The stratums of my emotions

I cried from my soul today while free writing today. Sharing in this space from a strong and simultaneously tender space.

The Stratums Of My Emotions

My kūpuna wahine kuakolu, Emma Paʻa, came from the Kohala mountains and lived as close to the ways of our people as she could. My kūpuna wahine kualua, Keʻalalauaʻe, carried on these traditions through ʻike papalua and relationship to the land in an ever changing time. My Kūpuna Kāne, William, is a part of the generation that was taught in school and society that all the old ways were “pau already.” My mother, Pua, comes from the generation that lived through the 70s renaissance of our cultural ways.

This was such a pivotal time for our people. Immersion language schools were established. Traditional double haul canoes were being built and put back into the ocean. Hula and oli began to take its rightful place again. Our people rose to stand for aloha ‘āina.

As I write this I can feel my heart hurting. I’m feeling and thinking about all those who lived at that time that experienced the pain and loss of everything they knew. I can’t even begin to try to put words to that kind of ‘eha. And what hurts me just as much is that we are still experiencing erasure, oppression, and racism in our own homelands.

When I really stop to think about it and feel into it, everything in me is exhausted. And then right beneath that exhaustion, there is hurt. Right beneath that hurt, is grief. And right beneath that grief, is rage. And beneath that rage, is love.

A kind of love for the land I come from and the people I am born from that cannot be shattered, bent, or broken. A kind of love for our language, dance, and stories that is as strong as l our mountains and the power of our rivers.

I am a descendant of the survivors of erasure. The mana that lives in me is the mana that lived in them. And because of that, I will never question who I am and why I am here, ever again.

Ea