Hula as Resistance

An Interview with Vicky Holt Takamine, Executive Director of the PAʻI Foundation

BY EMMALY WIEDERHOLT

Vicky Holt Takamine is the kumu hula, or master hula teacher, of Pua Aliʻi ʻIlima, and the executive director of PAʻI Foundation, which serves to preserve and perpetuate native Hawaiian arts and cultural traditions for future generations. She reflects on how hula has expanded outside of Hawaiʻi, how hula has evolved, and how her hula practice and native Hawaiian activism go hand in hand.

Note: This interview was first published in Stance on Dance’s fall/winter 2024 print issue. To learn more, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.

Several dancers extend an arm in unison while dancing in long purple dresses outside the Iolani Palace.

Pua Aliʻi ʻIlima performs in front of the Iolani Palace, Photo courtesy Vicky Holt Takamine

~~

What was the impetus for founding PAʻI Foundation?

I had been dancing hula for my kumu, Maiki Aiu Lake, since I was 12 and my sister was 10. We both had our ʻūniki graduation ritual in 1975. Two years later in 1977 I started my own hālau (or school), Pua Aliʻi ʻIlima. We participated in several hula festivals: Prince Lot Hula Festival, Merrie Monarch Festival, King Kamehameha Hula Competition.

In 1997, the state legislature introduced a bill that would restrict native Hawaiian gathering rights, which meant that all native Hawaiian practitioners would have to go the Hawaiʻi Department of Land and Natural Resources, have a list of all the ferns, flowers, fish, shells, etc. they gathered for cultural practices, and have a clear preponderance of evidence that their great-great-grandparents had practiced gathering those materials prior to 1893. I went to the state legislature and testified against the bill because it would restrict our cultural practices. I wanted to understand who was introducing these bills. It ended up being large developers who wanted a clear title to their land. All land in Hawaiʻi is subject to the rights of native Hawaiians to exercise their traditional customary practices. Hula is part of that. Some of our ʻūniki graduation rituals require the presence of natural materials from our forests and oceans. If that’s not present, how do we comply with the requirements of our traditional customary practices? I organized a large gathering of kumu hula and cultural practitioners, and we literally shut down the capitol building by chanting for 24 hours so they couldn’t answer phones or have a vote. After 20 years of being a kumu, I became labeled as a native Hawaiian activist in the news. I was okay with that. I became an advocate for the protection of our native Hawaiian resources and our sacred sites.

Around that same time, the state convention center was built. The state legislature commissioned almost two million dollars’ worth of artwork from people who were not Hawaiian. Not one penny went to a native Hawaiian artist. They said, “Oh, we have some artifacts from the Bishop Museum.” I responded, “So no contemporary native Hawaiian artist was commissioned from two million of my tax dollars?” I concluded that the state didn’t support native Hawaiian artists, so I lobbied the state legislature for two years and petitioned them to help me create an Office of Native Hawaiian Arts and Culture. I got turned down, so I decided to start a nonprofit to fill that void. That was the impetus behind PAʻI Foundation.

Several dancers are in a row in front of the Iolani Palace. They are wearing white tops and purple skirts and extend one arm in front of them.

Pua Aliʻi ʻIlima performs in front of the Iolani Palace, Photo courtesy Vicky Holt Takamine

PAʻI Foundation is a large organization with many facets. Are there some parts of its programming you’d like to share more about?

When we started in 2001, one of the first things we did was partner with the Bishop Museum – which houses one of the largest collections of archival documents and artifacts pertaining to the history and culture of our people from hundreds of years – to create a Native Hawaiian Arts Festival – MAMo. As part of that event we held a marketplace and art exhibit in the Bishop Museum. It got me thinking: Art is not just what we frame and put on a wall, it’s what we wear, our tattoos, our lei-making, our costuming. I wanted to celebrate that facet, so we started the MAMo Wearable Art Show. We wear our art. Part of the wearable art show evolved from traditional to contemporary fashion design. That started in 2006.

Last year we did our first Māhū Madness where we celebrated our LGBTQ+ community by doing a drag show. Many of my friends in the hula business are māhū, but they don’t get a chance to be māhū in the way they want to be represented. We provided the same venue as our fashion show with the best lighting, sound, technology, and staging. It was an elegant affair for the māhū community, and we sold out.

Four dancers wearing yellow dresses weave in each other in a line on stage with angular arms and with drummers behind them.

MAMo Wearable Art show, Photo courtesy Mahina Choy-Ellis

Now I want to change gears to discuss hula. How has appreciation and access to hula changed since you started practicing hula in the 1960s?

Hula has grown and expanded outside of Hawaiʻi. We have hula practitioners all over the world. I see it as an opportunity to educate people about Hawaiian culture, caring for our land, our natural resources, and our sacred sites. I’m fine with hula being practiced beyond Hawaiʻi as long as they provide a platform for us to share. Hula as a hobby is one thing, but for me, hula is resistance. It’s been one of the key cultural practices that has helped us retain our language, our traditional practices, our history, and our genealogy, because it’s all buried in the chants that were composed a long time ago. Hula has been responsible for reclaiming lost traditions. We can dig into our Hawaiian history and pull out the stories to share with the next generation.

Hula is an Indigenous dance form. Do you see it as a good thing that more and more people without Hawaiian heritage are practicing and learning hula, or is something lost when non-Indigenous people have access to an Indigenous form?

I hope they become advocates for the protection of the things I’m passionate about. If you’re taking hula in Albuquerque, or Norway, or Japan, when it comes to the rights of native Hawaiians to exercise our traditional customary practices, I hope you become an advocate in your own community and become part of that mission.

I don’t really teach outside of Hawaiʻi because my fight is here as an activist. The people I teach here are going to be on the front lines with me. Those on the fringes can better educate about our community and why that fight is so important to native Hawaiians. I’m fine with other people doing hula, but I want them to understand they have a responsibility to the native people to be an advocate and a protector.

Several dancers wearing yellow dresses and garlands around their heads and wrists perform in unison with one arm extended in a big stadium stage.

Pua Aliʻi ʻIlima, Photo courtesy The Merrie Monarch Festival, Photo by Cody Yamaguchi

I understand that there are two types of hula: hula kahiko (ancient hula) and hula ‘auana (hula that evolved from hula kahiko in response to Western influences in the 1800s). I’m curious if you can share more about these distinctions. Do these two categories ever overlap or blur?

I’ve been a judge for Merrie Monarch for many years. Hula kahiko and hula ‘auana are the two main categories. Very simply, hula kahiko is ancient style, not ancient, accompanied by chanting and traditional percussion instruments. You can write hula kahiko today. It’s not going to be ancient, but the style in which you chant and perform is going to be using traditional percussion instruments.

In the 1820s, when the missionaries arrived in Hawaiʻi, they introduced hymns. In really ancient kahiko style, the poetry was written line 1 to line 45, for example, and the dance went from one line to the next, all the way down. When the missionaries introduced hymns, they were written in verse form with two-line or four-line couplets. Hawaiians started to write and compose in that style while still using original percussion instruments. That was the transition from kahiko to ‘auana. Now there were two-line couplets with a melody, as opposed to the ancient style that is pretty much monotone with some ups and downs. Amy Stillman, a musicology professor, calls it hula ku’i style, which is the bridge between ancient and modern.

And then there’s ‘auana music with the introduction of stringed instruments: guitar, ukelele, piano, bass, and singing. The musical accompaniment changes, and naturally the delivery of the movement is different. Whether it’s fast or slow, hula ‘auana is accompanied by stringed and sometimes percussion instruments.

Several dancers perform in unison on a stage bringing two sticks together and extending one foot. They are wearing green grassy skirts and green shirts with flowers in their hair and around the necks.

Pua Aliʻi ʻIlima, Photo courtesy The Merrie Monarch Festival, Photo by Cody Yamaguchi

Do you see hula continuing to evolve?

The further you move away from Hawaiʻi, the more it evolves. Kumus like Patrick Makuakāne and Mark Keali’i Ho’omalu in California are influenced by the cultures they are in. They have no problem choreographing hula to Western music. For me, that’s not hula. It has to be Hawaiian language or English about Hawaiʻi. I see it as contemporary dance, not hula. Mark Keali’i Ho’omalu takes Hawaiian words and puts it to a hip hop beat. That has been controversial. When you move away, you’re influenced by the music that surrounds you. Here in Hawaiʻi, I hear Hawaiian music all day. I smell the flowers and see the sunset. All those things influence my movement in my hula. But if I moved away, I would not be in touch with that in the same way, and that would impact my hula.

As a native Hawaiian activist, what are you currently advocating or fighting for?

Over the years we’ve been working on intellectual property rights and the rights of native Hawaiians. Recently, a flower company named their company ʻOkina, which is the glottal stop in the Hawaiian language, and they trademarked it. Another place that created a problem was Aloha Poke, which was sending out cease and desist letters against using the words “aloha” and “poke.” It was a Chicago-based company. Infringements on our cultural practices and our languages are inappropriate. I’m head of a task force that will be taking on these challenges and looking to the state legislature to help instill practices and policies to help protect our language. But these are all federal copyright and trademark laws. When you infringe on my right to practice my language and my culture, that’s a problem. That should be something the United States takes on, so I’m looking at taking this fight to Congress.

Several dancers in unison and in rows look to the side and bring their arms into their chests. They are wearing yellow and garlands around their heads, necks, and wrists.

Pua Aliʻi ʻIlima, Photo courtesy The Merrie Monarch Festival, Photo by Bruce Omori

~~

To learn more about PAʻI Foundation, visit www.paifoundation.org.

Leave a Reply

Basic HTML is allowed. Your email address will not be published.

Subscribe to this comment feed via RSS