Kumu Hina

  • The winner of this season’s Independent Lens Audience Award, as chosen by voting viewers, is…. Kumu Hina!

    San Francisco, Ca. - July 1, 2015: Dean Hamer and Joe Wilson's Kumu Hina has received the Independent Lens Audience Award, recognizing its status as the highest-rated film of the 2014-15 season on the acclaimed Emmy and Dupont Award-winning PBS documentary series.

    The film tells the inspiring story of Hina Wong-Kalu, a transgender native Hawaiian teacher and cultural icon who brings to life Hawaii's traditional embrace of mahu - those who embody both male and female spirit. Over the course of a momentous year, Hina empowers a young girl to lead the school's all-male hula troupe, as she seeks love and a fulfilling romantic relationship in her own life.

    "The national broadcast premiere of Kumu Hina happened just as the country was struggling to understand Bruce Jenner's transition to Caitlyn," said the filmmakers. "Kumu Hina introduced the American public, mired in the Western mind-set of gender as a simple male-female binary, to Hawaiian culture's more inclusive and holistic philosophy, one that embraces rather than rejects those who, like Hina, inhabit a place in the middle of the gender spectrum."

    Recently Hamer and Wilson have launched an education campaign around a special children's version of the film, called A Place in the Middle, that tells the story of the young student through her own words and colorful Polynesian-style animation. The filmmakers are distributing the short video and teaching guides for free on their website and in partnership with PBS Learning Media because "Young people deserve to see a school where everyone is accepted and included," they said. "We hope this project will help spread Kumu Hina's message of aloha - love, honor and respect for all - to schools and communities everywhere."

    Kumu Hina was funded by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, Independent Television Service (ITVS), and Pacific Islanders in Communications. Prior to its national PBS broadcast on May 4, it premiered as the closing night film at the Hawaii International Film Festival, and won numerous festival awards including the Frameline Jury Award for Achievement in Documentary.

  • By Hinemoana of Turtle Island: Lani Teves, Liza Keanuenueokalani Williams, Maile Arvin, Fuifuilupe Niumetolu, Natalee Kēhaulani Bauer, and Kēhaulani Vaughn:

    There’s been a lot of talk about the film Aloha. A standard Hollywood Romantic Comedy, Hawaiʻi, Hawaiians, ghosts, iwi (ancestral remains), and references to “mana” (power, supernatural power) are the backdrop for a settler colonial narrative that centers the U.S. military as a (fairly) benevolent presence that foregrounds a mundane story of boy meets girl; and boy gets redeemed by girl. The film itself is fairly nonsensical–a maze of tired plots that never resolve believably. Initially it seems the film is building towards the negotiation with a Kanaka Maoli community located in Waimānalo on the island of Oʻahu, regarding the removal of iwi and the blessing of a new pedestrian gate on the Hickam Air Force Base. (It is unclear why exactly a community in Waimānalo would be consulted for iwi at Hickam, on the other side of the island.) Yet, once the blessing is underway, the main characters are suddenly rushed off to a spontaneous, secret satellite launch (which Bradley Cooper’s character Brian Gilcrest must then blow up with sound waves because there are privately owned weapons hidden on it!).

    The Hickam gate blessing, and the plot lines that center Kanaka Maoli negotiations with the U.S. military, are made complicated in the sense that real-life Maoli community leaders and activists perform roles in the film as themselves, engaging the cultural and activist work they do in life. The gate blessing and Gilcrest’s rogue actions to blow up the “evil” privatized satellite encapsulate the major problem with the film, as well as the major problem with many critiques of the film currently circulating. The U.S. military comes out as a naive and duped presence that, if it were not for Gilcrest’s rogue behavior, would have allowed the crazy shenanigans of an uber-rich individual to surpass U.S. military intelligence by sending weapons into space orbit. In this sense, the U.S. military, despite its illegal occupation of Hawaiʻi (which is referenced in the film), comes out innocent – and the “bad-guy” is simply a wayward individual with too much money on his hands. Further, the film makes the matter of the iwi removal and gate blessing seem as if it is a nice courtesy the military is extending (or a stunt they are pulling to have good public relations), when in fact the removal of iwi is protected by state law and managed by island burial councils.

    Supposedly intending to be a film that really addresses authentic Hawaiʻi, the film literally rushes away from true respect or even engagement with Native Hawaiian culture, history and epistemology. The film is haunted with confusion, reflected in its inability to follow a through line in its overarching plot. More importantly though, the nonsensical plot lines may reveal deeper chasms between the American cultural imaginary and on-the-ground Kanaka Maoli politics. Attempting (and yet failing) to bridge the Hollywood imaginary with the complexity of lived life for Kānaka Maoli, ghosts (Night Marchers, a supernatural wind, and references to mana) emerge as the film’s only way of attempting to reconcile U.S. domination and histories of indigenous culturecide and dispossession in Hawaiʻi. In addition, the critiques of the film have remained superficial, failing to engage or respect Native Hawaiians, focusing instead on calls for Asian American actresses to replace Emma Stone.

    Rather than critique the nuances of its storyline, we would like to engage what the film represents, and suggest alternative films and readings for those who are interested in responsibly engaging Native Hawaiians and other Indigenous Pacific Islanders. Even though (or especially because) the film supposedly makes an effort to incorporate indigenous Hawaiian perspectives and advisors, we must call attention to how the film still relies on and recycles cinematic tropes about Hawaiʻi. Our critique is not about Cameron Crow’s intentions or the nonsensical plot lines of the film itself. Our critique centers on what Hawaiʻi means to a broad American audience, about how entitled they are to feel at home in Hawaiʻi, and about how settler colonialism in Hawaiʻi supports the larger U.S. settler colonial, imperial war machine.

    The Real Context of Aloha: Settler Colonialism in Hawaiʻi and the Pacific

    The historical or political context of the indigenous Pacific is frequently evacuated of any significance in the American cinematic imagination. The Pacific is viewed primarily as a site for anthropological investigation, white romantic fantasy, and as a staging area for U.S. imperial interventions to secure its military and economic interests in the region. This is something scholars and activists have been discussing for a long time. We suggest reading work by Haunani-Kay Trask, or Vernadette Gonzalez’s Securing Paradise for an introduction. We especially encourage thinking through the politics of what Teresia Teaiwa has called “militourism,” a process by which the colonization of the Pacific was made possible by a feminization of the region and its peoples in a manner that naturalized American military presence in the Pacific. This has created an environment wherein military force ensures the smooth running of a tourist industry, and that same tourist industry masks the military force behind it.

    What we see in the film Aloha, is a representation of how militourism facilitates white redemption for the individual, i.e. Bradley Cooper trying to better himself in the film. Thus, a rehashing of the old colonial trope of Hawaiʻi representing the promise of white renewal, specifically, a recuperation of hegemonic white masculinity that gets a “second chance.” Does white masculinity really deserve a second chance?

    While the film’s title Aloha, points to ways Hollywood continually appropriates Hawaiian culture, our interest and offense is not primarily focused on the deployment of aloha as a brand or name recognition for this film. Though the plot of Aloha is certainly maddening, the appropriation of aloha has almost progressed to the status of being banal. Welcome to Hawaiian reality. Aloha is so rapidly vacated of any spiritual significance in the American colonial imagination (thanks to tourism) that a film studio readily invokes the term, believing the title alone will draw paying audiences. And, as if naming the film Aloha was not enough for the film studio, screenwriters incorporated the word throughout the film in a myriad of ways that only reified the nonsensical plot lines, as its use was so repetitive it was confusing and it deprived the term of its power. Remember, Aloha was actually the studio’s better, second choice over the rather gross first title Deep Tiki (recalling the similar situation around the 2009 movie Princess Kaʻiulani, which was originally to be called Barbarian Princess!).

    Aloha is a dynamic expression of what it means to be Hawaiian which is intertwined with our deep intellectual, political, and emotional commitments to our culture, our oceans and lands, and one another. But, aloha does not always need to manifest itself in welcoming, harmonious or necessarily passive behaviors. As Maile Arvin and Lani Teves have written elsewhere, anger too can be an expression of aloha. Or, as explained by Noelani Arista and Judy Kertesz, “It is time that Hawaiians put out a sign that says, “no more love; aloha denied.”

    What’s Missing from Asian American Critiques of the Film

    Asian American critics seem pretty upset that Emma Stone is portraying a mixed race Asian character, but the critiques we have seen thus far have neglected to take issue with Stone’s character also portraying a mixed race Native Hawaiian. In some cases, it is even unclear if the authors of the critiques realize that Native Hawaiians exist, as a distinct people from Asian Americans local to Hawaiʻi. It is thus truly maddening that Emma Stone’s lack of Asian American features has taken center stage in public controversies over the film! This coincides with the appropriation of “hapa” which is a Hawaiian term connoting mixed Native Hawaiian ancestry, but has been adopted and used by Asian Americans of mixed ancestry. The critiques surrounding around the casting of Emma Stone due to her lack of Asian American ancestry (and not her lack of Native Hawaiian ancestry) signifies the erasure that is necessary for continued US settler colonialism of which all settlers including Asian Americans are beneficiaries. While of course, we would enjoy seeing mixed race Asian American and Pacific Islander actors on screen more often, we encourage everyone to rethink the endgame of fighting to be the “local” love interest of the white male lead. More generally, what is the point of fighting to be visible within films that refuse to relinquish the story of Hawaiʻi as a place of white romance, of white males being redeemed through obtaining young, female Hawaiian lovers?

    Remarkably, Aloha is actually one of the only Hollywood films to make any gesture towards the Hawaiian sovereignty movement, through its inclusion of Bumpy Kanahele, who reminds viewers that the Hawaiian Kingdom was illegally overthrown in 1893. We could perhaps read this inclusion as commendable in some respects, and therefore, it is particularly upsetting that all the Asian American criticisms have overshadowed any discussion of the film’s attempt to engage the sovereignty movement (as shallow and incomplete as it may have been). Not only this, but Kanahele’s community, which is located at the foot of the Koʻolau in Waimānalo (in real life and in the film), becomes a specified place that is staked as Maoli through such instances as Kanahele’s negotiation with the U.S. military and by the crossing of the ghostly Night Marchers. There are references through the film of Waimānalo, including in background set photographs and the song Waimānalo Blues, for instance. Ultimately, these attempts are superficial, and do not change the film’s adherence to a white romance set in a paradisical Hawaiʻi, especially since they do not show where Waimānalo is in relation to Hickam Air Force Base, or where Hickam is in relation to Honolulu or Waikīkī–instead, all of Oʻahu is blurred together. Two of us (Liza and Maile) in Hinemoana of Turtle Island have genealogies that tie us to Waimānalo specifically. It felt bittersweet at best to hear Waimānalo Blues, a song that directly critiques tourism in Hawaiʻi and expresses deep aloha for our family home, played in this Hollywood movie, to audiences who will likely not understand the context of this beloved song and place.

    We read the Asian American criticism of the film as yet another instance where Asian American and Pacific Islander racial categorizations fail to articulate the solidarity that the categories are imagined to bridge. Rather than express anger about the lack of Pacific Islander or Native Hawaiian representation, or the ongoing representation of Hawaiʻi as a place devoid of complex political histories, we hear critiques from Asian American actor associations that focus on the general lack of diversity represented in the film. In one statement, the association (MANAA) took issue with stock Asian characters who were described in the abstract (i.e. “Indian pedestrian” or “upscale Japanese tourist”). The association seems to advocate for more nuanced representations, but neglects to mention why and how it could be that whiteness so easily inserts itself into Hawaiʻi, and how this practice has gone uncontested in Hollywood since the early twentieth century.

    Cameron Crowe has apologized for his decision to cast Emma Stone as a mixed race white, Chinese and Native Hawaiian character. Like many settler apologies, this one is laughably besides the point! Kānaka Maoli and other indigenous peoples are accustomed to these kinds of settler apologies for their ignorance. It echoes the language of settler-states and their neocolonial forms of management that employ apologies and the language of “reconciliation” and “recognition.” Yes, it is a first step, but it is often the only step. It is reminiscent of the 1993 “Apology Bill,” signed by President Bill Clinton, that acknowledges the illegal overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi. These apologies carry little weight after the fact because they are often qualified with an abdication of any responsibility for reparation on the part of the State, or Hollywood, in this instance. In other words, the apology becomes a stand-in for any sort of real institutional or systemic change. As Haunani-Kay Trask noted in her poem, “Apologies,” “And all our dead and barely living, rejoice. For now we own one dozen dirty pages of American paper to feed our people and govern our land.” Crowe’s apology is a move to settler innocence that can simply be viewed as a product of an ongoing tradition of settler-colonialism in Hawaiʻi.

    Again, our critique is much less about what Emma Stone’s character looks like–for indeed, Native Hawaiians look a lot of different ways (and so do multiracial Asian American people). Even if there was a Native Hawaiian actress playing Emma Stone’s character, the film would participate in perpetuating very old settler colonial narratives, including making that character’s Hawaiian ancestry into something of a joke (as other characters in the film remark disparagingly about how often she says she is Hawaiian). We aren’t after an apology from Crowe. We are after decolonization and structural change that would end the seemingly tireless repetition of Hollywood cliches about Hawaiʻi. We also call for the resources to support other stories about Hawaiʻi.

    Kapu Aloha and Aloha ʻāina

    In one of its many plot points, Aloha repeatedly emphasizes the sky as a place of wonder, beauty and knowledge. Emma Stone’s character holds a childlike wonder for the sky, and is similarly rather naively outraged that someone would weaponize a satellite, because the sky belongs to no man. Kanaka Maoli certainly have reverence for the sky and the stars, but it is not merely a childlike wonder. Traditional seafaring, as just one example, relies on ancestral ways of understanding the stars and sky as a navigational map. Yet, the film and most of its critics overlook an ongoing struggle Kanaka Maoli are currently engaged in, on the slopes of Mauna Kea, a volcanic mountain on the Big Island of Hawaiʻi. This fight is in part about the sky; about the struggle between differing epistemologies regarding knowledge, human connection, and the quest for understanding our collective pasts. The struggle at Mauna Kea is about whose knowledge about the sky matters. It is about the ways Western science is touted as a privileged form of knowledge seeking, subsuming the sacredness of the land it operates on, to scientific and Western forms of relationality. Mauna Kea becomes something to commodify, to develop, to negotiate, and to use, despite thousands of years of Hawaiian spiritual and cultural relationship to that mauna. For the last three months, Kanaka Maoli protectors of Mauna Kea have been camped out on the road leading to the summit, blocking the construction of a proposed Thirty Meter Telescope (over 18 stories tall, and covering 5 acres) which would destroy an incredibly beautiful, rare and sacred site, and likely impact the environment and water aquifer for all those on Hawaiʻi Island.

    Recently, at the Native American and Indigenous Studies Association Conference, a few of us were able to learn from Kanaka Maoli scholars involved with the struggle over Mauna Kea. We were especially excited by the work of Mary Tuti Baker who discussed the ways that aloha ʻāina (love of the land) discourse is used by Kānaka to build Lāhui and challenge the primacy of Western thought and ongoing U.S. military occupation in Hawaiʻi. She cited the actions of the Mauna Kea protectors who are using forms of kapu aloha to guide their actions on the mauna. Manulani Meyer describes Kapu Aloha as a discipline of compassion to express aloha to all, especially those who are perceived to be on opposing political sides. Meyer explains that kapu aloha “honors the energy and life found in aloha—compassion—and helps us focus on its ultimate purpose and meaning.” The protectors of Mauna Kea are guided by kapu aloha and we think that this is the kind of aloha that deserves our attention, not a Hollywood film. We would hope that in the future kapu aloha and aloha ʻāina would garner the support of the general public. These are the kinds of aloha that guide our actions, that honor the genealogies of Kānaka Maoli, that prioritize the protection of sacred sites and the self-determination efforts of Indigenous peoples everywhere.

    Indigenous Pacific Films We Actually Recommend

    There are so many other stories to tell about Hawaiʻi and Kānaka Maoli, and Cameron Crowe isnʻt the one to do the telling. For those upset by Cameron Crowe’s vision of Hawaiʻi, and for those who would prefer to never have to think about how distorted Hollywood representations of the Pacific Islands are, we urge you to support films and filmmakers who do center Native Hawaiian and other Indigenous Pacific Islander stories. Here are some of our suggestions for films about the Indigenous Pacific that we actually recommend. They are listed in no particular order, and we acknowledge that the following list is far from comprehensive. We welcome further suggestions for films we should all see in the comments!

    Noho Hewa (http://www.nohohewa.com/)

    Now streaming on Vimeo as a fundraiser for Anne Keala Kelly’s next project, which you should also support, Why the Mountain, “a documentary for and about Mauna Kea”: https://vimeo.com/124882949

    2008, Dir. Anne Keala Kelly

    Many of us screen Noho Hewa in the classes we teach, because it can be very eye-opening for those who may only associate Hawaiʻi with the tourist experience. The film addresses a number of political issues important to Kānaka Maoli, including the protection of iwi (ancestral remains) during the construction of a new Walmart in Honolulu and vacation homes, as well as from military live firing exercises, struggles over GMOs, water rights, and houselessness.

    Living Along the Fenceline (http://www.guam.festpro.com/films/detail/living_along_the_fenceline_2013)

    2011, Dirs. Lina Hoshino and Gwyn Kirk

    From Guam International Film Festival website: “This ground-breaking film tells the stories of seven women who live alongside US military bases in Texas, Puerto Rico, Hawaiʻi, Guam, the Philippines, South Korea, and Okinawa (Japan). They take us into their homes, walk us through their neighborhoods, and introduce us to their communities. We see how military operations and bloated military budgets have affected their lives as we listen to their experiences and take in their surroundings.”

    Kumu Hina (http://kumuhina.com/ available on iTunes)

    2014, Dir. Dean Hamer and Joe Wilson

    An actual love story, not just set in Hawaiʻi, but about the very real difficulties of having and sustaining love in a place that is supposed to naturally exude it! Love, or shall we say, aloha, here – expands aloha to ʻohana, community, to the ʻāina. Aloha in this film is lived through Hina’s kuleana to her community and her students at a Maoli charter school in Honolulu. Gender, sexuality, decolonization, and aloha are interwoven themes through the film and through Hina’s personal story. Hina’s struggle in love and life help to tell the larger stories of ways that colonial histories have shaped Maoli lives in intimate ways in the present.

    Haku Inoa (http://hakuinoa.com)

    2012, Dir. Christen Hepuakoa Marquez

    This documentary follows the personal story of director Christen Hepuakoa Marquez, who embarks on a quest to discover the origins of her long Hawaiian middle name. In the process, she learns more about how she became distanced from her mother, tentatively reconnecting with her as an adult. This film is very personal and very brave, showcasing some of the difficulties that many Native Hawaiians face when living in diaspora in the continental United States. The film also shows the many ways those Native Hawaiians work very hard to repair and maintain connections with their families and homelands in Hawaiʻi.

    The Land Has Eyes / Pear ta ma ‘on maf (streaming free on Vimeo: https://vimeo.com/112031380 )

    2004, Dir. Vilsoni Hereniko

    From IMDB: “The Land Has Eyes is an 87-minute narrative drama about Viki, (introducing Sapeta Taito) a young South Pacific Islander who redeems her family’s name by exposing the secrets of her island’s most powerful and important people. Shamed by her village for being poor and the daughter of a wrongly convicted thief, Viki is inspired and haunted by the island’s mythical ‘warrior woman’ (Rena Owen, Once Were Warriors). The lush tropical beauty of Rotuma (part of Fiji) contrasts with the stifling conformity of her island’s culture as Viki confronts notions of justice and her own personal freedom.”

    Boy (http://boythefilm.com, available on Netflix Instant)

    2010, Dir. Taika Waititi

    Boy is about a Maori boy growing up in the 1980s, with a great love of Michael Jackson, and an even greater love for his largely absent father. This film is absolutely hilarious, in the familiar way that kids can deliver the funniest lines in an absolutely earnest, deadpan manner. It is also full of heart, delighting in the daydreams of kids and gently following the larger-than-life hopes they have for their families, which cannot always be fulfilled. The quirky humor and vision of director Taika Waititi (of Eagle v. Shark, and Flight of the Conchords) is used to great effect here. What we love the most about this film is that it resists a narrative that pathologizes Maori families (as the more famous film Once Were Warriors may do), but highlights Maori love, desire, and dreams for the future.

    The Deadlands (http://www.thedeadlandsmovie.com, available for rent on iTunes)

    2015, Dir. Toa Fraser

    This Maori action film follows the story of the son of a tribal chief who seeks vengeance after most of his village is slaughtered by a rival tribe. Set entirely in an Aotearoa that predates European contact and colonialism, and scripted entirely in Maori language (with English subtitles), the film immerses its audience in an awe-inspiring Maori world. The film complicates notions of humanity, nobility and familial duty, while maintaining a deep respect for Maori epistemologies and relationships with land and ancestors. There are also a few very fierce female characters we loved. James Rolleston, the charming star of Boy, also stars here, playing Hongi, the main character of The Deadlands.

    The Orator / O Le Tulafale (http://theoratorfilm.co.nz/, available on Hulu)

    2011, Dir. Tusi Tamasese

    From the film’s official website: “The Orator (O Le Tulafale) is a contemporary drama about courage, forgiveness and love. Small in stature and humble, Saili lives a simple life with his beloved wife and daughter in an isolated, traditional village in the islands of Samoa.  Forced to protect his land and family, Saili must face his fears and seek the right to speak up for those he loves.”

    Close of the Day (http://mickidavis.com/, excerpt here: https://vimeo.com/29652089)

    Also on view at the Pacific Islander Ethnic Museum in Long Beach, CA through July 5

    2011, Dir. Micki Davis

    From the director: “This project was an exploration of my Chamorro heritage via the lives and memories surrounding my Grandparent’s small grocery store in Agat, Guam. Taped in the month of July 2010, several hours of home footage, interviews with villagers about the store, and semi-theatrical staging of daily rituals composed into my version of a visual fugue. The theme stated in the title of the show and restated in the opening video reoccurs in several variations throughout the video and installation: Close of Day is a social hour, it is time of day when our ancestors are most active and it is the time when we reflect on our present day, our past and speculate our future.”

    Sione’s Journey (https://myspace.com/264395542/video/sione-s-journey-what-is-a-tongan-dedicated-to-johnny-folau/33006522)

    2011, Dir. Folola Takapu

    From De Anza College IMPACT AAPI: “About a young Tongan American man’s search for answers to the question, “What is a Tongan?” The film humorously and touchingly presents stereotypes about Tongans, and features interviews with Tongan immigrants (many who speak Tongan) and younger Tongan Americans discussing life in the Bay Area, including a professional dancer, an artist, and a fashion designer/entrepreneur. Produced by Folola (Lola) Takapu (with no previous filmmaking experience) when she was a student at UC Berkeley, the film has gained popularity mostly through word of mouth and Lola was even invited to Tonga to show her film at an academic conference.”

    Other resources to help find films that center Indigenous Pacific Islanders:

  • Dim the lights and get ready to learn with these TT-approved films!

    A Place in the Middle: The True Meaning of Aloha, a documentary short by Dean Hamer and Joe Wilson, tells the story of a school in Honolulu, Hawaii, that is demonstrating respect for and inclusion of gender-fluid students. The film centers on 11-year-old Ho’onani, who embodies māhū, a Hawaiian term that refers to people who embrace feminine and masculine spirits. Ho’onani occupies “a place in the middle” on the gender spectrum and leads her school’s hula troupe, typically for boys only. Ho’onani’s teacher Kumu Hina—a transgender woman—tells the troupe, “I want every student to know that if you are my student, you have a place to be—in the middle.” A Place in the Middle documents some of the positive outcomes that can occur when schools welcome students with love, harmony and respect (the deeper meaning of aloha). The film also makes the point that this welcome should not be extended despite students’ gender identity or expression, but precisely because of who they are. (25 min.)*

     

    Additional films in this collection include "Selma: The Bridge to the Ballot" - "Documented" - and "The Homestretch"

    See more HERE.
  • Janet Mock of MSNBC’s weekly talk show “So Popular!” talks about how the film title “Aloha” is misused and how Hollywood, in general, has a history of doing this with Hawaiian culture and language. Mock, who’s Native Hawaiian, is frustrated at how some people view Hawai‘i as a “pretty movie backdrop” and don’t learn or understand its culture.

    “The ongoing appropriation and commercialization of all things Hawaiian only makes it clear as to why it is inappropriate for those with no ties to Hawai‘i, its language, culture and people, to invoke the Hawaiian language,” she says.

     

  • By Dean Hamer, Co-Producer/Director of "Kumu Hina" --

    Many U.S. schools serve groups of kids who are diverse in terms of race, ethnicity, age, religious or non-religious belief, national origin, family situation, ability, sexual orientation and gender identity. This diversity is especially vibrant here in Hawai'i, where many people describe their ethnic background as “chop suey,” Christians are in a minority and gender-nonconforming individuals are not only accepted but are respected and admired for their important role in perpetuating cultural knowledge and traditions.

    For two years, we were given the opportunity to film a remarkable māhū (transgender) native Hawaiian teacher, Kumu Hina Wong-Kalu, as she created a “place in the middle” where every student at her small Honolulu charter school felt welcome, included and ready to learn to the best of their ability. Hina's story is portrayed in our PBS feature documentary Kumu Hina, which is being nationally broadcast on Independent Lens as of May 4, 2015.

    But we also wanted to bring Hina's teaching to K-12 schools, which led us to produce a youth-friendly, short version of the film called A Place in the Middle that has been excerpted for the Perspectives for a Diverse America anthology. Here are some ways these video clips can be used to help students appreciate the value of inclusion, the strengths they inherit from their cultural heritage and their own power to create a school climate of honor and respect.

    Celebrate Difference. In the scene “Welcome to Hawai'i,” Kumu Hina is preparing the students for a hula performance by handing out lei necklaces, yellow for boys and white for girls. But 11-year-old Ho'onani decides that she wants to wear both colors—a decision that her classmates meet with envy rather than scorn. In a later scene, “Kāne-Wahine and Wahine-Kāne” (Boy-Girls and Girl-Boys), Hina explains that she has created this “place in the middle” so that gender-creative students have a specific space they can call their own.

    These clips are a reminder to teachers that students who are perceived to be different, in one way or another, deserve to be celebrated precisely because of those differences, not simply tolerated despite them. And it's a jumping off place for students to think and talk about how every person's identity is comprised of multiple interacting facets. A good discussion prompt is to note that Ho'onani is in the middle between male and female, then ask how many other ways people can be “in the middle”; for example, being more than one race or bilingual, being part of two households after a divorce and so on.

    Use the Power of Heritage. In “Hawai'i Poniʻī,” the principal of the school urges her students to take seriously their lessons on Hawaiian culture because, “We didn't get to sing ‘Hawai'i Poniʻī’ (the Hawaiian national anthem) in our schools. We had to pledge allegiance to the flag that took over Hawai'i.” Her approach works: By the end of the film, even the students who began the year with little enthusiasm have become full participants in the school's activities.

    You can use this clip to inspire students to inquire into their own heritage, starting with well-known aspects, such as food, holidays, etc., and progressing to a deeper conversation that incorporates social, cultural, political and historical contexts. Ask students to bring in food dishes typical of their heritage, and after the Smorgasbord is consumed, ask what ideas, values or practices their home cultures could contribute to their classroom or school.

    Another clip, “Hawaiians Live in Aloha,” uses Polynesian-style animated figures to tell the history of how early Hawaiians respected and admired people with both male and female spirits, giving them the special name of māhū. Asking students to interpret images from this animated portrayal of Hawaiian history prior to and after viewing the film is a good ice-breaker for what some consider a sensitive topic. You can follow up by asking them to draw their own interpretation of what it means to be “in the middle.”

    Teach With Aloha. Many people think of “aloha” as just a cute way to say hello or goodbye, but as Kumu Hina explains in a clip about her transition, the deeper meaning is to have love, honor and respect for everyone. Ask students how the characters in the film demonstrate aloha, and then how they do (or could) demonstrate it themselves. Most important, how do you rate your own classroom and school on living up to this standard?

    You can help spread the concept of aloha by hanging a Pledge of Aloha poster in your classroom or by handing out Pledge of Aloha postcards that can be signed and returned to Kumu Hina in Hawai'i. The module can be considered a success if students use this opportunity to share what they've learned about Hawai'i and its uniquely inclusive approach to gender and many other types of diversity.

  • By Nina Wu - May 3, 2015:

    Standing by the Sun Yat-sen statue at the Chinatown Cultural Plaza, kumu Hinaleimoana Kwai Kong Wong-Kalu reflected on a recent journey to southern China to explore her family roots.

    There, in a small village more than 5,500 miles from home, she found acceptance from long-lost relatives, a powerful testament to the role of family in self-identity.

    Being a mahu, or transgender person, as well as both Hawaiian and Chinese, defines her identity "in the middle" and is the subject of a documentary film, "Kumu Hina," which premieres nationally on PBS' "Independent Lens" on Monday in celebration of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month.

    The film, by Haleiwa filmmakers Dean Hamer and Joe Wilson, tells of Wong-Kalu's evolution from a timid high school boy to a confident mahu and respected kumu and community leader in modern-day Honolulu.

    All through her struggles, family is what gave her strength.

    "My purpose in this life is to pass on the true meaning of aloha — love, honor and respect," says Wong-Kalu in the film. "It's a responsibility that I take very seriously."

    Born a boy named Collin, Wong-Kalu was raised by both a Hawaiian tutu on her mother's side, Mona Kealoha, and a Chinese popo on her father's side, Edith Kamque Luke.

    "My Hawaiian tutu and popo were the most influential in my life," Wong-Kalu said in an interview with the Hono­lulu Star-Advertiser. "Both of them raised me to be very cognizant and respectful, and to be very mindful of Hawaiian culture and Chinese culture."

    With both parents working full time, Wong-Kalu spent much of her childhood with extended family — the Hawaiian side in Mililani and the Chinese side in Liliha.

    With the Hawaiian side, she was called the "pake child" because of her more Asian looks. The Chinese side referred to her as the "Hawaiian one" because of her darker skin and larger size.

    "I grew up in the middle," said Wong-Kalu, whose parents separated when she was in the second grade. "I grew up not belonging completely to one or the other. Being both, and going to one side, they always consider you ‘the other.'"

    So it was, as well, with gender.

    Wong-Kalu, 42, remembers from a very young age feeling that she was more female than male. She would sneak into her mother's closet while she was away at work.

    "I'd put on her clothes and high heels and prance around the house for hours on end," she said. "I wanted to be as beautiful as my mother."

    It was after graduating from Kamehameha Schools in 1990 and attending the University of Hawaii at Manoa that Wong-Kalu fully emerged as a transgender, taking the name Hina.

    Besides being teased in elementary and middle schools for being too girlish, she was also taunted for her Chinese name, Kwai Kong, with kids calling her "King Kong" or "Ding Dong."

    "It was very hurtful," said Wong-Kalu.

    She said she found refuge in Hawaiian culture, where mahu — those who embody both the male and female spirit — are respected as a source of ancient knowledge.

    Her father's Chinese side of the family also accepted her transition. During high school Wong-Kalu had stayed mostly in Liliha, becoming the primary caregiver for Luke up to her death in 1997.

    "Because I was the caregiver for the matriarch and everybody loved her, they all loved and accepted me," she said. "She was the kindest one."

    Wong-Kalu has three older siblings — two sisters and a brother, famed Hono­lulu chef Alan Wong. She said her father, Henry Dai Yau Wong, a former U.S. Army sergeant and man of few words, accepted her as well.

    "No matter my father's internal struggles — and he did struggle — with the changes in my life, he never, ever made me feel less than — ever."

    An invitation to join Hamer and Wilson at the Beijing Queer Film Festival in September turned out to be the perfect opportunity for Wong-Kalu to search for her father's relatives, with whom the family had lost touch. Through research, Wong-Kalu was able to find the name of her grandmother's village, Gam Sek, in southern China.

    Her popo, Luke, had always kept a framed family portrait in a side cabinet and Wong-Kalu brought a copy of it with her when she and the filmmakers took a two-hour taxi drive past numerous factories to the stone gate at the entrance to the small village.

    Upon entering, Wong-Kalu met Luc Lu Moy, wife of a distant cousin. At an ancestral shrine there, she found a matching copy of the family portrait. It turns out a great uncle from Hono­lulu had brought it with him in the 1970s.

    "I burst into tears," said Wong-Kalu. She placed her lei over the photo.

    To introduce herself, Wong-Kalu showed the film to her relatives in China and found they embraced her despite her transgender identity.

    "KUMU  HINA" follows Wong-Kalu in her former role as cultural director of Halau Lokahi, a Hawaiian public charter school, as she prepares students for an end-of-the-year performance. According to the filmmakers, the documentary is as much about the importance of understanding one's culture as it is about family and societal acceptance of those who are different.

    "This is really a reflection, through Hina's life, of what family values can mean in the most positive and comprehensive sense," Wilson said. "With her (students), she often talks about no matter who you are, where you come from, you should know there's a place in the middle for you."

    A 25-minute version of the film, titled "A Place in the Middle," is available for free through PBS Learning Media along with a classroom discussion guide for educators.

    For Wong-Kalu, finding acceptance from relatives in China, a country where most transgenders largely remain invisible, was affirming. It was in the same spirit of aloha that she lives by.

    Standing in Hono­lulu's Chinatown, Wong-Kalu cited an inscription below the Sun Yat-sen statue that reads, "All under heaven are equal."

    Besides Beijing, "Kumu Hina" screened at the Hawaii International Film Festival in April 2014 and has been shown on the U.S. mainland and in Tahiti.

    "The film emphasizes my life as a Hawaiian, but I am also very influenced by my life as a descendant of some of the very first Chinese that came to Hawaii," Wong-Kalu said. "The influence on me makes me very devoted to the name of the family and to honor my parents and grandparents."


    On the Net:

    » Learn more about "Kumu Hina" at kumuhina.com.

    » Learn more about PBS/Independent Lens at pbs.org/independentlens/kumu-hina/.

    » Watch the trailer at youtube.com/user/Kumu Hina.

    » Order "A Place in the Middle" with free classroom discussion guide at aplaceinthemiddle.org.

  • By Beth Sherouse, Ph.D., May 01, 2015 - Welcoming Schools:

    Numerous indigenous cultures across the globe have traditions of recognizing a third gender, people who don’t fit within traditional gender binaries or whom we might now call transgender.

    While European colonialism sought to suppress or marginalize these identities, some of these traditions have survived and are seeing renewed interest and attention. In some indigenous North American cultures, for example, people identify as two-spirit. In Thai culture, people assigned male at birth but who live as women identify as kathoey.

    In native Hawaiian culture, people whose gender identity or expression is somewhere "in the middle" of the binary sometimes identify as māhū, which is the subject of the new documentary, Kumu Hina, premiering Monday, May 4 on the popular PBS series Independent Lens. The film follows the story of Hina, a teacher (or a Kumu in Hawaiian) who identifies as māhū, and her 11-year-old student, Ho’onani, who describes herself as “in the middle.”

    The filmmakers, Joe Wilson and Dean Hamer have also made a shorter version of the film called A Place In the Middle – which focuses on Ho’onani and her dream of leading the boys-only hula group at her school – available as a resource for educators to help facilitate discussions on gender. The film is available to stream or download for free from their website.

    Filmmaker Dean Hamer explains that "Kumu Hina recognizes that when the class lines up, boys on one side and girls on the other side, there needs to be a place, an actual physical space in the middle” for Ho'onani and other students who don't naturally belong on one side or the other."

    “In the end, Ho'onani becomes an incredible force and leads the boys into the final performance of the school year, and they come to not only respect her, but really embrace her,” says Hamer. “The strong girl wins at the end.”

    “Unlike most educational films, it’s not just about kids, it’s for kids,” says Hamer, and Ho’onani narrates much of her own story. Hamer and Wilson have prepared a guide to help teachers facilitate discussions based on the film about “how gender is interpreted by culture, and how instead of just accepting people who are ‘in the middle,’ this culture celebrates them.”

    HRC Foundation Welcoming Schools consultant Tracy Flynn has used A Place In the Middle to work with educators on what welcoming school environments can look like for LGBTQ and gender-expansive kids.

    “This film shows one culturally specific story with the universal message of acceptance,” Flynn explains. “It’s an amazing tool to help educators understand the need for acceptance for each and every child regardless of gender expression.”

    For more ideas on talking about gender in the classroom, check out the resources available from HRC’s Welcoming Schools. For ways to support transgender and gender-expansive children and youth, visit hrc.org/trans-youth.

  • April 28, 2015:

    Mark your calendar for Monday, May 4 from 10 to 11 p.m. (EST)! PBS’ Independent Lens will be hosting the national broadcast premiere of Kumu Hina, a documentary by Dean Hamer and Joe Wilson that addresses themes of gender diversity and fluidity, inclusion and cultural empowerment.

    Kumu Hina focuses on a transgender teacher in Hawaii named Hinaleimoana Wong-Kalu, also known as Kumu Hina. Viewers learn about māhū, a Hawaiian term that refers to people who embrace feminine and masculine spirits. Kumu Hina is one of these people; the film describes Hina’s transition from being a timid high school student into a profound teacher and cultural icon. Kumu Hina is also the director of an all-male hula troupe at an inner-city Honolulu school and supports Ho’onani Kamai—a sixth-grade student who occupies “a place in the middle” on the gender spectrum—in becoming the troupe’s student leader.

    May 4 also marks the launch of an educational campaign from the creators of Kumu Hina. Hamer and Wilson created a 30-minute educational version of Kumu Hina called A Place in the Middle, distributed for free on PBS LearningMedia. Ho’onani’s inspiring story takes center stage in A Place in the Middle. Viewers can commit to making their schools more inclusive and welcoming by taking a #PledgeofAloha—an expression of love, honor and respect for all. Additional educational resources can be found in the free discussion guide that accompanies A Place in the Middle. (Look for references to the Teaching Tolerance Anti-bias Framework!)

    We hope you tune in and watch Kumu Hina on May 4! In the meantime, you can access excerpts from A Place in the Middle in Perspectives for a Diverse America. To find these excerpts, search for the title in the Central Text Anthology.

  • "TRUE LIBERATION" - The Huffington Post

    • Posted on 29th Apr
    • Category: news

    Kumu Hina premieres on PBS on Monday, May 4 at 10 p.m. EST (9 PM CST).

    In traditional, Western culture, gender identity is often considered a binary concept: You are either male or you are female.

    This restrictive and defining construct makes it difficult for our society to understand people like Bruce Jenner, who recently came out as transgender, because they don't always fit neatly into a box. While some transgender people move from one end of the gender spectrum to the other when they transition, other transgender people exist somewhere in between, embracing both genders, neither genders or a multiplicity of genders.

    Ultimately, by changing and broadening our definition of gender identity, we can not only better understand it, we can truly embrace it.

    In Native Hawaiian culture, for instance, the idea of someone who embodies both the male and female spirit is a familiar and even revered concept. Gender identity is considered fluid and amorphous, allowing room for māhū, who would fall under the transgender umbrella in Western society.

    “Māhū is the expression of the third self," Kaumakaiwa Kanaka‘ole, a Native Hawaiian activist and performer told Mana magazine. "It is not a gender, it’s not an orientation, it’s not a sect, it’s not a particular demographic and it’s definitely not a race. It is simply an expression of the third person as it involves the individual. When you find that place in yourself to acknowledge both male and female aspects within and accept the capacity to embrace both … that is where the māhū exists and true liberation happens.”

    As an upcoming PBS documentary "Kumu Hina," about a transgender woman and teacher, shows, māhū are thought to inhabit "a place in the middle."

    Māhū are valued and respected in traditional Hawaiian culture because their gender fluidity is seen as an asset; the ability to embrace both male and female qualities is thought to empower them as healers, teachers and caregivers.

    That ability also helps when it comes to navigating life's challenges.

    "I didn’t take to life as my family’s son," Hina Wong-Kalu, the subject of Kumu Hina, says in Mana. "I wanted to be their daughter. However, for me to expand my own personal journey and the challenges in my life, I’ve had to embrace the side of me that is the more aggressive, the more Western-associated masculine when I need to. But that’s the beauty of being māhū, that’s the blessing. We have all aspects to embrace.”



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