diva giles

Co-owner of Beau Wine bar, age 25. Photographed at Beau wearing SAF.

People who feel like they're never doing enough are usually the ones doing more than most. Cursed with empathy, Diva Giles has all the symptoms of someone who is painfully aware of the world around her. She abides by the rule that true change calls for uncomfortable conversations. She appears to feel and think a little too much. 

She is the 25-year-old co-owner of Beau restaurant and wine bar and has worked in hospitality since she was 18. Along with Logan Birch, she has built a team that makes you feel welcome when you walk into their space.

"One of my biggest goals was to make sure that Māori and Pacifica people felt comfortable because the suburb (Ponsonby) has changed a lot in many ways that have benefited us and I realise that. We wanted to create a place that we wanted to go to. One of our customers said to me, I love coming here because it doesn't matter if you're queer, brown or old." 

On skin

I had this realisation that a lot of people in my life see me as a white woman, as Pakeha. My white skin makes me safer, a privilege that has benefited me significantly. The internal identity struggle with that has been immense. I'm probably struggling with all of it more now because I'm actually dealing with it. 

I grew up in Ponsonby in Whānau Whāriki, a Maori unit. I always say my mum's Māori- I'm Māori. I went to Ritimana, then Kōwhai intermediate and then moved to a private school where the principal proudly told me that I was their second Māori student. I was 12 or 13 at the time and I remember thinking that wasn't anything to be proud of.

Often when someone tells you who you are, you become it. I grew up learning Māori and later unlearned how to say things correctly- I stopped rolling my 'r's because people would make fun of me. I was never ashamed of being Māori- I wanted to be more Māori, if anything, to look Māori, whatever that means. My mum is slightly darker than I am and I wanted to look like her so that people would believe me. 

I just ignored it all and integrated into a Pakeha world. In Māori spaces, the way that I spoke changed and so did the people I spent time with. It made me feel like there was a piece of me missing. 

It's been hard to grapple with that and give myself permission to feel the sadness and confusion that comes with that. That's why growing up, for a long time, I never wanted to say out loud that I didn't feel enough. 

I'm at a point now where I want to counter the past choices that I've made. I am a Māori woman and I'm not going to pretend that I'm not to make you more comfortable. It's a pretty intense phase in my life, I get angry a lot- I get angry at my friends sometimes too, and I'm working through it. I think it's going to be good.

Diversity is a choice. It's easy to make friends with people who look like you, who earn the same amount of money or work in the same industry. You don't have to re-adjust the way you say things or get used to using different gender normative terms. It's not confrontational.

On body & hair

I'm choosing to love myself every day, physically. It's a hard thing to do, right? That's fucking rebellious. 

At school, I used to get called King Kong because of the hair on my arms. Being pale-skinned and Māori you have darker hair that stands out. It's darker and it's everywhere. I never told anyone this until I was 22, It was the first time I ever said it out loud because I was so worried that if I told someone they would notice it more. 

How crazy is it that something can still impact you ten or fifteen years later? My niece has pale skin and dark features, so she will probably go through that too. I catch myself looking at her and thinking I never want her to feel like that or like she can't talk about this or that no one is going to get it. It's funny because my sister and my mum and so many other people would've gone through the same thing but you feel so lonely in it. 

I've worked on choosing to feel good in my body and it doesn't work every day. It has developed slowly. I have tiny boobs and a big butt (sings Jorja Smith- thicks thighs, lost when you look into my brown eyes..) It's changing the content that I engage with, it's as simple as the accounts that I follow on Instagram. Most of us are easily influenced. I make a conscious decision to not engage with content that isn't positive for my mental health. I use the mute tool a lot. 

I choose clothing that makes me feel good and fits me in ways that feel comfortable. I'm not sure if I have style. I used to wear skinny jeans all the time and man, that shit hurts! It's so uncomfortable- my thighs are uncomfortable, my waist is uncomfortable and it causes those weird lines. When something fits well, you feel like a bad bitch. I used to keep buying clothes that are were a size too small for me. I force myself to disengage with that now. I put it in a charity box or give it to friends. I've also started going to hairdressers who actually know how to cut curly hair! This shit is insane, it's a lot.

On beau & co-ownership

I met Logan and moved to London after about a year (when I was 19). I said to my mum, so I'm moving to London with this guy you've never met but I've known him for a while. That's where I fell in love with hospitality. In New Zealand, I feel like we treat it as something that is a low skill.

When we moved back to New Zealand, I think it was a combination of being young enough and arrogant enough to think that we could do it on our own. It's interesting how hospitality has progressed. People are so secretive now about their margins and turnover, you don't get to learn much about the costs of running a business. 

People look at me and assume my dad owns this place. They assume that he has money because he's a straight white dude. He's awesome and has helped us so much but not financially. 

In terms of this space, knowing the bones of this area and this city just felt right. It used to be a French restaurant, a drag bar called 'Dorothy's Sister', it has also been one of the first cafes in Ponsonby. I love the history of this space. When we were sanding the walls, we could see different colours of wallpaper coming through- it went from blue to purple to red to a crazy underwater fish one. I wish we could have kept it.

Logan is amazing and pretty weird too. He's a straight white male, so that's challenging. He takes everything you say literally, at face value. There are no undertones when he talks, whereas I am a layer of confusion. I'm always questioning, what did you mean by that? I've known him for six years now, I still have to remind myself that there's no hidden meaning when he communicates. It's so crazy to think of someone who always means what they say- I say shit I don't mean all the time! We learn from each other and challenge each other. 

I think we both know what it feels like when your management doesn't protect you, our team is mostly young people and when people drink sometimes they start to treat you more like property or like a drink that they've purchased. Whether it's a manager’s attention or a waiter’s hand- that's something that rarely happens anymore. We nipped it in the bud.

We have a lot of conversations with the team about the importance of recognising your privilege- just because you walk into a space and feel good doesn't mean that someone who looks or dresses differently has the same experience. Use the word racism because it is real. For it to stop or change you have to use the fucking word. The same applies to homophobia and other forms of discrimination (intentional and unintentional).