By Fariha Chowdhury

Share:

My work combines thrill and uncertainty as it unleashes the rite of passage in a Hawaiian tribe to investigate not only themes of coming of age, but of womanhood and freedom against societal expectations.

Staring at her reflection she took a deep breath. 

Am I even ready? I wonder how much Moana has changed since she left. 

This thought lingered in her head quite often.

In a couple days there will be the initiation ceremony in the Tanghulu tribe. Two years back Moana, Alia’s sister, celebrated her passage to womanhood on initiation day. Oftentimes Alia would see Moana on the coast of the island as she wore her coconut bra and the large, ombre orange-red hibiscus that sat comfortably between her poofy curly hair and warm sunburnt ears. 

After Moana’s initiation day she had to move out of the hale (a hawaiian home made with local natural materials), she only took her diary we decorated together and the crescent moon necklace our father gifted us 2 years before his passing. I remember when she got her belly pierced in front of all the island’s people. This was a symbol of passage into womanhood, this was a gateway to new life. 

It was the evening before Alia’s initiation. “Mama, do you think it will hurt?” Alia said in discomfort.

Her mom replied, “No Lele it’s just a little pinch, get excited! You’ll be able to connect with your sister again.”

Mama only called me Lele when she wanted to sweeten things up.

Tomorrow evening I will be stepping into womanhood. I will finally be able to connect with my sister again. I looked at myself in the reflection, a girl ready to grow up but hesitant to step into a new life. 

Dear Diary,
Entry: May 14th 1978

I am finally turning 16. I always dreamt of turning 16 imagining it to be some sparkly, bubbly feeling, but I was wrong. I thought I would automatically feel prettier but I feel the exact same. My hair is still brittle and dull, my skin is pale and my eyes reflect that same dark gray. I have an anchoring feeling in my heart that I will miss my mother and the hale deeply. But I am not too far from it all, am I? I guess I just question myself because of the way Moana acts. She is only a shore away from us but she acts like I don’t exist. She doesn’t have an expression when her eyes lay on my face, her roboticness boils my blood. 

I hope tomorrow I will be happier, but I doubt that

Xoxo love,
Alia

I shut out the lights and picked up the book Nona gifted me, The Everlast. She loved this book dearly. She gifted it to my mother and Moana who read it several times. Nona always used to tell us, “Change may not be comfortable but proper navigation during change is golden” She loved to quote the Everlast book but I never understood why. 

I read a couple pages but my eyes kept dozing off. I put the book on my night stand and fell asleep. 

It’s 8 A.M. I wake up to the smell of Loco Moco cooking on the stovetop and my mother shuffling around the living room. It’s only my mother and I in the house now. It’s as if two happy ghosts always hovered before us, at least for Mama it did. It feels barren, empty almost– but as my mother warms hugs surround me during cold nights when hot tears run down my cheeks for Papa or when I wear a somber expression on my face for days on end, her love illuminates above all as it thaws these feelings away. 

“Good morning sweetie. Are you ready for today? I see your 16th glow already,” said Mama as she slid me a plate of the steaming Loco Moco. She looked at the seat across from me and held my hands.

“Listen baby, I know you’ve been upset lately because of all the change that’s going to happen now but trust me it’s going to get better. You’ll get to interact with visitors, be with Moana and see the sisterhood life going on on the shore” Mama said with a smile. 

“I don’t know how to feel Mama. I feel like Mouana and I drifted apart. The womanhood transition feels so mystic and mysterious,” I replied back.

This transition was very popular in the Thanghulu tribe but no one ever gets to know why these girls have to do what they do. Once initiation day takes place it’s as if the girls are totally different, brainwashed almost. They have to follow the thancuahi, the rules of initiation from ages 16-24, after this period is done, the girls return back to home. I only knew of this because of what my mother told me that night of Mouana’s transition. According to the Thanguhlu tribe, these things were to never be spoken of. 

I remember the days where Moana and I used to make fun of the loser boys on the shore. They were ugly and nasty little boys. I remember the days where we used to tell each other we’d never marry the guy on this island because we are too good for them, but now I’m not too sure Mouana actually meant that. 

It  was around afternoon, 12:30P.M. my ceremony would begin in the evening at 7 P.M sharp. 

I was out with some kids on the shore playing volleyball and playing with water guns until my mother called me in to tell me she scheduled a hair trim appointment for me at Jilous Hairdresser. Jilous and my mother have been friends for as long as I could remember. When we were younger she would bake fresh, steaming hot Coco puffs, these were mine and Moana’s favorite. On my way to Jilous I caught sight of Moana, she was standing next to a boy. She was smiling, giggling and blushing. The boy beside her offered her his hand and led her away. My heart stopped, my blood began to boil. 

I can’t believe how much Moana changed, we used to make fun of these stupid guys

I arrived at the step of Jilous Hairdresser. When I walked in, a melodic chime rang and Jilous took me by the hand spinning me around. 

“Aloha kuuipo! How are you my baby” Jilous greeted. 

“I am well titi, I’m here for the cut Mama scheduled for me, today is my transition” I said not too enthusiastically. 

“Of course my love, I knew that. I was thinking of you all day! You’re going to love it! I remember when me and your mother did our initiation ceremony together, those were the greatest years of my life! Why are you all sandy honey, you need to get out of this tomboy phase” said Jilous with a tsk look of disapproval. 

Jilous was chubby, rotund almost, as if I could roll her down the himalayan mountain and she still wouldn’t come out with many scratches or scars. Jilous had a short bob with bangs, her hair was kind of frizzy with a few strands of gray hairs. She always smelled of sweet halo-halo dessert, her voice was deep but her warmth was always overpowering. I could never hate Jilous no matter how much I’d disagree with what she says.

“Sit down over there, I’ll get to you in a moment. Oh! And I made you a fresh batch of Coco puffs in the back, take as many as you like. I remember how much you and your sister used to love those” she said with a warm tone. 

I went over to the back and came across a picture frame. It was a mini Moana and I when we were younger during our vacation at Saltback back when Papa was with us. I remember how Papa and Mama were wearing matching sun hats and were screaming behind the camera to smile or “say cheese.” The frame was dark green and the glass screen was a little greasy. I looked much shorter back then, I had really poofy hair and a humongous smile plastered across my face, Mouana was half a foot taller than me and her hair was straightened in this. I remember when Mama forced her to straighten her hair and shoved that pink hibiscus in her hair, she thought it would make her look “more mature” but I was fine with it because Moana hated the whole concept of the “looking more mature” thing.”

“Sweetie come here,” Jilous said as she patted the cracked leather seat from the hall. 

As Jilous tampered with my hair I began to babble.

“Jilous… if you don’t mind me asking, what did you guys do after transition?” I said hesitantly.

“Honey you know I can’t tell you that, you know the Thangulu Tribe’s number 1 rule: Don’t speak on womanhood transition. You’ll figure it out when you get there, honestly you’ll love it.”

Her fingers swiftly brushed my face as she pressure heated my hair into poofy C shaped bangs. 

“I’ll give you the best makeover”

She continued to turn and snip, my brown hair locs fluttered to the ground. 

“And voila! don’t you just love it” she said in awe with her hands clapped together in front of her. 

“Yes, I- I love it.” I said half heartedly. The heat pressure on my neck made my head hurt and I hated this new bangs style, she ruined my originality I thought to myself.

It was 5 P.M, before I headed back home I went to the back and shoved about 10 Coco Puffs into my shorts. I took my skateboard and rode all the way home. I guess this would be my last cruise down the street before I become skateboard-less. 

Dear Diary,
May 15th, 1998

In about an hour I will be a new “women” heck, I don’t even know what that means. I will miss Mama. I will miss the hale, I will miss the memorable conversations about Papa at the dining table, I will miss my skateboard and old shorts. I will miss the free Coco puffs and the wild fun I have on the streets, I will miss the salty breeze that  hits my moist cheeks. 

I am fearful of what my life will be in an hour. 

I was going to talk to Jilous about how much of a loser Moana is for falling for some idiot island boy but I would probably get the opposite reaction that I’d want from her. Especially coming from a rotund lady who babbles about bringing Coco Puffs the sexy men on Wahi avenue (yuck) 

P.S I still love you Jilous

Diary I accepted my fate, I will be a “new women” at last

Signing off,
Alia

“Alia! Come on, you’ll be late. Everyone is waiting by the shore.” Mama yelled as she tapped the door rapidly.

“I’m coming!” 

I slipped into the coconut bra (it barely fit me) and the Ti Leaf Hawaiian skirts all the halanu women (women who already did initiation and are currently in it)  on the island wear. 

As I opened the door to my room Mama rushed to pack on the arrowroot natural blush and ran her fingers through my hair. 

“You look gorgeous” Mama said as she held my cheeks in the palms of her hands. They smelled sweet in our home. Her eyes began to tear up, so did mine.

We ran down to the shore where all the halanu women stood. It looked like an army of Hawaiian barbie dolls. All the fathers and brothers of the island stood to the right, all the mothers behind the 16-24 year olds and in the center was Master Ohalu. 

“Alia, you arrived at last” bellowed Master Ohalu.

The mass crowds began to clap. I scanned the halanu crowd to search for Moana, to see if she saw me. 

Moana and my eyes met for about 5 seconds. Not a smile, not a wave, not even a mouthed hello. 

“Standing before us is a new halanu woman. In her passage to womanhood she will present us with the honor of her new life.” 

I walked up towards the aisle. Everyone of the halanu group was eyeing me up and down, my heart beat fast. Whispers began to erupt.

“Silence, silence” Master Ohalu exclaimed. 

“And now we will do the initiation, piercing of the belly button”

I felt light headed. All these eyes fixated on me, this straight adorned hair, this clothing. 

How do they do this?

Master Ohalu’s assistants came with the  bamboo needle. They began to sharper it and cut it down ever so slightly. 

My palms were damp and my ears grew hot, tears began to fill my eyes. 

Should I make a run for it? If I disappear into the forest I can probably start a new life. Papa is already gone, Moana is not the same and I could possibly visit Mama in secret.

The assistant finished heating up the needle and began to approach me. Master Ohalu held my hand, just  when they were about to pierce me I screeched.

“Ahhhhhhhhh”

The crowd roared with whispers and disapproving grunts. 

Mouana shoved through the crowd

“It’s nothing, she is just afraid,” she said in an angelic sweet voice. 

My eyes widened, hot tears began to run down my cheeks. The arrowroot blush mixed with my salty tears and stained my chest to a runny pink. 

“Hello people of the Thanghulu Tribe. This is my sister, Alia. We grew up together, our family was very tight knit. She always dreamt of being one of us. Over the years since I’ve joined the halanu women after my passing, Alia and I wouldn’t be in any communication. As an older sister I propose I guide her through this passage and get her accustomed to what she’s always dreamed of in the mysteries of the halanu culture.” she concluded.

What is she talking about, why did she say that? So she does care for me? At least she acknowledged me. Once I get to be with her I can convince her this place is brainwashed. 

Before getting pierced I took a deep breath and gave her a small smile, she returned me with a warm hug. 

The crowd began to cheer.

That night I got to bunk with Moana. Silence settled in the room. I sat on her top bunk and she took the bottom. 

“So… how did you feel about today?” she asked in an unusual tone.

“Uh.. not too sure. Didn’t like it much. I feel sleepy so uh- I’m going to sleep now.” I replied back in an uninterested, awkward tone. 

“But I do have one question, why did you-” I started.

“Wait- No Alia, before you say anything just listen.” She got off her bed and began digging under the bed frame, “look”

She pulled out her diary we decorated years ago. It was tarnished and dull looking. It looked overflowing with notes and diary entries. 

“Come down here to take a look”

I got off the ladder and she opened to the date of her initiation day April 6th 1976.

Placed the diary in my lap and began to read:

Dear Diary, 
April 6th, 1976
9 P.M

Moana here!

Today is my first night as a “new woman” . I miss my family dearly, especially Alia. I miss how we used to play volleyball on the beach sand and surf on the shore. I miss the Coco puffs from Jilous. I miss it all 

Xoxo,
Moana

I could see the dairy lines all squiggly and the pen ink distributed due to what looked like watermarks- tears. The pages were very old and wrinkled. 

Dear diary,
June 1st, 1976

Today they taught us how to cook. I can’t bear to hear “This is how you will prepare food for your husbands, attend to them, watch them, assist them, make sure you look pretty when doing it all”

I feel like pulling my hair out. Olivia, my former bunkmate, revolted against this and they banished her from the halanu women. I am scared of what might happen to me.”

Xoxo, 
Moana

I began to fractally flip through the pages, until I reached today: May 15th 1998.

This was the last page in the diary:

Dear Dairy,

Its moana again

Today is Alia’s initiation, I hope to finally use my perfected halanu behavior and act as such a lady. About a year and a half ago I decided to act and submit myself into the custom and culture that is expected of me as a halanu woman. 

Ohalu was skeptical about me a year ago because of Oliva and her master plan to run away and revolt. I knew they were watching me, I felt I fooled them long enough.

At  midnight I will run away with Alia into the shore line and we’ll start to live a new life together. If I don’t make it, let this last page be history

Sincerely, 
Moana

Before I realized, my cheeks grew wet, Moana was crying too.

“Change may not be comfortable but proper navigation during change is golden…remember, just like Nona always used to say.”

 She held me tightly.

 “We will be okay, ” she whispered.

Process

This piece was inspired by my awe of Hawaiian culture. I often came across videos on TikTok where a user would use their platform to share the beauty of their Hawaiian culture down from their clothing to tribal customs and practices. Being able to report in the shoes of another character different from my own identity is what thrills me the most, being able to step into a role and combine trickles of my womanhood experiences while also putting my spin as to what I saw Hawaiian culture to be. I also drew inspiration from the Netflix Series, Bridgerton. I was always ever interested as to who Lady Whistledown may be as she reports the gossip and whatever abouts of everyone in the ton. Not only this but she also uses her power as a woman writer to perfection as she appeals to one of her closest friends while remaining anonymous during her courtship period. I also took the liberty to insert diary entries as a gateway to a new perspective – this is a style that I have taken from reading many books. Although the process of creating my piece was lengthy, I assure you that women will empathize with the protagonist and feel her perseverance.