I grew up on Oʻahu in the Kona district. Living in the safe and substantial suburban community of Kaimukī had itʻs share of pros and cons when I look back from my Native Perspective.
For one thing, we had ultimate convenience. Three main drags encompassed Kaimukī: Montserrat, Waialae and Kapahulu. Then, heading down Kilauea Avenue you would pass the Middle School, Wilson and Kāhala Elementaries and the Mall. It was a safe haven that reared Youth that wanted to rebel to feel a little something more life-like than their always-comfortable circumstances.
While there was comfort, there was discomfort. Hawaii is Full of diasporas from all around the Pacific- Japan, China, Thailand, Micronesia and the rest of Polynesia. Think of all the demographics that are minorities in America and make that mix the majority. Thatʻs us.
And beyond that clamorous mix of delicious foods, eclectic language and busy, BUSY streets - there lāua another Homeless Hawaiian. Growing up, I always wondering how so many Hawaiians (and veterans, too) could ever become homeless in their motherland. As empathic as the rest of my fellow Kanaka, it was scarring as it made me feel as close to homelessness as the very kin laying on a piece of cardboard atop pavement. It never dawned on me that Living in a home on top of a hill in an ideal neighborhood set me apart from those Hawaiians that struggled with homelessness. As far as I was concerned, I somehow grew up with the sense that I did not belong in a house any more than they did, nor did they belong sleeping on a sidewalk any more than I.
Maybe itʻs that, when you know all elders as your Aunty and Uncle, all of your contemporaries as calabash cousin - their status affects your own. Will my children grow up to feel the same as I did? With their aunties, Uncle and contemporaries suffering from a lack of shelter and proper nourishment? Will we have to compete for acceptance to receive properly education that was reserved for all Hawaiians? I hope not, and I hope also for the autonomy of all People- homeless, Hawaiian, Chinese, Black, foreign and otherwise.
Creativity has always been Therapy for me since I was about 6 years old, when my Okinawan School teacher in first Grade taught me to “Draw what I saw” and set a plumeria on my desk. There she and I learned that a first Grader could see shades and render what was seen on a piece of ripped folder paper. Looking back, I realize what she was seeking: that I knew what was in front of me, because other teachers had been trying to imply that I had some sort of Autism. My self portraits, I Drew them all with lizard and alien heads. It was instinctual that I were a moʻo, and I rescued moʻo and spiders from demise every day after School when other kids would stomp them. But to me, moʻo and spiders were Native People and they made a difference- killing off cockroaches and other bugs. I felt as misunderstood and at threat as they were. On my given day, I did identity as a moʻo, or even as an alien. It was interchangeable.
So, as I grow my Therapy of art out of serving only my self, I hope that this becomes a work that is fulfiling by justifying truth in whatever means that best suits each facet of the overall issue- of colonization, occupation, modern day slavery and oppression.
The featured Photo was taken from Maunalua in the Kona district of Oʻahu, an area presently regarded by the name “Portlock”. You wouldnt know it, but just Below the mountain range is the continuation of East Hawaii Suburbia; with a dredged Marina, Costco, Ross and a Ruthʻs Chris Steakhouse. But what about those mountains? What can they tell about what theyʻve seen? I believe that, Instinctually, it is safe to assume.....
Comments