Trump’s Return Spurs Hawaiʻi’s Independence Movement

Mixed Asian Media - May 9, 2025

By Rohan Zhou-Lee

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Please note: Apart from those of mixed race, Native Hawaiians and other Pacific Islanders do not identify as Asian. Joy Sauce / Mixed Asian Media publish this article in solidarity with Pasifika communities.

*This article mentions sexual violence, sex trafficking, and death.

On Dec. 10, 2022, a bright, sunny day, traffic at an intersection in Oʻahu, Hawaiʻi, came to a complete stop. People marched through the road, chanting, “Shut Down Red Hill!” They carried signs reading, “Ola I Ka Wai!,” “Water Is Life,” and “Navy Lies Poisoned Wai.” They waved red, white and blue flags — not of the United States, but of pre-annexation Hawaiʻi — that snapped open in the wind. They were protesting an ongoing case concerning the U.S. Navy leaking jet fuel into the only aquifer in Oʻahu. One year earlier, the incident had poisoned thousands of people, one of many crises symptomatic of the climate emergency plaguing Hawaiʻi under U.S. control. 

Since the forcible seizure of Hawaiʻi by the U.S. in 1893, Native Hawaiians, or kānaka maoli, have endured more than 130 years of exploitation and environmental destruction. “We are Hawaiian by birth and American by force,” said Makanalani Gomes, a core member of AF³IRM Hawaii, a grassroots organization fighting imperialism and fascism through transnational feminist activism. Today, this enduring colonial presence — manifested in U.S. militarism and tourism — intensifies the climate crises, fueling renewed urgency in the movement to restore the occupied Kingdom of Hawaiʻi.

Colonial History of Hawaiʻi’s Water

Colonial interest in the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi can be traced through the history of sugar, which Indigenous Hawaiians used for medicinal, material and other purposes. 

The first known European to visit Hawaiʻi was British naval captain James Cook. Originally seeking a northwest passage around Canada and Alaska or a northeast one around Siberia, he arrived in 1778 and used sugarcane to brew beer. Cook and his men introduced diseases to the islands and engaged in the trade of iron (such as ship nails) for sex. He was killed in battle in 1779 after his forces murdered a local chief. 

In 1835, just 56 years after Cook’s death, three American men from New England opened Hawaiʻi’s first commercial sugar plantation, Ladd & Co. Three years later, the number of plantations had grown to 20. 

In 1876, King David Kalakaua secured trade deals with the U.S. government, allowing Native Hawaiians to sell sugar without tariffs. Yet by 1885, nearly all plantations were white-owned. A year later, the United States demanded that Kalakaua open Pearl Harbor to the U.S. Navy in exchange for renewing the trade deal. Kalakaua refused. 

In response, Lorrin Thurston — a white, Hawaiian-born lawyer elected to the Hawaiian Legislature and a descendant of the first company of American Christian missionaries to the islands — rallied white militias into the self-proclaimed Missionary Party. Thurston and his forces then forced King Kalakaua at gunpoint to sign the Bayonet Constitution in 1887. The document stripped the monarchy of virtually all power, eliminated basic rights for the kānaka maoli and ceded control to the white insurgents.

The next monarch of Hawaiʻi, Queen Liliʻuokalani, drafted a new constitution to restore Indigenous authority. On Jan. 17, 1895, a group of American and European businessmen — self-titled The Committee of Safety — retaliated by deposing her. They imprisoned her in ‘Iolani Palace and detained many of her local supporters. 

Eight days later, Queen Liliʻuokalani signed a formal abdication. 

Once freed, she traveled to Washington, D.C., to peacefully advocate for Native sovereignty.  Though she was initially successful in her appeals, the eruption of the Spanish-American War in 1898 created a strategic imperative for U.S. military bases in the Pacific. President William McKinley illegally declared Hawaiʻi a U.S. territory, paving the way for the American acquisition of Spanish territories, including Puerto Rico, Guam and the Philippines. 

The hostile U.S. takeover also permitted majority white-owned plantations to divert approximately 800 million gallons of water per day to support sugar exports to the United States tariff-free by 1920.

The U.S. military’s strategic interest in Hawaiʻi continued well into the 20th century. In 1964, the military signed leases on Hawaiian lands, acquiring 29,000 acres of land for just $1. These lands, including the Pohakuloa Training Area, have been used for live-fire training exercises, bombing practice, and military maneuvers, causing environmental and cultural concerns. Many locals bitterly remember the establishment as forced removal. 

“Some people [were] moved [out] by gunpoint,” said Healani Sonoda-Pale, spokesperson for Ka Lāhui Hawai’i and member of Red Hill Community Representation Initiative (CRI), during the World Water One webinar for Pacific Islanders impacted by imperialism. “The military promised these families that they would return [the land to] them. That never happened. A prime example is Pearl Harbor, or Puʻuloa. It was once the breadbasket of Oʻahu. It’s [now] one of the most polluted sites on Earth, to a point where the fish there are inedible.”

In his book Poisoning the Pacific, Jon Mitchell writes: “At [the Navy’s] Pearl Harbor Complex, contamination has emanated from underground fuel tanks … containing cancer-causing polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs).” Mitchell also catalogued a similar incident in 2014, when 100,000 liters of jet fuel spilled from the supply at Red Hill, a bunker near Pearl Harbor.

After an earlier leak in May 2021, another in November released 20,000 gallons of fuel into Pearl Harbor’s local aquifers at Red Hill, exposing the toxic chemical to 93,000 people. Without testing the water, the Navy informed families in military housing that it was “safe to drink.” However, the Hawaiʻi Department of Health found jet fuel contaminants 350 times higher than safety standards. At least 6,000 people reported rashes, nausea, vomiting and, in some cases, potentially chronic respiratory difficulties. 

In three reports, the Department of Defense Office of the Inspector General detailed how the U.S. Navy ignored approximately 6,000 detections of lead in drinking water, remained “woefully unaware of their own spill prevention and response plans to the extent such plans did exist,” and failed to disclose or clean up spills of a firefighting foam containing toxic forever chemicals, which now pose a centuries-long threat to future generations. Ninety-nine percent of Hawaiʻi’s drinking water comes from land aquifers. Following public protests and backlash, the Navy completed draining the fuel in 2024. 

“The military has destroyed our sacred sites, our water, [and] poisoned our people,” said Sonoda-Pale. “Water is becoming the central issue in so many social and environmental justice movements,” she added, citing how environmentalists and organizers across Hawaiʻi — including government officials, women in the military and military families — are now collaborating with CRI. “It’s brought more humanity to this movement because we’re connecting on another level.”

The U.S. Navy continues to use sacred kānaka maoli land for its own operations, including the international joint military exercise Rim of the Pacific, (RIMPAC), where bombs and chemical white phosphorus — used by Israeli forces on Palestinian civilians in Gaza — are tested. Since March 2024, Sonoda-Pale noted, the military has refused to attend CRI’s series of community testimonial hearings. 

“They can hide behind ‘national security,’” she said. “Their presence and poisoning of our environment, especially our water and land, is the real risk to national security.”

Sonoda-Pale then recalled how she was taught in public schools that Hawaiʻi’s economy relies on a U.S. presence. “They’ve done a really good job of ingraining in us how much we need tourism and militarism,” she said. “[They said] we won’t have jobs, we won’t have homes, food, if we don’t have these industries. That’s part of colonialism here.”

Capitalism’s Climate Catastrophe

On Aug. 8, 2023, a downed pole carrying telecommunications lines sparked a fire in Lahaina, Maui. The two-day fire killed 102 people, but the Department of Land and Natural Resources did not divert water to fight it.

Many have argued that the Lahaina fires could have been prevented or mitigated if not for companies like Alexander & Baldwin (A&B), which, alongside its subsidiary East Maui Irrigation, had been diverting 40.4 million gallons of water per day for shopping centers and commercial buildings. Founded in 1870, A&B touts itself as Hawaiʻi’s “premier commercial real estate company.” 

“Even before the ‘80s, tens of thousands of acres of watershed lands were being dewatered by Alexander & Baldwin,” said Wayne Chung Tanaka, executive director at the Sierra Club of Hawai’i. “Whoever controls our water controls our islands and [our] future.”

Concerns over corporate water use led to legal challenges. In the months before the Lahaina fire, an environmental court judge ordered A&B and East Maui Irrigation to reduce their daily water intake from East Maui streams from 40.4 million gallons to 31.5 million gallons. The day after the fires devastated Lahaina, the Hawaiʻi attorney general’s office filed court papers alleging that the ruling had weakened the county’s firefighting ability. Days later, the Hawaiʻi Supreme Court issued a “stinging rebuke,” calling the state’s arguments frivolous and riddled with false claims. The court ruled that the state should pay the Sierra Club of Hawaiʻi’s attorney fees.

Meanwhile, in a corporate responsibility report, A&B highlighted its role in disaster relief. The company used its Napili Plaza, seven miles away, as “an emergency command center for first responders,” providing health care, food and water, donated $50,000 in nonprofit aid, and offered all employees 40 hours of paid time off to assist. Notably, the report omitted the attorney general’s claim that A&B fought the fires with its water supply. 

“[The attorney general] only sought to bring water to a former plantation, now real estate investment trust,” said Tanaka, referring to what he called a blatant lie. “[It] shows how deep the corruption goes.”

The company responsible for the downed wire, Hawaiian Electric, later reached a tentative $4 billion dollar deal with tenants.

Tourism, which supports shopping centers like those listed at A&B, has also been widely blamed for the water crisis. Although the industry uses about 5% of water supplies, tourists use the same amount as residents per capita. By 2019, American and Japanese tourists equaled 12% of Oʻahu’s resident population. Golf courses, a tourist attraction, use more than 211 gallons of Hawaiian water per year. 

Furthermore, Sonoda-Pale condemned tourism’s commodification of culture, such as hula, a historically sacred dance with connections to nature. 

“[Tourism] caused so much damage to our people,” said Sonoda-Pale. “It’s monetized what we deemed spiritual and made that a commodity. Everybody wants a piece of being Hawaiian.”

The U.S. military also benefits from tourism, including discounts, special lodging and sex trafficking. In 2019, the Office of Hawaiian Affairs revealed a disturbing pattern: Of those arrested in Operation Keiki Shield for soliciting sex from a 13-year-old girl online, 38% were active duty. 

Gomes cited Hawaiian sovereignty philosopher and activist Haunani-Kay Trask, who wrote about the “prostitution” of culture and linked such exploitation to environmental degradation. “The degradation being done to land is the degradation being done to feminine people,” said Gomes. “Land back, bodies back.”

For many kānaka maoli, tourism’s environmental impact became more apparent during the COVID-19 lockdown when the islands experienced a brief return to nature. Sonoda-Pale celebrated how the community could enjoy the beaches without tourist harassment. For every 1% decline in tourists, hotel water usage dropped by 0.46%.  

“The air was cleaner,” she said. “The water was cleaner. The fish came back.” 

All that vanished when restrictions lifted and tourists returned. 

“COVID is what actually opened people’s eyes to what Hawaiʻi could be, to what Hawaiʻi used to be,” she added.

Restoration and Return: Policy and Advocacy Solutions

On a sunny Jan. 17, 2025, just days before Trump’s inauguration, kānaka maoli organized the ʻOnipaʻa Peace March to mark 132 years since the illegal overthrow of Queen Liliʻuokalani and advocate for the return of the Hawaiian Islands. Locals filled the streets, waving the Hawaiian flag. 

“Climate change is the indication of the ancestral elements' rage,” Gomes said in her speech. “Land back. Bodies back. Moana [ocean] back.”

Activists successfully urged the Honolulu City Council to pass Resolution 24-216, calling on the Navy to conduct weekly water tests. More than 70 organizations also pressured Hawaiʻi Gov. Josh Green, a Democrat, to appoint a loea, a traditional equivalent of a water commissioner — a role left vacant since June. Many find this unacceptable and are demanding the role be filled by a Native Hawaiian.

“There is no situation more dire than our dying planet,” Tanaka said. “We are not going to make it out of this emergency if we are not able to pivot away from colonialism.”

Trump’s return to office — despite being a convicted felon found liable for sexual abuse — has amplified calls to protect most marginalized kānaka maoli, particularly women, girls and māhū. Māhū refers to Native Hawaiians who exist outside any sort of gender binary.

“It’s not by accident that it’s women that have been very vocal and come forward and risen up,” said Sonoda-Pale. “It’s going to be people of color, Indigenous people, the most marginalized.”

“Any American president is a fascist until the empire falls,” Gomes said, warning that Trump’s economic agenda, gutting of the Environmental Protection Agency, and violent rhetoric pose a direct threat to Hawaiʻi’s climate and community.

She urged support for organizations like the Water Protector Legal Collective and Kamāwaelualani — a nonprofit dedicated to preserving Hawaiian culture and ʻāina (land) through education. Rather than relying on U.S. institutions, she called for a slower, more deliberate approach to organizing, rooted in mutual aid. 

Gomes herself is part of a task force developing the second report on Missing and Murdered Native Hawaiian Women, Girls, and Māhū (MMNHWGM), a project spearheaded by Kamāwaelualani alongside a survivor fund. 

“We are not beholden to the U.S. Empire,” she said, “but we are beholden to our ancestors.”

Across Hawaiʻi, many kānaka maoli want U.S. military forces gone permanently. Activists are circulating a petition to terminate the military’s $1 lease, set to expire in 2029, which some see as a crucial step toward restoring the Kingdom of Hawaiʻi. 

“We used to sustain a million [people] before Captain Cook arrived,” Sonoda-Pale said at the World War Water panel. “We need to get back to where we can sustain ourselves. But first, we need to get rid of these industries that do nothing for us, that just take, commodify, extract and exploit.”

Kānaka maoli have already taken action. Hoʻōla Hou iā Kalauao restores Oʻahu's Kalauao region, inviting residents to clear invasive species and plant native crops every third Saturday. Protect Kahoʻolawe ‘Ohana, a grassroots organization dedicated to the principles of aloha ‘āina (love of the land), reclaimed stewardship of Kahoʻolawe from the military in 2003 after decades as a bomb testing site. Ho‘oulu ʻĀina transformed 100 acres in Kalihi Valley into a nature preserve where community healing and land restoration work hand in hand. 

“Kānaka maoli are restoring fishponds, opening up loʻi [taro fields], planting ʻulu trees throughout Hawaiʻi,” said Sonoda-Pale.

“‘Ōiwi-led, culturally grounded ‘āina [land] stewardship is the key to our future resilience and sustainable relationship to our islands and to the planet,” Tanaka added. “[They] may be the best and last chance we have to build a hopeful future for our children and the generations that follow.”

The land and its people continue to fuel hope. For Gomes, they serve as a constant inspiration to continue mobilizing — so the next generation won’t have to. 

“Ua mau ke ea o ka ʻāina i ka pono,” she said. “The life of the land is perpetuated in righteousness. The land and water are waiting for us to get it right so that they can flourish and, in turn, we can flourish.”

Rohan Zhou-Lee, pronouns They/Siya/祂 (Tā) is a Queer/Non-Binary Black-Asian author, dancer, and organizer in New York City. Zhou-Lee is the founder of the Blasian March, an initiative to build solidarity between Black, Asian and Blasian communities through education and celebration.

They have been featured as an organizer on AJ+, CNN, NBC Chicago, WNYC, Gothamist, Hella Pinay, and other news outlets. They have written on Black-Asian solidarity for them. magazine, Prism Reports, Truthout and Mochi Magazine. Their essays have been incorporated into Asian American studies courses at California State University.

Podcast interviews with siya can be heard at The Bánh Mì Chronicles, Militantly Mixed, Politically Asian, and more. They have presented at Northwestern University, University of Michigan, UCLA Berkeley, University of Minnesota, and the Midwest Mixed Conference 2021.

Siya is set to speak at the Filipino American National Historical Society Biennial Conference and the Los Angeles Blasian March Black Asian Trans Power Rally, May 21.

Recent performances include trumpet with ChamberQUEER Ensemble (Julius Eastman, Joy Boy) and François and the Rebels at the New York Theatre Barn Choreography Lab, a musical on the Haitian Revolution written by Jaime Cepero and choreographed by Angela Nicole Patmon.

Zhou-Lee holds a Bachelor of the Arts degree in Ethnomusicology from Northwestern University.