I have been holding space with the Kia‘i ke Kahaukani since the Bachman sit-in began. I am neither student nor Kanaka, nor have I been able to spend the night (my kids have refused the exciting opportunity to camp at a university, go figure). So, while I have been supportive and present, I still come at this from the outside.

When at the end of the first day of classes, I heard that students were occupying space, I was expecting something loud and dramatic and ultimately unsustainable. Instead, I found a handful of students and a community member sitting on the floor discussing obligations, commitments, and kuleana. They wanted to hold ‘Aha three times a day in line with the Mauna. They could not just go home and be students as usual in this place while their kūpuna and ‘āina were being threatened.

What is a sit-in?

Generally speaking, a sit-in is a form of direct action protest in which one or more people occupy a space and refuse to move until their demands are met. The most well-known sit-ins were as controversial (at the time, later to be whitewashed as unequivocal successes) as they were disruptive. The current occupation of Bachman Hall by student kia‘i is, at face value, “tame.” All the administrators who work in Bachman Hall are physically able to go about their business as usual. And though as a group they will not leave until CEO Lassner ends his support for TMT, individual kia‘i are able to come and go as they need to. These are students and they are still going to class and keeping up with their studies.

At the heart, however, this is much more than a sit-in or a protest. Just like the beautiful community that has sprung up on the Mauna, at Bachman Hall you will find a home away from home, a place where kia‘i can meet and learn and support one another, whether they are undergraduates, graduates, faculty, staff, community members, or children.

Mālama

In the early days of the sit-in, it wasn’t clear exactly what would be needed. One of the first decisions I remember about the space was that it must be kept clean. Next day there were cleaning supplies and receptacles outside for trash and recycling. The care they have for each other, the space they occupy, and the land is evident to anyone open enough to see it. From maintaining the bamboo structures representing the kūpuna who were arrested, to sweeping the floors on move out days, to taking out the trash and recycling, they have been living by a higher code of conduct than I ever did as a student.

Kapu Aloha

Every kia‘i at Bachman Hall is committed to Kapu Aloha. Any act of disrespect would be a betrayal of their cause, their kūpuna, and their heritage. This commitment is why it hurts me personally to see them treated as problems or obstacles.

Messages we have received:

1.) this is a place of business
2.) this is not a hotel
3.) this is hard on employees at Bachman
4.) we are making people feel uncomfortable
5.) we are making people feel unsafe
6.) our access to facilities after hours is a breech of security
7.) people have jobs to do.

These messages tell me that the administration still does not have any understanding of what is going on. Despite our willingness to explain, despite the countless opportunities they have had to learn from us and from UH protector faculty who have run colloquiua and given talks and sat on panels answering questions about Maunakea.

To these points I say:

1.) this is a place of learning run by business people who are complicit in attacks on Hawaiian culture
2.) this is not a hotel; this is an occupation
3.) this should be hard on anyone not working to dismantle TMT, but
4.) we are doing nothing to make anyone uncomfortable other than making our presence and beliefs known
5.) this space is safe for all people, there are explicit rules of conduct posted, and all Kia‘i leaders repeatedly reaffirm the call for Kapu Aloha; we are restricted from treating people disrespectfully
6.) we are affiliated with the university; they know who we are; we are not a threat
7.) we all have jobs we should be doing, but we can’t because our future is at stake.

Kuleana

I do not want to attempt to characterize what is happening on Maunakea or to say how it feels to be Kanaka in this time. I can say that even as an outsider, I felt the need to visit the Mauna, to offer support, and to bear witness. It was hard to come back to O‘ahu. It was even harder to prepare for the first day of class. Why why why are we here, how can I go about business as usual? How can I work for this university while they strategize how to silence and remove dissenting voices. How can I work for a university that lets its own students, faculty, and the community it serves be insulted and smeared in public statements. I prepared for class, and I gave my first lectures, but every part of me knew it was wrong, what I was part of was wrong. At 4pm I got an email that students were at Bachman, I immediately finished up what I was doing and came down. What a relief.

What UH has repeatedly failed to understand, what the administrators tasked with dealing with us have failed to recognize, is that being on this campus, being affiliated with this university, and being powerless, is an impossible burden. What is expected of us, to respect this place of business, to hide away from those who do not appreciate us, to continue to pay tuition to, and/or be employed by, this university is an impossible burden.

The students here said ‘a‘ole to business as usual. They refused to leave. UH likes to say they gave us permission to be here, what they mean is that they did not call the police. We did not ask their permission, and their blessing is not something we are after. Despite the heavy burden carried by Kanaka students and their allies, we have accommodated the Bachman employee’s needs to go to work and continue to feed their families. Even though we know that they work for those who would have us gone, we smile and say aloha, and offer food. In the early days there was always more food than people and they were offering food to everyone regardless of why they were in the building. We have not created blockades, we have not been aggressive. We have not put the burden of UH’s crimes on any individual, save Lassner himself (who actually smiles at us and says hi). We have been in Kapu Aloha.

The official statement we have on a whiteboard says that “We, the kia‘i, are maintaining a presence at Bachman to physically remind the university of its kuleana to its students. We will remain until D. Lassner announces that the university no longer supports the TMT.” Since this sign was put on display, there have been many instances of racism that Lassner was made aware of but has not properly addressed or dealt with. This is a further burden to us. We sit here holding space in a building of people who do not see us, who do not want to know us, who are helping the university function so that it may carry on with its settler oppression.

And now they ask us to compromise. We have already given too much. Look at sit-ins throughout history, and come learn pule with us and tell me that we are not already giving everything.

They do not want compromise; they have given us nothing but the absence of violence. They want obedience, they want control, they want business as usual. We are here to say ‘a‘ole.

Resources

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Join us for ʻAha daily at 8am, 12pm, 5:30pm. Sundays at 4pm learn hula, mele, oli, and pule used in protocol for Mauna a Wākea with Kumu Hula Snowbird Bento at Wise Field.

Online resource for learning protocol at Puʻuhonua o Puʻuhuluhulu.