Growing Up Mixed & Why I Fit in in Hawai’i
Haupia, Honus, and Hapas — I feel most at home in the Aloha State.
In 2014, I traveled with my mom and sister to O’ahu to visit family. Trips back to Mom’s modest island home are rare, so we never waste time. All of our time is spent with family and in the water.
While swimming with my little cousins, a life guard looked at me and said in that casual local accent, “You look like you from here, but you too pale!”
A subtle rush of happiness rushed over me before it quickly dissipated as my mind turned back to keeping my little cousins afloat. Only now, do I realize why that moment gave me satisfaction. For one of the few times in my life, I felt like I fit in somewhere.
The way people look often determines who they feel they belong with. In a past article, I reflect on advantages and disadvantages of being a multiracial American. One familiar disadvantage is that the not-so-common, common questions, “What are you?” and “Where are you from?” can leave multiracial people feeling somehow less American. Sometimes, we get the confusing pleasure of being described as “exotic.”
As the daughter of Air Force parents, I’ve had my fair share of moves across the country. And being told that I am beautiful in different corners of the country, none of which share my identity, has left me to wonder, “Do they think I’m beautiful because I look different? Because I look exotic?”
In Hawai’i, people look more like me than anywhere else I’ve ever been. There, you’ll find features that aren’t the societal standard of beauty (i.e. white features). Hawaiian locals have less pointy noses, like me. Bigger calves, like me. Thick dark hair like me. So when people tell me I’m beautiful there, I believe them. In Hawai’i, I’m not beautiful because I look exotic.
Even if I’m not actively thinking about being different from most others around me, or not thinking about fitting in in Hawai’i, there is an unspoken undertone of always feeling totally normal in Hawai’i.
For mixed people, this brings up the question of whether they even want to fit in and be a part of the norm. It’s relaxing, in sense, because it’s one less thing to think about. But there is also value in being unique and knowing you can provide a new perspective to the environment you’re in.
I’m embarrassed how long it took me to realize this, but when I did, it all made sense: Hawaiian locals look like me because many are multiracial and multicultural. 24% of the population of Hawai’i identifies as multiracial. (For context, 2% of Illinois and 5% of Washington identify as multiracial.)
And if you’ve been to Hawai’i, this may match your experience as well. The Hawaiian culture is rich, unique, and mysterious. It is a wonderful mosaic of Native Hawaiian, Japanese, Filipino, Chinese, Samoan, and many more cultures. A true melting pot of the Pacific.
Perhaps there is something to be said about the “aloha spirit.” Hawaiian locals (Kama’āina) are friendly. They are willing to help, share, smile, and talk no matter who you are. You don’t extend your arm for a handshake; you open both to welcome a hug. You don’t show up to your bradduh’s home empty-handed; you bring poke or poi.
That amiable aloha spirit leads to a community and atmosphere of feeling welcomed. And for mixed people it is a breath of fresh, sweet air.
A recent conversation I had with a fellow nikkei (i.e. mixed Japanese) woman almost left her teary. She told me how, as a nikkei who was born only a year after the passing of Loving vs. Virginia, one of the first times she felt accepted by other humans was on a beach in Hawai’i. Two women walked past her, and one yelled across the sand, “Hey sista! Why are you sitting all the way ovah there?”
Despite never having been to the islands before, she felt like she belonged. I believe that most mixed Asian and Pacific Islanders who’ve been to Hawai’i have noticed this.
Now, I can’t talk about being mixed and culturally Hawaiian without bringing up the term hapa.
The term originated from the full phrase hapa haole, which was a derogatory term for people who were half Hawaiian, and half white or half foreigner. Hapa more colloquially refers to someone who is part Asian or Pacific Islander.
Controversy surrounds this term. I’ve heard my mother call my sister and I “hapa girls,” so I never thought of it as an insult. I’ve heard mixed Asians with no connection to the ‘Āina (the Hawaiian land) refer to themselves as hapa. Perhaps if Asians and Pacific Islanders want to refer to themselves as hapa, they should feel free to do so so long as they understand its meaning, history, and why controversy exists.
However, there is frustration among some Native Hawaiians and culturally-Hawaiian Asians and Pacific Islanders who don’t agree with the use of the word to describe part Asian people who don’t have a connection to the culture and land. And that makes sense to me, too. After all, I wouldn’t use a German or Indian word to describe myself.
The debate over the use of the word hapa continues and is tied to the preservation and respect of Native Hawaiians (kanaka) who, much like mainland indigenous peoples, are trying to preserve their culture.
Hawai’i is a place of comfort for me and I want to be an ally of the culture and the island ecosystems. While I am pursuing a path of learning how to defend the environment, ocean, and climate, it’s less clear to me how I should navigate my multiracial identity and use it to support underserved communities and cultures.
What I do know is this. As Hawai’i and its people give me a place to fit in, I will work towards uplifting their voices on this planet.
Mahalo nui loa for reading.
Charlee has a B.S. in environmental engineering from the University of Illinois and a M.P.A. in environmental policy from the University of Washington. She currently works as a policy associate for the Northwest Energy Coalition in Washington State. She writes on sustainability, diversity, and fitness.
