Haoles in Hawaii

Conclusion

101 Conclusion It has been over thirty years since I was literally pushed into recognizing myself as haole in that cafeteria line at Kōloa Elementary. Thankfully, I now understand much more about the remark “fucking haole” and about the ways haole has been produced as part of the colonization of Hawai‘i. Yet one of the things about writing a book is that it forces you to realize how much you do not know about the topic. No matter how hard you try, there are some things you can never know since we each can only ever have partial knowledge, and since knowledge is so dynamic. It is humbling—perhaps a good antidote for haole hubris. There is much more to be said, and there will be those who disagree with what I have said. Hopefully this book enlivens discussion of haole, colonization, and racial politics in the islands and moves it forward. Looking at haole through historical, relational, performative, discursive , and material lenses makes it clear that haole did not just naturally come to be in Hawai‘i and to dominate political and economic power. Instead, haole gained power in the century after Captain Cook’s landing by radically transforming the islands and wresting power from Kanaka Maoli who were suffering devastating losses from haole diseases. A haole oligarchy was then built on the backs of immigrant labor who also built local culture. Colonization worked, and continues to work, through science, religion, law, politics, capitalism, education, language, and print media to mold Hawai‘i to fit Western desires. This process of transformation has been written into the dominant history of the islands as “progress,” as nonviolent development, and as American manifest destiny culminating in annexation. New scholarship, much of which I have referenced, is challenging this narrative, especially through the investigation of Hawaiian-language primary sources. As more of this research is undertaken, the history of the islands will be rewritten. Significantly, 102 conclusion Kanaka Maoli and local resistance to, and challenges of, haole dominance will receive their due analysis, no longer obscured or dismissed as inconsequential. It is an exciting time to be studying Hawai‘i’s history and thinking about island politics. As a social construction continually worked on by processes of racialization that affect everyone in Hawai‘i, haole can be thought of as one of many forms of whiteness. As a name given to white people in the United States by racialized others, it is similar to honky or cracker. As a colonial form of American whiteness, haole is similar to gringo. As a Pacific form of imperial whiteness, it is similar to Pākehā (“whiteness” in Aotearoa). It is well worth thinking about the similarities and differences between haole and other forms of whiteness. Understanding haole in historical context, it is useful to think about it as a counternarrative of whiteness developed by native Hawaiian and local communities. Local and native constructions of haole are forms of resistance articulated by those subjugated by haole dominance. Throughout the book I have examined common haole responses to being marked as haole. I have challenged the haole tendency to try to slide out of haole by representing oneself as kama‘āina, hapa, Hawaiian at heart, or even Hawaiian. It is disrespectful to try to escape the historical weight of haole by appropriating Kanaka Maoli culture. I have argued that loudly protesting the use of the word “haole” is about as haole as it gets. I have contested the growing discourse among haoles of haole victimization, especially through the portrayal of native Hawaiians as victimizers. By making ourselves victims, haoles can neatly duck out of our responsibility for the consequences of colonialism. So you might be asking yourself at this point, What is it that haoles are supposed to do? For those of us who identify as haole, are we to go around racked with guilt? Are we to leave Hawai‘i? Feeling guilty at least indicates that we have developed some understanding of the situation, but it is not a good place to stop, as it helps no one. Leaving is certainly an option, but there are practical problems. Unless you are indigenous to some other place on the planet, you will always be on colonized ground. This is certainly true on the continent, where brutal colonial histories are buried just a little bit deeper in time and where there is a relatively smaller native population entreating us to remember . Also, it is hard to see...