One of the problems with the term “API” serving as an umbrella for not only Asian but Pacific Islander women and feminisms is that the Pacific Islander women in this article reject the umbrella because in the pursuit of incorporating Islander women, the term actually only serves to erase them and their history, while indemnifying their colonizers. Appropriating aloha is also a problem; it takes advantage of the centuries of generosity of the Hawaiian people to immigrants while erasing a history of coloniality, violence, murder, oppression, and usurpation.
One of the things that stuck out most to me in this reading was the pair of powerfully worded quotations from Haunani-Kay Trask, but specifically one word that I will highlight later: “Hawai‘i is a society in which the indigenous culture and people have been murdered, suppressed or marginalized for the benefit of settlers who now dominate our islands” and that “[settler colonialism] has as one of its goals, the obliteration rather than the incorporation of indigenous peoples” (115). The latter quote strikes me as extremely powerful, the word “obliteration” so absolute it only ever seems to be utilized by writers as a last resort. We use the word “fuck” more than we use the word “obliteration.” “Obliteration” is a startling word, more startling and terrible than any expletive.
The other page that I dog-eared while reading this was the section where the authors discuss what hula actually is, deconstructing the reductionistic, exoticized, sexualized way it’s considered through an American lens. I thought it was beautiful how the authors articulated hula as exemplary of Hawaiian culture on many levels, encompassing all of their art, science, literature, and history (123).
I visited two of the Hawaiian Islands about 10 years ago, Kaua‘i and Oahu, when I was 18 (these photos are mine, that’s why I didn’t cite them). The difference between those two islands at the time was profound. Honolulu is way overdeveloped; being there is basically like not being in Hawai‘i. It’s a city, like a slightly cleaner New York. Public signage is written in English and Japanese. I remember our hotel room being like 50 stories up. After four days on pristine Kaua‘i, called the “Garden Isle,” I found all of this incredibly depressing, although we did stumble upon a very beautiful memorial to Queen Liliuokalani in Honolulu, and that’s when I learned about what happened to her during the overthrow of her kingdom.
On Kaua‘i, we met and befriended an indigenous musician named Mike Young. He gave me a copy of his CD. One of the songs is called “Kaua‘i, My Home” and it’s basically a highly descriptive lullaby (I would link it but the one YouTube account that posted it isn’t his, but feel free to look him up). Listening to it a few years later, I realized that the song has a lot more dire implications than I’d originally thought, that it’s likely an attempt at closure with a place that is still being ravaged and will likely eventually succumb to capitalist colonization, just like Oahu.
