Hawaii and the Independent Identity
Hawaii is my place of origin. I can identify with no other kingdom. Hawaii is where I was born, where I learned to view the world; my values are heavily influenced by the standard course of education there. Our kumu taught Hawaiian history and culture through elementary and middle school; they imbued us with a Hawaiian code of ethics. We would not embark on a more standard course of education until high school. There are still items of “common information” I never learned; mainland geography, for example, is entirely lost upon me. The only thing I am certain of is that New York is one of the very small specks on the East Coast, and California is the large sock on the West.
People from Hawaii should prioritize our specific identity first, of coming from a community both physically and culturally separate from our nation. We are a state in structure, but not in history and culture. We are so different from the mainland, so scarce in brash patriotism, that I have never considered myself to be an American. Any local I know feels the same. Even when asked for our nationality, we will always introduce ourselves as being from Hawaii rather than being American. Those two identities should never align.
Our inability to adopt a national identity largely stems from our relationship with the United States. To the advocates of national identities — how can you ask an island, and especially its native people, to empathise with an identity and culture that has oppressed and pillaged it? To celebrate our segment in the story of America, of the overthrow of our islands’ long-standing monarchy and the additional 1,500 years of history before that? For Hawaii to illegally become a state, to be adopted into the Western world — this did not just equate to a simple change in name. It meant for Native Hawaiian culture to be eradicated. The US attempted to ban Hawaiian society. The US even silenced the voice, the language of Hawaii. For almost a century, speaking ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi in schools and public spaces was illegal.
Upon reading this, you may ask why not identify globally? You may recommend that we advocate for global citizenship in Hawaii, and connect with other places or peoples who bear similar stories and legacies of oppression. In my eyes, global citizenship means that you and your community are in the position to look beyond the border. Things are stable at home. When you consider Hawaii, however, you find that we are plagued with social issues. We are second in homelessness nationally. Living comfortably is almost unattainable; not only are we the most expensive state, but our minimum wage of $10 means most work at least two jobs just to get by. Our economy is also in desperate need of diversification. We are entirely reliant on tourism and the military. Looking across the waters means ignoring matters at home, problems that are working to make Hawaii unlivable. Your insistence on adopting global citizenship translates to a lack of local citizenship. This perpetuates the cycle of inaction.
Take the current rail project. When initially proposed on local ballots in 2009, voters approved without understanding what that would entail. Only after the project started and started to affect locals did voters realize their mistake. For one, the rail runs through the middle of nowhere; the 20 mile line hits underpopulated areas, meaning the project will not be useful for tourists or locals alike. Management has been absurdly inept; while originally expected to open in 2020, the rail will likely not be finished until 2031. Costs have also burgeoned. Initially slated to cost $5.12 billion in 2010, the price tag has more than doubled to $12 billion. It will likely cost three to four times more than expected by the end of it all. What is even more frustrating is that so much of the delay has been caused by easily avoidable mistakes, such as ordering cars that were not the right width for pre-built tracks. The whole situation would be comedic had it not become a nightmare for those who live on Oahu. Additionally, had voters been engaged and understood the legislation, the rail could’ve been avoided entirely.
Hawaii is in desperate need of a more engaged, locally-identifying populace. To prevent easily mitigatable problems like the rail, we need to foster a stronger sense of local identity. Much of our early education involves culture and advocacy for Hawaii — we have a solid basis for strong local identities. As we advance into high school, however, we lose connection to where we are from with a loss of culture and language classes. I lost much of the Hawaiian that I learned as a child in recent years. High schools here also try to foster global citizenship; the school I attended aimed to “graduate socially responsible, engaged citizens of the world”. I would’ve entirely shed my local identity had I not served in a Oahu-based fellowship my junior year. Basically, to preserve the sense of being from and caring for Hawaii, our local education should emphasise Hawaiian cultures and values through high school.
The sense of global citizenship one is coerced to adopting here is also very disingenuous. We should acknowledge our dues to the communities which shaped us, all while not forgetting our own. Hawaii is very international in the sense that we represent a point of cultural convergence. No one racial group dominates our states’ ethnic breakdown; the largest single share of the population is Asian, at 40%. Our kingdom’s unusual racial composition is again owed to our complicated relationship with colonialism. Hawaii’s former sugar cane industry attracted migrants (particularly from Asia) in the 1900s, many of whom settled here. Interactions between these immigrants and Native Hawaiian people brewed our local culture; it spawned slang, foods, even new means of communication (ie Hawaiian Pidgin English). Hawaii’s modern culture is founded on the principle of cultural intermingling, even in the genetic sense; 25% of our population is mixed race, or “hapa”. We owe our sense of identity not to one separate nation or people, but to the island that brought us all together.
This also means that Hawaii will not, and should not, engage in isolationism and ignorance. Our rich heritage means identifying as a local actually encourages cultural awareness. Understanding Hawaii’s legacy and complex relationship with imperialism, both old and new, also fosters an understanding and respect of cultural preservation. It encourages you to have empathy; it teaches you an identity and legacy from which to draw on when advocating for other cultures and other lands.The specific education you receive as being from Hawaii, and the very unique connection you learn to have with the land, means you are taught to celebrate culture. When, as a child, you learn of the United States’s efforts to eradicate Native Hawaiian language culture, you become very culturally aware. Being from Hawaii means you are an engaged citizen, especially when it comes to native rights and the expression of culture.
In other words, Hawaii’s very unique circumstances mean identifying locally allows for a richer sense of being and belonging. It also illustrates how one’s means of identification is contingent on each location’s culture and background. Hawaii’s specific circumstances mean we should identify first and foremost as being from there. Could we foster more engaged local citizenship, we could work more effectively to quell the issues that affect us all back home. We could shape a different future for Hawaii, one in which local people are not displaced from their homes by soaring costs of living and lack of employment opportunities. It is also a privilege to look within your community and see you have the ability to act globally, especially when considering areas where far greater local issues must be dealt with first. Hawaii does not have that privilege. We must prioritize our home, the place that shaped and raised us, above any other form of identity.
