“There is an invisible plume of poison working its way through our underground water systems And the only people who know the exact extent of it Dont give a fuck about us In fact, while preparing a suit against the state for demanding they drain the tanks the @usnavy insists: “It is not the fuel in the tanks, but the fuel in the water that’s making us sick” Let me say that again The US navy says: “its not the fuel in their tanks, but the fuel in OUR water that is making us sick” And I give no fucks about their lyrical gymnastics There is no rewriting themselves out of fault” (Mahalo @terisasiagatonu for the impromptu writing prompt ❤️) #demilitarizehawaii #deoxcupyhawaii #decolonizehawaii #drainthetanks #shutdownredhill #alohaaina #eahawaii #hawaii 📸 @karaokecomputer & @oahuwaterprotectors @sierraclubhi @hawaiipeaceandjustice
In April of 2021 the Honolulu Police Department shot down and killed an unarmed 16 year old Chuukese boy named Iremamber Sykap. A few months later the police responsoible were in court waiting to see if they would be charged. On that day Malia, myself, and a small group of our friends joined a couple dozen of Irememaber’s family and firiends to wacth over the proceedinsg from outside of the building. We stood across the street while we wtached hundreds of Kanaka Maoli and other local people arrogantly pace about the courtroom steps in their ugly “Back the Blue” “Hawaiʻiʻs finest” t-shirts. i will never forget the shame i felt that day, seeing so many of our people standing with the state, with police violence, with extraditial murderers.. while a small handful of us stood with our oceanic cousins. It was humbling to offer this poem in the presence of our oceanic cousins during our week of @festpachawaii considering the ways our people (kanaka Maoli) continue to fail to live up to our kuleana to our “Micronesian” and “Melanesian” ohana in and beyond Hawai’i. I hope this poem and ones like it can help us to take a serious look at our behavior and allegiances. Iremamber Sykap was indigenous to our moananuiākea. He was loved by our ocean and ʻāina. He should have also been loved by us. He should have also been held by us. He should have also been protected by us. Do not come here to excuse or justify the murder of this young boy or to spew any kind of overt or thinly veiled anti-micronesian hatred/racism. you will be blocked.
My ‘ohana lives in Wahiawā. In on of the seats of American imperial power. Where at 8am — every morning and without fail— you will hear the American imperial anthem. Where at 6pm the bugle sings. And inbetween and after there are rounds of ammunition fired into our forests, shells of bombs that shake our homes foundations. Helicopters that hover hover hover until their vibration makes your stomach turn. These days— each of these shaking sounds carried my mind to Palestine. I wonder what it means for my children to grow up with these same sounds and tremors of violence. While, in an occupation a whole world away, children rarely grow up at all. We are tragically linked— Hawaii and Palestine. Hawai’i and anywhere American backed intervention or expansion pressed through the barrel of a gun. But we are also linked by something else that is far more profound: Love. Love for our aina. Love for each other. Love for liberation and struggle and a future (and past) only we can see. And because of that — I believe that we will win.
Our film “This is the Way we Rise is showing at @sundanceorg TOMORROW! This film is a love letter to our Mauna a Wākea and all our ‘āina and kānaka who continue to fight for Ea. Directed by @ciaraleilacy. Cinematography by @chapinhall @protectmaunakea @puuhuluhulu @pbsamericanmasters @pbs #alohasina #ea #eahawaii #kukiaimauna #aoletmt #tmtshutdown #hawaiiisstillclosed
“Palestine is setting us free” – @karima_the_dreamer Palestine is setting us free from the lie of imperial “securities”. Palestine is setting us free from the half ass dreams of reconciliation. Palestine is committed to the fullest articulation of liberation and freedom. Palestine is calling us simultaneously to decolonization and abolition— to deoccupation and demilitarization. Palestine is setting us free. And we are indebted to her and her peoples for it. We owe her our love, our ongoing commitment, and our endurance in struggle. As Kanaka, we are bound to Palestine and her peoples — not only by a shared experience under occupation and settler colonialism. Not only by the sibling shelling we hear in the morning light. We are bound to her by something far more precious. We are both peoples born and raised by ancestors who would never dare stop fighting. We come from generations of leaders who would never accept the crumbs of our colonizers. And We are both the parents and grandparents of the future generations of freedom fighters who will carry our names on their tongues and our courage in their hearts. We share this mo’okū’auhau. Today and tomorrow, we are siblings in struggle. We are ohana in our belief and commitment to liberation. We will never forsake this family. 🎥 @m1l1.ana
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering days 3-4. We put our pain in the hide and watch her soften over the dancing smoke. We stay and listen. Soften a bit too. Any crackle of fire is instruction. Here— there is no remainder. No part discarded or unrecognized. We honor the whole with our bodies. Our hands builds the worlds we dream under the tender eyes of elders who may not be ours but remind us of home anyway. From their generous wisdom we learn to make abundance with fishbone and scales. With raw hide and moss. With ideas and commitments. We float on the water. Calm at the surface, but churning its grief within (like us). Round and round we go through its lessons in patience and humility. We hold tight to each other so no one drifts away. And through this. We bring solidarity down. To the dirt. To the mud of the lake. We Ground it. Sweat it. Smoke it. Invite it home. We brings the seeds of transformation back to the bush. Press them with prayers. Until they take root among the spruce. Watch her dance against the wind. Wait for her turn to return to the fire.
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
@dechintacentre solidarity gathering. Day 1-3. Solidarity is a slippery thing. But here, in the north, 3am dusks/dawns melt into each other. And we can learn from that kind of slippage. The slowness of a day that never ends or begins. Where edges are loose and undefined. and ideologies, like boarders, are more regime than a line. We gather here in the ancestral abundance made new. We get our hands dirty, covered in fish scales, green moss, and rotting wood. We feed and are fed. We give thanks in laugher. We rest & then start again with softness. Midweek Mana’o: 1) “I just want people to be on the land” – @gwitchinaabekwe 2) two greatest indicators of survival is discernment & working across difference – Chris Begley (via @kellyhayeswrites) 3) “broad movements are struggles, not sanctuaries” – @kellyhayeswrites 4) we protect us. We make our own abundance. (More in a few days)
