I’ll never be Hawaiian, nor a rich white sorority girl… and honestly, I’m okay with that.
Learning to shed societal pressures of acceptance and live into my God given identity.
I’ve always lived between two worlds.
My Mexican family & my white family.
My low-income high school friends & my private school friends.
My party friends & my Christian friends.
Who I really am & who I think people want me to be.
For some reason, I always find myself in spaces where I don’t fully fit. I blend in just enough to gain entry, but if a spotlight were to shine on me, my “half-breed” identity would be exposed.
I remember the first time I projected an image of what I thought I needed to be in order to fit in with the people around me.
It was in college at UT Austin, navigating Greek life, where I “cosplayed” as white, wealthy, and well-connected enough to infiltrate the prestigious circles. The ticket to entry into these circles? Come from a top 1% family, with years of generational wealth and high “society” life, come from a generational birth line of Kappa Kappa Gammas, and be just like everyone around you.
I wanted the Alexander McQueen shoes, the designer dresses, the David Yurman bracelets—the family history, the legacy. I wanted it all.
Denying who I really was and pretending to be these things was the only way to be accepted.
I was ashamed of my high school, ashamed of the lack of generational wealth, and ashamed of any hint of not fitting in.
How freaking stupid.
Now having left college (and along with it any care for the rankings of greek life), I find myself living in Hawaii - in quite the opposite predicament. Being too white for the local Hawaiin lifestyle and wanting to, again, acclimate to my environment for societal acceptance.
Now, living as a haole (a Hawaiian term for outsider, and not in a good way), with tan skin, wavy hair, and a name that sounds Hawaiian, (if I tried hard) - I have the idea that I could blend in just enough to gain entry. I feel a similar, but distinctly different pressure from that of the claws of Greek life.
The pressure to camouflage into what is acceptable to the society around me - though it looks much different than designer dresses and david yurman bracelets this time around.
In Hawaii, there’s a deep sense of pride over the land and local culture —stolen by colonization, and further gentrified—creating a racial divide that often categorizes anyone with proximity to white Haoles as something to be looked down upon.
Side Note: I've noticed many non-Hawaiian transplants adopting Hawaiian culture as a means of survival. White Californians with blonde-tipped hair, dressed in long board shorts featuring the native Hawaiian flag, wearing "Local Slippa” (a type of local flip flops that signals you live on the island), and adopting behaviors that mimic the Hawaiian spirit, as if they, too, are a people whose heritage has been robbed. It’s a perplexing sight.
While in college, I felt pressured to act as white as possible—to buy $400 sneakers and $5,000 bracelets— tickets for acceptance have now been traded for local slippers, $300 thong swimsuits, and gold heritage bracelets passed down through generations of Hawaiian women.
The pressure to fit in remains the same but now, the symbols of acceptance look different.
In many ways, I’ve developed a deep love and admiration for the glimpses I’ve seen of true Hawaiian life—the responsibility to the land, the connection to and care for the earth, and the values of family and loyalty. It’s something special, something beautiful.
As a Latina, it’s fascinating to see the deep similarities between Hawaiian and Mexican culture: family values, loyalty, generosity, and a fight to preserve their way of life. In a strange way, my heart feels a similar sense of home with the values of Hawaiian culture.
But no matter how much I admire it, I’ll never be Hawaiian.
Nor will I ever come from a long line of wealthy white women.
As a had once wished before ( LOL I laugh at this now)
And honestly, instead of trying to blend in or “cosplay” as someone I’m not, I’d be doing both cultures a disservice by pretending to be “one of them.”
I can never be Hawaiian.
I can never be part of a generational legacy of wealthy white women.
All I can be is the person that God created me to be.
Which—though it would be cool to be Hawaiian or have generations of wealth backing me—feels far better. When I look back at those days when I desperately craved the acceptance of rich white culture, and now, when I crave Hawaiian acceptance, I realize that God didn’t create me like either of those worlds. And that’s okay.
This acceptance doesn’t diminish my admiration for Hawaiian culture, nor does it allow me to be disrespectful toward the land or cultural norms. In fact, it only deepens my appreciation.
Coming to terms with what we aren’t is the only way to truly come to terms with who we are. We are God’s children—diverse, yet whole—and each of us a unique representation of God’s kingdom.
So, I’ve decided I no longer need to act more white or more Hawaiian. I just need to show up as myself and let that be enough.
We will never live into the unique identity God created for us if we are so busy worrying about fitting in.
Rooting for you my dear friend <3