Local Sighting!

Okay, so. Here's the thing. I'm a little bit of a lot of things. I call it gypsy, because that sounds cool. With dogs, we say "mutt." Whatever you call it, it's definitely not 50% of this and 50% of that. My mamasita is English and Swedish. My dad is Hawaiian, Arabic, and lot of white stuff like (German primarily, we think). So I'm definitely not any one particular thing...

But everywhere I go, I'm told I look local. Years ago, at the age of fifteen, when I first visited southern Alberta to work with Native American youth through NAIM, they thought I was "brown." Every time I've visited Hawaii, I've been asked for directions or where the best eateries are, had my picture surreptitiously snapped, and been nodded at by other locals. Even the island mosquitoes won't bite me... something only natives can claim.

This year has been like all others... Two nights ago, while on a sunset photo excursion, a guy stumbled upon me as I sat overlooking the ocean. I was contemplating God and his glorious creation when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn toward me and take a picture... Of course, this would have been much more subtle if he'd remembered to turn his flash off... Oops.

I can't lie; I revel in this. As a child, I told everyone I was Hawaiian. No, really, everyone. The clerk at the grocery store, the mailman, the pastor, my parents. I even told my younger brother that I was and he wasn't (though it may not be far from the truth... he tans to the colour of a strawberry). When filling out the bubbles on standardised tests, I always filled in the "Pacific Islander" spot, and the same on college applications.

This year, I think I've brought my native-ness to a new level. After six years of fighting it, I decided that the humidity and my hair just don't get along. So the moment I step out of the shower, I pull on an elastic hairband and let the curls fly loose. Depending on what I'm doing, sometimes I pull them back in a hair tie, but most of the time, my untamed hair dances in the tradewinds... and more than ever before, I've been treated local. I've even had Hawaiian boys have checked me out (locals don't deign to glance at tourists; it breaks some cardinal rule for them).

To add to the fun, my silly brother and sister-in-law scream, "Local sighting! Local! Look, a local!" every time they see me. Ah, this is the good life!