Kamehameha III and His Joint King

Even the missionaries who came to despise Kaomi described him as charming, a gifted storyteller with a good sense of humor. He was also said to be handsome; one writer called him “angelically beautiful.” By age twenty he had moved to Honolulu, where he came under the tutelage of Boki, royal governor of O‘ahu, a high chief who had been baptized as a Catholic but refused to be married in church and insisted on maintaining a Hawaiian lifestyle. It was from Boki that Kaomi learned traditional healing practices such as the diagnosis and treatment of illnesses through touch.

Kaomi’s skills as a healer soon brought him to the attention of Kauikeaouli, the second son of Kamehameha the Great, who had become King Kamahemeha III at age twelve when his brother died during a trip to England. There is no record of the first meeting or courtship of Kauikeaouli and Kaomi, but soon the two became lovers. This came as no suprise to Hawaiians, who were accustomed to such intimate same-sex relationships. Kaomi had previously been aikāne to Kuakini, royal governor of Hawai‘i Island, who had himself been aikāne to Kamehameha the Great, uniter of the kingdom. The sole visual representation that remains of Kaomi is a missionary’s sketch showing him as an attendant to Kuakini as they watch a hula performance.

Although there was gossip that Kaomi had seduced the young king, Kamehameha III had in fact shown “a fondness for such tempting delights” from early on. Ka‘ahumanu had tried to put a stop to Kaomi’s behavior by offering him a young chiefess to marry, but he would not consent, reminding her that “The lover has been deaf even from ancient times.” His punishment was to build a cattle pen for Bingham, a task he undertook with relish.

            Everything changed when Ka‘ahumanu died unexpectedly in 1832. Kaomi, whom the missionaries refused to baptize despite his important role in the spread of Christianity in Hawai‘i, rebelled against the church and became a leading spirit in a group of flamboyant young men who called themselves the Hulumanu, or bird feathers. Declaring a kind of guerrilla war on Christian morality, they forced church members to drink gin in a parody of the breaking of the kapu in 1819, when Ka‘ahumanu rescinded Hawai‘i’s ancient system of taboos to subsequently promote instead Christian values. Now eating and drinking freely symbolized freedom from the church and its restrictions. They mocked Christian burial by burying a pet baboon in a coffin with prayers and Christian ceremonies. They especially delighted in disrupting Sunday services by playing drums loudly at the church door.

            Kaomi’s relationship with Kamehamea III became official the next year when his aikāne elevated him to the position of mō‘i ku‘i, aupuni ku‘i, or joint king and joint ruler. This gave Kaomi the power to draw upon the kingdom’s budget, transfer Christian-owned lands to the Hulumanu, distribute clothing and money, and impose special taxes to pay his debts. Chiefs, warriors, and guards were put at his service, and the king declared his house near Honolulu Harbor taboo to enter. While many previous ali‘i (heredity nobles) had appointed their aikāne to important social and governing roles, this was the first time that one had been given so much authority, making Kaomi and Kamehameha III the two most powerful people in the Hawaiian Kingdom.

            In March 1833, the joint rulers put their vision of a Kānaka Maoli (indigenous) nation into law. A crier was sent through the streets of Honolulu to proclaim the abrogation of all Christian laws and regulations save for the prohibitions against theft and murder. The Natives quickly resumed their “heathen ways.” Pastimes like ‘ulu maika and pūhenehene, stone games accompanied by gambling, were played with abandon. When Kuakini, now royal governor of O‘ahu, flew a kite—an entertainment prohibited by the missionaries as frivolous—a hundred kites were seen flying in the sky within 24 hours. The “demon” rum, which the missionaries viewed as their greatest adversary, was again freely made and consumed, with Kaomi and Kamehemaha III teaching people how to set up their own stills. Church attendance fell markedly, and with the Biblical prohibitions on sexual behavior erased, people were free to make love however and with whomever they pleased. Hawai‘i was once again a land of le‘ale‘a: pleasure and joy.

            Of all the traditions Ka‘ahumanu had banned, the people most missed hula. More than just entertainment, hula was a way to preserve genealogies, reenact historical events, honor deities and leaders, celebrate fertility and procreation, and express joy, grief, and amorous passions. Stephen Reynolds, a longtime resident merchant from America, described in his journal the joy that accompanied the revival of this tradition at the home of Kaomi, who happened to live next door:

At daylight the natives assembled in the yard next to mine and had a great dance. The streets, lanes, fences were filled with people to witness one of their former pastimes. The utmost satisfaction appeared to light the countenance of the spectators. The native at whose house the dance took place (by the name of Kaomi) was First to be baptized; the First to be Teacher; the First to be married; the First to turn off his wife; the First in the Dance; First in all turnings.

Hawaiians from across the islands were ecstatic with the revival of their cultural practices, and many flocked to O‘ahu to savor the new freedoms. But the missionaries were shocked and horrified. Two male lovers were running the kingdom. Had they no shame?

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The missionaries urged the Christianized chiefs to intervene. Sensing the danger to his aikāne, Kamehameha III had Kaomi’s house surrounded with a detachment of guards and issued a proclamation that no one was to enter the compound on pain of death. Nevertheless, the Christian ali‘i hatched a plot to assassinate Kaomi. On March 15, 1834, exactly one year after the abrogation of the Christian laws, they sent an elder chief named Kaikio‘ewa to carry out their plan. He arrived at Kaomi’s house in what is now downtown Honolulu, along with a servant carrying a war club, who proceeded to tie Kaomi’s hands behind his back.

     Kaomi did not resist. He could have ordered his guards to kill Kaikio‘ewa and his servant; that was his royal prerogative as aikāne to Kamehameha III and co-ruler of the island. Instead, he simply said: “If death is my prophecy, death it shall be” (“ua ae aku e paa i ke kaula, a e make paha, e make no”).

     Why did Kaomi allow himself to be overcome? I believe he recognized that the struggle between the traditional Hawaiian way of life and the restrictive Calvinist morals of the missionaries had come to a perilous tipping point. If he and his aikāne persisted in their relationship and rejection of Christianity, there would be a civil war. Kamehameha III would likely be deposed, perhaps even killed, and there would be no clear successor to lead the kingdom.

            Kaomi allowed himself to be escorted to Honolulu Fort, where he was to be executed. Kina‘u, the premier at that time, was alarmed at what appeared to be the beginning of a rebellion against the monarchy, but Kaikio‘ewa was insistent that the “troublemaker” should be put to death. Just at that moment, Kamehameha III rushed in, dressed in the scant clothing he was wearing when a guard had run to tell him about the plot against Kaomi, and untied his aikāne’s bonds. Infuriated, Kaikio‘ewa sprang forward and attacked his ruler. Back and forth they tussled, until the king ended on top of the rebellious chief. “You are not the ruler over the kingdom if you keep on indulging yourself in evil ways!” said Kaikio‘ewa, but the king did not answer. Instead, he took Kaomi to his home at Ka-hale-uluhe (the “house of ferns,” near present-day St. Andrews Cathedral), which was made taboo so no one could enter it.

            Kamehameha III was not cowed by the attack on his aikāne; instead he seemed determined to reassert his authority. A few days later, Kamehameha III, Kaomi, and the Hulumanu embarked on a grand tour of O‘ahu, moving the court from Honolulu to Ewa. Along the way they indulged in prodigious amounts of rum, now readily available, and of ‘awa, a traditional Polynesian drink with euphoric effects. The king was determined to show that he was still the ultimate arbiter in the kingdom. But Kaomi realized just how unstable the situation had become. So long as he and Kamehameha III remained together in what the Christians regarded as a relationship too disgusting to even be named, there was little chance that they could maintain the monarchy and establish the kingdom as an independent nation worthy of international recognition.

            And so, Kaomi ended his aikāne relationship with Kamehameha III and left the court. It was not an act of cowardice but of bravery, loyalty, and love. Shortly thereafter, Kamehameha III attempted to take his own life by slitting his throat and drowning himself. It’s not clear whether this act was related to the breakup with Kaomi.

            Very little is known about what happened to Kaomi next. Some missionaries and Christianized Hawaiian historians claimed he died shortly after the abduction incident in a state of poverty and disgrace. Hiram Bingham, who had introduced Kaomi to Christianity yet refused to accept him into the church, was particularly harsh: “Kaomi fell into neglect, and ere long, faded away and died, none seeming materially to feel his loss, or to envy the fleeting honors and pleasures of such an infidel despiser of revealed religion.” This seems to have been wishful thinking, because another missionary, Sheldon Dibble, wrote of meeting Kaomi in Lahaina, Maui, three years later. Dibble was also a passenger on the schooner on which Kaomi, who was travelling to Honolulu for medical treatment, died in 1837. His departure was accompanied by a large tsunami, which Dibble interpreted as a divine punishment for his sexual sins.

            Kaomi’s survival of the assault by Kaikio‘ewa led one modern historian to speculate that he was sheltered at Moku‘ula, the royal compound in Lahaina that was taboo to the missionaries’ prying eyes. Other Hulumanu were important members of the court there, and the king may have continued to provide support for his ex-lover even if their relationship could no longer be public. It’s impossible to know for sure, as none of Kaomi’s writings were preserved. Nor does he have any known descendants who might have passed on his oral history.

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The “time of Kaomi,” as the period of 1832–1834 came to be known, represented a revival of Native traditions and resistance against Westernization that became a recurring theme in Hawaiian history. In the 1880s, King David Kalakaua, known as the “Merry Monarch,” sparked the first Hawaiian renaissance by reviving Hawaiian music and hula, building ‘Iolani Palace and fostering national identity and pride. The second Hawaiian renaissance, starting in the 1970s, centered on language revival, long-distance traditional canoe voyaging, land struggles, and legal inclusion. But even though both movements trace their roots to the time of Kaomi, his name was not mentioned, and discussion of same-sex relationships and gender fluidity in Kānaka Maoli society were absent. Similar to the marginalization of gay men during the Civil Rights movement and lesbians within the women’s movement, debates surrounding sexual and gender identities were seen as irrelevant, inappropriate, or even damaging to the broader cause.

            Instead, for more than a century, historians presented the time of Kaomi as a warning against the perils of resisting Christian commandments. Kaomi was described as “cunning” and “evil,” and the Hawaiian practices he helped revive as “sinful pleasures” and “things of darkness.” Many biographies of Kamehameha III simply skip from 1832, when he became ruler, to 1839, when he initiated the legal changes that led to a constitutional system, completely ignoring the period in between.

            Today, however, there is renewed attention to Kaomi and what he can teach us about the lasting impact of colonization and the importance of resilience in the face of adversity. Adam Keawe Manalo-Camp, a young Native Hawaiian cultural historian, sees Kaomi’s journey as “a story of Indigenous resistance, of a kanaka trying to navigate an imposed worldview that sought to erase us.” This interest has been reflected in academic papers, artworks, a play, and exhibitions at the Bishop Museum and King Kamehameha V Judiciary History Center.

            Given the current global assault on queer rights, it’s important to ask how the legacy of Kaomi can best be preserved and passed on to future generations. Lei Pua ‘Ala Queer Histories of Hawai‘i, a multidimensional project that I co-direct with my husband and partner Joe Wilson to document and memorialize gender and sexual diversity across the multicultural landscape of the islands, is approaching this question through the lens of the commemorative landscape. The aim is to create a permanent public art piece that portrays Kaomi neither as a villain or a victim but as a hero—a man who was willing to sacrifice everything, even his own life, to protect the man he loved and save the Hawaiian Kingdom.

            Statues are a classic way to honor heroes, but in Kaomi’s case, a traditional solid sculpture wouldn’t capture the complexity of how he has been viewed from various perspectives over time. An intriguing alternative is to create a parametric sculpture composed of thin, parallel sheets. From one angle, Kaomi appears to be a three-dimensional figure, but as viewers move around it, he would seemingly vanish, only to reappear from different viewpoints—just as he did over the past two centuries.

            Now more than ever, it is crucial for queer people to see themselves reflected in public spaces as valued members of society—past, present, and future. Equally important is the broader society’s need to understand that gender and sexual diversity are not “woke” concepts but essential parts of our shared history and humanity. I cannot imagine a better teacher than Kaomi Moe to convey these truths.