“I’m not Hawaiian?” I bemoaned as a child. Born and raised in Hawai‘i, dancing hula since preschool, I yearned to be part of the culture whose stories captured my heart. To my dismay, my multiethnic background didn’t include Hawaiian. Being a non-Hawaiian hula dancer, I felt as though I was storytelling through a third person’s point of view, always an arm’s length away.

More questions emerged entangling my mind. Why did I want to be Hawaiian? What is my role as a non-Hawaiian in Hawai‘i? As a public school educator who taught Hawaiian history for a decade, I grappled with imposter syndrome. This internal dissonance magnified when I became a mother of three part-Hawaiian keiki. As a family, we immerse our keiki in experiences and educational opportunities, such as attending Hawaiian language schools, dancing hula, playing ukulele, hiking, fishing and learning their mo‘oku‘uauhau. We emphasize the kuleana and privilege to share their culture. We hope they see, think and understand in ways reminiscent of their ancestors. Cultures live on because people continue to carry forward their knowledge, language and values.

If Hawaiians are to be knowledge keepers, I postulated my role to be a knowledge seeker. Engaging with ‘ike Hawai‘i, I respect, observe and listen; I appreciate Hawaiian culture, support its longevity, and don’t create barriers that restrain Hawaiian progress. The knot, my kuleana as a non-Hawaiian, begins to untangle. Or does it? To be a keeper of knowledge, one must first be a seeker of knowledge.

The tension tightens. A feeling of missing out, sentiments of unworthiness, and chasing after the unattainable. I wanted acceptance, a sense of being Hawaiian enough. The longing for belonging clouding my ability to see kumu and Hawaiian practitioners’ inclusive aloha. Had my insecurities fueled a sense of estrangement that didn’t exist? In my distress, had I gotten it all twisted? Loosen, release. I can never become Hawaiian. I can develop a kinship with Hawaiian culture. Seeking and keeping Hawaiian cultural knowledge is our shared responsibility.

Whether we were born here, brought here, or just got here, we all have an opportunity to develop an intimate relationship with the Hawaiian culture because Hawai‘i is our home. The time and effort dedicated to nurturing this relationship is up to us. It can be a passive acquaintance or a passionate romance. Either way it’s an interdependent connection. Much like the mountains shaped by its winds and the winds whose patterns are shaped by the mountains, we shape and are shaped by our commitment. A‘o aku, a‘o mai.

Unable to choose our ethnicity and birthplace, we can choose how we invest our time. We can choose to deepen our understanding and strengthen our ties. As an educator in Hawai‘i, I actively pursue and support Hawaiian-based professional development and education. Educators grounded in cultural responsibility connect to what is around them, who came before them, and who is in front of them. They create empowering opportunities where haumana expand their unique perspectives to include ‘ike Hawai‘i. Culturally responsive education is how we create communities where Hawaiian cultural living is the norm and not the exception.

Hawai‘i needs lawyers, land managers, lawmakers, authors, filmmakers, doctors, scientists and engineers who will make decisions rooted in an indigenous Hawaiian framework. Hawai‘i needs her people to navigate today’s world from a connective perspective honoring what existed before us, intertwining Hawaiian tradition and innovation.

There are knots yet to unravel. What systems, if any, lead me to believe there was a distinction between Hawaiians and non-Hawaiians? Where did the dichotomous exclusivity come from? But for that, more light and time is needed.

Denise Karratti teaches at Chiefess Kamakahelei Middle School, after a decade as an elementary school teacher.