In 2017, Kā‘eo Izon gathered a group of 11-to-16-year-old boys in Hawai‘i to learn ulana lauhala, the art of weaving pandanus leaves. He named the group Hui ‘Ala Hīnano. For seven years, they met weekly, not just to weave, but to learn in a culturally immersive environment. This wasn’t a craft class; it was an act of cultural continuity in a state where the practice was nearly lost. The question this article investigates is not just how lauhala weaving is done, but how a practice dating back over 2,500 years is being actively rebuilt for a sustainable future, and what that process reveals about Hawaiian culture today. This is useful for anyone interested in cultural revival, sustainable crafts, or understanding how traditions evolve rather than simply survive.
“Ulana lauhala is considered sacred knowledge.” — Hawai‘i Magazine, on the cultural framework of weaving.
Lauhala weaving is not a static relic but a living, contested practice. Its revival is tied directly to the Hawaiian language resurgence and a deliberate effort to teach outside family lines. The craft is sustainable by nature—using a renewable, native tree—but its future depends on navigating the tension between cultural preservation and making the practice accessible to non-Native learners.
| Weaving Group / Initiative | Founder / Leader | Focus | Teaching Method | Status Today |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Hui ‘Ala Hīnano | Kā‘eo Izon | Men’s weaving group (ages 11–16) | Weekly in-person, culturally immersive | Active for 7 years |
| Hui Waianuhea o ka Pua Hala | Kā‘eo Izon | Women’s weaving group | 18-week cohorts, 2 hours/week, 3 projects | 11 cohorts completed, 100+ weavers |
| Nā Lālā o ka Pūhala | Stacie Segovia | Community classes (beginner to advanced) | Weekly classes at Nā Kūpuna Makamae Center | Ongoing, open to all |
| Pu‘uhonua Society | Emma Broderick (3rd gen) | Revival of Hawaiian practices, including weaving | Ceremonial sessions, land-based healing | Active, part of “Arts for Everybody” |
| Ulana Me Ka Lokomaika‘i | Gladys Kukana Grace (co-founder) | Preservation and teaching of lauhala weaving | Workshops and community outreach | Grace named National Heritage Fellow |
The Roots of Ulana Lauhala: From Voyaging to Daily Life
The practice of weaving hala leaves—Pandanus tectorius in Hawai‘i—arrived with Polynesian voyagers from the Marquesas Islands roughly 2,500 years ago. It was not a decorative art but a survival technology. Lauhala provided thatching for homes, floor mats (moena), baskets, canoe sails, and later, hats and bags. Early European explorers and missionaries noted the beauty of these plaited goods, but the craft was already deeply embedded in daily Hawaiian life.
The hala tree itself is central. About 600 species of Pandanus exist globally, but Hawai‘i’s native species is Pandanus tectorius. The tree is vulnerable to invasive scale insects, and its forests face pressure from development and urban sprawl. This ecological vulnerability is a direct threat to the craft’s raw material, a point often overlooked in discussions of cultural preservation.
After European contact in 1778, cotton and other imported cloth reduced demand for lauhala. The 1893 overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy and subsequent bans on the Hawaiian language dealt a severe blow to cultural transmission. Weaving became family-based knowledge, passed down in private rather than as a community practice. By the mid-20th century, the craft was at risk of disappearing entirely.
The Mechanics of Making: From Leaf to Mat
The process of transforming a spiky hala leaf into a pliable strip for weaving is labor-intensive. Weavers begin by cutting mature leaves, then remove the sharp spines along the edges and midrib. The leaves are then smoothed, dried, and spooled around the hand. Strips are categorized as moe (lying down) or kū (standing up), referring to their orientation in the weave.
Leaves are harvested from hala trees, often from specific locations like Pouhala Marsh in Waipahu. Weavers remove ants and centipedes before cutting and smoothing the leaves. Traditional tools included seashells and stones; modern weavers sometimes use pasta makers to strip leaves efficiently.
Prepared leaves are dried to the right moisture content, then spooled around the hand to keep them pliable. This step is critical—leaves that are too dry will crack; too wet will rot.
The actual weaving begins with a simple braid or base, then builds into the desired form: a bracelet, a mat, a basket, or a pāpale (domed hat). Patterns vary by region and weaver. Beginners typically start with bracelets before progressing to more complex items.
Traditional tools were simple—seashells and stones—but modern innovations like pasta makers for stripping leaves show how the craft adapts without losing its core. The process is slow. A single mat can take weeks or months, depending on its size and complexity.
If you attend a workshop, wear closed-toe shoes. Hala leaves have sharp spines that can pierce through fabric. Bring a small towel or cloth to handle the leaves, as the sap can be sticky.
Revival Through Lineage and Community
The revival of lauhala weaving is inseparable from the broader Hawaiian Renaissance that began in the 1970s. Interest in the craft has grown alongside the resurgence of the Hawaiian language. Weavers today are not just preserving a technique; they are rebuilding a cultural framework.
Kā‘eo Izon’s story is emblematic. He learned under Ipolani Vaughan, then master weavers Evva Lim, Suzi Swartman, and Margaret Lovett. In 2017, he founded Hui ‘Ala Hīnano, a men’s weaving group for boys aged 11–16. The group met weekly for seven years. During the pandemic, Izon moved classes online and gained followers on Instagram and TikTok, sharing both weaving techniques and Native Hawaiian perspectives. He later created Hui Waianuhea o ka Pua Hala for women, which completed its 11th cohort with over 100 female weavers. Each cohort was 18 weeks, meeting once a week for two hours, with a goal of completing three projects for a final hō‘ike (presentation).
Emma Broderick, executive director of the Pu‘uhonua Society, represents a third-generation weaving lineage. Her great-grandmother Emma Aluli Meyer founded the society in 1972. Broderick describes weaving as a connection to ‘āina (land) and a form of healing. Sessions at the Kikila estate included both novice and master weavers repairing centuries-old mats. The group “Keanahala” (“the hala cave”) recalls historical weavers who sought shelter in caves to protect leaves from sun and humidity.
Stacie Segovia’s organization, Nā Lālā o ka Pūhala, offers weekly classes at Nā Kūpuna Makamae Center on Ala Moana. Students start with bracelets and progress to mats, bottle covers, and pāpale. Segovia’s teaching lineage runs through Gwen Kamisugi and Pōhaku Kaho‘ohanohano. She notes that older generations are honored when their teachings are learned by younger people.
A common misconception is that lauhala weaving is a “lost art” being revived from scratch. In reality, the knowledge never fully disappeared—it was maintained within families and by a small number of dedicated practitioners. The current revival is about expanding access, not rediscovery.
Context and Comparison: Weaving Across the Pacific
Lauhala weaving is not unique to Hawai‘i. Similar pandanus weaving traditions exist across Polynesia, Micronesia, and Melanesia. The techniques, materials, and cultural significance vary, but the core practice of transforming a spiky leaf into a functional textile is shared.
| Region | Plant Species | Primary Uses | Cultural Status |
|---|---|---|---|
| Hawai‘i | Pandanus tectorius | Mats, hats, baskets, bags, thatching | Revival underway, tied to language resurgence |
| Fiji | Pandanus spp. | Mats (ibe), sails, ceremonial items | Still widely practiced, especially in rural areas |
| Samoa | Pandanus spp. | Fine mats (‘ie toga), floor mats | ‘Ie toga are highly valued in ceremonial exchange |
| Tahiti | Pandanus spp. | Mats, hats, roof thatching | Declining, but maintained by older generations |
The comparison reveals a key difference: in Hawai‘i, the craft was nearly lost due to deliberate suppression of Hawaiian culture after the 1893 overthrow. In other Pacific islands, the practice has remained more continuous, though it faces pressures from modernization and imported goods.
Master weaver Gladys Kukana Grace co-founded Ulana Me Ka Lokomaika‘i and was named a National Heritage Fellow by the National Endowment for the Arts. Her work bridges the gap between family-based knowledge and public teaching.
- Lauhala weaving is a living practice, not a museum piece, and its revival is tied to broader Hawaiian cultural resurgence.
- The craft is inherently sustainable, using a renewable native tree, but faces ecological threats from invasive species and development.
- Teaching outside family lines is a deliberate strategy to ensure survival, but it raises questions about cultural ownership and authenticity.
Questions Readers Ask
Can non-Native people learn lauhala weaving?
Yes. Many instructors, including Kā‘eo Izon and Maile Andrade, teach both Native Hawaiian and non-Native students. Andrade has said she teaches non-Native students to “see like a Native Hawaiian,” emphasizing cultural understanding over mere technique. The goal is preservation, not exclusion.
Is lauhala weaving sustainable?
The hala tree is a renewable resource, but it faces threats from invasive scale insects and habitat loss. Weavers often harvest leaves from specific locations, like Pouhala Marsh, and some groups are involved in conservation efforts. The craft itself is low-impact, but its raw material is not immune to environmental pressures.
What’s the difference between lauhala and other Hawaiian weaving?
Lauhala specifically refers to weaving with pandanus leaves. Other Hawaiian weaving traditions include kapa (barkcloth) and makaloa (sedge mats). Each uses different plant materials and techniques. Lauhala is the most widely practiced today.
Is it appropriate to buy lauhala items as souvenirs?
Yes, if purchased from recognized weavers or organizations. Avoid mass-produced imitations. Look for items sold directly by weavers or at cultural centers like the Kaua‘i Museum. Buying from a weaver supports the craft’s continuation.
Why did lauhala weaving almost disappear?
The 1893 overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy and subsequent bans on the Hawaiian language disrupted cultural transmission. Imported goods like cotton and rugs made lauhala items less necessary for daily life. The craft was maintained within families but was not widely taught for decades.
The Future of a Living Thread
Lauhala weaving is not a static tradition being preserved in amber. It is a practice that is being actively rebuilt, adapted, and reimagined by a new generation of weavers. The use of social media, the creation of gender-specific groups, and the deliberate teaching of non-Native students are all innovations that would have been unthinkable a generation ago. Yet they are happening within a framework of deep cultural respect and sacred knowledge. What the revival of lauhala weaving reveals is not just a craft, but a culture’s determination to define its own future on its own terms. For a deeper look at how Hawaiian traditions are being balanced with modern life, read our guide on Modern Hawai‘i: Balancing Tradition and Transformation for Future Generations.
Sources and further reading
Hawai‘i Magazine. “Perpetuating the Hawaiian Art of Lau Hala Weaving.” 2024. 🔗
American Indian Magazine. “Hawaiian Hala Leaf Weaving.” 2024. 🔗
Hawai‘i Business. “Hawaiian Tradition Lau Hala Weaving Classes Oahu.” 2024. 🔗
New York Times. “Hawaii Weaving Trees Leaves.” 2024. 🔗
Related reading on IslandHopperGuides
The Art of Kapa: Discovering the Ancient Tradition of Barkcloth Making — A companion piece on another essential Hawaiian textile tradition.
The Heartbeat of Hawai‘i: Ukulele’s Role in Island Culture — Explores how another Hawaiian craft became a global symbol.
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