Kuleana is available across major book retailers on June 10.
It started with an email from my father.
Sara,
The Hāna property taxes went up 500%. If we can’t find a way to pay, then the trust funds will be depleted in 7 years and we may be forced to sell it. This is how Hawaiians are losing their birthright lands.
Dad
The ground beneath me had shifted, and time itself was grabbing me by the shoulders, shaking me to do something. I felt a screaming sense of urgency ring in my ears. Yet also in my gut, useless and clueless about where to start.
I was separated by an ocean from our family’s land. I was separated by a continent from our family’s land. I felt my grandmother calling me back home, yet I wasn’t sure how to get back.
I’d had moments of gut pangs. Moments of feeling out of place and a yearning — a calling coming from the west to go back “home.” This ramped up after we had kids.
Living in Washington enabled me to achieve all my professional dreams and the stereotypical American dream. Life had been good, and I had much to be thankful for. But when it came to what mattered, I felt a sense that I was failing as a parent. Would our children ever feel Hawaiian — or Hawaiian enough?
As I sat with that email open in front of me, that voice I heard all those years calling me to Hawaiʻi was now screaming like a five-alarm fire. If we lost the land, I’d lose not only my connection to Hawaiʻi, but I’d never be able to share that with my children and their children.
The possibility of losing grandma’s land suddenly pushed all these nagging questions to the front and center of my life. It forced me to confront an uncomfortable question about my place in this culture and lineage.
The land — and my sense of duty to fulfill my Hawaiian grandmother’s wishes to hang on to it — called me to act. It also forced me to wrestle with something we don’t often talk about: What do we owe those who came before us and those who will come after?
My father didn’t need to explain. I understood the panic behind his words. The clock was starting.
President Trump has issued an executive order opening one of the world’s largest ocean reserves, the Pacific Islands Heritage Marine National Monument (also called PRIMNM), to commercial fishing for the first time in over a decade. Spanning an area the size of three Californias, PRIMNM is a sanctuary to fragile ecosystems and endangered wildlife. Environmental advocates warn that opening the marine monument threatens decades of conservation work, while fishing industry lobbyists claim the move restores access to routes that had been previously restricted without the consultation of Pacific Island leadership.
A companion executive order directs the Commerce Secretary to loosen regulations on commercial fishing, aquaculture, and fish processing industries. It also calls for the Interior Department to conduct a review of other marine monuments for commercial purposes, including the Papahānaumokuākea Marine National Monument, which contains historical and culturally significant Native Hawaiian sites.
“It’s as if we had just allowed commercial hunting into a place like Yellowstone,” said Douglas McCauley, a marine biology professor at the University of California, Santa Barbara. He warned the orders could severely impact shark conservation: “You can catch a lot of the tuna that you want, but you also catch and kill many sharks.”
Bob Richmond, a marine biologist at the University of Hawaiʻi, challenged the idea that opening the monument would benefit the fishing industry, saying there’s strong data showing that large protected areas actually enhance fish populations.
“What is important is to understand what the value of these large scale marine protected areas, like Pacific Islands Heritage Marine National Monument, is… [it is] a way of generating more fish for sustainability for the future,” Richmond said.
The Trump administration is expected to face legal challenges over the orders. While presidents can designate lands as national monuments under the Antiquities Act, critics argue that only Congress has the constitutional authority to abolish or modify national monuments on federal land (under the Property Clause).
“We’re going to be counting on the courts to hold this president to the law,” David Henkin, attorney for EarthJustice, told Hawaii News Now.
The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Fisheries and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (FWS) are tasked with managing marine national monuments in the Pacific. However, in February, FWS faced significant cuts to its workforce, including the termination of 420 employees across its operations and the National Wildlife Refuge System in Hawaii. The agency also appears to have frozen its international conservation grants, according to a report by Vox. Among funds recently removed from the FWS website: the Species Conservation Catalyst Fund, which awarded $1.4 million in 2024 for songbird preservation, and the Marine Turtle Conservation Fund, which awarded $2 million that same year.
The Trump administration's proposed 2026 budget includes steep cuts to NOAA as well, with a nearly 30% reduction in funding for NOAA Fisheries and the elimination of grants for species recovery and habitat conservation, according to reports. The proposed budget also aims to slim down NOAA’s investment in satellite technology by 44% compared to current levels.
And speaking of Elon Musk. In November 2024, SpaceX sought approval to expand its operations in the Pacific, with a plan that would, among other goals, extend its hazardous landing zones to include waters surrounding PRIMNM and Papahānaumokuākea. The FAA held a public comment period, which closed on January 17, 2025, and confirmed that it was consulting with the National Marine Fisheries Service to evaluate risk to marine species and critical habitats. A biological opinion was due just days before Trump’s fishing orders were issued.
Though the executive orders pertain only to commercial fishing, Trump has signaled broader ambitions for industrial expansion in the Pacific. In late April, he issued another order that would allow for deep seabed mining exploration and development through the issue of permits to the private sector.
More than 30 countries have called for a delay or moratorium on the start of seabed mining in international waters, an effort led by Pacific Island nations.
“There are data that demonstrate concerns about what deep seabed mining could do to fisheries, to ecosystem health, and, by definition, to human health, as well,” Richmond said.
“There are pollutants and toxins that come from the bottom of the sea floor which can make its way into our food chain,” Alanna Matamaru Smith, director of Te Ipukarea Society, said.
“In those conversations of mining, there’s no consideration that we come from this space. It’s about minerals. It’s about resources. It’s about extraction with no regard for culture,” said Sol Kahoʻohalahala, former Hawaiʻi state representative. “I want to be the one that says, ‘We come from this place. This is our home. And you are now intruding upon it.ʻ”
Kahoʻohalahala’s uncle, Joseph Keliʻihananui, was a member of Hui Panalāʻau, a U.S. colonization project that established an American presence on remote Pacific Islands ahead of World War II. Keliʻihananui was killed in a Japanese air raid the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor. The work of Hui Panalāʻau helped lay the cultural, historical, and scientific foundations for the establishment of the Pacific Islands Heritage Marine National Monument. Read more about Hui Panalāʻau in this month’s spotlight.
UPCOMING
EVENTS
Arkansas
Russellville: AAPI Heritage Month (May 3; Russellville Train Depot, 320 W. C St.)
California
Arroyo Grande: Moana Jr. (May 16 and 17; 7pm, 2pm, and 7pm, Clark Center for the Performing Arts, 487 Fair Oaks Ave.)
Last year, Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg announced that the company was dabbling in the creator space with the launch of an AI studio. The studio would allow users to make their own AI-driven characters that could interface with Facebook, Instagram, and, later, WhatsApp users through messaging on Meta platforms. Meta also launched its own celebrity and character accounts, but those were quietly shuttered following user criticism.
Connor Hayes, Meta’s VP of product for generative AI, told the Financial Times that AI characters would eventually exist on platforms “kind of in the same way that accounts do,” and would have the ability to “generate and share content powered by AI on the platform.”
There are now a handful of AI character accounts on Instagram that identify as Hawaiian, and most of these accounts pose as women. The accounts have garnered tens of thousands of messages. The race and gender of creators or creator teams behind some of these accounts do not appear to be reflections of their virtual characters. Those creators have not responded to questions and/or requests for comment.
AI is only as good as the data used in its training. This data might reflect western narratives that marginalize or distort Pasifika culture and history or media representations that perpetuate stereotypes, exoticization, and othering, which stand to amplify harm that Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders experience daily. The scale to which misinformation could be disseminated and reflected back, harm promoted, and culture adulterated is profound. This says nothing of purposeful manipulation of the technology — say, if Meta’s CEO had reason to change the narrative around a controversial land grab or the platform wanted to monetize content derived from unlicensed work by Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders.
Gabriel Yanagihara, who lives in Hawaiʻi, created “Hawaii Boi w/da lifted Toyoda,” which is, as he describes it, the product of “a small afternoon project.” Yanagihara leads student and professional development workshops on topics across emerging technologies, including AI. You might have come across his viral videos showcasing Hawaiʻi high school mascots.
Through AI-driven activations like “Hawaii Boi,” Yanagihara aims to demystify AI and promote its adoption across Hawaiʻi.
“Hawaii has a unique opportunity to lead in AI literacy and application,” Yanagihara wrote on his Substack. “By embracing tools that amplify our values of community, responsibility, and sustainability, we can create solutions that are not just innovative but deeply rooted in our culture.”
Indeed, some smaller AI characters do appear as though they are set up to perpetuate Hawaiian values. “Pono the Nene,” for example, queues users with frequently asked questions including, “how can I be Pono when traveling on Kauai?” (“Pono” was created by a Kauaʻi-based photographer.)
So, can Native Hawaiians, a widely dispersed group of varying technological mastery, come together to preserve and gatekeep culture and history, while leaving room for advancement, creativity, and financial opportunities? Watch this space.
Merrie Monarch Das Why
The 62nd Annual Merrie Monarch Festival returns April 20-26, 2025. Here are few resources in the lead up to the big event.
Watch the Merrie Monarch hula competition live Thursday, April 24 through Saturday, April 26 via the Hawaii News Now mobile and OTT apps or online (starts at 6pm HST). The competition is also available to stream on the festival’s website.
Two decades moved with maddening speed. Prince Jonah Kūhiō Kalaniana‘ole, once sixth in line to the Hawaiian throne, a stately and steadfast royal carrying out the awesome responsibilities of power and legacy, had lost his kingdom. He had been imprisoned for trying to restore the Hawaiian monarchy following its overthrow and sentenced to execution, spared by his aunt’s abdication of his birthright.
He watched as the new regime flourished, feasting on the remnants of Hawaiian monarchical rule. Beloved family members passed away. Hawaiians died in record numbers — crammed into tenements, starving, ravaged by disease, their culture driven underground.
By 1914, Prince Kūhiō had become the Territory of Hawaiʻi’s second delegate to the U.S. Congress. It was a non-voting position, but one with the opportunity to wield considerable soft power. To secure the position, Kūhiō had joined the Republican Party, a party whose members had conspired to overthrow his kingdom years before. But he was no stranger to these spaces, having spent his youth among “the offspring of gold-rush millionaires” and “newly-emerged plantation elite” in San Mateo, California. (He and his brothers are credited with introducing the sport of surfing to Santa Cruz, California, and, thus, the continental U.S.)
Prince Kūhiō was a charismatic diplomat, who deftly navigated Washington, D.C.’s sea of small indignities by leaning into his exoticism and embracing “the spirit of Aloha.” His focus always on the rehabilitation of Kānaka Maoli.
In 1918, he gathered a group of Hawaiian leaders to form ʻAhahui Puʻuhonua o Nā Hawaiʻi, the first Hawaiian Civic Club. The organization sought to elevate and promote the social, economic, civic, and intellectual status of Native Hawaiians. Its first priority was securing federal support for a Native Hawaiian homesteading program — an effort to return Hawaiian land to Hawaiian hands. This group also worked to revive Hawaiian language newspapers, as a means of self-determination and civic engagement, empowering Hawaiians to record and tell their own stories.
Kūhiō didn’t live to see the first homesteaders settle Hawaiian home land, but his legacy extends beyond his accomplishments as a public figure. He created a playbook — and laid the groundwork — for Native Hawaiians to navigate seasons of political turmoil.
Today, there are 60 chartered Hawaiian Civic Clubs with roughly 3,500 members. Hawaiian Civic Clubs operate across 11 states in the diaspora:
Check out our interactive map to learn more about these and other nonprofits in your area. And read more about Prince Jonah Kūhiō Kalanianaʻole and the Hawaiian Homes Commission Act in our latest spotlight.
UPCOMING
EVENTS
Arizona
Tempe: Arizona Aloha Festival (March 15-16; 10am-3pm, Tempe Town Lake Park, Mill Ave. and Rio Salado Pkwy.)
California
Benicia: Race Around the Can (March 8; Alvarez 9th Street Park, 904 W. 9th St.)
February marks Mahina ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi, or Hawaiian Language Month, which was established a little over a decade ago to commemorate efforts to revitalize and renormalize Hawaiʻi’s native language. Advocates and practitioners across the diaspora spend the month championing a “no more excuses” slogan, mounting pressure for every Hawaiian to solve generational trauma while, as they say, building the plane mid-flight.
The pressure isn’t unwarranted. Our history is replete with examples of institutionalized and systematized linguicide. Before the overthrow of the Hawaiian kingdom, the U.S. government provided federal support to groups, notably Christian missionary organizations, to build schools and religious institutions for the express purpose of acculturation. Hawaiian monarchs attempted to reverse these efforts by establishing schools that explicitly taught in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, but following the overthrow, use of Hawaiian in schools was banned. In fact, it wasn’t until 1986 that use of Hawaiian as an instructional medium in public schools was made lawful.
Building upon the scaffolding of those early missionary schools, the U.S. government established at least 7 institutions (schools with multiple sites across Hawaiʻi, including the Kamehameha schools) with forced cultural assimilation programming. Children in these schools faced disciplinary practices, such as food withholding and corporal punishment. They were also forced to perform military drills and manual labor, often to compensate for the poor conditions of school facilities and lacking funds. The Territory of Hawaiʻi used revenue from ceded crown lands to fund these acculturation programs.
Today, UNESCO’s World Atlas of Languages lists Hawaiian as “severely endangered.” Native speakers are routinely told the language is dead. Efforts to revive the language among younger generations are met with obstacles, like colleges and universities that won’t honor Hawaiian language credits. Immersion schools struggle to find resources and staffing to meet demand. And, as we saw with the deadly wildfires in Maui, even climate change threatens the perpetuation of our mother tongue.
The guilt of standing idle is palpable. While the responsibility to revive ‘ōlelo Hawaiʻi should fall on every American, action is often on Hawaiians. So, yes: No excuses.
Kanaeokana is the ultimate one-stop shop for low barrier to entry resource for getting started. Here are a few other programs to highlight the breadth of resources across ages and abilities:
Duolingo: A five-minutes-a-day mobile app experience. The logo will wither on your home screen to remind you to continue your lessons.
Ka Leo ʻŌiwi and Kulāiwi: Free web-based lessons. (Mango Languages also offers Hawaiian, accessible through your local public library.)
Kamehameha Schools and Kūlaniākea virtual minigames.
ʻŌiwi TV: Watch programming in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi with English subtitling.
Organizations that provide Hawaiian language programming and resources may see a scaling back of federal support under a new presidential administration. If you can’t dedicate your time to perpetuate ‘ōlelo Hawaiʻi, then perhaps dedicate your dollar.
See more about what the new administration policies on birthright citizenship might mean for Kānaka Maoli. Read our latest spotlight.
Ua lehulehu a manomano ka ʻikena a ka Hawaiʻi
Great and numerous is the knowledge of the Hawaiians
UPCOMING
EVENTS
California
Cypress: Sei workshop (February 5; 5:30pm, 5700 Orange Ave.)
The murder of Joseph Kahahawai, a 22-year-old Native Hawaiian boxer accused of raping a white socialite in 1931, represents a flash point in Hawaiʻi history whose tendrils reveal the weighty relationship Native Hawaiians have with the U.S. military, wealthy elite, and the press even today.
At the time, Hawaiʻi was a U.S. territory with powerful factions mounting an effort for statehood. The U.S. military’s Pacific footprint was expanding and a majority of servicemembers based in Hawaiʻi hailed from the American south, towing along their racist ideology.
On the night of September 12, 1931, Thalia Massie, the wife of a Navy lieutenant, left a party at the Ala Wai Inn, walking alone. She claimed that she was then dragged into a car with 5 to 6 Hawaiian men, and repeatedly raped. Witnesses who found Thalia said the woman’s mouth was swollen and her cheeks were scuffed and red. She was beaten so badly that her jaw had to be wired shut. Authorities were called to investigate the alleged rape, and the following morning Thalia was able to provide a partial license plate of the rapists’ vehicle.
Horace Ida, David Takai, Henry Chang, Ben Ahakuelo, and Kahahawai were involved in a road rage incident in another part of the island an hour before Thalia’s alleged rape. The license plate to their vehicle was broadcast over police radio throughout the night. Some believe this is how Thalia later identified the men as her assailants.
Their trial started in November, but press coverage had already painting a guilty verdict. The Honolulu Advertiser ran headlines reading, “Gang assaults young wife;” and Time magazine called the accused “brown-skinned bucks.”
Police put their thumb on the scale as well, submitting false details in interrogation notes and logging tire tracks they created with Ida’s car at the scene of the alleged rape as evidence of the car’s use in the crime.
The jury in the Massie rape case was deadlocked and a mistrial was declared. Soon after the mistrial, Navy Admiral Yates Stirling proclaimed that 40 unpunished rapes had occurred in Hawaiʻi, a figure that ran unverified in many mainstream newspapers. Admiral William V. Pratt, chief of naval operations, sent a cable on December 2, 1931, to the press in which he wrote, “American men will not stand for the violation of their women under any circumstances. For this crime they have taken the matter into their own hands repeatedly when they have felt that the law has failed to do justice.”
On December 12, Horace Ida was kidnapped at gunpoint and badly beaten by U.S. Navy sailors, who were trying to coerce a confession to the Massie rape.
“The Massies had so much power,” Jordan Kahahawai-Welch, Kahahawai’s grandniece, recounted with SF Gate. “In our grandpa’s family there had been discussions about wanting to take action, wanting to do something about it. But the Massies had so much power that people were afraid of. They were fearful of retribution.”
Media fervor continued. William Randolph Hearst ran an editorial titled, “Martial law needed to make Hawaiʻi safe place for decent women” in January 1932, that claimed “bands of degenerate natives lie in wait for white women.”
Kahahawai was abducted that same month. His captors, two U.S. Navy sailors, Massie’s husband, Thomas, and mother, Grace Fortescue, enticed the young prizefighter with a fake court summons presented in broad daylight near Hawaiʻi’s legal district. The four vigilantes tried to coerce a confession; and later shot Kahahawai, who died from internal bleeding. The killers were caught by police en route to disposing his body.
Fortescue, who had family ties to Alexander Graham Bell and President Theodore Roosevelt, enlisted famed attorney Clarence Darrow to defend the accused. Darrow had come out of retirement for the Massie case, having taken a financial hit during the Great Depression. He presented Kahahawai’s murder as a honor killing, actions brought on by temporary insanity.
The trial caught fire in mainstream papers, with daily updates across Hearst outlets. AP editors voted the story one of the top world news events of 1932 and the single most important criminal trial in the country. The Chicago Tribune deemed it “one of the greatest criminal cases of modern times.” Editorials spurred demands for an overhaul of the police force and revision of Hawaiʻi’s legislature. The bad publicity threatened to derail statehood efforts, let alone the autonomy of the territory.
Jurors faced incredible pressure to exonerate the accused. “There was pressure from the jurors’ friends, from their neighbors, from their families, and in their workplace in particular,” Professor David E. Stannard said. “The Navy tried to boycott the butcher’s store afterward, to have [a juror] fired.”
The jury issued their verdict. Massie and others were found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to 10 years of jail time.
“These people had no reason, ever, on any other day in their lives, to even talk to one another, to say nothing of agreeing with one another. But they did. They fought it out, they took some time and they voted unanimously to convict,” Stannard said.
Under pressure and threat of martial law, Territorial Governor Lawrence M. Judd commuted manslaughter sentences. The accused would serve one hour in his office at ʻIolani Palace, and then leave for San Francisco days later. Judd later hired the Pinkerton detective agency to investigate Thalia Massie’s rape claim. They produced a report that exonerated the accused, finding no evidence that the accused committed the crime or that Thalia had even been raped. Prosecutors abandoned a second rape trial against the surviving defendants in 1933. The Massies would divorce a year later.
The word “local” took on expanded meaning following the Massie trial. “Locals became, and to this day still are, natives and longtime Pacific Islander and Asian residents,” Stannard wrote, referencing sociologist Andrew Lind. “Haoles could be many things, both good and bad, but in the new parlance of the islands they could never be local.”
The political balance of power also shifted. “Republicans had had a complete lock on everything in Hawaiʻi at that time. The city council was three-to-one Republican over Democrat. After the 1932 election [following the Massie trial], it was three-to-one, Democrat over Republican,” Stannard said.
“In moments of great crisis and stress and fear…people are willing to abandon their freedoms as a way of maintaining order,” Stannard continued. “In the Massie case, there was a fear all over these islands that the little freedom people had was going to be taken away if they did the right thing—if they voted to convict these people, who had obviously committed murder. It’s a hard decision when—because of what you decide—food isn’t going to be on the table, you’ll lose your job, your friends don’t talk to you anymore. Or when you no longer can vote because of it. It’s a hard decision to make, and they made the right one.”
Judd later went on to serve as the resident superintendent at Kalaupapa and governor of American Samoa. Read more in our spotlight on Kalaupapa Month online.
UPCOMING
EVENTS
California
Anaheim: Noel Calucag at Roy’s Anaheim (Sundays; 11:30am-2:30pm, Roy’s Restaurant, 321 W. Katella Ave.)
If you were raised after the Hawaiian renaissance of the 1970s, the image of the Hawaiian warrior, or ikaika warrior, made its way into your visual lexicon. He’s stoic, clad in malo, glamor muscles rippling, and adorned with gourd helmet. He’s a symbol of Hawaiian strength, an icon representing our cultural perpetuation. We put him on t-shirts. We dangled his helmet off our rear view mirrors.
But the image is fiction. (Why, after all, would a warrior wear a flimsy piece of protective gear with such poor visibility?)
In ancient Hawaiʻi, the gourd helmet wasn’t used in times of war, but in peace. It was a mask worn during Makahiki, a kino lau of Lono, god of, among many things, peace, sport, and fertility. Some experts say the mask was used to conceal priests of Kūkaʻilimoku during Makahiki.
John Webber, who accompanied Captain Cook on voyages to Hawaiʻi, drew an image of what experts believe to be a priest of the Hikiau Heiau wearing the mask. (Cook’s voyages aligned with Makahiki.) Over time, with the silencing of Hawaiian history and cultural practices, the myth took hold. The illustration yielded easy comparison to crested Roman and Grecian war helmets, and bolstered the stereotype of a savage Native Hawaiian.
Hawaiians have been trying to reclaim their independence and sovereignty since the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi in 1893. Following the 1993 Apology Bill, the movement has evolved into more than 300 factions, according to one researcher, with each faction representing a different idea of what exactly Native Hawaiians want and need.
In the fight for self-governance is an effort to claim Native Hawaiian indigeneity, a movement to grant the descendants of the aboriginal people who resided in Hawaiʻi prior to 1778 western contact with tribal status and a pathway to a government-to-government relationship with the U.S.
Another effort, garnering mounting attention, rejects Hawaiian indigeneity altogether. This argument, championed by Dr. Keanu Sai, asserts that Hawaiians are not Indigenous, because indigeneity is defined by its proximity to colonization or invasion. By this definition, for Native Hawaiians to be considered Indigenous peoples, they would never have had a sovereign or independent state of their own. The Kingdom of Hawaiʻi was a sovereign state, formerly recognized by England and France in 1843 through the signing of the Anglo-Franco Proclamation, and through verbal acknowledgement with the U.S. (collectively celebrated on November 28 as Lā Kūʻokoʻa).
Native Hawaiians are, then, aboriginal peoples who, alongside non-aboriginal peoples, are considered former subjects of the Kingdom of Hawai’i.
So how would these Hawaiian nationals claim sovereignty today? Sai asserts that the United States violated international law (and committed war crimes) after the overthrow of Queen Liliʻuokalani. He argues that Hawaiʻi is under an illegal and prolonged occupation and has been mounting an effort to restore the government of the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi as a regency under the doctrine of necessity in international law (Sai compares the effort to those of Belgium in World War II). This restoration is broken into three parts that ends with compliance and accountability to the international law of occupation. It posits a world in which Hawaiian sovereignty is returned to the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi (the regency), which would broker a treaty of peace with the United States. Hawaiian nationals (we in the diaspora) would enjoy dual citizenship. Read more.
UPCOMING
EVENTS
Arizona
Camp Verde: Hālau Hula Nāpuaokaleiʻilima Hōʻike (November 9; 1:30pm, Phillip England Center for the Performing Arts, 210 Camp Lincoln Rd.)
October is a month in which many cultures pause to honor and celebrate their ancestors. In Hawaiian culture, spiritual encounters with ancestors are likely to happen during pō Kāne, a waning crescent moon phase. (The last pō Kāne moon was on September 29.) During pō Kāne, the veil between the living and their ancestors is thin and it is believed that ancestors send hōʻailona, signs, to the extra observant. Pō Kāne moons are nights to stay home, spend with family, call long-lost friends, or spend sharing stories of those who have transitioned to the next realm. Negative energy, self-doubt, and going out in the evening are to be avoided.Read more.
September marks Hawaiian History Month, and with it a month-long celebration of the legacy of Queen Liliʻuokalani, Hawaii's last reigning monarch. Liliʻuokalani had just been named heir apparent to her brother, King David Kalakaua, when she and husband John Owen Dominis, then-governor of Oʻahu, sailed to California, marking the future queen's first visit to the United States.
"If first impressions be accepted as auspicious, surely I found nothing of which I could complain on this visit; for many prominent citizens of the great city of the Pacific coast came to do us honor, or entertained us during our stay," the queen wrote in her memoir, "Hawaiʻi's Story By Hawaiʻi's Queen." Among her visitors was California Gov. Pacheco, the only Hispanic person to serve as governor of California and first Latino to represent a state in the U.S. Congress. During her visit to San Francisco, the queen and Dominis visited the U.S. Mint, the Cliff House, and Woodwardʻs Gardens.
"Our visit to Sacramento must not be passed by without a word," the queen wrote, later gushing over her audience with the collection of Mrs. Charles Crocker, a collection that later became the founding collection of the Crocker Art Museum.
"The first welcome of strange shores is not often forgotten by the traveller, however numerous may be the subsequent experiences; so these flattering attentions were most sincerely appreciated then, and have never ceased to awaken emotions of gratitude in my heart." Read more.
Laguna Woods: Hula Hiehie O Nā Kūpuna Hula Festival (September 27-28; 10am-3pm and 11am-4pm, Laguna County United Methodist Church, 24442 Moulton Pkwy., Ficklin Hall.)
Lomita: Unuomamao (September 15; 9am-12pm, South Bay Dance Center, 24823 S. Western Ave.)
Mission Beach: Celebrate 30 Years of PIFA (Pacific Islander Festival Association) (September 21-22; 8am-4pm, Ski Beach, 1600 Vacation Rd.)
Equal Pay Day is a date that symbolizes how far into the year women must work to earn what men were paid in the previous year. For Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander women that day lands on August 28.
The median annual earnings of Native Hawaiian women were around $34,000 in 2022, compared to $56,000 earned annually for white, non-Hispanic men. This amounts to a $22,000 difference each year and says nothing of the cumulative lifetime wage gap experienced by NHPI women.
Many states and local governments have endeavored to combat the gender wage gap by raising minimum wage to a standard aligned with living wage. In the ten states where they are most likely to live, NHPI women see a three cent ratio of minimum wage to living wage ($0.31 vs. $0.28), largely due to such policies. However, even in California, a state that boasts a minimum wage among the highest in the nation, and a state with the largest NHPI diasporic population, increasing cost of living (particularly driven by housing) has made it nearly impossible for minimum wage to dispel poverty. The poverty rate for NHPI households is 13.6 percent across the country, data show. For female-headed households, this rate jumps to 23.8 percent.
A lack of investment in disaggregated wage and jobs data presents another obstacle in tackling NHPI wage disparity. “Not only do Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander communities go 11 months of the year without up-to-date information about how the economy is working for them, the national conversation about the economy ignores their experiences throughout the year,” Anwesha Majumder and Katherine Gallagher Robbins write. Read more.
Have Hawaiians lost faith in higher ed?A look at NHPI data in higher education, Lā Hoʻihoʻi Ea, and why some Kānaka Maoli won't celebrate the Fourth of July
Native Hawaiians and other Pacific Islanders make up the smallest share of students enrolled in higher education. In fact, according to Census data, the proportion of NHPI adults who have not enrolled in any postsecondary education (associate degree programs, vocational/trade certification programs, four-year universities, etc.) is particularly high, including 57.9% of Samoans, 56.8% of Tongans, 53% of Native Hawaiians, and 49.3% of Guamanians or CHamoru.
NHPI students who do attend college have the highest attrition rates of any ethnic sub-group in the AAPI community. NHPI women who graduate from college make up the second largest racial group, behind Black women, with student loan debt, according to analysis by the American Association of University Women.
NHPIs are even underrepresented at the faculty level at public four-year institutions, according to a 2021 report by the American Council on Education.
This is a challenge not only because of the missed economic benefits of obtaining a college degree, but because college can be a pivotal place for learning about Hawaiian language and culture, Brian Keoki Faria, a Hawaiian language instructor, told Honolulu Civil Beat. “If you want to get an education in Hawaiian history, language, and culture, the best chance you have at achieving this is through attending college.”
But just how valuable is that education? Who gets to determine its worth? Only 65% of Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders believe a four-year degree is essential to increase wealth and minimize debt; and 68% believe it is essential to be an informed, engaged citizen, according to a recent AP-NORC poll.
If higher education institutions hold gatekeeping powers to cultural perpetuation, what will that mean for future generations of Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders who don’t believe in the value of higher education?
Pinole: Hālau Te Mau Tamariʻi A Tiare/Nā Kamaliʻi A Kiele: Journey to Thirty (Sold Out) (July 13-14; 4pm and 1pm, Pinole Valley High School Performing Arts Center, 2900 Pinole Valley Rd.)
Pomona:
Hālau Kapiliwaiokeao Hōʻike (July 6; 4pm, Cal Poly Pomona Theatre, 3801 W. Temple Ave.)
Holoholo Music Festival (July 13-14; 12pm, Thrive Park, Snapdragon Stadium, 2101 Stadium Wy.)
Taste of the Pacific (July 25; 5pm, Bali Hai Restaurant, 2230 Shelter Island Dr.)
San Jose: Lōkahi Polynesian Dance Group Presents Hoʻomau: A Celebration of 25 Years (July 14; 11:30am, 2:45pm, and 5:30pm, Mexican Heritage Plaza Theater, 1700 Alum Rock Ave.)
June signals the start of Pride Month, but for many in the Native Hawaiian diaspora and greater Pasifika community, the LGBTQIA+ umbrella doesn’t capture cultural nuances in identity. The term MVPFAFF+ was coined by activist Phylesha Brown-Acton to bring visibility to such cultural distinctions. The acronym describes Māhū (Hawaiʻi), Vakasalewalewa (Fiji), Palopa (Papua New Guinea), Faʻafafine (Samoa), Akavaʻine (Rarotonga), Fakaleitī (Tonga), Fakafifine (Niue) identities. Brown-Acton also designed the Pasifika Trans flag. Learn More.
UPCOMING
EVENTS
California
Alhambra: E Hula Kākou (June 8; 2pm, Ramona Convent Secondary School, 1701 W. Ramona Rd.)
Anaheim: Lokelani’s Rhythm of the Islands Annual Dance Recital: Maui No Ka Oi (June 29; 5pm, Pearson Park Amphitheatre, 400 N. Harbor)
Del Mar:
San Diego Hula Academy at the San Diego County Fair (June 22; 1pm, Funville Stage, Del Mar Fairgrounds, 2260 Jimmy Durante Blvd.)
Kehulili O Kailani at the San Diego County Fair (June 29; 12pm, Coors Light Avenue Stage, Del Mar Fairgrounds, 2260 Jimmy Durante Blvd.)
Encinitas: Kehulili O Kailani 17th Annual Hōʻike (June 22; 5:30pm, San Dieguito High School Academy, 800 Santa Fe Dr.)
*Due to established etiquette throughout the Pacific region and international protocols concerning the cultural and intellectual property rights of Indigenous peoples, no live streaming and videos of entire performances will be made available.
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Nā Lei Hilo is a monthly newsletter and digital community that aims to connect Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders living in the diaspora, former Hawaiʻi locals, and other supporters with virtual and in-person programs, events, and cultural resources.
UPCOMING
EVENTS
Arizona
Peoria: May Day (May 4; 2-8pm, Johnny E. Osuna Park, 10510 N. 83rd Ave.)
Sedona: May Day is Lei Day (May 4; 12-3pm, Sedona Posse Grounds Park Pavilion, 525 Posse Grounds Rd.)
Lei Day Parade (May 1; 6pm, Park Centre Drive, 1980 Festival Plaza Dr.)
Flavors of Aloha (May 3-4; Craig Ranch Regional Park, 628 W. Craig Road North)
4th Annual May Day (May 5; 9am-5pm, Town Square, 6605 S. Las Vegas Blvd.)
New Mexico
Albuquerque: 27th Annual Asian American and Pacific Island Heritage Festival (May 4; 10am-3pm, National Museum of Nuclear Science & History, 601 Eubank Blvd. SE)
New York
May Day is Lei Day (May 4; 12-4pm, La MaMa Experimental Theatre, 74 East 4th Street)
Kī Hōʻalu in Manhattan (May 7; 7-9:30pm, Miller Theatre at Columbia University, 2960 Broadway)
The Paʻakai We Bring (May 17-19; Lincoln Center, Clark Studio Theater, 165 West 65th Street)
Hoʻoulu (May 27-June 2; La MaMa Experimental Theatre, 66 E 4th St.)
