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mit · 6 months

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A reciprocal relationship with the land in Hawaiʻi

Through community-based research with organizations that work to “hoʻomomona hou i ka ʻāina,” or “restore that which feeds back to abundance,” PhD student Aja Grande has embarked on a healing journey of her own.

Laura Rosado | MIT News correspondent

Aja Grande grew up on the Hawaiian island of Oʻahu, between the Kona and ʻEwa districts, nurtured by her community and the natural environment. Her family has lived in Hawaiʻi for generations; while she is not “Kanaka ʻŌiwi,” of native Hawaiian descent, she is proud to trace her family’s history to the time of the Hawaiian Kingdom in the 19th century. Grande is now a PhD candidate in MIT’s HASTS (History, Anthropology, Science, Technology and Society) program, and part of her dissertation tracks how Hawaiian culture and people’s relationship with the land has evolved throughout time.

“The fondest memories I have are camping on the north shore every summer with my friends,” says Grande. “I loved being in ‘ke kai’ (the sea) and ‘ma uka,’ (inland, in the mountains) with my friends when I was younger. It was just pure fun exploring ‘ʻāina’ like that.” “‘Āina” in the Hawaiian language is often defined as “land,” but is understood to the people of Hawaiʻi as “that which feeds.”

“Now that I’m older,” Grande adds, “I’m connecting the dots and realizing how much knowledge about the complex systems of ‘ahupuaʻa’ [traditional Hawaiian divisions of land that extend from the mountains to the sea], I actually gained through these experiences.”

Grande recently completed a year of fieldwork in Hawaiʻi where she volunteered with land-based, or ‘āina-basedorganizations. In the movement to restore ‘āinato “momona,” or “fertile and abundant lands,” the land and the people who serve as its stewards are of equal importance.

“I’m looking at how people who are not Kanaka ‘Ōiwi, or native Hawaiian, by descent can participate in this kind of restoration, and what it means for both Kanaka ‘Ōiwi and non-Kanaka ‘Ōiwi to participate in it,” says Grande, who herself descends from immigrants of other island nations. “Some of my ancestors were born and raised in Hawaiʻi before the U.S. subjected Hawaiʻi as a state and territory, meaning that some of them were Hawaiian Kingdom subjects. While, I am not Kanaka ʻŌiwi by lineage, some of my ‘ohana nui (extended family), from these same ancestors, are Kanaka ʻŌiwi. I’m writing about how being Hawaiian, from a Hawaiian sovereignty standpoint, is not just about race and ethnicity. When Hawaiʻi was a sovereign nation, Hawaiian citizenship was never afforded on the basis of race alone. It was also based on your lifelong commitment to ‘āina and the people of Hawaiʻi.”

The project is personal to Grande, who describes both the content and the process of writing it as part of her healing journey. She hopes to lay the groundwork for others who are “hoaʻāina,” or “those who actively care for ʻāina,” in Hawaiʻi, but not Kanaka ʻŌiwi to better articulate their identities and foster a deeper connection with the ʻāina and the “kaiāulu,” or “community,” they love and actively care for.

Returning home

Grande has spent her academic career on the East Coast, first at Brown University, where she received a degree in science, technology, and society, and now at MIT in the HASTS program. She swam competitively through her second year of college, and had earlier represented Hawaiʻi at the 2012 Oceania Games in New Caledonia. Once she stopped swimming, Grande first used her newfound time to travel the world. Tired of this transient lifestyle, she realized she was more interested in exploring her connection to land in a more rooted way.

“Moving around, especially as a college student, it’s very hard to grow things,” says Grande. “People are a lot like plants. You really just need to let plants do their thing in place. We do really well and we thrive when we can be connected to place.”

Grande started by founding the Ethnobotany Society at Brown to explore the relationship people have to plants. With the group she organized nature walks, collaborated with local farms, and connected it to the history she was learning in class.

Still, the East Coast never quite felt like home to Grande. When she started planning for the fieldwork portion of her program, she envisioned spending half the year in New England and half in Hawaiʻi. But she soon realized how important it was for both her research and herself to dedicate everything to Hawai’i.

“When I came back, it just felt so right to be back home,” says Grande. “The feeling in your naʻau — your ‘gut’ — of knowing that you have to contribute to Hawaiʻi is very powerful, and I think a lot of people here understand what that means. It’s kind of like a calling.”

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#students #anthropology #sustainability #environment

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museeeuuuum · 2 years

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Currently Telus is building a 12 storey office building in the heart of downtown Victoria, and through the construction process they are digging into some very important archaeological layers; they are digging into a community that was known as Kanaka Row in the 1800's.

From the Capital Daily:

"A half-century before the Empress Hotel opened its doors in 1908, Victoria’s Inner Harbour—where Humboldt Street is today—was home to a medley of Hawaiians, Lekwungen peoples, and Chinese settlers.

Hawaiians had arrived in Victoria and the Gulf Islands in the mid-1800s, some having come from California. Many settled because they could vote and own property, so long as they became British citizens. (Still, living conditions for Hawaiians were far from ideal.) They worked as sailors, fur traders, carpenters, blacksmiths, mill hands, and farm workers, and, UBC historian Jean Barman writes, bought land around the colonial capital as early as the 1860s. The name they came to be known by—Kanaka—stems from the Hawaiian kānaka ʻōiwi, meaning “human being.”

Telus has refused to answer calls to action to excavate this area and explore this oft- forgotten history in Victoria's downtown core.

#history #archaeology #museum #telus #canadian history

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haleyvent · 1 year

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Hau’oli Lā Kū’oko’a

today is Lā Kū’oko’a, a celebration in Hawai'i of our independence after being recognized by the united states, britain, and france as the Hawaiian kingdom.

started in 1843, we were recognized as our own nation. despite the overthrow, we continue to celebrate it.

today, Mauna Loa has also erupted. a volcano erupting is a hōʻailona(sign) to our people. it's a mark of change signaled by Pelehonuamea.

anyone that is unaware may see the volcano erupting as danger. but to me, it is a sign that change will come. today is a reminder of our independence. and perhaps, as kānaka ʻōiwi, we will restore our independence soon. let's celebrate.

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mutant-distraction · 2 years

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Power of hurricane force Resist

Qawem ya sha’abi, qawemhum. Resist my people, resist them.

—Dareen Tatour

Hawaiians are still here. We are still creating, still resisting.

—Haunani-Kay Trask

Stand in rage as wind and current clash

rile lightning and thunder

fire surge and boulder crash

Let the ocean eat and scrape away these walls

Let the sand swallow their fences whole

Let the air between us split the atmosphere

We have no land No country

But we have these bodies these stories

this language of rage left

This resistance is bitter

and tastes like medicine Our lands

replanted in the dark and warm there

We unfurl our tangled roots stretch

to blow salt across

blurred borders of memory

They made themselves

fences and bullets checkpoints

gates and guardposts martial law

They made themselves

hotels and mansions adverse

possession eminent domain and deeds

They made themselves

shine

through the plunder

They say we can never— They say

we will never—because

because they—

and the hills and mountains have been

mined for rock walls the reefs

pillaged for coral floors

They say we can never—

and the deserts and dunes have been

shoveled and taken for their houses and highways—

because we can never— because

the forests have been raided razed

and scorched and we we the wards

refugees houseless present-

absentees recognition refusers exiled

uncivilized disposable natives

protester-activist-terrorist-resisters—

our springs and streams have been

dammed—so they say we can never return

let it go accept this

progress stop living

in the past—

but we make ourselves

strong enough to carry all of our dead

engrave their names in the clouds

We gather to sing whole villages awake

We crouch down to eat rocks like fruit

to hold the dirt the sand in our hands

to fling words

the way fat drops of rain

splatter off tarp or corrugated roofs

We remember the sweetness We rise from the plunder

They say there is no return

they never could really make us leave

Brandy Nālani McDougall

Themes

audio

future

politics

social justice

violence

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About This Poem

“‘Resist’ was inspired by Palestinian poet Dareen Tatour’s courage to stand against the ongoing Israeli occupation of Palestinian land and ethnic cleansing of her people. In 2015, for the poetic line ‘Qawem ya sha’abi, qawemhum’ (Resist, my people, resist them), she was imprisoned on charges of ‘incitement to violence’ and sentenced to five months in jail and years under house arrest. This poem ‘Resist’ reflects on both the militarized violence and creative decolonial connections between Palestine and Hawaiʻi, which was an independent country prior to the U.S. military-backed overthrow in 1893 and the subsequent illegal annexation to the U.S. in 1898. Our own continued struggle as Kānaka ʻŌiwi includes protecting our lands and waters from U.S. military bases and testing, bombing, dumping, housing, and recreational sites, and protecting our people from related health hazards, poverty, and hopelessness. We will forever resist the destruction of our homelands and how they are being used to test weapons that bring horrific violence to others. I intend ‘Resist’ to be a poem of solidarity for the Palestinian people.”

—Brandy Nālani McDougall

More by Brandy Nālani McDougall

Star-Spangled Banner

A betrayal

to stand

with your hand

over your heart

and sing

the song

of the country

occupying

your country

to read every star

on the flag

above

your country’s flag

and see the last one

there: small, white

and pointed

stitched into the blue

with a thin thread

as if

it has always

been that way

as if

it can never

be undone.

Brandy Nālani McDougall

Ka ‘Ōlelo

O ke alelo ka hoe uli o ka ‘ōlelo a ka waha.

The tongue is the steering paddle of the words uttered by the mouth.

– ‘Ōlelo No‘eau

‘ekahi

Think of all the lost words, still unspoken,

waiting to be given use, again, claimed,

or for newly born words to unburden

them of their meanings. There are winds and rains

who have lost their names, descending the slopes

of every mountain, each lush valley's mouth,

and the songs of birds and mo‘o, that cope

with our years of slow unknowing, somehow.

It was not long ago that ‘ōlelo

was silenced, along with its dying race,

who lived, then thrived, reverting to the old

knowing words. English could never replace

the land's unfolding song, nor the ocean's

ancient oli, giving us use again.

‘elua

Like the sea urchin leaves, pimpling its shell

as its many spines let go, turn to sand,

my great-grandfather's Hawaiian words fell

silent, while his children grew, their skin tanned

and too thin to withstand the teacher's stick,

reprimands demanding English only.

The law lasted until 1986,

after three generations of family

swallowed our ʻōlelo like pōhaku,

learned to live with the cold, dark fruit under

our tongues. This is our legacy-- words strewn

among wana spines in the long record

the sand has kept within its grains, closer

to reclaiming our shells, now grown thicker.

‘ekolu

Ka ‘ōlelo has a lilting rhythm

arising from the coastal mountains' moans

as they loosen their salted earth, succumb

to the ocean and its hunger for stone.

It carries the cadence of nā waihī,

born from the fresh rain in nā waipuna

and flowing past the fruiting ‘ulu trees,

wiliwili, kukui, and koa.

It holds the song my grandfather longs for

most, as he remembers his father's voice,

and regrets not asking him to speak more

Hawaiian, so that he may have the choice

to offer words in his inheritance,

knowing his ‘ohā will not be silenced.

‘ehā

Think of all the old words that have succumbed,

their kaona thrown oceanward for English

words we use like nets to catch the full sum

of our being, finding too little fish

caught in the mesh, even as we adjust

the gauge, reshaping them to suit our mouths.

I must admit I love the brittle crust

my only tongue's foreignness forms; it crowns

the dark, churning pith of prenatal earth

rising in the volcano's throat, unspoken

for now, founding my wide island of words.

And kaona, a ho‘okele's current,

circles during my wa‘a’s slow turn inward,

steering my tongue through each old word learned.

‘elima

As the ‘ape shoot, whose delicate shoots

shoot forth their young sprouts, and spread, and bring forth

in their birth, many branches find their roots

in the dark, wet ‘ōlelo the earth bore.

My unripe tongue taps my palate, my teeth,

like a blind ko‘e that must feel its way

through the liquids, mutes and aspirates of speech,

the threading of breath and blood into lei:

"E aloha. ‘O wai kou inoa?"

I ask, after the language CD's voice.

"‘O Kekauoha ko‘u inoa,"

my grandfather answers, "Pehea ‘oe?"

So, we slowly begin, with what ‘ōlelo

we know; E ho‘oulu ana kakou.

Brandy Nālani McDougall

2020

This Island on Which I Love You

And when, on this island on which

I love you, there is only so much land

to drive on, a few hours to encircle

in entirety, and the best of our lands

are touristed, the beaches foam-laced

with rainbowing suntan oil,

the mountains tattooed with asphalt,

pocked by telescoped domes,

hotels and luxury condos blighting

the line between ocean and sky,

I find you between the lines

of such hard edges, sitting on

the kamyo stool, a bowl of coconut,

freshly grated, at your feet.

That I hear the covert jackaling

of helicopters and jets overhead

all night through our open jalousies,

that my throat burns from the scorch

of the grenaded graves of my ancestors,

the vog that smears the Koʻolaus into a blur

of greens, that I wake to hear the grind

of you blending vegetables and fruit,

machine whirl-crunching coffee beans,

your shoulder blades channelling ocean,

a steady flux of current.

Past the guarded military testing grounds,

amphibious assault vehicles emerging

from the waves, beyond the tangles

of tarp cities lining the roads, past

the thick memory of molasses coating

the most intimate coral crevices,

by the box jellyfish congregating under

ʻOle Pau and Kāloa moons, at the park

beneath the emptied trees, I come

to find you shaking five-dollar coconuts

(because this is all we have on this island),

listening to the water to guess

its sweetness and youth.

On this island on which I love you,

something of you is in the rain rippling

through the wind that make the pipes

of Waikīkī burst open. Long brown

fingers of sewage stretch out

from the canal, and pesticided

tendrils flow from every ridge

out to sea, and so we stay inside

to bicker over how a plumeria tree

moves in the wind, let our daughters

ink lines like coarse rootlets

in our notebooks, crayon lines

into ladders on our walls

and sheets. Their first sentences

are sung, moonlit blowhole plumes

of sound that calls pebbles to couple,

caverns to be carved, ʻuala to roll

down the hillside again, and I could

choke on this gratitude for you all.

This island is alive with love,

its storms, the cough of alchemy

expelling every parasitic thing,

teaching me to love you with

the intricacies of island knowing,

to depend on the archipelagic

spelling of you lying next to me,

our blue-screen flares their own

floating islands after our daughter

has finally fallen asleep,

to trust in the shape and curve

of your hand reaching out to hold mine

making and remaking an island our own.

Brandy Nālani McDougall

2020

Related Poems

Land Where My Father Died

land of buildings & no good manners land of sunless people & offspring of colonizers land of no spice & small pox land of fake flowers land of shackle & branches made of rope land of wire fences grabbing sky land that mispronounces my grief land that skins my other land that laughs when my people die & paints targets on my future children’s faces land that steals & says mine land that plants mines & says go back land that poisoned my mother & devoured her body land that makes my other language strange on my tongue land that stripped our saris & clips haloes to its flag land that eliminates cities land that says homeland security land that built the first bomb & the last land that killed my father & then sent back his body land that made me orphan of thee I sing.

Fatimah Asghar

2018

Kumulipo

Hawaiian creation chant

At the time that turned the heat of the earth,

At the time when the heavens turned and changed,

At the time when the light of the sun was subdued

To cause light to break forth,

At the time of the night of Makalii (winter)

Then began the slime which established the earth,

The source of deepest darkness.

Of the depth of darkness, of the depth of darkness,

Of the darkness of the sun, in the depth of night,

It is night,

So was night born

O ke au i kahuli wela ka honua

O ke au i kahuli lole ka lani

O ke au i kukaiaka ka la.

E hoomalamalama i ka malama

O ke au o Makali’i ka po

O ka walewale hookumu honua ia

O ke kumu o ka lipo, i lipo ai

O ke kumu o ka Po, i po ai

O ka lipolipo, o ka lipolipo

O ka lipo o ka la, o ka lipo o ka po

Po wale hoi

Hanau ka po

Queen Liliʻuokalani

1897

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dippedanddripped · 2 months

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youtube

Kith Community featuring Kākoʻo ʻŌiwi, Kamaka Ukulele & Lin’s Lei Shop

#youtube #kith #ronnie fieg #nycstreetwear blog #nycstreetwear brands #streetwear blogger

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essayly · 1 year

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Native-Led Organizations’ Analysis in the US

Native-led organizations tend to address some social, cultural economic, health, education, or other issues that affect Native Americans in various ways. An example of a native-led organization is the Hui Mālama Ola Nā ʻŌiwi (HMONO), a nonprofit organization that helps improve the health and wellbeing of natives of Hawaii. Founded in 1991, the organization’s mission is to ensure that all natives…

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hawaiianlanguageworldwide · 4 years

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So far we’ve practiced locating Pōpoki the Dog for our March 2020 Hawaiian Language Challenge. For this post, identify the object in Pōpoki’s possession. If you need help, check out what others are posting in the Comments or tag us and we’ll be happy to help you! @hawaiianlanguageworldwide (FB, IG) @hawaiianlww (Twitter) @halauolelo (FB, IG, Twitter) Free online/in-person Hawaiian language classes! Learn more about our global community: halauolelo.org or hawaiianlanguageworldwide.org #olelohawaii #ʻōlelohawaiʻi #hawaiianlanguage #oiwi #ʻōiwi #indigenous #olelooiwi #ʻōleloʻōiwi #indigenouslanguages #iyil2019 #internationalyearofindigenouslanguages #idil2022 #internationaldecadeofindigenouslanguages #hawaiianlanguageworldwide #hawaiianlww #hlww #nonproft #instructionaldesign #languagerevitalization #halauolelo #hālauʻōlelo #learnhawaiian #teachhawaiian #languageteaching #languagelearning #onlineteaching #onlinelearning #beanextraordinaryancestor #ancestorsomething #hawaii (at New York, New York) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9yxbR5Dq_9/?igshid=1mevpmtqsbp7x

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arikikalani-blog · 5 years

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anybody know of any kanaka maoli surfers? ive been looking around and all i see are haole. ik its a haole dominated sport but i was hoping to find at least some maoli surfers....

#hawaiian #hawaiʻi #hawaii #kanaka maoli #kanaka ʻōiwi

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universodonna-official · 2 years

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MESE DEL PATRIMONIO DEI NATIVI AMERICANI

ORGOGLIO E RETAGGIO: UN MESE DI STORIA E RICONOSCIMENTI “La storia dei nativi americani è la storia americana ed è solo riconoscendo quella storia che possiamo costruire un futuro equo e inclusivo. Buon mese del patrimonio dei nativi americani a tutti”. Deb Haaland, segretario dell’Interno della presidenza di Biden- primo nativo americano a ricoprire un incarico di gabinetto. Link al…

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#Месяц национального индейского наследия #Indianid&039;america #indigeni americani #Mahina Hoʻoilina ʻōiwi ʻAmelika #Mês da Herança Nacional dos Nativos Americanos #mede del patrimonio dei nativi americani #Mes Nacional de la Herencia Nativa Americana #Mois national du patrimoine amérindien #Nationaler Monat zum Erbe der amerikanischen Ureinwohner #native american heritage month #NativeAmericanHeritageMonth #nativi americani #NativiAmericani #RockYourMocs #rockyourmocs2021 #universo donna #womanuniverse

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heartbsl · 2 years

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basic vocabulary for hawaiian characters

i realized this might be helpful since there’s probably some confusion about proper labels & terms surrounding hawaiʻi and hawaiian people. i’m still a beginner in learning my language but here is some basic terminology that will help you be accurate

our language is ‘ōlelo hawaiʻi

proper spelling for the place is Hawaiʻi

however “Hawaiian” is an english term and does not exist in ʻōlelo and should be spelled without an ʻokina. this is a well meaning mistake i see most offten but hawaiʻian is incorrect (ʻokinas affect pronunciation and there is no way for that pronunciation to make sense)

the indigenous people of Hawaiʻi are the kānaka maoli / kānaka ʻōiwi (from my understanding there are multiple ways we refer to ourselves, and the government designation is “Native Hawaiian”)

kanaka is singular and kānaka is plural. so there is a difference when referring to the group vs an indidvidual that is kanaka maoli

someone who is mixed ethnicity (hawaiian + not hawaiian) is hapa. hapa is often approrpriated by non-hawaiian asians of mixed ethnicity but many hawaiians feel that it should not be used in that context

all people who are residents of hawaiʻi (including non hawaiians) can be referred to as kamaʻāina (literal translation is child of the land). do not refer to them as hawaiian if they are not native hawaiian. this is different from other states who have terms like texan / californian

that’s all i can think of for now, feel free to ask me any questions and i’ll do my best to answer or help you research.

#rp help #character guide #this is pretty generic but if people want to know anything else just lmk~

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ebookporn · 3 years

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ʻŌiwi poet-professor lands national award, publishing deal

A University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa assistant professor is making literary history this month, becoming the first ʻŌiwi (Native Hawaiian) poet to win the National Poetry Series competition.

“In fall 2022, Noʻu Revilla will most likely become the first openly queer ʻŌiwi woman to have a full-length collection of poetry published by a leader in the industry,” according to a University press release. Milkweed Editions, an independent publisher, offered Revilla a book deal after she topped more than 1,600 other poets in the 2021 NPS open competition.

“I feel very lucky that my work gets to be recognized like this,” Revilla said. “When I was young, I didn’t have access to poetry written by Hawaiians, and there were definitely no books being published by openly gay Hawaiian women. It is a dream come true.”

Revilla submitted a poetry manuscript entitled “Ask the Brindled,” which explores how aloha is possible in the face of colonization and sexual violence. The collection delves into themes of desire and intergenerational healing through the cultural figure of moʻo, or shapeshifting water protectors. The Maui native hopes her first book of poetry will respond to the lack of representation of queer Indigenous women in Pacific Literature.

#authors #writers #writing #indigenous languages

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 4 years

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Princess of Atlantis

Marinette has always been fully aware her father wasn’t fully human- or Tom. Her mom had met Arthur- her bio dad- on a trip to Hawaii. They’d had a whirlwind summer fling that ended with Sabine going back to China for her move to France unaware she was pregnant.

When she discovered she was pregnant she’d contacted Arthur who had gone right to France to explain some things. Learning about the fact there was an entire world underwater? Was… interesting. Learning her daughter may be in danger because of her heritage?

She was not happy.

Marinette was five when her uncle Orm attacked the surface and her father became King of Atlantis. When they’d learned he had a daughter on land they had all decided that she could not be heir given her only Atlantean abilities were breathing underwater.

Marinette, even at age five, had no issue with that. She did not want to rule Atlantis. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She said that to her dad when he’d broken the news.

“I’m going to also redesign your suit.”

“It’s not-“

“It’s ugly daddy.”

She still was a princess though and had to sit in on lessons given to her by Mera, her father’s betrothed/girlfriend. Mera at least was fun.

She learned Atlantean design and etiquette. It was fun and enjoyable and she got to design her new step-mother’s wedding dress and her daddy’s suit for their wedding at age ten which she was thrilled about.

Marinette grew up learning about her heritage from all sides of her family, her dad fIrm on the idea. She spent time in Hawaii with her grandfather, and later her grandmother, and time in Atlantis. She learned her Hawaiian heritage, her Chinese heritage and her Atlantean heritage from a young age.

Children though can be cruel. Especially when afraid. A little girl with crazy wavy hair and the ability to swap between multiple languages is fun, but when a girl whose daddy has power and has taught her she can do no wrong decides she doesn’t like you… no one does.

Marinette grew up being taunted for her differences. She saw how some people side-eyed her and her mother while walking around, how some Atlanteans sneered at her for her mostly human heritage, saw how some of the people on the islands seemed to hesitate around her. She tried to smile through it but…

Well, in the end, it was easier to pretend. She was white-passing enough that all she needed to do was straighten her hair and stop speaking other languages.

Her mother hated it. Her papa- Tom- did too. Her daddy did, her step-momma did. Her grandfather and grandmothers did. Kaldur, the boy who became her daddy’s apprentice and a big brother figure to her, hated it too.

But she couldn’t keep going, couldn’t keep being taunted. So she plastered a smile on her face and pretended. And it worked- Chloe, the bully, backed off and she made some sort of friends. She even became a hero like her daddy and slowly gained actual friends. She got to make her own team like Kaldur, she got a partner she could count on, a mentor to help her out. She was happy.

Or so she thought.

A liar came to school and things went all to hell. She lost everything. Her friends, her comfort she felt in her hero partner being there to help. Her team, her mentor…

She was left holding a box full of power, tears in her eyes and a scream in her throat. She took off to Atlantis where she collapsed and sobbed into her step-momma’s dress and her daddy raged.

It was Kaldur who helped her.

“Fuck them,” Kaldur told her. “They don’t deserve your tears.” He sat with her and wrapped his arms around her. “They weren’t friends. Friends don’t betray you like this. Friends stick with you even when things go to hell.” He kissed her forehead and promised to be there.

And he was. He was there when she herself decided fuck it when she stopped straightening her hair and cut it into an undercut with one side framing her face. When she started wearing eyeliner- he even went and got some help from Nightwing for learning some dramatic ways to make her eyes pop.

Kaldur helped her figure out how to find good people to fight with. Kagami, Luka- they were good fighters, good friends. They had her back. Luka got into fights with his sister about her and never back down. Kagami punched Adrien and told him how little she cared for him seeing how he never backed up his friend.

Marinette started smiling again soon enough.

-0-

“I hope Marinette doesn’t make this difficult,” Lila told Alya, pouting. “I know she has Italian heritage too but I’m fully Italian…”

“Don’t worry girl, we’ll make sure Marinette doesn’t start anything,” Alya promised as they all sat in the classroom about to give their reports on their cultural heritage. The others nodded and all turned to the front just as Marinette walked in. She’d changed- everyone knew it. Gone was the kind girl… sort of. She was still kind, but she stopped looking like she used to her. Her hair was short, she wore dark make-up, and she dressed in loose and comfortable clothing that made her look badass honestly. She also apparently had tattoos but no one had believed it- until today when she came in with no sleeves and showing off her tattoos on her arms.

“Oh god, where did she get those?” asked Juleka in shock. “They’re badass.”

“Maybe they’re gang signs,” Lila said slyly, smirking as everyone began whispering about this new rumour.

“Class,” Ms. Bustier- the woman had moved with them to lycee because Chloe had demanded her favourite teacher be moved with her- began. “Marinette will be going first on her report as she needs to leave for a family thing.”

“What?” Alya asked. “But Lila’s the full Italian! Shouldn’t we learn about the culture from her?” everyone nodded. Marinette stared at them, face blank.

“...Nino, you’ve known me since we were kids. You know Tom’s not my bio dad.” Marinette said and the class froze.

“... Shit, I forgot.” Nino admitted while Marinette rolled her eyes hard.

“I figured. So no, I’m not doing Italian anyway.” She turned and began setting up her powerpoint, ignoring the class. Lila was angry. She had hoped to whine and cry that Marinette had stolen some of her points about her heritage or make some comment about Marinette obviously having stolen her report. Now she had to actually do it. “As everyone knows- and I did do a previous report on it- my mother is Chinese. What few others know is that my bio father is kānaka ʻōiwi, or Native Hawaiian as some know them as.” Marinette continued her report, showing off interesting legends about her father’s people and even speaking of her tattoos. “They were done in the traditional way and it really hurt but I think they’re pretty amazing. I don’t have much- just a few that my dad thought fit me.” Marinette grinned and everyone looked at each other feeling uncomfortable. When her report was done she left with a wave and a very awkward class.

Not that she cared, she was busy focusing on the fact uncle fucking Orm wanted to see her. Orm- as in her weedy uncle who still hated all land walkers. And who looked like a dork and still wouldn’t take her advice about his hair.

Walking up to the living room, she wanted to whine upon seeing him. He was looking annoyed while sitting on the couch.

“What’s going on that I needed to ditch school?” she asked, feeling annoyed at seeing him. She had stopped wanting to do everything for everyone. She’d stopped trying to be a people pleaser. It was annoying and frustrating. Kaldur had taken her to meet Red Robin who was similar to her in that way and they’d both had a nice long bitch out about everything before they’d both decided to stop it. Stop trying to help people who never said thanks, stop trying to please everyone.

She enjoyed the chaos the class had become and loved hearing about how much of a shit show Gotham’s Batfam had become themselves before they actually started trying again.

“We need someone to run Atlantis,” Orm said darkly. She stared at him.

“Oh fuck no. No- nope. Nuh-uh. Aʻole, Méiyǒu. NO.” She shook her head, holding her hands up. “I am literally as far from the throne as I can be given I’m the King’s only kid so far? I mean Kaldur doesn’t count.”

“This is true but your father is needed in space while Mera is still on bedrest as her pregnancy is most difficult currently and Kaldur has no actual relation to the throne.”

“And you can’t rule because technically you were dishonoured,” Marinette added in, gaining a dirty look from her uncle. “Damn… I’m just the face of this, right? Step-momma is still the one giving orders?”

“Of course. Though there is a ball with land walkers you need to attend.” Marinette stopped.

“...Everyone will know who I am then.” Orm shrugged, uncaring.

“Weren’t you planning on revealing yourself anyway?” Marinette frowned but sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“...At least I have a dress already designed and half made for this.”

-0-

Telling Bustier she wouldn’t be in for two weeks was simple enough. Ruling Atlantis- or really acting as a mouthpiece for her step-mother? Simple to. Jumping back to Paris when an Akuma happened? Easy. All of Atlantis knew she was Ladybug- they felt the magic. They knew she was the Guardian as well and mostly ignored that as long as Plagg never came near them. Given she was still hesitating on claiming the ring she was okay.

She didn’t want to take his ring, she wanted her partner back, her best friend. She wanted him to stop flirting and stop not taking things seriously.

“It’s annoying,” she told Kaldur while signing some papers. She and Kaldur were in the room Mera was in, the woman annoyed at the bed rest condition she’d been given for her pregnancy and demanding Marinette sign the papers in her room at least. “I mean- it’s wrong and gross and I should take it back but it feels… wrong. Gross to consider it, you know?”

“That’s the bond of a Ladybug and Chat Noir I believe according to our records,” Mera told her step-daughter.

“Yeah- magic makes things tricky. But he’s really pushing the boundaries.” Kaldur told Marinette who sighed.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him you’re dating someone,” Mera said. “If he’s a dick still then take the ring.”

Maybe she would. Maybe.

But first, she had the damn ball to deal with.

-0-

“I look terrible in gold Uncle Orm.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Uncle.” Orm glared at his niece as she glared at the gold fabric he’d thrust into her arms to add to her dress. It needed an extra layer, and gold was one of the colours of Atlantis. “I look better in silver.”

“I don’t care. You need to have the colours of Atlantis on you.” Orm told her. She glared at him and then at the fabric.

“At least you got the sheer stuff. It’ll look nice over it hopefully.” She added the cloth and did admit it looked nice.

She still hated gold cloth.

But it went with her tiara as she waited for the announcer to call her, a hand on Kaldur’s arm.

“Relax Marinette- everything is okay,” he told her softly.

“I’m about to reveal to the whole world I’m the Princess of Atlantis.”

“Imagine the looks on your classmates’ faces?”

“...Okay yeah, I feel better now.” Marinette flashed a smile and waited.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Marinette Curry-Dupain-Cheng of Atlantis, current regent while her father is in space and Lord Kaldur of Atlantis.” the Announcer read out loud. Marinette and Kaldur walked into the room with their heads high.

Cameras flashed and Marinette kept her eyes focused. Her dress showed off her tattoos and muscular arms, the entire thing designed to be able to fight in if needed. She was every inch the warrior princess that Atlantis could boast of.

“Princess!” a man shouted. “Who designed your dress.”

“I did myself,” she told him. “I enjoy fashion design and sewing.”

“Are you the heir?”

“No,” she told that reporter. “Due to the fact I only have a quarter of Atlantean blood I am not the heir but as said I stepped in as regent while my father fights for our galaxy,”

“Are you and Kaldur dating?”

“Definitely not- he’s my elder brother in everything but blood and legality.” She told that one before she was led away by Kaldur and had to play nice for a few hours with politicians.

There was one face she recognized.

“Prince Ali,” she said, curtseying like she’d been taught by Mera.

“Princess Marinette,” the Prince of Achu said, bowing. He looked a bit sad. “I see you aren’t in rehab like Rose is saying Lila is claiming.” Marinette stopped as did Kaldur.

“...What?”

“Apparently that’s the new rumour that Lila Rossi is spreading.”

“...I believe I need to make some calls to various lawyers we have on land,” Kaldur said darkly and strode off to do so. Marinette had her eyes closed and took a deep breath.

“I hate that girl will all my soul,” she finally said after a moment.

“I do as well,” Ali admitted. Marinette looked at him in surprise. “I meet many people, your highness. Sometimes- unless they had made an impression- I forget them. When Rose asked if I knew Lila, I said possibly I’d met her. I did not know the extent of her lies until Rose referenced them and then… it was to late.”

“Not really your highness, you could have said something.” Ali winced.

“I have few friends, Princess Marinette, Rose is one of the few. And like others she expects me to be a perfect Prince which means not… rocking the boat so to speak.” He looked pained saying so, and Marinette frowned.

“Then she’d not a friend Prince Ali. Real friends wouldn’t hold you to expectations and ideals. That’s why I stopped being friends with a fair amount of my class. I think only Juleka and I could be called friendly- and that’s because her brother is one of my best friends.” Ali frowned but looked thoughtful.

After the ball, Marinette went back to Atlantis with a satisfied smile. She had a nice time, and she even swapped numbers with Ali.

Maybe she had a new friend.

-0-

The rest of the time spent in Atlantis was spent texting Ali when bored and ignoring the emails from her classmates who’d realized she’d changed her number. Most were basically begs for her to talk to them, a few saying they were sorry, or asking for an interview. Some accused her of lying or brainwashing Ali (Alya there) while Rose sent a sorry email. Apparently, she’d taken Ali’s message to heart and even Juleka felt bad.

Marinette didn’t give a damn.

When her dad came back and she got to hug him and hit him for leaving the planet- idiot- he had a laugh over the emails.

“Your classmates are ridiculous,” he told her. “What, do they think you’ll dramatically run back to each other, arms wide open?”

“Probably,” she told him. “I just don’t give a damn.”

“Nice.” he ruffled her hair and they chatted about seeing grandma and grandpa in Hawaii over the summer again before Marinette headed back to Paris where some of the Atlanteans who could walk on land were guarding the bakery. And where a lawyer was waiting, plus a personal assistant.

“No,” Marinette whined as her father patted her shoulder. He’d gone with her to explain some things.

“Sorry kid. You’re in the spotlight now- and that means you do need to go to a few galas and balls.” Marinette playfully gagged. Arthur laughed at his daughter again. He was happy she was doing better, that things were okay for her again. He’d worried when she was a shell of herself. Worried when she became Ladybug and worried when that Rossi girl came to the class.

He was happy she was okay.

-0-

Marinette’s new personal assistant was named Stephanie Brown and she was, in fact, Spoiler from Gotham who had agreed to move to Paris to help Marinette out and to be part of her new team of heroes she was putting together. Stephanie was still in school but she was killing it already as a personal assistant.

“Alright, so school, homework, design time then patrol. Maybe steal the ring today?” Stephanie asked as she checked the tablet.

“Maybe. I want to give him one more chance…” Marinette sighed. “But that could be the bond…”

“Hey, up to you but I will follow as the lovely Buzzer to keep an eye on things.” Stephanie grinned as Pollen giggled from the depths of her hair. Marinette nodded as they continued their walk to school, the lawyer following.

Marinette ignored the majority of the students staring at her as she walked to class, only saying hi to Kagami who waved her down to playfully scold her for not telling.

When she got to class, Stephanie broke off and the lawyer was the only one with her as they entered the room.

“GIRL!” Alya stood up. “Why the hell didn’t you ever tell me?” she was insulted her friend had never said anything to Alya.

“Because we’re not friends anymore and I wasn’t sure if I could trust you when we first met. Guess I was right.” she shrugged at Alya who flushed red at that. Lila was staring at Marinette with wide eyes as the girl turned to her. “I heard someone was claiming I was in rehab these past two weeks, plus that my tattoos were gang signs and oh so much more.” The lawyer stepped forward then.

“You’ve been served,” she told Lila who stared at the lawsuit in horror. Marinette ignored the class’s exclamations and demands she not go through with it, instead going to sit at the back again, uncaring of their words.

Adrien was giving her a look but she ignored it, pulling her phone out to text Ali, who’d texted her asking if she wanted to go for lunch. Checking with Stephanie, she agreed.

Still ignoring the class- now with Bustier giving her disappointed looks- she rushed out of the school to where Ali was waiting at lunch. The class followed and stopped, seeing who she was with.

“Ah, Princess Marinette.” Ali bowed and Marinette bowed as well, given she was wearing jeans and not a skirt.

“Prince Ali, it is a pleasure to see you again.” They smiled at each other before both blushed, feeling awkward when they realized they’d been staring.

“You look like a queen,” Ali remarked before his face went even redder and Marinette’s cheeks flamed before she grinned.

“Well I am a princess…” Ali stuttered but then laughed, offering his arm and opening the door to all of the possibilities of the two, while the class watched.

No one really realized the fall out that would occur, with Lila’s mother fired, her lies exposed and her dealings with Hawkmoth revealed. No one knew that a new cat would stalk the night one day, calling himself Prince Noir. No one knew how their lives would change.

Especially not Marinette or Ali.

tagged:

@vixen-uchiha @persephonebutkore @magicalfirebird @starwindmaden @liawinchester67 @doriebell @animegirlweeb @unmaskedagain

#miraculous ladybug #ml au #miraculous ladby x dc #aquaman #prince ali/marinette #salt

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kamauea · 3 years

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☼ 𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕡𝕠𝕤𝕥 ☼

e komo mai, welcome. ♥ this is a private & highly selective original character heavy multi-muse. mutuals only, 18+. plotting/writing focused. multi-ship, au’s available & encouraged. all my oc’s are fandomless & interconnected. be respectful.

☼ ☼ ☼

you can call me CK. 27, she/her, pst. i’m kanaka ʻōiwi (native hawaiian). i’ve been rping on tumblr since 2012, erika, jaxon, and benny were all established 2012-2013. this blog is low-activity, & very laid back. this is a space for me to flesh out & develop characters for future works, & dig deeper into my own culture and the kānaka experience. ☼ if you have ANY questions about hawaiian stuff, i am happy to answer them! (whether its research for your own characters, or general understanding, or to understand my characters better, anything.) ♥

☼ rules ☼ muse overview ☼ full bios ☼ ☼ muse aes blog ☼ affiliate/graphic cred ☼

𝕦𝕡𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤.

☼ jaxon is no longer a cop!

#pinned post #☾ ooc ☾#updates will be added periodically!

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pocketsizedquasar · 4 years

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spent the morning chatting with @minipliny and looking up stuff about queer history (especially pre-colonial queer history) in hawaii/the pacific islands (it started with her talking about Richard Henry Dana and his time at sea) and here’s some cool stuff i found this morning and/or have collected over the scattered months of researching queer history + my rambling commentary (also disclaimer: i am not an expert or even remotely well-versed in any of this, this is just the ramblings of a queer brown kid, looking up queer history in other cultures that aren’t my own, and getting excited about it)

anyway, the bit that started the whole thing started with a bit pliny shared from from Dana’s book Two Years Before the Mast (which... i would like to get my hands on) talking about his aikāne here:

...but the other, who was my friend, and Aikane—Hope, was the most dreadful object I had ever seen in my life: his eyes sunken and dead, his cheeks fallen in against his teeth, his hands looking like claws; a dreadful cough, which seemed to rack his whole shattered system, a hollow whispering voice, and an entire inability to move himself. There he lay, upon a mat, on the ground, which was the only floor of the oven, with no medicine, no comforts, and no one to care for, or help him, but a few Kanakas, who were willing enough, but could do nothing. The sight of him made me sick, and faint. Poor fellow! During the four months that I lived upon the beach, we were continually together, both in work, and in our excursions in the woods, and upon the water. I really felt a strong affection for him, and preferred him to any of my own countrymen there; and I believe there was nothing which he would not have done for me. When I came into the oven he looked at me, held out his hand, and said, in a low voice, but with a delightful smile, "Aloha, Aikane! Aloha nui!" I comforted him as well as I could, and promised to ask the captain to help him from the medicine-chest, and told him I had no doubt the captain would do what he could for him, as he had worked in our employ for several years, both on shore and aboard our vessels on the coast. I went aboard and turned into my hammock, but I could not sleep.

(hope had fallen gravely ill at the time) and here:

Every Kanaka has one particular friend, whom he considers himself bound to do everything for, and with whom he has a sort of contract,—an alliance offensive and defensive,—and for whom he will often make the greatest sacrifices. This friend they call aikane; and for such did Hope adopt me. I do not believe I could have wanted anything which he had, that he would not have given me.

the wikipedia article on Hawaiian aikāne (“Moe aikāne relationships were sexual relationships in pre-colonial Hawai'i between aliʻi nui and the male and female kaukaualiʻi performing a hana lawelawe or expected service with no stigma attached.”) - plus some of my favorite bits from it:

“author Kanalu G. Terry Young states in his book; "Rethinking the Native Hawaiian Past" that these relationships were not bisexual in a social sense. These were relationships from the ʻōiwi wale times that held no stigmatism to the persons ʻano (one's nature or character). To call it a bisexual relationship is liking saying the children of multiple husbands from one Hawaiian mother were out of wedlock. For the time, the comparison is impossible.[1] These relationships are accepted as part of the history of ancient Hawaiian culture.”

anyway i do love that they talk about how like. When we talk about queer history esp nonwestern/precolonial queer history it’s really impossible to apply westernized ideas of sexuality on them because they just didn’t think of sexuality in the same way. there’s a (white, gay) tendency especially to lay some nebulous claim to all of “gay history” like it is all theirs for the taking, when so much of that history is... very explicitly not “gay” history, but something else, something pre-westernized conceptions of sex and sexuality, and trying to force our ways of thinking about those subjects onto precolonial society is in itself an act of colonialism.

(also i’m definitely going to see if any indie bookstores near me have that book bc i want to read more)

“During the late 19th and early 20th century, the word aikāne was "purified" of its sexual meaning by colonialism, and in print meant simply "friend", although in Hawaiian language publications its metaphorical meaning could mean either "friend" or "lover" without stigmatization.[7] ”

ah yes gotta love that. good good historical erasure.

the article also mentions Māhū:

“Although their roles are often conflated with aikāne in contemporary LGBT culture, the Māhū are in a social category of liminal gender. Māhū (in the middle) live in a space between the genders, and many live in the opposite gender to their birth.”

here’s an article from, i believe, actual native hawaiians on the subject as well, including these very tender lines (bolding is my own):

In the story of the great chief Lonoikamakahiki, a commoner from Kaua'i, Kapa'ihiahilina, became his aikane, after telling him "Aloha au ia 'oe, ukali mai nei." I love you, so I followed you here. Some of the best women's stories are found in the legend of Pele and her sister, Hi'iaka.

The saying was, He aikane, he punana na ke onaona. An aikane is haven made of loveliness.

And!! and this wonderful tumblr page (cw for use of the medicalized/outdated term for intersex) and their own documentary told from the story of “Hina Wong-Kalu, a transgender native Hawaiian teacher.” I haven’t yet watched the documentary since I just found it but I’m going to!

another post from their page

Indeed, the ship journals of Captain Cook, the first European to arrive in Hawai'i, recorded that all the kings of the islands had aikāne, or same-sex partners, and that chief Kalanikoa of Kaua'i even asked if one of the European sailors would become his lover – an honor for which he offered to pay six pigs. And when the great King Kamehameha, uniter of all Hawai'i, boarded Cookʻs ship, he brought aboard his aikāne, leaving his wives at home.

(cw in that link inside the quote for some cissexist and heterosexist language) i also just really love the implication of “hey i think you’re pretty have six whole pigs”

also just been reading a lot about similar concepts in other cultures (polynesian and otherwise -- here’s a few things i found) and it makes me happy to know about so much queer history that existed pre-colonization (and that still exists!!)

#queer history #lgbtq history #queer #lgbtq #history #long post #quasartalks #there's not a coherent point or anything that i'm trying to make #i just think this is cool #and wanted to share stuff i found #queer history is lovely and it makes me happy to read about #so #hope you enjoy #also definitely like... if you actually wanna know about this read the stuff linked/esp the stuff made by and for the actual groups in quest #in question*#not like #my incoherent and very much non-polynesian ramblings

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