What Do Māori Symbols Really Mean & How to Use Them Without Getting It Wrong?

Traditional Māori symbols didn’t appear out of nowhere.

These developed from a way of life shaped by ocean journeys, land, and ancestry. Without that background, it’s easy to mistake these symbols for simple patterns or general tribal symbols — when they are anything but.

Before diving into the deep history, use this quick reference chart to identify which traditional form aligns with the intention or story you wish to tell.

The Māori are the Indigenous people of Aotearoa (New Zealand). 

Their ancestors arrived by ocean-going waka (canoes) from East Polynesia around the 13th century, navigating vast distances using stars, currents, and environmental knowledge.

From the beginning, Māori identity has been inseparable from three core ideas:

• Whenua – the land, not as property, but as something you belong to

• Moana – the ocean, both a pathway and a source of life

• Whakapapa – genealogy, the layered connection between people, ancestors, and place

Before European contact, Māori culture had no written alphabet. Knowledge was preserved through oral tradition, performance, and visual systems. One of the most important was whakairo (traditional carving).

Whakairo appeared throughout everyday and ceremonial life, including:

• Meeting houses (wharenui), where carvings represent ancestors

• Weapons and tools, reinforcing mana (spiritual authority and prestige)

• Canoes (waka), marking tribal identity and offering protection at sea

• Personal ornaments made from bone, stone, or wood, worn as taonga (treasured objects)

Each carving acted like a record. It could reference an ancestor, a migration story, a spiritual belief, or even a lesson about survival. Over time, this visual language also influenced Māori tattooing, even though tattoos developed their own meanings and cultural boundaries.

This is also why Māori art symbols often flow rather than repeat. Curves reflect plants, waves, and movement — a reminder that life is connected and ongoing.

If you’ve seen Māori jewelry, carvings, or tattoos before, chances are you’ve already come across these shapes. In Māori iconography, they appear again and again because they speak to experiences most people can relate to — travel, growth, connection, and ancestry.

Let’s look at what each symbol means, and just as important, why it means that.

At first glance, the Hei Matau looks simple. So why is a hook such an important symbol?

For Māori, the hook represents safe travel, strength, and provision. It comes from a deep relationship with the sea — fishing was not just a livelihood, but a matter of survival.

There’s also a powerful origin story behind it. In Māori tradition, the demigod Māui used a magical fishhook to pull up the North Island of New Zealand from the ocean. That’s why the North Island is still known as Te Ika-a-Māui (the fish of Māui).

Because of this, the Hei Matau is often chosen by:

• Travelers

• People starting a new journey or career

• Those seeking strength and safe passage

It’s less about “luck” and more about returning home safely.

The Koru is one of the most recognisable Māori symbols — and also one of the most misunderstood.

It’s inspired by the unfurling frond of the silver fern, a plant native to New Zealand. At this stage, the fern hasn’t fully opened yet. That moment is the key.

So what does the koru represent? New beginnings, growth, and potential.

Different forms can shift the meaning slightly:

• A single koru often represents personal growth or a fresh start

• Multiple or interlinked koru can point to family relationships or shared paths

The koru isn’t about dramatic change. It’s about becoming, slowly and naturally.

The Pikorua, or twist, is often associated with connection and enduring relationships.

It comes from traditional Māori symbols weaving, where separate strands cross, separate, and come back together. That movement is the meaning.

A single twist usually represents:

• Two people

• Friendship, partnership, or loyalty

Double or triple twists can extend that idea to:

• Families

• Different cultures or groups connected over time

What matters here is not permanence through force, but connection through choice — paths that remain linked even when they move apart.

The Hei Tiki is often misunderstood as a simple fertility symbol, but its meaning is broader and deeper than that.

Traditionally, Hei Tiki are associated with:

• Ancestral connection

• Wisdom and clear thinking

• The presence of those who came before

The human form represents the first ancestor, and the tilted head — common in many tiki — is said to suggest listening, especially to ancestral knowledge.

Historically, both men and women wore Hei Tiki. Warriors often carried them to stay connected to ancestral mana (spiritual authority and prestige).

Today, Hei Tiki are often chosen by people who want a symbol of heritage, guidance, and continuity.

⚠️ Note: Not all human-shaped figures are Hei Tiki. The word “tiki” is commonly used in a broad sense today. In Māori culture, Hei Tiki refers to a specific ancestral form, whereas many other human figures are decorative or reflect mixed Polynesian influences.

The Toki is a symbol of strength — but specifically, strength through action. Historically, the toki was a chisel or adze used to carve waka (canoes) and build meeting houses. In times of war, it became a fearsome weapon. Because of this dual use (tool and weapon), the Toki represents:

• Determination and focus: The strength to shape your own reality.

• Authority (Mana): Traditionally worn by chiefs and skilled leaders.

• Control: It is not brute force, but channeled power. It is the perfect symbol for "doers" — entrepreneurs, builders, or anyone facing a challenge that requires hard work.

The Porowhita (closed circle) is simpler in shape but deep in meaning. Because it has no beginning and no end, it represents the cycle of life, nature, and the stars. It is often associated with:

• Centering and Balance: A reminder to stay grounded.

• Eternity: The ongoing connection between past, present, and future. Unlike the Koru (which unfolds) or the Hei Matau (which travels), the Porowhita is about being. It is a symbol of peace and wholeness.

The Manaia is not a single creature, but a combination of forms. You’ll often see it with the head of a bird, the body of a human, and the tail of a fish.

This isn’t accidental.

In Māori belief, these three elements represent three different realms of existence, and the Manaia stands between them.

• The bird links to the sky realm, associated with spiritual forces and ancestral presence

• The human form represents the world of people, where everyday life is lived

• The fish tail connects to the sea, a source of life, travel, and deep spiritual meaning

The Manaia acts as a guardian and messenger, moving between these realms. Rather than blocking harm outright, it’s meant to guide and protect, especially during times of transition or uncertainty.

Because of this, Manaia carvings are often associated with:

• Protection during travel

• Spiritual guidance

• Balance between different parts of life

If the Hei Matau is about safe passage in the physical world, the Manaia speaks more to spiritual protection.

The Roimata is one of the quietest Māori symbols — and one of the most emotional.

Shaped like a tear, it represents:

• Comfort and healing

• Shared grief

• Emotional release after loss or hardship

Unlike symbols linked to strength or action, the Roimata acknowledges vulnerability. It’s often given during periods of mourning, or to mark a difficult chapter that has been endured rather than overcome.

This makes it a common choice for:

• Remembering a loved one

• Honouring a personal loss

• Offering support rather than celebration

The Roimata doesn’t try to fix pain. It simply recognises it — and that recognition is the meaning.

Not every Māori form you see is meant to be worn as a personal symbol. Some appear more often in carving, architecture, or tattoo, and are frequently misunderstood when taken out of context.

Here are a few Māori forms people often recognise, but don’t always identify correctly:

• Pakati – A notched, triangular pattern often linked to strength and courage. It appears mainly in carving and tattoo as a pattern, not a standalone symbol.

• Niho Taniwha – A repeating “tooth” motif associated with protection and ancestral guardianship. Like Pakati, it works as part of a larger design rather than a single pendant.

• Manaia figures (variations) – Beyond the well-known guardian form, you may see stylised or partial Manaia used in larger carvings, where meaning comes from placement and context, not the figure alone.

• Kōwhaiwhai patterns – Painted designs traditionally found on the rafters of meeting houses. These patterns represent lineage and tribal narratives and are not intended as personal wearable symbols.

These forms are important in Māori visual culture, but their meaning usually depends on how they are used and where they appear. For example, a carved figure in a meeting house is tied to ancestors and the place. When that same form appears as a decorative tattoo or souvenir, stripped of its context, it can feel out of place and unsuitable.

You’re in a shop, or scrolling online, and you see something labeled “Polynesian design.”

Cool. But here’s the problem: Polynesian is not one style. New Zealand Māori symbols, Samoan, Hawaiian — each has its own visual rules. If you mix them up, you don’t just “get it wrong,” you lose the meaning.

So how do you tell the difference?

A simple question helps here: Does the design flow, or does it repeat?

• Māori designs usually feel like they’re moving: spirals, curves, forms that flow (think fern fronds, waves, unfolding shapes). The koru (spiral) is the giveaway. Lines tend to grow, bend, and change direction, much like things in nature.

• Samoan designs often look like a system: clean repeats, straight lines, geometric blocks. You’ll see lots of triangles, repeating bands and panels, strong symmetry, and structure.

So, if the design looks like it could be a wallpaper pattern — repeated neatly in rows — it’s probably not Māori. If it looks like one continuous form that “breathes” and turns, it’s closer to Māori.

Hooks exist across the Pacific, so don’t rely on “it’s a hook” as proof.

A Māori Hei Matau (fish hook) often looks:

• More stylised than functional (it’s a symbol, not a tool)

• Commonly carved from pounamu (greenstone / NZ jade) or bone

• Designed to feel like a single flowing shape, sometimes with extra detail that hints at guardianship

A Hawaiian hook more often looks:

• Closer to a real hook shape

• Frequently paired with cord/rope styling and mixed materials (wood/bone/rope aesthetics)

So, if it looks like something you could actually fish with, it’s less likely to be Māori. If it looks like an abstract, smooth “symbol-hook,” especially in greenstone, Māori is more likely.

This mix-up happens a lot — mostly because modern jewelry often blurs the line between cultures.

At a glance, both shapes look like an “infinity loop.” But they come from very different ways of thinking.

Celtic knots come from early European art traditions (Ireland and Britain). They were developed through metalwork and manuscripts, where perfect balance and repetition mattered. That’s why Celtic designs tend to be:

• Highly symmetrical

• Evenly balanced on both sides

• Visually “mathematical,” almost engineered

The Pikorua (twist) comes from Māori carving and weaving traditions. It isn’t based on geometry, but on natural movement — how ferns grow and how strands cross when woven by hand. Because of that, a Pikorua is:

• Often asymmetrical

• Slightly uneven by design

• Meant to feel organic, alive, not perfect

If a twist looks too symmetrical or mechanically perfect, it’s probably borrowing from Celtic design. A true Pikorua should feel like it grew naturally, not like it was drawn with a ruler.

At some point, most people ask the same question: “Can I actually use this symbol?”

That question matters — especially with Māori culture. Not because the culture is closed, but because some things are shared, and some things are not. This is where tikanga (cultural protocols) comes in.

Tikanga isn’t about strict rules. It’s about knowing where the lines are, so you don’t cross them by accident.

This is the part most people get wrong.

Tā Moko (Māori tattoo symbols) is not just a tattoo style.

It’s a way Māori people carry their whakapapa (genealogy) on their skin. A moko can show where someone comes from, who their ancestors are, and their place within the community.

Because of that, Tā Moko is for Māori only. It’s not something you copy, borrow, or “adapt.”

So what about everyone else? That’s where Kirituhi comes in. 

Kirituhi simply means “skin art.” It uses Māori-inspired forms — curves, flow, koru-like movement — without carrying genealogical information. This makes it the respectful option for non-Māori who are drawn to the visual language, not the lineage.

If there’s one thing to remember, it’s this: Don’t ask for a Moko. Ask for Kirituhi.

In Māori culture, the body isn’t treated as neutral space.

Some areas are considered tapu (sacred), while others are noa (everyday).

Both the head and face (upoko) sit at the highest level of tapu. This is why facial and head moko hold deep meaning — and why copying them as a style choice is widely seen as inappropriate for non-Māori.

For Kirituhi, people usually choose areas like:

• The shoulders

• The upper arms

• The calves or lower legs

These areas are commonly accepted because they don’t carry the same level of restriction.

Here’s another big difference from Western tattoo culture.

Māori-inspired tattooing isn’t about flipping through a catalogue and pointing at a design. Traditionally, it starts with kōrero — a conversation.

You bring your story. That might be about change, loss, family, travel, or a turning point in your life. The artist then translates that story into a design using Māori forms and flow.

That’s why copying a tattoo from Google Images isn’t just lazy — it can be disrespectful. You might be wearing something that was created to tell someone else’s story, or worse, someone else’s lineage.

With Māori symbols, the material shapes the experience as much as the design. Looking at pounamu, bone, and wood side by side makes their differences — both practical and cultural — much clearer.