Quote of the Week

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I want to be remembered as the person who helped us restore faith in ourselves. 

--Wilma Mankiller, (former) Chief of the Cherokee Nation 

30 Day Challenge, Day 2: The meaning behind your blogger name

the UNchecked other refers to both my being hapa and ethnicity/race identification government forms.  In some forms, there is a box called other in lieu of multiracial/multiethnic or mixed. It may sound silly to some and maybe something only fellow hapas can truly understand, but I've always rebelled against the checking of any of these neat little boxes. Most of the time I write hapa or mixed, but sometimes I simply write in HUMAN.

To be hapa is to live in the borderlands, and to exist in these amalgam lands means that I refuse to check one box in those optional race questions on forms. To choose one race over the other would be to negate the other parts that make me, me. If I check other, it would imply that hapa people such as myself have no place that warrants being named. In my cultures—Native or otherwise—not having a name means that you neither exist nor matter. Unseen and unheard, you are a ghost, stripped of the dignity of what it is to be human.

Conversely, I refuse to say I am a quarter this, half that, or part these. Hapa identity is a whole identity that is made from whole ethnicities, races, cultures, traditions, and people. I refuse to be divided into neat little fractions. My ancestry comes as a whole and manifests its influence over me in a uniquely all-encompassing hapa way.

With my held held high, I choose to be the UNchecked other.

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Na Leo Pilimehana kine summer days...

American Anthem in the language of its original Mother

Being perpetuated (is) the sovereignty of the land to righteousness, Hawai`i*

Hawai'i '78, Braddah Iz

Ua mau ke ea o ka `âina i ka pono `o Hawai'i *
Ua mau ke ea o ka `âina i ka pono `o Hawai'i

If just for a day our king and queen
Would visit all these islands and saw everything
How would they feel about the changes of our land
Could you just imagine if they were around
And saw highways on their sacred grounds
How would they feel about this modern city life? 

Tears would come from each other's eyes
As they would stop to realize
That our people are in great, great danger now
How would they feel?
Would their smiles be content, then cry

Cry for the gods, cry for the people
Cry for the land that was taken away
And then yet you'll find, Hawai'i. 

Could you just imagine they came back
And saw traffic lights and railroad tracks
How would they feel about this modern city life
Tears would come from each other's eyes
As they would stop to realize
That our land is in great, great danger now.

All the fighting that the King has done
To conquer all these islands, now these condominiums
How would he feel if he saw Hawai'i nei?
How would he feel? Would his smile be content, then cry?

Ua mau ke ea o ka `âina i ka pono `o Hawai'i
Ua mau ke ea o ka `âina i ka pono `o Hawai'i. 

White Sandy Beach of Hawai'i, Braddah Iz

Hapa, "Redemption Song"

Originally sung by Bob Marley, this rendition of Redemption Song by the Hawaiian group Hapa is one of the songs I turn to whenever I need re-affirmation that there is goodness in the world. 99.999% of the time, it is not too late. There is redemption.

I admit; sometimes I can be so rararara speak out! that I sometimes forget that a whisper can be just as powerful as a scream. Sometimes it's the little details that make the most profound difference, rather than a huge act. A whisper can resonate the loudest across the vast expanse of the world and a pebble can produce the most enduring ripple as long as they are constant.

That being said, there is something so powerful whenever I hear a chant or a song from my ancestral tongues. Power. Mana, it is called in Hawaiian. Incidentally, Mana in Tagalog means inheritance. So in the words of my Hawaiian and Pinoy ancestors, Mana is a power that is inherited, passed on from a proud people whose cultures and traditions can never be vanished.

Sometimes I do worry, though, that someday my ancestral tongues will cease to exist. We had been silenced before  by missionaries and conquerors who told us our Native ways were savage. They used God as a justification for silencing our tongues, our songs, our chants, our identity. But they couldn't succeed, because Mana is not created by man and therefore cannot be taken away by man. And so we still speak, though not as loudly as we had before the time of James Cook.

What worries me is that there are some in my generation who think that modernity and progress means letting go of Nativeness, that in order to fly one must abandon roots. I am an American in my home country and yet in here, I hunger for the sound of Hawaiian, Tsalagi/Cherokee, and Maori tongues. I yearn for Bisayan and Tagalog that are not peppered with English words; bastardized BisLish and TagLish have become somewhat of a new status symbol that separates the elites from the non-elites. I long to hear pride and survival with each syllable spoken from my ancestral tongues.

Is that too naïve, too idealistic? Maybe it is and maybe it isn't, but it is my truth.  


 

Queen Lili'uokalani, "He Mele Lāhui Hawai'i" (The Song of the Hawaiian Nation)*

Ka Makua mana loa   

Almighty Father bend your ear

Maliu mai iā mākou

And listen to a nation's prayer

E hāliu aku nei

That lowly bows before your throne

Me ka naʻau haʻahaʻa

And seeks your protective care

E mau ka maluhia

Grant your peace throughout the land

O nei pae ʻāina

Over these sunny islands 

Mai Hawaiʻi a Niʻihau

Keep the nation's life, oh Lord,

Ma lalo o kou malu

And on our sovereign smile

E mau ke ea o ka ʻāina

Grant your peace throughout the land

Ma kou pono mau

Over these sunny islands

A ma kou mana nui

Keep the nation's life, oh Lord

E ola e ola ka mōʻī

And upon our sovereign smile

E ka haku mālama mai  

Guard him with your gentle care

I ko mākou nei mōʻī

Give him long years to reign

E mau kona noho ʻana

On the throne his (fore)fathers won

Maluna o ka noho aliʻi

Bless the nation once again

Hāʻawi mai i ke aloha

Give the king your loving grace

Maloko a kona naʻau

And with wisdom from high (above) 

A ma kou ahonui

Prosperous lead his people on

E ola e ola ka mōʻī

As beneath your watchful eye

Hoʻoho e mau ke

Grant your peace throughout the land

Ma lalo o kou aloha nui

Bless o Lord our country's chiefs

Nā Liʻi o ke Aupuni

Grant them wisdom in order to live

Me nā makaʻāinana

So that our people may be saved

Ka lehulehu nō a pau

And to You the glory give

Kiaʻi mai iā lākou

Watch over us each day

Me ke aloha ahonui

King and people with your love

E ola nō mākou

For our hope is all in You

I kou mana mau

Bless us, You who reign above

E mau ke ea

Grant your peace throughout the land

*I tried my best to do a  verbatim Hawaiian-English translation, and did it in a way so as not to lose its original essence. As most linguists or translators know, there are some words/sayings that are difficult to translate or convey into another language, and a delicate balance between meaning and definition must be found. 

Queen Lili'uokalani

"The people to whom your fathers told of the living God, and 
taught to call 'Father,' and whom the sons now seek to despoil and destroy, are crying aloud to Him in their time of trouble; and He will keep His promise, and will listen to the voices of His Hawaiian children lamenting for their homes."

Ka'u Nani Hawai'i (My Beautiful Hawai'i)

Gratitude

I am THANKFUL for: 

My Momma, who is the greatest love in my life. Seriously, I think Unehana/God was really being awesome the day S/He assigned mommas to kiddies; S/He gave me to her ;o) Can there ever be a love so visceral and so selfless than the one a mother has for her child? She may not agree with how I'm putting graduate school on hold to move to Turkey, but she understands that I need to find myself first. When all's been said and done, my momma is one of my best friends and I love her more than life itself. 

JC and RS, my soul mates. Calling them 'best friends' or 'sisters' seems so shallow, because they're so much more that that. They're the type of friends you can call at 3 A.M. or 3 P.M. and would go to bat for you when someone says an unkind word to/at you. They are fellow humanitarians--kind, generous, loving, strong--and through their deeds, renews my faith in the goodness of man.

BG, my best guy friend / Irish brotha ;o) He's the only man I would go into a fight for, if ever some woman broke his heart. He's a 3rd degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do and breaks bricks for fun, but he's also the gentlest man I know. With him, I feel 100% safe, because I know nothing could ever hurt me while he's around.  

My Native Ancestors, who taught me that we are not owners of the land, but rather, its stewards. I am grateful that even though policies have been enacted to rid AmerIndians and Hawaiians of our lands, language, cultures, religions, traditions, and lives, WE ARE STILL HERE. Man-made policies and tyrants may attempt to take away our freedom, but never take away our dignity and humanity. Nunna daul isunyi--The Trail Where We Cried--is THE PATH WHERE WE PERSEVERE. 

Being an American. Although it has its inequities and  I do not completely agree with my country's policies on war, immigration, and the current healthcare system, I am blessed to be a citizen of a country that is truly a global salad. The U.S.A. is not a Melting Pot, because that would imply that all the ingredients have to meld and lose their individual flavours in order to become a dish with one distinct taste. No, my country is a salad that allows individuals to retain their individual flavours and colours, while being a part of a unified dish. 

Having graduated from an awesome university (and currently 'taking some time off from graduate school'). Education is a luxury that some--if not most--people could only dream about. 

The fact that I am moving to Istanbul in a month! After a major postponement for a pesky health issue, it's finally happening ;o) Maybe I'll love it there or maybe I'll hate it, but this is an adventure I cannot wait to take. Life is an exploration, evet? 

The fact that I am NOT a Turkey 

 BEING ALIVE 

3 Stars and a Sun

When I see the Pilipino flag, I feel neither indifference nor the shame of defeat. I see the eight-pointed sun that will forevermore shine upon Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao be it during times of peace or war.



I am aware that the majority of the politicians are corrupt and pad their own pockets at the expense of the citizens.  I am aware that a lot of people die because hospitals literally demand payment before they even let you see an emergency room doctor. I am aware that there are religious leaders who side with politicians because for them, the word of God and his message of love can be bought out by P100,000. I am aware that in the Philippines, there are people ashamed of their native skin…a sad notion perpetuated by the rampant advertisements of skin bleaching creams. I am aware that most college graduates want to leave the country…you earn more being a domestic helper in Singapore than you would as a computer analyst in the Philippines. I am aware that senior citizens are not taken care of properly, and that a huge percentage of the country have to choose between food or shelter.






But I am also aware that there is HOPE.



There is more to the Pilipino people than cheap labour. There is more to the Pinay than the nurse or a Japayuki. There is more to the Pinoy than the confusion of the Ps and Fs, and the stubborn penchant to mistake he for she. There is more to the Pilipino people than servitude.


I hold the hope that one day, my Pinoy brothers and sisters will rise from the stifling heat of dreams deferred. I believe in people’s power to change their stars.



Pilipinas, bangon.




I believe in you.

The Shadow Dancer Retrieves Herself

The storytelling tradition is one of the many cherished shards that that make up the rich mosaic of my heritage. I’ve been blessed to know those who came before me and have been afforded the chance to be an active participant in the continuation of the old ways. My yewyah (grandma) is definitely a master storyteller, and some of my keenest memories as a child were that of sitting at her knee, and listening to her recount the tales of diwatas, sirenas, agta…otherworldly beings that while seemingly whimsical at first hear, are really an observation of the nature of man and the world he inhabits. Fate. Destiny. Choice.

I don’t think I really appreciated the significance of folklore until much later, when I was in the throes of that inevitable “finding yourself” stage. Truth be told, as soon as I grew out of the Disney princess stage, I began to examine folklore from a harsh academic’s eyes. I was that type of academic who believed in proof and abided by statistics and probabilities rather than simply believing. In other words, I was a jaded government concentrator who believed that everything worth something must hold up well to scrutiny. I saw folklore, culture, and traditions as scholarly things, rather than as living things that are a part of people…and in turn, are shaped by people and their beliefs to help form their identity.

That all changed when I had to fulfill some of my core requirements outside my concentration. One of the requirements for that course was to compile a folklore collection by interviewing people. I first approached the assignment with a grain of salt; I figured I could just talk to some of my family and friends and type everything verbatim. Easy enough. What I didn’t expect was for the assignment to put into words and bring back into being the dormant native child that I once was. As I collected creation myths, tales of the first pineapple, and the like, I began to realize that I didn’t need to find myself; I just needed to retrieve myself.