Mana Wahine: A Mother’s Day Tribute to the Woman Who Raised Me (and Hustled Golf Hustlers)
Mana Wahine: A Mother’s Day Tribute to the Woman Who Raised Me (and Hustled Golf Hustlers)
I was born the 8th of 12 children to a full-blooded kanaka wahine—a native Hawaiian woman who was, in short, a warrior queen in rubber slippers. My mom, Blossom Leialoha Kalama-Evans, was the kind of woman who could raise a dozen kids, keep the neighborhood fed, fundraise like a boss, swing a golf club with deadly accuracy—and still have perfect hair for church on Sunday.
We grew up on the Big Island (Moku o Keawe), surrounded by beauty and chaos, in equal measure. Life was idyllic… until the dishes piled up or someone forgot to do the laundry. Then came the look. You know the one–stink eye! It stopped us in our tracks. It got us to clean like our lives depended on it. Because it did.
My mom ruled with an iron fist—but a velvet glove. She was tough, yes! But also generous, wise, beautiful and funny. She taught us about kuleana—our personal responsibility to family, community, and culture. She modeled haʻahaʻa, the kind of humility that isn’t meek, but powerful and grounded. And she lived aloha—not the watered-down version you see on T-shirts, but the real, unmovable, deeply rooted kind. Aloha that holds space, tells the truth, feeds the soul and catalyzes movements.
When I was seven, she included me as part of the Royal Court for Aloha Week which she helped organize. I felt like a princess. She was always finding ways to keep us busy, and often that meant she was knee-deep in fundraising so we could play sports, march in the summer fun parades, or go on swim competitions. She could hustle like no other. Especially on the golf course.
Now, I hated being her caddy. But I loved watching her hustle unsuspecting male golfers. She’d pretend she didn’t know a driver from a 9-iron, hide her golf shoes and talk to them in bare feet, then place a friendly wager… and wipe the green with them. Every time.
But perhaps the most powerful thing about my mom came later in her life. She became a mentor during the Hawaiian Renaissance, creating space in our home for young college wahine to reconnect with our culture, language, and leadership. She didn’t just raise a family—she helped raise a movement.
Before she passed, she looked me in the eyes and told me to tell the ʻohana:
Exercise the expression of humbleness. This meant to celebrate winning but remain humble in your glory. It is what true champions are made of.
Be positive against the world. She suffered greatly during her cancer treatment ut knew that the only way for her was to be positive, in the middle of the pain.
Consider others before yourself. She was 7-8 months pregnant when my two oldest sisters were being swept out to sea by the riptide at Hapuna beach park. She swam out through the pounding surf and pulled both daughters to safety using just her legs.
These aren’t just words to us. They are our operating system. Her legacy lives in our ʻohana and how we show up—for each other and for the world. She ended every letter to me with, me ke aloha poina ʻole—my love is never fading.
Honor a Mana Wahine in Your Life
This Mother’s Day, we’re launching a tribute campaign to honor the mana wahine who have shaped us—moms, grandmas, aunties, mentors, teachers, neighbors, and aunties-who-aren’t-actually-your-aunties-but-raised-you-like-you-were-theirs.
Make a gift in their honor. When you do, you’ll help Idaho Partners for Good support more women leaders, uplift more families, and pass on the values that shaped generations.
Let’s celebrate the fierce, funny, unstoppable women who made us.
Let’s honor their wisdom.
Let’s amplify their legacy.
Give Now & Celebrate a Mana Wahine »