Filmmaker Cris Romento on keeping aloha alive

Megan Foucht

Director of Communications

A still from the documentary film, “Dear Aloha.” Photo courtesy of Cris Romento.

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Advocacy & events, Indigenous leadership, Storytelling

Cris Romento is the filmmaker behind “Dear Aloha,” a story of Hawaiians living in diaspora. On February 16, along with Oregon Public Broadcasting and Firelight Media, Ecotrust is proud to host “Dear Aloha” for a screening at the Redd on Salmon Street.

Here, Cris speaks with Megan Foucht, Ecotrust Communications Director, about the experience of making the film, and her hopes for how the screenings will bring together and support Hawaiian communities living far from home.

What is your definition of the Hawaiian diaspora?

At its core, the Hawaiian diaspora refers to the movement of Native Hawaiians away from Hawaiʻi. This isn’t a new phenomenon, but in recent decades, it has been driven by factors like sky-high housing costs, grocery bills, and job pay so low that families cannot cover their basic needs. Today, the majority of Hawaiians are not in Hawaiʻi anymore. The most recent US Census reported that 53 percent of Hawaiians live away from home. It was this very real statistic that shares a reality that we have been confronting: we’re no longer able to live here.

When Hawaiians are pushed off-island, it’s not just a matter of relocating; it’s the loss of a community, a way of life, and a sense of belonging. It’s a blow to the very fabric of the Hawaiian identity. And while tourists flock to Hawaiʻi in the millions each year to experience its beauty, many may not realize that the very culture, the “aloha spirit” they seek to enjoy is being threatened by this displacement.

The people who do stay in Hawai’i are faced with this reminder of colonization every day, witnessing the rapid changes that are happening to the Hawaiian landscape. When you have no Hawaiians in Hawai’i, the essence of Hawaiʻi leaves as well. As Native Hawaiians, we have a deep connection to our land, our ocean, our cultural practices. When that connection is severed, it is deeply painful, and lives within us as generational trauma. Today, there are Hawaiians who are living on the continent experiencing this loss, even if it’s not obvious to everybody else. It’s deep within us, and that is what the film is about. There are also many nuances to our diaspora. Some people donʻt want to move back home, and there are Hawaiians who have never felt our ocean shores, for example. The contemporary Hawai’i is about these lived experiences.

Cris Romento with her father, Eric, in a scene from the film, “Dear Aloha.” Photo courtesy of Cris Romento.

You bring your family into the film, and you’re in it as well. Have you ever had these conversations with your family? What is it like to share these stories and conversations that are vulnerable in this very public way?

When I had developed this film, I had no idea that I was going to film my father. I thought we were going to find a family in the Pacific Northwest. But as I got further into the film, it became more and more clear that the best way to share my truth was to have my family featured.

A lot of people ask me, how did you get your father to be so emotional on camera? And to be honest, I had no idea how that happened. I’ve never seen him cry in my entire life. He can be a man of few words, which I think comes across in the film. That was the first time that I ever had these conversations with my father. And I thought he might not be ready to have this talk. So when he was really emotional, that caught me off guard.

What you don’t see is my amazing director of photography, Shaneika Aguilar, who also came from Hawai’i to film this with me, rubbing my back when we filmed his interview. We had a very intentionally curated crew, and this was important. I wanted a team that was really nurturing and supportive. I think this supportive energy helped my father feel more comfortable. We connected with everyone on production beforehand, making sure everyone was coming in knowing what the word aloha means before we started filming. There was a lot of care taken, even with my editor, to make sure that we were creating this story as respectfully as possible. My mentors, who are Native Hawaiian wahine filmmakers, helped guide me and support me too. This film project was made with Hawaiian hands and loving people.

Family photo courtesy of Cris Romento

Who did you make this film for?

There are three people who come to mind when I think of who I made this film for: The first one being little, seven-year-old Cristina, which sounds a little cliche, but it’s true. I made this film thinking, “If I saw this film when I was a little girl, a multiracial kid who is lost and confused and depressed, what would I want to see? What would have made me feel less alone?” I didn’t have the word diaspora to lead me through those years. I’m only learning about our diaspora.

The second person is my father. I didn’t know when I first started making the film how much this was for my father. I’ve always looked at his life as very difficult for a man of color, and he still moved through the world with aloha. It has been really nourishing for me to hear people say, “Oh, your father reminds me of my father,” because I didn’t expect that at all. I made this film to honor his experience.

And the third person would be my Hawaiian grandmother, who’s in the spirit world now, and who I pray to every day. She’s been the one who’s leading me in the journey. She’s the one who I felt speaking to me to return home, and she’s been guiding me this whole time in creating this film.

Photo courtesy of Cris Romento

Have you thought about how you might expand on this project of supporting Hawaiians in diaspora?

I definitely have been deeply thinking about where this film is going to go. Whatʻs so important to me is having these in-person screenings, which I’m just so tremendously honored to do with OPB and Firelight Media.

We’re partnering with nonprofits to create very mindful gatherings [in Portland and Seattle], and I want to do that in other diasporic communities. It’s not just a screening. We’re going to have a talk story where we discuss our issues and hold space for peopleʻs feelings after the film. This idea became very clear to me when I experienced my first film premiere at the Hawai’i International Film Festival. People would come up to me crying when they saw me. They wouldn’t even say any words; they would just start crying and hugging me. I felt so compelled to support the community so that after people watch the film, we’re not just leaving people hanging. Weʻre trying to heal together. It’s having a community around, having mental health support, good food, grounded-ness. It’s very important to me.

We also have a website, dearaloha.com, where we want to have this ecosystem of information for the Hawaiian diaspora and also introduce people to responsible tourism. This idea is not only for tourists, but also diaspora Kanaka who may have not visited Hawai’i. Or, they left and they have no resources to reconnect back home. I want people to be able to visit in ways that shift the narrative of how we experience Hawaiʻi.

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If we can get people to feel comfortable talking about displacement, that can be healing. If the film gets people to view the word aloha through a Native Hawaiian lens, it can also help people also travel differently to Hawaiʻi.

—Cris Romento, filmmaker

What a beautiful vision. Thank you for bringing it to life. The ideas in the film, obviously, but also being so thoughtful about creating a caring space for people to come into and experience the film. What else would you like people to take away from your work?

I really hope that this film allows people to feel connected as Hawaiians. In the film, Leialoha Ka’ula is weaving lei with four generations of her family, and it’s a very important part of the film. She says, whenever she’s making lei, she’s still in Hawai’i.

And I started to see our Hawaiian-ness, how we are as Hawaiians, who we are as Hawaiians, woven together like a lei. We’re thousands of miles away in the diaspora, but we’re all deeply connected. I want people to know that however you show up as a Hawaiian, it’s okay. Whether you know ‘Ōlelo (Hawaiian language), or you don’t, it’s okay. It’s okay to be you. We are all suffering through this experience of colonialism together, and I donʻt want people to feel ashamed anymore for something that is out of their control. If we can get people to feel comfortable talking about displacement, that can be healing. If the film gets people to view the word aloha through a Native Hawaiian lens, it can also help people also travel differently to Hawaiʻi. I just hope this film helps people on that journey of accepting themselves as Hawaiians.

Thank you, Cris.

Watch the documentary on PBS and visit dearaloha.com to find the next screening in your town.