Reece Clarke and Walter Wakefield want to change the narrative that for Kiwi men, crying is a sign of weakness.
The two men came from tough backgrounds, and against huge odds, both graduated from Otago Polytech this month with Certificates in Health and Wellbeing.
Reece and Walter didn't know each other "from a bar of soap" on their first day at Polytech.
Eventually, they became gym buddies, then study buddies, and now consider each other family.
Reece Clarke & Walter Wakefield graduate from Otago Polytechnic. December 2019. Photo: supplied
Walter was only ten when he left home for the streets.
"Not very nice. I had to do what I had to do to survive. I just got sick of everything at home, the hidings and all that, getting beat up for no reason. So I went out onto the streets… I felt loved there, I felt needed, wanted. I grew up on the streets of Wellington, actually."
He later became a gang member and did time in jail for meth dealing, before his aunt and uncle pulled him out of gang life.
For nearly two decades, Walter worked as a shearer but all the while was an addict.
Going through rehab at Moana House in Dunedin was one of the biggest turning points in his life, he says.
In rehab, Walter confronted the feelings of abandonment, loneliness, worthlessness he'd been carrying.
"That much weight that was on me ... to free all of that and to talk to it was unreal. I tell you it was magic. It wasn't weighing me down.
"I did want to change and I needed to change, not just for myself but for my kids as well."
Walter had injured his back while working at Placemakers in Mosgiel when a friend suggested Polytech to him.
"'Give it a go. Enrol in this Health and Wellbeing course. You'd be good at it' [they said]."
He doubted himself as a student but signed up.
The course was no "walk in the park" emotionally, Walter says.
At one point, he cried for the first time in many years.
"It was in front of a group of men and it came and I was okay with that."
Now his tears come easily.
"Back at a young age, if you showed tears you weren't strong, you weren't a man or whatever. You weren't allowed to show that fear. I'd been holding it back for all this time, I think. I'd be watching a TV show or whatever and the tears would just be dripping… even when I'm having heart-to-hearts with my son and that, I'm trying to hold it back because I want my kids to go down the right alley, not the wrong alley. I just want to change that cycle."
Reese agrees.
"This whole thing about men not crying… no wonder the kids don't want to talk to us because we've been brought up where we weren't allowed to show tears or anything and if you did you got a crack over the head or something. Changing that old New Zealand [narrative] about men crying [is essential] because crying is the opposite of being violent, you can use it to heal."
Before enrolling in Polytech, Reese hadn't had any formal education in 35 years.
At 15, fuelled by trauma, he began drinking heavily and was kicked out of school.
Reece's descent into alcoholism began after his brother's death in a house fire. Reese and another brother pulled him out but he didn't survive.
He says he simply didn't know how to handle the pain.
"I can talk about it now but back then there was no counselling, nothing like that. I got a tattoo done of my brother, before I started this course, in dedication to him. I wanted to be someone that can help someone else."
Before studying, Reece worked in hospitality for years.
"For a Māori or Samoan or anyone dark-skinned, it was either freezing works or factory work and I wanted to break that. I decided that after my brother died – cause he wanted to be a chef – that that's what I was going to do."
Eleven years ago, Reese's wife gave him an ultimatum to "sort his shit out". He did a home detox from alcohol and joined Alcoholics Anonymous.
Reece says it was his AA sponsor who inspired him to study by asking a leading question – 'So when are you going to live your life?'
He first considered a Capable NZ course but changed his mind after a chat with the head tutor of Health and Wellbeing.
Once the course was underway, it took Reese a while to find a workable regime, he says.
"My wife absolutely loved me because all the housework was getting done. And then she turned around and said 'What are you doing?'"
Eventually, he and Walter started up a study group – helping a couple of female students with public speaking (which the men were comfortable with) in exchange for help with computer skills.
"One thing I know from my recovery from addiction is if you need help, you ask for it," Reese says.
He looks forward to eventually supporting other people who struggle with alcohol.
"The thing is if you help someone … it's priceless. You can't pay any money for that. It comes from the heart."
Walter's passion is for helping at-risk young people find hope and purpose.
"That's worth its weight in gold, that's magic to me.
"With my colourful background and that, I know I've got a lot to give and a lot to offer."
