inquiry have been useful for my own practice as just one scholar among a grow-ing wave of Hawaiian academic practitioners. This chapter should also be seen as an invitation for new generations of practitioners to consider and extend what it means to “do” Hawaiian studies.6What other ‘aho exist that we may take up and reproduce for future generations? New waves of Hawaiian studies scholar-ship will address this question over time and in relation to new contexts.I enter and participate in the field of Hawaiian studies as someone who ex-amines, engages in, and writes about contemporary Hawaiian politics. My re-Methodological Ropes for Research and Resurgence. This figure represents four ‘aho that form the methodological rope of Hawaiian studies research. These concepts—lāhui (col-lective identity and self-definition), ea (sovereignty and leadership), kuleana (positionality and obligations), and pono (harmonious relationships, justice, and healing)—are central com-mitments and lines of inquiry in contemporary Hawaiian studies research. Image by Lianne Charlie.
search, writing, and teaching generally focus on current relations of power. Not a day goes by when I do not think about how our kūpuna ‘Ōiwi of both the remote and recent past remain relevant to issues of land, identity, education, sustainability, and governance today and into our futures. In this reflective chapter, my exploration of Hawaiian studies methodologies is guided by my tūtūkualua, my maternal great-great-grandmother, Ana Ka‘auwai. She was not a writer or a scholar, but her ‘ano and her stories represent what I aspire to be and how I hope to inhabit my role as a Kanaka academic. Thus I begin with her story and weave reflections of her throughout this chapter. After all, Hawaiian studies research enabled me to reconnect with her. In many ways Hawaiian studies research is deeply personal and can be healing on individual, familial, and lāhui levels. It is a rope that allows us to pull toward one another against powerful forces that attempt to fragment and obliterate us as a Lāhui Kanaka ‘Ōiwi.E ana i ka ‘auwai: Look to the Routes of Ancestral KnowledgeAna Ka‘auwai was born and raised in Kohala. She passed into the ao ‘aumakua long before I was born. Growing up, I did not know anything about her—not even her name. My grandfather had passed into the ao ‘aumakua very young, at age thirty-one, and his mother died early as well, at only forty-one. Like the many ways our people have been cut off from the waiwai of our ancestors by the deaths that imperialism demands, my branch of the family became discon-nected from stories of my great-great-grandmother, TūtūAna.Ana was still alive in the memories of some of my elder relatives, but it was not until I was a Hawaiian studies major in college and doing genealogy research that I learned about her. The research required two types of methods: interviewing kūpuna and searching for genealogy documents in various government- and church-maintained archives. Each of these two paths produced