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“E iho ana o luna.” That which is above, will be brought below. “E pi‘i ana o lalo.” That which is below, shall rise up. “E hui ana nā moku.” The islands will be united. “E kū ana ka paia.” The walls shall stand upright. This column is about the Hawaiian struggle for self-determination.

It’s news. It’s hot. It’s super-controversial. It’s the perfect kind of volatile mixture that rapacious sensationalism devours with no end to its ravenous appetite: Hawaiians getting arrested. Hawaiians suing Hawaiians; Hawaiian institutions; Hawaiian processes. Hawaiians grumbling. Hawaiians mad. Hawaiians protesting. Hawaiians ashamed of being Hawaiian. Hawaiians… Hawaiians… Hawaiians.

But, it’s also injustice. It’s misinformation. It’s disparaging. It’s disingenuous. It’s not who we are and somehow, someone’s (not our) determination of who we are as a people on this planet is forcefully defining us.

So, we struggle against it. For some, perhaps many of us Kanaka Maoli, we struggle against that forceful definition with every fiber of our being and in every aspect of our lives — from cringing at hearing the casual mispronunciation of our words/language, to our vocal criticism of, and downright disdain for, the exploitation of our culture (and people) by an economic powerhouse of an industry that sexualizes our wahine (women), vilifies our kāne (men), and destroys our sacred ‘āina (natural world).

It hurts. We’re in pain. We suffer trans-generational trauma. With little to no recourse what are we to do, but find a remedy by whatever means we can. Most of the time, it’s a fight-response; and our greatest weapon is our voice.

Our sacred places are being desecrated – so, we protest. Our land, once resided upon by our ancestors  whose blood, sweat, tears, and bones have become a part of the soil, is being cemented over, severing our connection to them – so we protest. We do indeed protest, and we do so quite a lot. We are warriors, without a doubt, the kind with such an amazing (and perhaps oxymoronic) level of civility that we have peacefully asked for our right to exist for over 123 years and counting.

We are a vulnerable population with no other homeland than the Hawaiian Islands and we have virtually no say in what becomes of it. For the very reason of protecting vulnerable populations, most of the world came together to produce the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, wherein it states, “Indigenous peoples have the right to self-determination. By virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development.”

Kanaka Maoli struggle, daily, to exercise the “SELF” in self-determination, often in the face of an overwhelming adverse force of systematic oppression.

It’s no secret that a process is underway to consider whether a “Native Hawaiian governing entity” should be established by Kanaka Maoli. The process includes the convening of more than 150 Kanaka Maoli participants (formerly delegates), who are to determine whether a “Native Hawaiian governing entity” should established and if so, to produce its necessary governing documents.

The process is highly controversial. The coordinating organization, Na‘i Aupuni, and its source of funding, The Office of Hawaiian Affairs, have been entangled in a lawsuit that alleges racially discriminatory practices as a result of the process’s participation being limited to only Kanaka Maoli. Therein lies the very issue of the “SELF” in self-determination.

Kanaka Maoli struggle, daily, to exercise the “SELF” in self-determination, often in the face of an overwhelming adverse force of systematic oppression.

For a great many Kanaka Maoli, the Na‘i Aupuni convention is the latest Kanaka Maoli battlefield. It’s ground zero, the frontlines, and arguably the great schism itself – that is, the converging point that traverses time and space, where the Hawaiian community has formed its most discernable division. This is the place where the full might of two titanic political factions within the Lāhui Hawai‘i (Hawaiian Nation) collide.

The political atmosphere surrounding the convention is a tumultuous flurry that leaves a blasted and desolate land in its wake. It’s harsh, unforgiving, and so discordant that the term “war zone” does little to describe the metaphysical carnage ongoing here. I am being figurative, of course.

The more than 150 Kanaka Maoli participants to this convention will potentially decide the political future of a nation numbering over 500,000. These participants (I am one of them), have not been elected by the Kanaka Maoli people in a democratic process; but we operate as if we have the consent of the lehulehu a manomano (the great many and numerous).

There are champions – multiple generations of them – within the convention that represent one of the two major factions: pro-independence and pro-federal recognition. There are also champions who navigate between the two major factions, invaluable for their ability to serve as the ties that bind both factions together. And, of course, there are champions and legions of warriors not participating in this process, but who nevertheless are fighting on this battlefield of sorts.

In the week I have spent convening with other participants, I have run the gamut of emotion. I have been livid and I have been overjoyed. I have felt exalted and I have been consistently humbled. In one week on this battlefield, I have learned more about myself and the nature of my people, than I had in my nearly three decades of Hawaiian activism.

Something unusual is happening here, in this isolated setting with Kanaka Maoli from all over the world. Where once people were social media adversaries, they are now tablemates. Where once individuals shared an animosity for one another that would bring them to near-physical violence, they now share a friendship and the occasional physical embrace in greeting and in farewell.

I have been my own adversary, and the battlefield is something I create by allowing those oppressive external forces to separate me from who I really am and the people I am bound to.

I have defiantly debated and coldly advocated my scholarship on Hawai‘i’s legal status with individuals online, but together, he alo a he alo (face-to-face), my challenger is no longer just text on a forum, but a human being with a beautiful smile and caring eyes – eager and passionate to protect the things they hold dear. I find myself teaching, instead of telling, understanding their perspective instead of pushing my own and I find myself holding them as dear as I do my own interest.

In that moment, I realize that I have been my own adversary, and the battlefield is something I create by allowing those oppressive external forces to separate me from who I really am and the people I am bound to. He Hawai‘i au.

We didn’t create our political struggle. We didn’t create our economic disadvantages. We didn’t do this to us, but we allow it to get between us, perhaps so much so that we end up looking like that oppressive external force – and even our own people can’t tell the difference.

In just this week alone, I have seen a shouting match 100-participant strong, with police officers knocking at the door and participants shutting them out in order to settle things ourselves. And the next day, I see the same room of people – as if the previous day did not happen – during a short recess, singing together, laughing together, holding hands, dancing, joking, enjoying one-another’s company and just being the big family that we really are. That is power.

In just this week alone, I have seen a group of participants and a group of non-participants (who actively oppose the process) meet together outside of the convention’s facility and bridge the grievous fracture that has divided the Hawaiian community for as long as I can remember. They embraced one another, shared tears, and exchanged burdens. Those participants continue to carry the burden with them as a symbol of their responsibility to the greater Hawaiian community, whose members aren’t among the 150 or so participants. That is power.

I don’t know the outcome of this convention. However, I do know that divided we fail, but united we prevail. I, for one (and there are many others), will do my utmost to see that the wishes of non-participants are fully represented. And to my fellow participants: he alo a he alo, recall those wonderful feelings you have shared in the presence of other participants – that is what we owe the Lāhui. We are only a small part of a greater whole. Let us build confidence in us and gain their support in rebuilding this nation.