Goodbye, MANA Magazine

This letter was published to the final digital issue of MANA Magazine, the June/July 2015 issue:

As I write this, I feel as if I’m eulogizing a close friend. MANA was, after all, my life for nearly two years.

I’d like to say MANA will always be among the best jobs of my life, but the reality is that MANA was more a calling than a job.

Beyond a calling, MANA was a promise. Hawaiians and our allies have worked years to bring Hawaiians to media’s frontline. MANA was that culmination for me. We have too often been marginalized and lambasted by the media, and worse, here in our island home. MANA was a chance to do it right. We might make mistakes, but for the first time in a long time, we – Hawaiians – would be putting our own stories, people, ‘āina, and culture onto the written page.  

MANA made me excited to read magazines again. It inspired me as a writer and editor. Above it all, it made me proud.

I’m not sure where we’ll all go from here. Our MANA ‘ohana will go our separate ways, whether we were readers, writers, editors, or artists. One thing we’ll always have is the knowledge that we were part of something so much bigger than us.

I have to believe, in the end, that owners John Aeto and Duane Kurisu didn’t name their magazine MANA so that it would fade into a distant memory once we laid the final issue to rest. MANA must live on – just in different forms.

I ask you all to think of what MANA meant to you. Was it a sense of pride? Did it quench your thirst for knowledge about Hawaiians and our community? Did it inspire you to know the people in your community? Were you moved to action? That sense. That mana. Take it with you and honor it in your own life.

You might have been a reader, writer, photographer, illustrator, editor, but you took part in that something bigger. We can be sad to see MANA go, of course. But let’s find ways to move that MANA into new forms. Go out and take pictures of your one hānau. Help your local farmer. Take a hike along a historic ‘alaloa – walk where your ancestors did. Write a story. Call your state representative. Get involved. Let MANA continue to be a part of your everyday.

And if you’re so moved, step out for Hawaiian journalism too. Support Hawaiian journalists – we’re few and far between. Hold the news media accountable. We should not only make headlines when we’re bad news. No newsroom should exist without Hawaiians in it (they exist here in Hawai‘i where Hawaiians are almost a quarter of the population). We should not be a niche market. We should be in the editor chairs, calling the shots. We should be in the field writing and photographing, sharing our stories. We as a lāhui should be telling the news media that we matter and we want to see stories that matter to us.  

MANA was never just a magazine. It was a movement. Let its legacy move you, move all of us, move our lāhui, move our Hawai‘i.

What's in a Name?

Last month, my husband and I had a big beautiful wedding. It was a perfect day, filled with food, beverages, a gorgeous sunset off of Waikiki, and of course all the people we love. We were so happy to celebrate with so many people who got us to where we are today. But, I couldn't help but observe the social experiment in the days following our wedding when we finally opened our (very generous) gifts.

The experiment was in unpacking the bag full of cards we got.

Many of them said Keopu and Jason. Others carried our silly couple nickname, Ublitz (a cross between his Ubay and my Reelitz). A few had talked to us before and knew to write Reelitz-Ubay. There were a good amount though that addressed it to us as Jason and Keopu Ubay. And even fewer wrote Mr. and Mrs. Jason Ubay.

Who wrote what typically suggested which of us they knew best. Sometimes, it indicated at what point in our lives they got to know one or both of us. For example, friends from a specific circle that got to know both of us well were definitely the Ublitz cards. Every now and then, though, how a guest addressed us suggested less history and more expectation. It was no surprise that many close to Jason were the ones who addressed it to Jason and Keopu Ubay because, of course, they would want to see the Ubay family name to continue through us.

So let's just set the record straight: we are Jason Ubay and Keopu Reelitz most times. We're Jason and Keopu Ubay, if that's what you prefer to call us. And legally, we're Jason and Keopu Reelitz-Ubay. It turns out this whole name (and identity) thing is pretty complicated.

Jason and I had a lot of discussions after we got engaged. I told him I really liked my family name. He said I didn't need to change it. I asked if he would change his name. He said no. I talked to him about the experiences of women (particularly in mixed race couples) whose names were different than their children's. He suggested we keep our own names and hyphenate kids' names. I suggested we both change our names and get the mana (power) of both families. He said no again.

Then, one day, as we got closer, he told me he had made up his mind - we should both change our names. I was a kid on Christmas day! We wouldn't have to pick our identities. We'd create new ones for our life together.

And how has it been? We're still negotiating those identities and spaces. We've decided to keep our own names professionally, both being writers and knowing the power of a byline. But, when it comes to being a family unit, we're the Reelitz-Ubays.

People react to what I call our hyphenation action in different ways. There are a lot of "wows" and a few "how modern of you" reactions. The guy at the DMV did a double-take when he looked at our marriage certificate. He was a pretty stereotypical DMV worker when I stepped up to him, stone-faced and not one for conversation. But, when he noticed Jason had also changed his name, he looked up and asked about it, even said "good for you guys" and "congratulations" by the end.

One fascinating trend we've noticed is that people care way more about a woman changing her name than a man changing his. I've been asked 23098235908 times. Jason cannot recall a time when he was asked if he was changing his name or even if I was changing mine. I'll leave that social commentary for another time.

The expectations part of our names - what we'll live up to - will always be a space of negotiation. But at the end of the day, it's really about how you know us. My closest friends will likely only ever call me Reelitz (or Ublitz). And, Jason's mom will probably always call us Jason and Keopu Ubay, and that's okay by me. If I could make one request though, try not to call me Mrs. Jason Ubay - I am neither bald, nor Filipino, and Jason would look terrible with long hair.If all else fails, you can just call me Keopu.