Kaua'i - Hawaii - page 1072

outsider mentality that in its darkest moments manifests as exclusivity or blatant discrim-
ination.
Mainland transplants tend to stick out, even after they've lived in the islands for some
time. For example, as a rule loud assertiveness is discouraged in Hawaii, where it's better
to avoid confrontation and ʻsave face' by keeping quiet. In a stereotype that's often true,
the most vocal and passionate speakers - at a community meeting, a political rally - may
be mainland activists who just moved in. No matter how long they live here, however,
these folks will never be considered ʻlocal.'
Locals take justifiable umbrage at outsiders who presume to know what's good for
Hawaii better than they do. To get anywhere in Hawaii, it's better to show aloha - and a
bit of deference - toward people who were island-born and raised, popularly called
kamaʻaina .
What does it mean to be Hawaiian today? Read sharp-eyed journalist Sally-Jo Bow-
man's The Heart of Being Hawaiian (2008), a moving collection of articles and inter-
views that explore this question with unsentimental tenderness.
Island Identity
Within Hawaii, life on Oʻahu contrasts starkly with that on the Neighbor Islands.
Honolulu is a cosmopolitan, global city - technologically savvy and fashion-conscious. It
has the sports stadiums, the state's premier university and actual nightlife, even if it's
comparatively tame. Kauaʻi, Maui, Hawaiʻi the Big Island, Lanaʻi and especially Mo-
lokaʻi are considered ʻcountry.' That said, in a landscape as compressed as Hawaii,
ʻcountry' is a relative term. Rural areas tend not to be too far from the urban or suburban,
and there are no vast swaths of uninterrupted wilderness like on the mainland.
In general, Neighbor Island residents tend to dress more casually and speak more
pidgin. Status isn't measured by a Lexus but by a lifted pick-up truck. ʻOhana (extended
family and friends) is important everywhere, but on islands beyond Oʻahu it's often cent-
ral. When locals first meet, they don't ask ʻWhat do you do?' but ʻWhere you wen'
grad?' (Where did you graduate from high school?). Like ancient Hawaiians comparing
genealogies, locals often define themselves not by their accomplishments but by the
communities to which they belong: island, town, high school.
Regardless of where they're from within the state, when two locals happen to meet
outside Hawaii, there's often an automatic bond based on mutual affection and nostalgic
longing for their island home - wherever they go, they belong to Hawaii's all-embracing
ʻohana .