Being Comfortable in Your Own Skin

My wife and I recently went to a fundraising dinner as the guests of friends whose firm had purchased a table. As we introduced ourselves to others at the table, the questions inevitably zeroed in on what high schools we'd attended; and, as usual, when it was revealed that I didn't grow up in Hawaii, I was paid the compliment of being told that I looked local. This reminded me of how often I marvel that, no matter where I go in Hawaii, I feel local, like I belong, all because of how I look. I guess I find it so remarkable because of how many years I lived under the opposite circumstances.

Growing up in New Jersey during the '50s and '60s, I thought constantly about race issues. In a region where the Asian Pacific American population was less than 1 percent, maybe it was understandable that people would stare at my family like we were from Mars wherever we went because, well, they'd never seen our kind before. Still, it was an uncomfortable situation, and for many years there wasn't a day that went by when I wasn't confronted about being a racial minority.

The older I got, the less frequently such unpleasantness occurred, but even in the workplace it could happen. Some of it was well-intentioned; for example, I didn't take offense when, as a young Marine officer, my commanding officer, who encouraged me to make the Corps a career, told me that I could advance far in the officer ranks but probably never make it to general because "there ain't no Chink generals in the Marines" (though even now, nearly 30 years later, it appears he's still right). On other occasions, it was jarring, as when the CEO of the computer company for whom I worked started ranting in a meeting about competing against the "Japs."

So what a relief it is to live here in Hawaii, a place that rightfully has been viewed as a model of how people of many different races and cultures have been able to live together harmoniously. Truth be told, it was difficult for me at first to let down my guard and adjust to being in an environment where race wasn't an all-consuming issue like on the Mainland, and what is politically incorrect there is often regarded as just a normal part of living here, whether it's Frank DeLima's humor or calling a local landmark "Chinaman's Hat" or using the word "haole" to refer generally to white people.

Yet one cannot help but wonder whether all of that is inexorably changing, what with the legal challenge to Princess Bernice Pauahi Bishop's legacy of educating Native Hawaiian students at Kamehameha School, the rising costs of real estate that make it increasingly difficult for locals to acquire homes, and the polls that show a growing polarization between the kama'ainas and malihinis on critical spending issues such as mass transit and education. All of these changes seem to result from growing Mainland influences and interest in Hawaii. While globalization makes some change inevitable, we can work together to preserve our local culture, such as by supporting appropriate legislation, against forces that would divide us. After all, I've gotten used to living here where "pake" and "haole" are friendly, not fighting, words, and I'd hate to have to change back.

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