Ali Mau is no stranger to Kiwis, having graced our screens for over two decades – yet what many might not know is that she is much more than just a journalist and advocate for women’s rights – she’s a passionate horse rider and an ardent pursuer of dreams. 

Words Lucinda Diack   Photos Helen Bankers

Ali Mau’s memoir no words for this – a terrifyingly apt name – is a haunting tale that at times is hard to comprehend. While on the surface Ali’s life, as the middle child of three sisters growing up in suburban Australia, is like so many others, and her public persona enviable, life was far from idyllic. It is a story that illustrates the power of the mind, hiding away what we don’t want to confront, and a reminder that you never really know what goes on behind closed doors.

In 2018 Ali led the #MeTooNZ journalism project; a project that over the following five years published dozens of major investigations and changed the way sexual harassment is reported by the media, with a trauma-informed and survivor-focused kaupapa.

It was during this time that Ali and her sister Lisa started talking to each other in a way they hadn’t previously done, opening the door on some confronting memories. ‘Lisa rang one day crying and I instantly knew what was coming; it was a conversation that had been 40 years in the making. Once I hung up, I had to let the memories come in; I could no longer gatekeep them away.’

A difficult conversation, but one that allowed Ali to truly step into her role as an advocate and listen to other people’s stories. ‘From my own experience I knew that documenting these stories would take months. That for survivors of trauma, processing what has happened is not linear.

‘I felt, and still feel, so privileged that people share their stories with me,’ she says. ‘For so many, the last place you want to go with your story is a journalist. Yet these people trusted me – that is what got me through the process of writing my own story. Knowing I had their support, and their stories with me. I know it might seem like a strange thing to write about, with some confronting revelations, but it is so common. I still get a message a week, if not more, from someone wanting to share their story.’

Knowing that there were still so many in need, as the #MeTooNZ project came to an end, Ali joined forces with barrister Zoë Lawton, establishing charitable legal service Tika. ‘Sexual harm is a conversation we need to be having,’ Ali stresses. ‘One in every five New Zealanders will experience a sexual assault in their lifetime – but statistics show only seven per cent of those harmed will report it to the police.’

It is a startling statistic, and perhaps more so is the lack of data generated in New Zealand around serial perpetrators. ‘There has been an incredible amount of mahi done in America,’ explains Ali, ‘and that research is suggesting one perpetrator is harming an average of six people.

‘We have no idea of the size of the problem. If me sharing my story helps just one person, to show just one person that it is okay to stand up and say no, to take control, that we aren’t victims but survivors, then it has achieved what it needs to.’

Ali’s connection with her sisters is woven throughout the book and eldest sister Lisa, in particular, has drawn strength from Ali putting pen to paper. ‘It is another form of accountability. We aren’t required to hide or feel shame – the shame doesn’t sit with us, it sits with him. Telling our story is powerful.’

The honest, confronting story of Ali’s life and that of her sister, and nephew, and the role her father plays stays with readers for a long time. It is hard to process and understand how someone could possibly overcome such acts and still be standing. Yet within minutes of talking to Ali, it is obvious that it is simply part of her journey, nothing about it defines her.

While there is no doubt that no words for this deals with challenging themes, it is also a powerful story of rising from the ashes, family, love and horses.

Drawn to the wild west coast of Auckland and their black sand beaches, Ali relishes living out of the city surrounded by views and her ‘few acres’. Which she laughs is much more of an undertaking than she ever anticipated – ‘there is always something to do on a lifestyle block!’

From the age of five, when she used to watch the Clydesdale horse-drawn cart deliver milk, Ali has dreamed of keeping horses on her own land. ‘It only took me 50 years!’ she laughs. ‘As a kid I was absolutely obsessed and lived for my weekly lessons; then when my kids were little, in my thirties, I rode again but it was short-lived cos [the horse] was a murderous soul, but now … Now I am living my dream.’

Having fallen in love with horse Bex at first sight, Ali had no intentions of embarking on a horse-jumping career in her late fifties. ‘Bex is the perfect horse for me, we trust each other, she’s gentle, but we got a bit bored and I don’t enjoy dressage so I thought why not do some low-level jumping competitions.’

Despite not having jumped for forty years, Ali’s trademark smile is firmly in place as she recalls how they started small, but quickly progressed and within nine months the duo was jumping a metre. ‘We entered the local show and someone suggested we go to Horse of the Year … which is really for proper jumpers but I thought why not, let’s go.’

After effortlessly qualifying in 2024, Ali, Bex and their dedicated support crew headed south to compete in 12 classes over four days including the 95 cm class in which they placed third. ‘It was like a festival of horses,’ she smiles. ‘I was in absolute heaven and had so much fun. I would absolutely go back, but it was a lot. I literally collapsed at the end of every day.’

It was a childhood dream come true for Ali simply to be there. ‘As a little girl I never thought I would have my own horse, let alone compete at a national level … it was a big thing.’

And there are more big things coming, with Tika gaining momentum and the recent launch of her memoir, but most importantly there are plenty more horse rides to come. ‘I haven’t ridden much lately but I know my mental health is better when I do – and I haven’t ruled out competing at Horse of the Year again,’ she hints with a smile, leaving no doubt that she has risen from the ashes.

Stop History Repeating

Reporting sexual harm has traditionally been a tough and lonely road. Seeking accountability can be isolating, hard to navigate, and make a distressing situation even worse. Yet most people just don’t want the same thing to happen to someone else. That’s why Ali Mau and Zoë Lawton started Tika, a new charity for survivors.

Tika’s platform will launch later in 2025, offering a safe and and supported way to report incidents of assault, harassment, abuse or online harm, and seek justice. Their approach leverages the power of collective reporting through a secure tech platform which connects survivors who have the same perpetrator, initiating a guided legal process. It’s survivor-focused and completely free, with full legal support from start to finish.

Tika has been built to change the game for survivors, revolutionise the reporting experience, and break the chain of harm created by serial perpetrators, leading to a safer community for all New Zealanders. tika.org.nz