Who is Hawaiian?

In a place that makes such a big deal about being inclusive, it’s hard to admit that we draw racial lines and create an unspoken hierarchy of who’s in, who’s out and who’s just posing.

The events of the past year have brought the simmering issue of Hawaiian identity uncomfortably to the surface. It’s getting pretty hard to pretend we don’t make classifications that go something like: pure Hawaiian, part-Hawaiian, local, local-haole, immigrant and tourist.

Freddy Rice stirred it up with his challenge to the Office of Hawaiian Affairs. He is by definition kama‘aina, a "child of the land," born here to parents who were born here, though he isn’t ethnically Hawaiian.

Then Ben Cayetano busted the whole thing wide open when he boldly declared that he "feels Hawaiian."

Can you feel an ethnicity? Can you adopt a race? Can you know what it’s like to be something you aren’t? If you were born and raised here same as your parents and your grandparents, does that make you in some sense Hawaiian?

The events of the last year left us hopping over these questions like hot sand on a beach. But those who can trace their ancestry in these islands to before Western contact aren’t standing on the cool grass, either.

Among the Hawaiian race, there can be tacit expressions of "Hawaiian-er than thou." Someone who’s one-eighth Hawaiian and lives in Hanalei and works in the lo‘i is seen in some circles as more Hawaiian than someone who’s three-quarters but has lived her whole life in California. Someone who can speak the language is more Hawaiian than someone who can’t. Extra points if you have a Hawaiian last name, or at least a last name that has come to be thought of as Hawaiian, like Blaisdell or Cockett or, until recently, Burgess.

What about the great numbers of teachers of Hawaiian language, hula, medicine and history who do not have Hawaiian blood? What about the non-Hawaiian parents of part-Hawaiian children? What about Hawaiians who don’t "feel" Hawaiian? Where do they fit in?

And what about the people who just got here, been here for a few years, been here more than half their lives, came here from cold far-away places and found their hearts taking root in these Islands? How can they express their sense of love for the land, their feeling that they belong here, without getting reminded left and right that Hawai’i isn’t theirs and they’ll never really "get it"?

With all the hurt feelings and defensiveness and tear-stained personal pride swirling around, it’s easy to forget that at the heart of the debate is not identity or culture, but money and power.

It didn’t matter much who was and who wasn’t, or who felt they really were, when there was nothing on the line. But now there’s ceded land money owed by the state, federal money for native programs, and big juicy ali’i trusts.

And it didn’t matter much when the idea of sovereignty seemed so small. Now that Hawaiians are beginning to feel the rumblings of power, a renaissance of culture, music, history, land valuation and federal recognition, it’s "what about me?"

Who’s Hawaiian isn’t really about who’s welcome in the halau or who gets to give the pule at dinner. We as a society have answered those questions already. It’s about who gets a share of the entitlements. That’s what the real debate is about.

Cayetano’s comment went a long way to confuse the issue. He got assets and politics all mashed together with "feelings." His comment and the ensuing rebuttals deeply hurt those who love these islands so much that the earth seems a part of their flesh, the sea a part of their blood, the culture a part of their heritage and legacy. It hurt those who feel Hawaiian not by blood, but in their hearts.

Who’s Hawaiian? Who’s Hawaiian enough? Who’s not? All of us who call Hawai’i home have to be willing to discuss these heavy questions, to acknowledge our traditions and biases and our traditional biases and to search for answers we can live with.

If we box this stuff up and put it back in the closet, the question of Hawaiian identity will certainly be decided by courts and lawyers and politicians far, far away who have never, not even for a second, felt remotely Hawaiian.

Lee Cataluna’s email address is lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com