Single Story: The Surfer Life

Growing up, my perception of Hawaiians and Hawaii (for the most part) was based solely on the movies that I had seen. My insight into the people and their culture was entirely founded on those interactions. To name a few of them off the top of my head: Lilo and Stitch, Johnny Tsunami, and Rip Girls. In many of these cases, the characters in these movies are incredibly similar. They're young kids riding the waves and hanging out on the beach all day. In one of them, Johnny Tsunami, I distinctly remember a grandfather character who seemed to either be surfing or sitting around the beach all day doing hardly anything at all. I think he was meant to be a wise mentor character, but he was a lot like the younger characters: he found his freedom and purpose from riding the waves. Ultimately, it created this idea in my mind that nearly everyone in Hawaii is a surfing beach bum—and they usually have some sort of accent.

Then there’s the “Hawaiian shirt” (I don’t know what else to call it)—the kind with the bright colors and giant flowers. Lilo from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch wears one with large palm leaves. That's the typical attire I think of when you say "Hawaiian"--that or a hula skirt.

Is it just me or is Disney the main culprit here?

Movies and shows set in Hawaii also only ever seem to portray two races: Hawaiian natives and white locals. In many cases, the movies will focus on only one of those groups—like the recent film ‘Aloha’ which has a nearly all-white cast.

Indeed, the media’s “single story” for Hawaii is essentially one in which there only white locals or natives who live on the beach surfing the waves. You might also occasionally see a military base, hearkening back to the other story that defines Hawaii: Pearl Harbor. But that’s essentially it--and that's been my image of Hawaii for the majority of my life.

So is any of it true? I think it’s safe to say that certain aspects of this “single story” are true. Hawaii is, of course, filled with many who love to take advantage of the beach. The grandfather in Johnny Tsunami probably isn’t so much of a bum as he is chill and spiritual—tapping into that aloha spirit. So, no—the story isn’t entirely inaccurate. But from what I can tell, it’s not really the FULL story. Hawaii is much more than just the beach and surfing. It’s a lot more than pineapples and “Hawaiian shirts” (which apparently nobody ever wears). Talking to my Hawaiian roommates (who are actually Hawaiian, not just “locals”), they find the stereotypes amusing although mildly annoying. Both of them said that there are plenty of people who have no idea how to surf and that there’s plenty to do beyond surfing like going to the movies or a skate park—things we see every day here on the mainland. One of them noted how America’s view of Hawaiian life and culture sometimes causes people to look at Hawaii as a “foreign” country, when it’s obviously one of the states. They said that in some extreme cases, people sometimes look at Hawaii as slightly under-developed because “everyone lives in a hut”—which, again, isn’t true. As for the media only showing two races in Hawaii, my roommates were quick to point out that there are many Asians living on the islands, but that they hardly ever show up in movies and shows set in Hawaii.

After speaking with them, I realized that I knew most of this stuff. Obviously there’s more to Hawaiians than just the beach, right? Obviously the people don’t live in huts. And yet, despite knowing that, whenever I think of Hawaii or Hawaiians, I think about the surfing and the luaus and the huts. As someone who’s had minimal interaction with Hawaiians, I confess that I’ve bought into the single story. Movies, above anything, push this single story which is partially true in showcasing an aspect of Hawaiian life and yet false by only focusing on a small part of a much larger picture. Most damaging is that this story skews our perception of Hawaii and its people. It's yet another way in which we judge an entire population, a way in which we simplify who they are.

I admit that when I first met my roommates, I looked for evidences of their surfer lives. For the record: I’ve still found nothing.