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Bibliography: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haunani-Kay_Trask
Trask, Haunani-Kay. From a Native Daughter: Colonialism and Sovereignty in Hawai’i. Hawaii: University of Hawai’i Press, 1999.
Protesting the distinct difference between being Hawaiian and being American, Haunani-Kay Trask emphatically promotes the rights of all Native Hawaiians in this piece of literature. The culture and history of Hawaii is explored as the involvement and intrusion by the United States is abhorred. In addition, the more recent Hawaiian movements are discussed, specifically student involvement at the University of Hawai’i and a variety of other political tactics to bring power back to the Native Hawaiians. In no uncertain terms, Trask lays out all of the civil liberties and privileges she believes indigenous people should possess, providing a framework for her Hawaiian-flavored desire for empowerment.
Trask, Haunani-Kay. Ku’e: Thirty Years of Land Struggle in Hawaii. Hawaii: Mutual Publishing Company, 2004.
Concerned with issues of the Hawaiian Sovereignty Movement since 1971 and other protest efforts, Haunani-Kay Trask’s most recent book is colored by the photographic styling of Ed Geevy. For the vast majority of tourists who visit the Hawaiian Islands every year, the ideas presented in Trask’s latest work would go largely unnoticed. The Hawaiian Sovereignty Movement supports the notion that the free Kingdom of Hawaii was unfairly converted into a territory of the United States and should have freedom restored to it immediately. Thereby, Hawaiians would cease to have either rights or responsibilities to or from the U.S. and would be able to regain the rich culture they have lost since colonization.
Trask, Haunani-Kay. Light in the Crevice Never Seen. Oregon: Calyx Books, 1999.
Through the rich, scent-laden descriptions of Haunani-Kay Trask, the beautiful scenes of Hawaii come to life. With volcanoes, clear blue ocean water, and multi-colored wildlife, Hawaii is a land full of remarkably stunning scenery; but the question remains, “For whom is it picturesque?” The breath-taking landscape of the Polynesian islands has two sides to it: the white, sandy beaches lining the tourist hotels on one part, and the rundown shacks where many of the Native Hawaiians reside on another. To drive home the authenticity of Trask’s work, she uses Hawaiian and English in her poems. All the while, she fiercely upholds that the loveliness and exquisite qualities of the Hawaiian terrain are not to be exploited under any circumstances—very similar to the way that the Hawaiian people should remain undisturbed, according to Haunani-Kay Trask’s logic.
Trask, Haunani-Kay. Night is a Sharkskin Drum. Hawaii: University of Hawai’i Press, 2002.
Divided into three sections, Night is a Sharkskin Drum reeks of Haunani-Kay Trask’s activist participation. In the first section, the notion of Hawaii as a female goddess is presented, especially in the context of maintaining female strength and a sense of endurance. The second section is full of negative declarations against the American tyrants who repeatedly participated in the corruption of the virgin Hawaiian Islands. Lastly, Trask expresses her love for the splendor and loveliness she finds in the land she calls her own. It is this combination of feminine virtue, American indecency, and motherland affection that comprises this book of poetry.
Often described as “volcanic” herself, Haunani-Kay Trask’s poetry echoes this sentiment in Light in the Crevice Never Seen. A complicated entanglement of virtuous and corrupted qualities, Hawai’i is portrayed as the virgin bride of loveliness, as well as being seen, ironically, as the earth-centered, dark and corrupted native. In reality, Hawai’i is similar to a woman, possessing all qualities of unspoiled maidenliness alongside alluring seductiveness. It is this fact that allows Hawai’i to assume the role of a captured and violently raped entity, victim to the United State’s desire to command and rule the world. These lovely islands have not yet forcefully and successfully closed their legs, thereby warding off perpetrators intent on sensuous spoils and extreme satisfaction.
Donned in yards of white, untainted silk, Hawai’i’s miles of tan, sandy beaches, clear blue-green waters, brilliantly-hued wildlife, and moonlit-illuminated rocky terrain provide allurement for any prospective lover. In “Moon Over Mānana,” Haunani-Kay Trask outlines some features in her words, “Water, golden water…star water…glittering to shore/secluded dreams…winter silk/under the palm/seductive spring...” (71). Everything about Hawai’i speaks of beauty and innocent longing. Upon visiting its shores, one can almost hear the sweet call of a young woman, skipping along, peals of laughter rippling through the air. Furthermore, it is necessary for Hawai’i to maintain an image of priceless chastity for the tourists, even while they invade and plunder, flushing their waste into the lifeblood of Hawaiians. Literally, this concept rings true, as is stated in “Waikīkī:” “all those 5 gallon/toilets flushing/away tourist waste/into our waters…8 billion dollar/beach secret/rendezvous for/pimps…condo units/of disease/drug traffic/child porn/AIDS herpes…the sex life/of savages/the onslaught of barbarians” (61-62). Here, the concept that Hawai’i is originally pure and uncorrupted is implied. If not for this youthful, unadulterated vitality, the notion of invasion would not be so aptly abhorred.
The solitude and independence to be found in singleness is not ignored by Haunani-Kay Trask’s depiction of Hawai’i either. Calling all liberated women, “Nā Wāhine Noa” encourages them to “rise up, women gods./Have Hina as your goddess/virgin, volcanic/unto herself./Without masters, marriages/lying parasite men./Unto her self:/a wise eroticism” (52). This idea slightly modifies that of the completely moral, in suggesting that Hawai’i does not need a man to fulfill her dreams and desires. Taking that concept to another degree, retaliation for loss of virtue is introduced. In this, the woman is still considered to be upright, while she also maintains a sense of strength, individuality, rage. Through “Long-Term Strategies,” Trask reveals this revolutionized woman, writing, “We can’t rape men/put anything in them/against their will/pull down their secrets/chilled by fear, or force…we can’t stalk or take…but in Pele’s hills/beneath a bloody moon/young women dancers/learn castration/as an art” (57).
In Hawai’i, life is transformed from black and white to color, as though one has just looked through the lens of an expensive camera for the first time; she is as unexpectedly exquisite as a woman in a red dress who stands out amid gray-clad patrons—now, the white dress of old has been exchanged for a crimson one. Just like any feminine species, Hawai’i has the ability to be distracting. This lends to a negative pallor; thus, now she is the prostitute, not the virgin bride. Trask echoes this idea in “Colonization” as she inscribes, “Hawaiian at heart:/a whole people/accustomed/to prostitution/selling identity/for nickels/and dimes/in the whorehouses/of tourism” (65). Here, she has sold herself short in the red-light district of tourism. The possibility for destructiveness which lies within the realm and power of a woman also characterizes Hawai’i, as shown by the high suicide rate of its young male population. “Refusal” speaks of this horror:
Why our men beautiful/and strong on their running/feet, sun in their earth-dark eyes/why these lean soft-lined men/go carelessly down/to nothingness…I can’t believe/sons and lovers/shot, hanged, knifed/beaten, drowned…I can’t believe/a nation of men, a whole nation/of Hawaiian men, lean, handsome, and dead (26-28).
Here, the wayward woman is unable to take care of her own, losing her offspring, just as soft sand slips through her fingertips.
The distortion of this enticing nation is fully attributed to that which caused its demise: the invaders, the murderers, the foreigners. Bringing disease and inevitable death, the missionaries and others were only able to see “black and red/naked genitals…blackness sin…dark skin dark hearts” in stark contrast to the “eternal/afterlife white/civilization…God’s justice white/death white cold” that they offered (43-44). In “Missionary,” the native Hawaiian is seen as a red-blooded devil and evil spirit, while the white person assumes a sense of “untainted” power and sovereignty. In fiery reaction to this notion of white supremacy, Trask pens “Racist White Woman,” which speaks to the deep emotions that dominate the hearts of women everywhere. The promise of everlasting hatred: “I could kick/your face, puncture/both eyes./You deserve this kind/of violence…a knife/slitting your tight/little heart/for all my people/under your feet/for all those years/lived smug and wealthy/off our land/parasite arrogant” (67). Having been victim to the blamelessness which society irrevocably requires of all women, having developed a sense of self-empowerment, having devised a means of enticement, and, finally, having aroused the feeling of extreme detestation for her captors, Hawaii has come full circle as a female. The fiftieth state to join the United States, this beautiful woman stands alone—isolated by virtue and vice, sustained by potency and determination.
Bibliography:
Trask, Haunani-Kay. Light in the Crevice Never Seen. Oregon: Calyx Books, 1999.