The impact of this historic presidential election on Hawai'i can be dissected so many ways: What will Barack Obama do for Hawai'i's economy? How will his presidency affect the military? Will tourists flock to see the land where the president grew up? Where does this put the Akaka bill?

What is harder to quantify but perhaps easier to feel is the impact Obama's presidency will have on the collective psyche of our community.

Did we ever dream there would be a kama'aina in the White House?

In 1969, Gov. John Burns famously spoke of the "subtle inferiority of spirit" of the people of Hawai'i. That painfully accurate description still exists today. We are overly impressed when a Hawai'i kid wins a national essay contest and blown away when a local team gets into the top 10 of anything.

That a son of Hawai'i has been elected president of the United States is almost too much to believe for a community that has clung to "American Idol" runners-up and Olympic athletes from 90 years ago as our symbols of making it big.

Not that we don't teach our children to dream; just that we also make sure those dreams are tempered. Aim high, but then come right back home when it doesn't work out. At least you know you tried.

Now we've seen what it looks like when "at least" is taken out of consideration, when confidence is backed by competence.

We will no doubt continue to see the Cokie Roberts-type dismissal of Hawai'i.

On the morning after the election, the Associated Press ran a story that began with this line: "To most Americans, Hawai'i is an exotic paradise so far removed from everyday concerns it might as well be Antarctica. Not to Barack Obama. The president-elect was born here in 1961, and spent his high school years in Honolulu. And Hawaiians claim him as their own."

Well, he is our own. Of course, everyone is laying claim to Obama now. Kenya and Kansas, Chicago and Jakarta. But he was born here and graduated from high school here. Those are the hallmarks. He is clearly, as it is said in Hawaiian, ma'a, completely familiar with and accustomed to this place. He named his daughter Malia and called his grandma Tutu. That's blood and bone. That's heart and soul.

Having a kama'aina as president means maybe Mainland types won't be so quick to dismiss Hawai'i. More importantly, it means maybe Hawai'i people won't be so quick to dismiss ourselves. To a Hawai'i kid with a big dream and a strong will, "Yes, we can" also translates to "If he can, I can too."

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.