When I lived in Maryland and then in Illinois, I was always searching for the sun's rays to make their mark on me. I haven't been able to tan for years, but instead only burn then fade back to translucent. However, it didn't keep me from thinking about it and even feeling insecure by my pasty white skin.
I wondered how I would feel about that here with so many people tan or having naturally darker skin. But surprisingly, it doesn't bother me at all. I get mistaken for a tourist frequently, likely only partially because of my fair skin color. But I don't feel judged; I sense protection of this place by locals, but not judgement. That's something here that is so refreshing.
If you read any books about moving to the Big Island, one of the repeated themes you will read is that you are measured here by the person you are, not by the size of your home or type of car that you drive. I definitely find that to be true-- even with the paleness of your skin.
It's really quite a beautiful amount of forgiveness that those with native Hawaiian ancestry have if you look back at the history of this island with the United States. We have been horrific to this land, bombing it for our practice, sending toxic materials into the air, water, and ground here. Historically, Hawaiian religion and culture were suppressed by missionaries and others. Urbanization, including lack of regard for history found in archaeological findings when building roads, and disrespect of the land, now plague Oahu and this is spreading to the other main islands. I will not pretend to know even a hint of what the United States has done to the people and the 'aina of Hawaii. (I also cannot even begin to explain the ways in which we have hurt others who have been here for generations but are not of native Hawaiian descent.) This does not even mention what damange outsiders from other countries have done here.
Yet, when I read about the history of Hawaii, especially after King Kamehameha united the islands, I get the sense that there was a general welcoming of outsiders. At times I interpret that what occurred was an absorption of the knowledge and culture that these strange visitors brought with them. In the meantime, though, the Hawaiian culture was being watered down and lost.
In present times, when most think of Hawaii, the first thoughts are of bright prints, hibiscus, hula dancers, surfing, and laying on the beautiful beaches. I was one of these people, even after visiting here for our honeymoon. The true spirit of the islands did not call to me, even though as I conjure the memories of our trip here, I believe the spirits were trying.
One incident that stands out occurred when Mike and I were approached by this lovely lady in Kauai on the second leg of our honeymoon. She was quite talkative with a smidge of senility. She told us stories of her childhood and of her brother previously serving as mayor of the town we were in. We had met her at a heiau there and she welcomed us back to her home. Because I was concerned people would see us going inside and possibly taking advantage of her kindness, we sat on the front porch. She gave us a drink and told us more stories of the beautiful history of Kauai.
When we visited in 2007, our view of Hawaii widened. When we returned home and reminisced those original feelings of a stereotypical Hawaii were replaced with lava, feral cats, petroglyphs, and wind (on South Point). Now when I think of Hawaii, after having the gift of living here for over 5 months, I am still amidst superficial thoughts of beauty, but am also deepening my understanding slowly, as the island reveals itself to me. I will never understand what it is like to be from this island and to have a connection so deeply rooted here, but I try to respect the history, and the varying cultures that these islands now hold.
Mike and I speak often of how accepted we feel by those whom we've had the pleasure of meeting. We have read many accounts of people leaving Hawaii after a year or less because of perceived negativity towards the newcomers. For us, though, I cannot explain the emotion that swells in our chests as we speak of our experiences here. As I mentioned before, we sometimes feel residents of all cultures protect this island like they are a momma bird. As one example, workers can be leery when we ask if there's a kama'aina (local resident) discount as if we are trying to pull a fast one. When we offer our placard of belonging, the Hawaii driver's license, then there is sometimes a noticeable relaxation of their shoulders.
We accept these differences, and understand them. In so many ways visitors and travelers from both historical times and recent times, have stolen from the land, taken advantage of those who are generous, and tried to swindle and trick those who live here. We accept that we are ignorant to the many customs and cultures that are represented here, and are sure to be honest when we don't know or understand something. (I can't tell you how many times I've asked what a certain food is-- and that's just the most basic exposure to these varied cultures.) So, if we receive a furtive look, we consider this cautious, not judgemental.
But even within this initial tentative approach by locals, there is so much aloha. It seems as if everyone's guard quickly comes down and open arms are extended. We are blessed to be accepted.
