and a kind-hearted little girl. She loves to sing and dance, so we do TikTok mash-ups and karaoke. We like being outdoors and we’ve got a little cabin in Te Puna that we stay at. We spend lots of time with family and she comes with me to Māori events because I want her to be confident living in two worlds.”
Telling her story at last
Kiri hasn’t stopped driving herself hard, but Hiwaiterangi comes first and the roles she’s juggling fit in around her. She’s busy with consultancy and mentoring work, has two businesses focused on renewable energy and has also recently teamed up with her dad Dave to start a company.
Another challenge Kiri has tackled is writing her memoir, Go Hard Or Go Home, where she details life in politics and beyond, and tells of the crisis that changed everything. She signed up to write the book not long after the drink-drive incident, but it took her a while to stop procrastinating.
Finally, it was New Zealand literary treasure Dame Fiona Kidman who helped her get the words out.
“She locked me up in her downstairs office, then every two hours, when I’d stop for a break. She’d ask me what I’d written and make me tell her stories. Then I’d run back down to the room and write some more. She’s an amazing person and an epic coach.”
Sharing her story to help others
While it’s a raw, honest book, writing of her toughest times wasn’t too difficult.
“The hardest part was trying to remember everything accurately,” she reflects.
“The actual writing flowed easily. If a story like mine can help one other person, then I’m happy to share it.”
Among the first people to read the finished book was ex-wife Natalie.
“I know she loved it,” says Kiri.
“But her best line was, ‘It wasn’t boring.’”
Learning to be kinder to herself
While she may regret some choices made along the way, looking back, Kiri has nothing but compassion for the troubled person she was when she burnt out and broke down.
“I just want to give her a big hug and say, ‘Babe, it’s going to be sweet. Don’t worry about it. It seems like the world’s ending now, but it’s not and you’ll get through.’”
Kiri knows that her mental health is something she’ll always have to look after.
“I’m in one of the better places I’ve been. That’s said, there’s always work to do. Life isn’t linear – it’s dynamic and complicated. I could reach another crash point tomorrow and need to find another way of navigating through.”
One of the self-care strategies she finds helpful is playing golf.
“I’m terrible at it,” Kiri laughs.
“But I’m out there for two hours in the sun, my entire focus is a silly white ball, I’m talking with people and it’s the only time I’m completely off my phone.”
The gift of slowing down
In her memoir, she steers away from the topic of personal relationships because she felt those weren’t entirely her stories to tell. But she will confide that she’s happily single and not in any hurry
to change that.
“I’m lucky that my life is full of love,” she smiles.
“I’ve got a great family, my daughter and some very close friends.”
Most of all, Kiri is relishing the greatest gift that her exit from politics has given her – more time.
One question her daughter often asks is, “Are we in a rush, Mum-Mum?” and in the past, the answer was usually yes. “But now much of my work can be done at home. I’ve got a lot of stuff going on, but I can manage it, so no, we’re not in a rush any more, Bubba.”
Go Hard Or Go Home ($40, Penguin) is on shelves Tuesday.
If you are struggling with your mental health, call or text 1737 any time for free, confidential support from a trained counsellor. For the Alcohol Drug Helpline, phone 0800 787 797 or visit alcoholdrughelp.org.nz.
