In a classroom for Kānaka Maoli kamaliʻi in King County, Washington, children’s books in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi sit on shelves, and a mahina (moon) phases chart hangs on the wall. Here, Kamalei Brandon sings songs and plays games with keiki once a month as part of a Hawaiian immersion program on the continent.
Last year, Brandon spearheaded the Mālama i ka ʻĀina (MIKA) program through the Mokuʻāina a Wakinekona Hawaiian Civic Club, with the initiative officially kicking off this past February.
Mālama i ka ʻĀina, a program of the Mokuʻāina o Wakinekona Hawaiian Civic Club in Washington State delivers cultural programming in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi to keiki being raised in Washington State.
The goal of the monthly event, Ke Kula Pōʻaono o MIKA, is to provide developmental and cultural programming in ʻōlelo to children ages 0 to 5 years old. Brandon teaches alongside her friend, Kauʻi Auwae.
“My biggest hope is that not only my ʻohana but, really, all our Kānaka Maoli children out here on the continent, have a pathway where they feel like this is possible,” Brandon said.
While she now resides in Seattle, Brandon was born in Kailua-Kona and raised in Waikōloa. Her paternal side is Hawaiian, with her grandmother hailing from Kauaʻi and her grandfather – whom she calls “Papa” – from Oʻahu and Hawaiʻi Island. Her mother is white, though she moved to Hawaiʻi as a child.
Brandon was her parents’ firstborn, followed by her brother, Nicholas Kekaulike. She recalls being surrounded by cousins, aunts and uncles on the ʻāina.
“My papa would always say, there’s three things in the world you need: Akua (God), ʻohana (family) and culture,” Brandon said.
She attended Keikiland Preschool, then Waikōloa Elementary & Middle School. Brandon danced hula as a child. But outside of reciting the Lord’s Prayer in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi, Hawaiian language wasn’t a significant part of her upbringing.
In elementary school, Brandon’s family left Hawaiʻi for Modesto, California. They spent over a year in the city – a tough transition, although Brandon remembers seeing other residents who looked like her.
Once they moved to Covington, Washington, that changed. The city’s demographics skewed white, and Brandon faced stereotypes and prejudice because of her ancestry.
“To be kānaka wasn’t welcomed here,” she said.
But her papa taught her to value culture and education. He paid for her to attend Kamehameha Schools’ Explorations Series programs.
“It’s not great at all that we had to move,” Brandon said, “but I do feel like it was such a blessing that I had my formative years back home in Hawaiʻi.”
Still, on the continent she found it difficult to overcome the judgment of her peers. Brandon began to distance herself from her Hawaiian identity. She stopped using her Hawaiian name going, instead, by her first name, Kaitlin. And in middle school Brandon used a light shade of foundation on her face and avoided the sun.
In high school the student body was slightly more diverse with other Pacific Islanders enrolled. Brandon recalls feeling twinges of jealousy over their ability to hold onto their roots.
While in high school, Brandon discovered her love for teaching. She worked as a gymnastics instructor where she connected with her pupils – particularly the students with disabilities.
After graduating from high school in 2014, Brandon enrolled at the University of Connecticut, moving across the country. In college, she met other educators of color who helped open her eyes to the racism she experienced in her youth.
By 2017, Brandon had earned two bachelor’s degrees: one in elementary education and another in English. She returned to Washington with a mission: Prioritizing racial justice work for marginalized students to ensure others didn’t suffer the challenges she was forced to overcome.
Brandon reconnected with her ʻohana and added her Hawaiian name back to her full name – “trying to heal from that trauma,” she said. She was accepted into graduate school at the University of Washington.
During that time, she met her now-husband, Dorian, on a dating app. They both share island roots: He is Jamaican and Black. The couple soon sparked a relationship.
Brandon earned her master’s degree in teaching in 2018 and began working in the Seattle Public Schools system. Brandon said teaching felt so natural it was like “gliding.” She was part of the school system for several years – mostly teaching kindergarten and first grade. She also lectured about English and ethnic studies. Brandon was eventually awarded the Learning for Justice Award for Excellence in Teaching.
In 2019, Brandon and Dorian were married on Hawaiʻi Island. And two years later, during the COVID-19 pandemic, she was hāpai. Brandon decided to switch from working in the classroom to the district office becoming an elementary ethnic studies curriculum specialist.
In June 2022, she gave birth to Kalaʻikoa Damari. Brandon took time to heal from her pregnancy and raise her young son. A doula at Hummingbird Indigenous Family Services, a local nonprofit, supported her throughout the process.
The experience sparked her interest in studying home visiting programs for families, and she took an Indigenous doula training course in November 2022. Brandon earned her certification, and Hummingbird Indigenous Family Services hired her as a program manager in March 2023.
Although she loves doula work, “I realized my naʻau was really tied to early childhood education and home visiting,” Brandon said.
She is now the nonprofit’s Pilimakua Family Connections director, offering free services, such as home visits, parent groups and community connection events, to Indigenous families with newborns and young keiki – Indigenous being inclusive of Native Americans, Alaska Natives, Native Hawaiians and Pacific Islanders.
She also felt called to reclaim ʻōlelo for herself and her son, taking Hawaiian language classes. “I wanted my son to have that connection to our culture, to the language, to the ʻāina,” Brandon said.
She’s since become a cultural liaison for her budding family and others in the diaspora through the Mālama i ka ʻĀina program.
“My big hope is that my branch of our ʻohana can fully reclaim and sustain fluency in ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi,” Brandon said. “So my son, Kalaʻikoa, can grow up feeling incredibly proud to be Kanaka Maoli.”
For more information about the Mālama i ka ʻĀina program visit: www.mawhcc.org/mika.
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