What the Water Gave Me

Here on this day, the February sky lit by dying sunlight, a Honu, a turtle emerges onto the coastline. It is beautiful in its rarity. It holds mass and moves slowly through the dispassionate sea. She looks friendly but I know better than to approach an animal that is endangered. She has traversed miles just to get here in one piece. As the sun wanes, the beach laps at her feet trying to pull her back into the deep. She is strong though, that shell so impenetrable. I stare in awe as she wiggles her entire expanse onto the rough sandy beach. Finally, ever so subtly, she drifts into peaceful sleep, into bliss. I can learn a lot from a turtle like this.

When I was given the opportunity to go back home, to where I was born, I was frightful to return to a place that held a lot of negative space in my mind. I was worried that all of the rushing shame of the past would still be waiting for me, as if to say, “you were never accepted before, why would they let you stay?” There is something overwhelming about childhood wounds that never really break the surface until an offer comes with purpose. My boyfriend wanted to shower me in comfort as he knew all of the adversity I had faced in that childhood place. He knew how hard it was for me to overcome the fact that I was a pale face with an even paler body. Something that is integral to everyone’s identity is how they view their skin, their race. Even when we know we are all created equal, it doesn’t necessarily show when years of Imperialism have taken place. I may have been born in Hawaii, but that does not mean in any way that I am Hawaiian. The culture I grew up in was very absolute on this. I had not sacrificed to the ancestors. I had not been forced to reside next to the enemy the way Hawaiians have. Their land has been taken from them, the same way the Native Americans have seen theirs ripped from them. It is important to me that this is explained properly. You see, there comes a time of reckoning for past mistakes and yet, Hawaiians have never seen their culture put back in place. They have been treated as slaves despite the fact that their blood is engraved into the rocks, into the volcanic dust. As a child, I was very confused as to why I was mistreated by people who I thought were supposed to be my friends, my family. This is the problem when we live in a society that claims “everyone is free.” It overlooks the fact that most people are not treated the same if they do not have a white face, a white name. It took me a very long time to accept that the treatment I was given was not personal, but something integral to societies based on racist ideals. If a group of people are told that the way they have been functioning for centuries is an example of savage behavior, there are always going to be retaliations to that very strict and narrow viewpoint. I cannot speak for the people who have lived and died on these islands for longer than my family has, but I can say that they have been denied the respect they deserve. That is why I was scared to go back. I was scared to see how much different I would be, again.

It didn’t take me long to realize that things had changed, that there was nothing to fear anymore, no bullies that would come near. I was just another tourist trying to see the baby whales off the coast. I was shown that despite the memories that had grown so old and painful in my mind, the reality is much different. The reality is that most of those situations were out of my control. Most of the situations I had suffered in because of my skin were no longer relevant to the story. It was like a breath of fresh air inside me. I could laugh now after all those years of worry, after all those years focusing on the people who called me “Haole”.

When I had the opportunity to see the turtle, I did not plan it, I did not expect it. I was amazed at how swiftly the sea sent her to me. It was a precious gift, seeing those tired eyes reflecting back at me. My boyfriend and I had just finished dinner after seeing humpback whales protect their young. We had a cocktail, or two and walked aimlessly towards the setting sun. We had no idea what neighborhood we were in, we didn’t care. We wanted to watch the clouds against the palm trees, the purple haze rising as the moon did. What came next was the sand on our toes, the beach deserted. The water was chilly but not freezing and that’s when the turtle came to wish us goodnight. We sat with her until it was too dark to see. We sat with a turtle who had fought so hard to be free. There was really nothing left to do but store it into memory. I will never forget how lucky we were and still are to be able to witness Earth’s little miracles. I will never forget that night because I finally released the fear of my youth. I belonged like that turtle did. To rest, and let the waves bring the tide in.