O Leilani ko’u inoa, and I come from the ones forgotten
The ones who tried to forget
And the ones who savagely erased.
I come from those
whose bloodline dates back to Maui and the Big Island
Proud people with shark aumakuas,
and stewards of ancient Hawaiian homelands
dotted with verdant greens from where echoes
of mele and pule resonate like the drumbeats
and heartbeats pulsing through history’s bones
and coursing through my existence.
But now I come from the chiefs of Wall Street
tyrants whose eyes are closed and who foreclose
generations-old homes where grandmothers in slippahs and curlers
stand over the stove that fill four walls with the scent of
kalua cabbage, lau lau, and loco moco.
Love. For Sale.
Osiyo
I am from Ahawi, half of whose bloodline
walked on at Fort Knox during Nunna Daul Isunyi
In this Trail of Needless Tears that spans from one generation to the other to the other to the other to the other, my bloodline became another--
deemed the other.
Trickled down through the years,
I am from the one who was stolen from the wide open spaces of the rez and into closed doors and suffocating walls of boarding schools by missionaries who believe in the salvation of savages through a god who picks selectively the worthy through a singular word supposedly written in stone
I am from the one whose Native tongue is silenced because he wants to be a human being, not a savage
I am borne from the genocide of a people who existed long before time had a name
but now invisible and forced to prove their existence by a government who wants us to check one box this box what...categorization
all for federal dollars and recognition
and my shame...
For I am also from the ones who savaged and ravaged and pillaged
It is my self-imposed and inherited shame, my dishonour, my brokenness that
Coursing through my veins is the echo of colonization and subjugation,
I
am also
from those
who came to these lands on white-washed ships, bearing promises of salvation draped as blankets riddled with diseases.
I am from the borderlands of shame and pride,
of hope and despair
Of being too much of different races and identities,
yet never enough of one
I am from “what are you?” and “if you had your father’s hazel eyes and your mother’s rosy skin, you would be beautiful” and racial ambiguity
I am from “Is Leilani an Arabic name?” post-911
“Are you Mexican?” post-Dream Act
I find it hard
To fully belong in a place other than the one I call my own
Mestizaness hapaness mixed-bloodedness
I belong to many tribes but at times feel alone in this
struggle to make sense of contradiction and duality
But still I try to navigate through these mazes in the hazes of faces layered across places and time
I am from the ones forgotten,
and so I remember
I am from the ones who tried to forget
and so I speak
I am from the ones who tried to erase
And so I see
I am from the Trail of Broken Treaties and annexations of a kingdom,
And so I stand here today and I speak
because though I come from history,
I am today,
eyes full of intent
shoulders straight
soul intact
heart full of hope and strength and fight
I am here
My people live on
Oye
WE NEVER VANISHED
