Whatever you do, don’t embarrass me in front of my family,” my husband implored before we left on a trip to Okinawa, his birthplace, on New Year’s Day.

I am not the typical dainty Japanese girl. I have a really loud voice (even when I’m trying to whisper) and do not adhere to submissive Asian customs.

Although I am half Japanese, I was raised in a lively multiethnic home with my grandparents, parents, aunties, uncles and cousins — very much Hawaiian style. Growing up, we were rambunctious and thrived on being the center of attention — not very Japanese style.

That’s what worried him.

It was the first visit to Okinawa for me and my two equally exuberant kids and we were traveling with my mother-in-law to visit her family.

I was to try to “act Japanese” while in Japan, not cause a scene or do anything to bring shame to the family. I had to repress my intrusive, in-your-face personality that can sometimes make people uncomfortable. Basically, I was instructed not to be myself.

When we arrived on Okinawa, there was a strange familiarity, even though we were more than 4,600 miles away from home. We could’ve easily mistaken it for another Hawaiian island, aside from the vending machines on every corner, tiny box-shaped cars and billboards in foreign script — a clear sign that we were in a faraway land.

My husband repeatedly reminded us to be on our best behavior as we prepared to visit his nearly 100-year-old obaachan (grandmother) and large extended family that he hadn’t seen in 15 years.

When we got to the family home, I proceeded with the traditional Hawaiian greeting, awkwardly embracing an uncle who stood stiff and stunned as I went in for a big bear hug (apparently, hugging is not big there).

Later at a formal welcoming banquet, we met more family members who waved politely and quietly shook hands. There were lots of smiles, awkward silences and little communication unless my mother-in-law was interpreting.

But a few drinks into dinner, my husband’s uncle, an Orion beer executive, stood up and started dancing to the viral internet video song “Pineapple Pen” that apparently had made its way into Okinawan pop culture. That ignited raucous laughter and a night of reveling. I fit right in!

By the end of the trip, there were lots of tears — and hugs — and a realization that there was nothing to worry about after all. Though we were from different backgrounds, I felt right at home. I was free to be myself — loud mouth and all.

“She Speaks” is a weekly column by the women writers of the Honolulu Star-Advertiser. Reach Kristen Consillio at kconsillio@staradvertiser.com.