Hopes and realities in Honolulu, Hawaiʻi
Sam Howell Petersen (they/them)
Hometown: Park City, UT
Major: Theater and Performance Studies, '24
Internship: Hawaiʻi Department of Land and Natural Resources, Division of Aquatic Resources
Sam Howell Petersen reflects on their experiences of learning and community in Honolulu, Hawaiʻi
I started my internship at the Hawaiʻi Division of Aquatic Resources with a flimsy amount of experience in content creation, and pretty much zero knowledge of marine life aside from tidbits learned via my singular marine biology friend (thank you, Maya). Even after nearly eight weeks in Honolulu, I still sometimes feel like I’m undercover. When I tell people that I majored in theater, they’re surprised—nothing about my work here indicates the existence of that part of myself, which has been central to my life up until this point.
I chose to take this position in Hawaiʻi in large part because of my interest in the Hawaiian sovereignty movement, which is highly ironic given that I’m working for the state government. I wanted to learn more about Hawaiian language and cultural practices, and how colonization by the United States has impacted these islands.
Beyond dipping my toes into the work of Haunani-Kay Trask, a totally awesome Native Hawaiian activist, educator, author, and poet, I didn’t do much in the way of preparation. Once I arrived, though, I didn’t have to look far to learn more. I was able to attend the 31st Annual Hawaiʻi Conservation Conference, and nearly every talk I attended was delivered by a Native conservationist or scientist. Each one spoke of conservation in the context of restoring land that had been tarnished by the legacy of colonialism. The thread of land protection and conservation runs deeply through Hawaiian activism. Hawaiian identity and ʻāina, or land, are inextricably entwined.
My favorite project this summer has also allowed me to tap into a wealth of knowledge, helping me understand more about the ties between Hawaiian land and identity. The “ʻIke Kaiāulu,” or Community Knowledge, video series documents interviews with important community members who share knowledge related to conservation, restoration, or traditional craftsmanship. In spending hours editing these videos down into bite-sized reels, and even having the opportunity to participate in one of the interviews, I became intimately familiar with the ideas these folks sought to impart. They highlight the importance of community, knowledge-sharing across generations, and maintenance of traditional methods of land stewardship and fishing that are still thriving today.
My other hope in coming to Hawaiʻi was to learn some of the language. Although I fell off my 10-year-old broadcasted-on-tv-and-posted-to-YouTube lessons quite early in an attempt to combat my work-induced screentime headaches, I was still able to learn a few phrases (which, of course, I’ve been too embarrassed to try out). Many people in Hawaiʻi don’t actually speak Hawaiian language, or ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, but instead speak Hawaiian pidgin—another result of colonialism on the islands.
Even through work, though, I’ve been able to pick up some words I probably wouldn’t have learned in another context—limu: seaweed, loko i’a: fishpond, lo’i: wetland, where kalo (taro) is cultivated. I also learned that the little apostrophe used in Hawaiian language, or ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, is called an ʻokina, and the fat part always goes at the bottom.
