Travelers from Hawaiʻi to Washington, D.C., often make a beeline to the King Kamehameha I Statue in the Emancipation Hall of the U.S. Capitol. I’ve done so myself – alongside fellow Office of Hawaiian Affairs trustees, alumni from my alma mater Kamehameha Schools, and my keiki.
Standing before the likeness of our great mōʻī in the heart of the nation’s capital is an unforgettable and deeply moving experience. It is, in many ways, a reminder that we, the lāhui, are never far from home – even when oceans separate us from our ʻāina.
There are four government-commissioned statues of King Kamehameha I. Two are located on Hawaiʻi Island: one in Kohala and the other in Hilo. The most well-known is in Honolulu at Aliʻiōlani Hale, seat of the Hawaiian Kingdom’s judiciary, and the fourth is located in Washington, D.C. Identical in form, these statues represent the enduring legacy of Hawaiʻi’s unifier both in the homeland and across the ocean. Yet, each statue speaks with its own mana.
The Honolulu statue was erected in February 1883. Standing over 18 feet tall, Kamehameha I grips a spear – showcasing his military prowess – while his open hand echoes the spirit of aloha, suggesting both strength and welcome. During each Kamehameha Day on June 11, the people of Hawaiʻi drape the statue in long lei, reinforcing its role as a living cultural symbol and focal point for community celebration.
In Washington, D.C., the statue affirms that Hawaiʻi’s history is not lost in statehood but endures alongside the nation’s broader narrative.
Chosen in 1969 to represent the islands in the National Statuary Hall Collection, King Kamehameha I stands as a symbol that our people, our language, and our traditions are woven into the story of America. It challenges visitors to recognize Native Hawaiian leadership within the pantheon of American history, asserting that Hawaiʻi’s journey – from monarchy to statehood – adds a vital chapter to the national story.
For many Kānaka living far from Hawaiʻi, the statue in D.C. is more than political symbolism. It is a spiritual and emotional anchor – an image of home, of heritage, of ancestral mana. It provides a connection to our roots, offering both inspiration and comfort for our lāhui on the continent. In the presence of the statue, many feel seen, remembered, and grounded in their identity, even while separated from the land that raised them.
Taken together, these statues of King Kamehameha I embody a dual narrative: one of self- determination and remembrance in the islands themselves, and one of resolve. These monuments are not just figures of bronze, but pillars of our living identity.
Our aliʻi left us a legacy of leadership grounded in the wellbeing of our people. They call us to honor our past while forging a future where the voices of our lāhui – both at home and abroad – are heard, valued, and empowered.
