There was a time when I once believed in the independence of Hawai‘i as a nation-state. I stood steadfast in my arguments that Hawai‘i deserved to be an independent nation returned after the U.S. realized the law passed to annex the Hawaiian Islands went against their very own rules. Nothing short of pure independence could or should ever be accepted, I thought.
Then I went to law school.
I learned a lot of things in law school. I learned the racist origins of the U.S. (founding father George Washington penned a letter that used the phrase, “Savage as the Wolf.” It outlined a strategy to push American Indian peoples further inland, like you would drive a wolf into the forest, to deprive them of food and kill them off). I learned the shameful legal basis for the extinguishment of native title to land (called the Discovery Doctrine). I learned that “public good” and “reasonable person” are defined by the dominant group in power (often white men of privilege when the most important legal doctrines were being developed). I also learned that the dominant will abandon previous arguments, flip-flop on theoretical bases, whatever they need to uphold the status quo — most often at the price of indigenous peoples and their lands, resources and rights.
I shed a good number of tears in law school. I questioned the very make up of my DNA, every syllable of my thoughts. It was a rough time in my life.
In the end, I came out with a different viewpoint. I understood that political realities matter as much as, if not more than, the legal realities of a situation. I learned that you can’t just beat someone at their own game to win. It’s a much more complex process that takes time and multiple disruptions in a cycle that perpetuates power and privilege.
Perhaps this education — this privilege — was why I was not fearful when I first heard of Act 195 during the 2011 legislative session. It passed with little fanfare. And, in 2012, when I learned of the subsequent Native Hawaiian Roll Commission, I signed up. It wasn’t a big deal to me. I read the statute which put the ball in motion. I understood the political and legal realities it was creating. I decided to sign up so I could have a say in what the next steps for the Hawaiian people would be.
When my mom asked me what it was about, I told her that all the act said was that you were signing up to participate in a subsequent process — to have a say in what came next. That was how I understood Act 195; it is still how I understand the statute.
As the ball continued to roll and we moved from 2011 into 2014, my job became to cover these issues as a journalist. I took great interest in knowing what was next for the Hawaiian people. I was at the Office of Hawaiian Affairs for the March 6, 2014 vote which approved $3.97 million toward nation-building efforts.
I remember the night of the vote I met a friend for dinner. I explained to her what I had witnessed and my understanding of what was going on. I was almost giddy with excitement.
Since that March 6 vote more than a year and a half ago, I have found a lot of different ways to explain what the process means to me. “Sky’s the limit,” I would say to folks. We, as Hawaiians, are not limited to any predetermined outcome. We can have our cake and eat it too (isn’t the point of having cake after all?).
Now, as we get closer to the Na‘i Aupuni election, things are getting heated. Hawaiians are taking down Hawaiians. I saw a comment on one thread criticizing community leaders who supported DOI rule-making to provide a pathway to Hawaiians for federal recognition. Below his pointed comment was a noose hanging from the tree. I screen-captured it so I could show people how low we had real gotten.
I’ve seen community leaders and people I call friends and acquaintances suggesting that supporting the reorganization of the Hawaiian people through Na‘i Aupuni as being a part of the problem. It is without any critical discussion of how each of us — whether as employees of the state of Hawai‘i and its agencies or as taxpayers taking advantage of public utilities and services — participates in what opponents call the occupier’s government.
I have seen other community leaders, friends and acquaintances suggest the decision to sign the roll and participate in the election of ‘Aha delegates is out of fear. I have racked my brain over and over again. I cannot find a single point in my decision to be a part of this process where I acted out of fear. Maybe it’s the privilege I’ve had from going to law school where I learned from prominent indigenous scholars who have made real-world changes for people around the world. That could very well be. I’m very fortunate for that education.
At the end of the day though, when I look back at my decisions to sign up for the roll, to make a conscious decision to cover Hawaiian politics and nation-building as a journalist and to, at one point, work for an organization supporting these efforts, the only thing I can think of is hope. I have always only ever had hope for the Hawaiian people.
I look at law school classmates, working for their tribes, villages and nations. I know they all face challenges internally and externally. I know at least some of them worry about relying on racist legal precedence to argue for greater exercise of sovereignty for their peoples and governments.
I also see tribes, villages and nations who are breaking new legal and political grounds. One friend, Attorney General of his tribe, has helped his tribe gain legal jurisdiction over non-Indians, something unheard of in Federal Indian Law. I see pictures of classmates’ children and family beaming with pride after participating in a traditional ceremony.
I know there is pain. I also know that there is hope. None of these amazing native individuals would be doing what they’re doing for their people if they didn’t believe in fighting for something better.
When I have looked at this process, I have only ever seen opportunity. I see an opportunity to gain practice in governing ourselves (and on someone else’s dime perhaps?). I see an opportunity to legally and politically demand a seat at every table that affects our people and our Hawai‘i. I see the negotiation of unsettled claims — not lands — claims to wrongs that have been done against us and that continue to be engrained in the systems that govern us. I see economic opportunity in being able to set our own rules and regulations within the U.S. or outside of it. I see opportunity in having greater control over our cultural capital so that our children never have to cry over the loss of our language and practices.
For me — for us as Hawaiians — like my friends and classmates, there is sadness. But, there is also hope. I have hope for our people. I have hope in our potential to move the needle. I have hope in our ability to disagree respectfully and not trample on each other’s good intentions. I have hope that we can find a place for everyone. I have hope that we are proud of what we are and what we have always been. I have hope for our future and everything we can achieve together.
