In Praise of Wāhine

Story by Teya Penniman | Painting of Pele by Linda Rowell Stevens

From the very beginning, Hawaiian culture has celebrated women’s power, passion and intellect. The creation chant Kumulipo states that the first human was a wahine (woman), La‘ila‘i. Even the formation of the islands is linked to a goddess: The story of Pele’s fire pits, which she dug from Kaua‘i to Hawai‘i Island, matches the origin of the island chain — volcanic eruptions that grew over millennia into a mountain range arcing across the ocean floor.

Pele’s sister goddesses were likewise formidable. The youngest, Hi‘iaka, battled demons and mo‘o (lizards) on her island-hopping task to fetch one of Pele’s lovers. Another sister, Kapo, saved Pele from the ravages of a pig god by distracting him with her flying vagina. Progenitors, earthshakers, dragon-slayers and shapeshifters, Hawaiian goddesses were powerful role models for real-life wāhine. And like Hi‘iaka’s skirt of fronds, the story of women in the islands is multilayered.

In old Hawai‘i, much of life was a double-duty affair: one imu (oven) to prepare food for the husband, and one for the wife. One hut where women ate, a second hale for men. Enclosed temples for the kāne (men); an outside space for wāhine to worship. Even the menus were different: coconut, pig, red fish, bananas and other items were ‘ai kapu (forbidden food) for the women. Activities also fell along gender lines. While women pounded kapa (bark) for clothing, and harvested limu (seaweed) and shellfish along the coast, men paddled out to deeper waters to cast nets for akule and other fish. Banned from certain activities, women lived entirely apart from their husbands during their waimaka lehua (monthly cycle). These prohibitions weren’t just recommendations; the penalty for men and women who broke the kapu could be death.

Some historians trace the development of the Hawaiian kapu system to a tale of desire and deception among the  earliest deities, the god Wākea, and his wife, Papa. But a gender-based division of labor and space might also reflect an intrinsic sense of balance. Hawaiians classified places and objects into paired opposites, such as sky/earth, land/sea and day/night. Each sea creature or plant has its partner on land. In Classical Hawaiian Education, author and educator John Charlot writes that the origin model articulated in the Kumulipo could justify the division of all things into male and female. Inner waters are female, the deep sea is male. Within such a framework, clearly defined roles for men and women embody an understanding that  complementary paired opposites constitute a whole.

But culture also depends on context and nuance abounds in Hawai‘i. A rock on land is male, but one with a more feminine shape could be considered female. By the time the first Europeans set foot on Hawaiian shores, rank existed along a continuum, from the highest ali‘i (chiefs) to the kauā, a class of outcasts. Roles for both women and men varied by status, island and circumstance. Wāhine serving at court spent time composing and reciting mele (songs) in honor of the ali‘i, not bent over tapa cloth. On Maui and Hawai‘i Island, female maka‘āinana (commoners) worked outside, tilling the ground, fetching food and firewood — unthinkable activities on the other islands. On Ni‘ihau, many native women were skilled at fishing and may have held priestly duties. Occupations across the islands also reflected specializations and abilities that developed along family lines. And in times of war, every able-bodied woman might join a battle.

The arrival of Europeans initiated profound changes: the introduction of foreign diseases that decimated the native population, an influx of foreign workers to feed the sugar industry, cultural oppression, and the overthrow of the monarchy How did Hawaiian values and traditions prepare wāhine to navigate such transformation? Language and cultural-resource educator Pulama Collier says, “Hawaiian women have always been in critical roles at turning points in our culture.”

Kamehameha I was the first king to unite all the Hawaiian Islands, but it was his two most powerful wives, Queen Ka‘ahumanu and Princess Keōpūolani, who effectively ended the ‘ai kapu. Ka‘ahumanu led the spiritual revolution that brought Christianity into Hawaiian practice. The vision and estate of Bernice Pauahi Bishop launched Kamehameha Schools, which today provides an exemplary education to Hawaiian keiki (children). Queen Lili‘uokalani, the islands’ final monarch, relinquished her throne to the U.S. Government, under protest, to avoid the bloodshed of her beloved people.

“It wasn’t chance that women were in the right place at the right time,” Collier says. “Women were nurtured and guided  to be in these roles. The value of the female is not just earthly or worldly, it’s spiritual and cosmological. Their divinity gives them the power and authority to hold places of leadership and to enrich and strengthen not only their mana [spiritual power] but also the mana of males.” Even Kamehameha, who achieved the appellation “the Great,” did so in part by pursuing the young, highborn Keōpūolani to bolster his power and legitimacy; through marriage, he gained her high-ranking mana.

Against a backdrop of powerful female ancestors and several centuries of foreign influence, what does the role of Hawaiian women look like today? Collier’s life provides insight.

Gender-based traditions still influence what women do, but they don’t create rigid constraints. Collier grew up in a tight Hawaiian community where culture was lived daily. From parents to aunties and cousins, the value system was consistent. “We could understand each other without explanation. You could [communicate] with just a look,” she says. As a child she learned to mend nets and pick limu, and can list the different seaweeds as easily as she can name family members.

Like wāhine of old, Collier’s contributions focused on inshore waters, but she never felt restricted. “You had an awareness of the places where you belong.” Her father didn’t keep her from the boat; he just didn’t nurture her participation. Collier says, “It’s not just your physicality or gender; it’s your mana, your spirit, that will tell if you can.” One of six siblings, she held the special position of poi mixer. “Poi is so important,” she says, “because kalo [taro root] is family — the older sibling of the Hawaiian people.” The hand that goes into the poi must have the right “chemistry” to make the poi sweet. Her father could taste the difference if someone else had mixed the poi.

‘Ohana (family) continues to be the bedrock o Hawaiian culture. Collier says her parents placed no limits on what she and her siblings might achieve. “We all have a value and a responsibility. We have the kuleana to nurture the gifts and talents we have to excellence, and bring [them] together [for] collective transformation.”

Collier’s gifts as an educator have placed her in a key role during another time of profound political and social change — the revival of Hawaiian culture and language.

“Women are the voices that are heard in strength and numbers,” she says, and notes that women are the majority of educators, although she is trying to change that balance for the benefit of her male students. “I have a capacity to be true to my culture, but I cannot teach you how to be a man.”

Collier’s story is but one from a long line of life-giving, demon-slaying women deeply rooted in family and nature. Like those who came before, she is a wahine raising her voice, honoring and teaching the ways of old while striving to ensure a world that is better for those who come after.

Pulama Collier’s words sum it up: “It’s beautiful to be a Hawaiian woman.”

In Service to Their Culture

For the first time in its history, the executive board of the Maui Native Hawaiian Chamber of Commerce is all wāhine. Doreen “Pua” Canto, Sharron Joseph, Shirley Kaihua Blackburn, and Teri Freitas Gorman met with me before a recent chamber meeting to share their views — and a lot of laughter. I couldn’t gauge whether they would traverse the island chain, if asked, like Pele’s sisters, but their camaraderie was palpable. Common threads include pride in their Hawaiian heritage, the importance of family, and a perspective that women’s mana, kuleana and leadership are central to perpetuating Hawaiian culture through language, hula and education.

Board president Gorman highlights support for federal legislation that would encourage Hawaiian entrepreneurs to create authentic visitor experiences. “Culture needs to be the entrée, not the parsley on the plate,” she says. Does Gorman see differences in how an all-wāhine executive board leads? “A woman’s style is servant leadership,” she observes, as opposed to telling other people what to do. She points, smiling, to the other board members, who are busy laying out food for the upcoming meeting.

Before hearing their stories an thoughts, my Western-trained mind might have recoiled at the word “servant,” or seen only a stereotype of women  “in the kitchen.” Instead, observing these joyful wāhine, I’m reminded of ancient tales of creation, the powerful women who shaped the history of these islands, and a sense of balance rooted in nature.