Returning Home from the Hawaiian Diaspora Featuring Kiliona Palauni
- Cris Romento
- Jan 16
- 14 min read
Updated: Jan 17
Welcome to our Returning Home series, where we feature a Diasporic Hawaiian who has moved back home. In each story, we explore their upbringing, struggles, and insights they’ve gained on their unique path to reconnection.
Images and Interview by Cris Romento, director of Dear Aloha
Kiliona Palauni is a Kanaka activist and educator who returned to Hawaiʻi 11 years ago. Through his popular Instagram account, @kilionapalauni, he has become a powerful voice in contemporary conversations about what it means to be a Pacific Islander in today’s world—sharing personal reflections and historical insights about our history. In this interview, Palauni opens up about the hardships of his early life in remote Utah, his decision to raise his daughter in Hawaiʻi, and the tremendous obstacles he’s overcome to build a life rooted in both activism and ʻohana.
Let’s start at the beginning. Where did you grow up, and what was life like for you? Who was your community?
I was born during a terrible blizzard in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains in a small town called Downey, Idaho. The first ten years of my life were spent in Blackfoot, Idaho while my mother attended pharmacy school in Pocatello. My dad was working multiple jobs to make ends meet. Our home was on the town line with the Fort Hall Indian Reservation, so fortunately we were not the only brown people. Growing up around the rez as a young kid was really confusing for me. A few of the Native kids in my class came from tribes that paid them every month, so I was always confused as to why some brown people got new Jordans when some of us didn't.
We had a rather carefree life as kids in Blackfoot; playing outside non-stop, oblivious to the financial struggles our parents were in or the racism that we faced just going to the store. The hardest part for me at that age was wanting to connect with my Hawaiian and Tongan culture, but never really getting to be immersed in it the way I longed to be. Our family put on luaus to make extra money, so that was our one way of preserving and learning our culture. In 1996, we moved to Twin Falls, Idaho. It was a big change and, at that time, I was old enough to understand racism and started to notice that people really treated me differently. People called me racial slurs for Black and Hispanic people. While in Twin Falls, we met just a few other Pasifika families, and that was really beautiful to have our small community. The parents taught us kids songs and dances from their islands. Sometimes we would put on luaus. This was a pivotal time for me, as it gave me a taste of what I was wanting culturally. It was nice to see we were not the only Polynesian family in town. When we were together, it was nice to finally feel comfortable in my own skin.
In 2000, we moved to Salt Lake City, Utah and that was a real wake-up call for our island diaspora. Moving there gave me the chance to see Polynesian people daily who looked like me. I loved feeling normal but hated the stigma that came with being Polynesian in SLC.
"We were known as thugs and gangsters with short tempers, so non-islanders tended to treat us with a level of wariness and fear."
It sucked to not be trusted due to the bad actions of a few of our people. Salt Lake City was interesting as it has a large Tongan, Samoan, and Hawaiian diaspora. This was the place that I first saw a Samoan news anchor (Big Buddha). It blew my mind to see a Poly on TV daily. Before then, I viewed our people as hard labor workers who built rock walls, did construction, or worked on the jetways of airports. During my time in the K-12 public education system I never saw or had an Islander teacher. Of all my teachers, I had one minority teacher who was Japanese. All the rest were white. Looking back, that lack of representation really affected me.
Did you grow up around Aloha? What does it mean to you?
I sure did! My father is "Mr. Aloha." Despite working three to four jobs around the clock, the man would still give his free time to friends and neighbors when they needed help. He showed me that selflessness is true aloha. My mom showed her aloha by caring for us non-stop and supporting our dreams. She made a life of giving back to those in need through her career path. I credit her for guiding me to do the same thing. Aloha to me is selflessness; it is giving without expecting things in return.
"Aloha is caring for yourself, those around you, nature, those who cannot defend themselves, and those that you will never meet. Aloha is leaving a space better than before you came into it. "
Did you grow up with Hawaiian culture?
My mother taught us all she could but she herself had limited knowledge as she was not raised fully in Hawaiʻi. Her family lived on Molokaʻi for a while and then moved to Utah and Idaho. My mom’s father didn't teach her or her siblings a lot about Hawaiian language or culture. I believe this was because as he was of the generation where Hawaiian language was discouraged to the point where he would be physically punished for speaking the language in school. He passed before I was born, and so it was never clear why our culture was only limitedly taught at home. My mom knew a bit of hula and stories, and that is what she gifted us with. My father is Tongan and Māori. He migrated to Utah when he was 12. He also taught us dance but never the language. I don't know for sure, but I feel he didn't teach us Tongan because he struggled to learn English when he was young. He was part of the first Tongan migration to SLC. He learned English in a broom closet as his teacher didn't know what to do with him, so she stuck him in the closet with Sesame Street on the TV. I feel, like many migrants, he didn't see the value in teaching the old language in the new land but I could be wrong.
One of my dad’s many jobs was with the airlines, so we were lucky that we got to fly home to Hawaiʻi a lot. There were times when we came every month. When in Hawaiʻi my mom would use the time she had by taking us to Bishop and ʻIolani Palace. We would also go to Molokaʻi to visit family. While there, I would learn about history and laʻau lapaʻau from my great uncle. It's not a lot, but looking back it was a lot more than a lot of my other Poly friends and family had. I am very grateful for that.
Is there anything that helped you feel rooted in the Diaspora?
Learning songs and dance from my parents mattered to me as a child. Finding those few other families around the towns we lived in was pivotal as well, as it gave me an Oceanic space in the middle of the continent. Listening to Hawaiian Music also helped me as it made me feel warm and safe.
Did you experience any kind of discrimination where you lived?
All the time! As a young boy in Blackfoot, I was called the N-word or a Spick a lot from kids to grown men. I was bullied in school and targeted at the local stores by clerks. Every time my sister and I went into the King's toy store, they would stop me before we exited to empty my pockets. I thought it was normal procedure until I went with a White friend and they only stopped me. In Twin Falls, the racism at school was so bad, my mom moved me to a small Catholic school. She thought it would be better, but it wasn't. While the first school's problem was the students, the Catholic schools' problem was the staff and parents. I went from being being beaten up for simply being brown, to having parents spread rumors that I was a 12 year-old drug dealer. I was blamed for a lot of school vandalism I did not do. I spent a lot of my recess time cleaning the school for infractions and crimes I did not commit. When I was around 11 or 12 years old, I made a friend at church, but his parents would not let him hang out with me due to my skin color. During high school in Salt Lake City, I had girls' parents tell me I could not date their daughters. Nowadays it's the subtle racism with backhanded compliments like, "You're pretty smart for a big lineman," or "Wow, you speak very eloquently. I was not expecting that."
How did this journey back home begin for you? Why did you decide to move back to Hawaiʻi? If there was a moment that inspired you to move back, tell us about it.
I have wanted to move back home since I can remember. I knew my parents could not at the time, but I dreamed of coming home my entire life. When I was in my early 20s, I started dating my (now) wife in LA. A few months into dating, she told me she was thinking of applying to UH Mānoa for grad school.
"I literally hung up on her, called my two jobs, and told them I quit. I sold all of my belongings, and told her to meet me on Oʻahu in a month."
With $600 to my name, I flew to Oʻahu and stayed at my auntie's for a few weeks. While job hunting, I found an insanely small studio apartment that we could rent near the university. I also wanted to go to school, as I longed for Oceanic knowledge. I felt this was my chance to make my dream come true: live in Hawaiʻi, go to school for Pacific Island Studies, and do it all with the woman I love. It was the perfect recipe. I realized as a boy that the timing would never be right. So I jumped on the first chance I had, and never looked back.
What were some of the challenges of moving back? Was there any hardship you faced after moving back home?
Ohh where to start! We both had dead-end jobs that underpaid us. We never had enough money. We spent the first few years struggling to pay rent, having just enough left to buy the cheapest groceries. We didn't have a car for a while, so we had to walk most places, as bus passes were out of our budget a lot of the months. Our apartment was so small you could legit hold hands from the bed to the toilet.
Things got a little easier after college. However, I can honestly say that in the 11 years since moving home, the last 2 have been the only ones that were not financially hard for us.
"Aside from money, the other part I also struggled with is coming to understand is, no matter what you do, some people will tell you you're not a “real Hawaiian” and treat you poorly because you were not raised on the islands."
That one hurts, and it's sad to see our own people use the colonial tactics instilled in them to continue to hold down their own people. It also triggered a strong sense of Imposter Syndrome, as I constantly questioned whether I was truly qualified to speak on or be a part of Hawaiian culture.
How are you able to survive living in Hawaiʻi?
Honestly, it has not been easy. The majority of the time I've lived here, I have had multiple sources of income. What kept me going was the fact that I have been able to immerse myself in the culture and language the way I only dreamed of as a child. For me, that makes it all worth it.
"Raising my daughter in culture and language is my greatest gift. But I have worked endlessly to make this possible."
Currently I teach full-time, lead private island tours, and do cultural consulting on the side. In the past, I juggled multiple jobs in a single day—working as a tour guide, driving for Lyft and Uber, teaching hula basics, and even serving as an extra in movies and shows. Unfortunately, unless you make a lot of money, Hawaiʻi is a hard place to survive. It requires a person to wear many hats. But it has all been worth it, as I now have the opportunity to learn about my culture and language— things that were taken from my family due to colonialism.
Would you do anything differently about how you moved home?
I mean, how I did it was reckless and rushed. There was zero planning and honestly, I had no money. I would like to say I would try to save more before I decided to come, but the truth is, I was broke. It would have taken me at least a year to have saved up a grand. At the end of the day, that grand really wouldn't have really done anything to change my situation. I don't think I would have changed anything. The struggle also made me realize how deeply I longed to be home and how far I'd go to stay here. Some things can't be taught—they must be lived.
There is a pervasive feeling Iʻve heard when talking with Hawaiians about not feeling “Hawaiian enough.” Is this something you relate to?
All the time! I said it before, but Imposter Syndrome is something that plagues me daily. No matter how much knowledge I gain, work I do on the land and people I help, I still don't feel “Hawaiian enough.” It's funny—many Kanaka tell me that they learn from me through my social media presence, but I still often feel like a fraud. I really don't know how to overcome this. What makes it harder is some Hawaiians raised in Hawaiʻi will tell me I'm not qualified to do what I do or that I am not a real Hawaiian because I was born and raised in the States.
All I can say to help other Hawaiians overcome this is to focus on uplifting everything Hawaiian in your lifetime, in whatever way you can. Use the Iroquois philosophy of the seven-generation rule: Is what you are doing now going to positively or negatively affect the next seven generations. If the answer is negative, then you need to be more pono and work to create a legacy that will positively benefit our people in all things Hawaiʻi.
How can we, as a Lāhui, empower people to move home?
This is a hard question, as each person has a different list of needs and wants when coming home. I think we can start by creating spaces for diasporic Hawaiians to learn about Hawaiʻi and what it takes to come home. This can be done both online and through workshops in communities with a large Hawaiian diaspora population. Obviously, this will require alot of effort and funding, as those of us passionate about bringing our people home will need to lead this initiative. I think we need to be very transparent that this move will be hard and take sacrifices. But it is doable, and for many of us, it's worth the effort. Personally, I believe the Lāhui on the islands must unite to advocate for more affordable housing, stronger restrictions on foreign investors, and limits on vacation homeowners.
What do you feel Hawaiians at home and Diasporic Hawaiians have in common?
A sense of loss. Growing up, I always envied those who had the privilege of growing up on the islands. I thought they all got to learn ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi, and they all got immersed in the land and culture. Since being home, I have learned that the majority of them have taken it for granted. In fact, what I notice is that those in the Diaspora tend to learn more of this. Their parents/elders overcompensate to give what little they can due to proximity of being away from the motherland.
"Hawaiian ʻike is something one has to seek. It is not something that falls into our laps just because we are raised in Hawaiʻi. We as a people have been robbed of these birth rights, and it is up to us to ensure they are valued, learned and passed down. This can be done in the motherland and in the diaspora."
What advice do you have for others in the Diaspora who are considering moving back?
You are just as Hawaiian as any Kanaka here in Hawaiʻi. First and foremost, mālama yourself as you are walking ʻāina of Hawaiʻi. If you want to come home, think long and hard of what your true intentions and desires for this move are. If it's just to be in “paradise,” then you may not be ready yet. In my opinion, the Kānaka that want to come home should be those that are hungry to reconnect with the ʻāina, kānaka and ʻŌlelo. These are people that want to keep Hawaiʻi and its unique culture for the future generations of Hawaiians. Intentions are everything: Are you going to positively contribute to the betterment of Hawaiʻi and Hawaiian ways? Or take from it, and change it as the settlers do? Hawaiʻi needs you to come home, but please make sure you are coming for the right reasons.
Do you have any books, films that inspired your journey, or even quotes –that helped you deepen into your reconnecting?
I watched all that I could on Oiwi TV. I loved the Pele and Maui cartoons that they have. I really love the film Act of War. I watch the Na Maka o ka ʻĀina films online as much as possible. In the academic realm, I loved A Nation Rising, Ua Mau Ke Ea, and , Hawaiʻi's Story By Hawaiʻi's Queen.
What I love about your story is that, when you mention reconnecting, you are vulnerable about the experience of how it can be overwhelming and difficult. How do you navigate any judgement (inner or outer) that comes with that?
When I try to do things for the Lāhui I always try to think about how it will affect the future generations of Hawaiʻi. I try to consider if what I am doing is from the naʻau and pono.
"I will admit I have fallen victim to vanity and aspects of self-righteousness. I have also wanted to crawl into a dark hole and hide. There are definitely times when I feel embarrassed to not know or have such knowledge."
Other times it feels silly to be a grown man in a space learning alongside children. I still find it hard to practice my ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi with fluent speakers, as I fear they will laugh at my child-like level of conversing. In the end, I try to remember that all of these things were stolen from me and the Hawaiian people. It is not our fault we don't know these things. With learning, comes grace and compassion. We must all hold such space for each other as we walk this path of re-indigenizing. Don't let people hold you down from your birthright. With that being said, I try to make people's lives easier by giving them what little knowledge I have via my social media pages. I want to share all I have learned so others don't have to struggle the way I did to acquire this ʻike. For many of us, the only one truly holding us back is ourselves and our own egos. So let it go, and begin the processes of ʻike Hawaiʻi.
"I promise it is a beautiful journey of self-fulfillment and spirituality that will leave you grounded in a place of purpose and rooted in Hawaiʻi. The knowledge of our kupuna is truly an endless gift. With that, it is now our kuleana to make sure that it doesn't end with us. "
For those in the Diaspora, just because you are not in Hawaiʻi does not mean you cannot gain the ʻike and spread it to friends and family. Read all you can, start book clubs and Talanoa sessions to discuss the readings, and watch and share our films. Follow Hawaiians like Adam Keawe, Kalehua Krug, Kaleikoa Kaʻeo on social media. Listen to Hawaiian/ Oceanic podcasts like The Moanan and Keep it Aloha. There are so many platforms to learn from, it truly is up to you to desire this ʻike.
Me ke aloha.
Interview has been edited for clarity.
If you liked this blog, please subscribe for updates. More content on the Hawaiian Diaspora is coming soon!
Explore more:
What is the Hawaiian Diaspora? And why should we care?
About Dear Aloha, the documentary about the Hawaiian Diaspora.
Register for our special in-person screenings: Dear Aloha: a love letter to Hawaiʻi.
Follow Dear Aloha on Instagram.
Comments