My name is Sage Scott-Kauhane, and as a person of Kanaka Ma'oli descent, my family has always emphasized the importance of staying connected to our culture. Growing up in Hawaii wasn’t easy—we moved more than 40 times due to the high cost of living. With every move came a new school, where I often faced bullying, not only because we were poor but also because of my mixed heritage. Being Hawaiian, Chinese, and Italian, I looked different from everyone around me, which made it difficult to feel a sense of belonging. The one constant in my life was my art. It became my refuge and connection to my culture. My artwork allowed me to express the part of me that felt out of place everywhere else. One of my earliest memories of this was in the 5th grade during a school project to draw Native Hawaiian plants. I chose the ‘Ulu plant and focused on rendering the fruit in intricate detail. When my teacher, Aunty Keomailani, held up my poster in front of the class, she praised my work, and I won first place. That moment was the first time I realized how deeply my culture and art were intertwined. For the first time, I wasn’t just the new transfer student—I was the “Artistic Kid.” Aunty Keomailani knew I was being bullied and recognized how much effort I put into my art. By highlighting my talent, she gave me a way to connect with my classmates and show them who I was. Her small act of kindness made a huge impact, inspiring my passion for art and my commitment to expressing my Hawaiian heritage through it. But just as things were getting better, we moved again. Once more, I found myself waiting for “Aloha to happen.” You can’t force Aloha—it’s a natural response that arises when you put your heart into something. It happens when people recognize the care, dedication, and passion you put into your work. For me, this has always come through my art, which reflects my heritage, perseverance, and desire to share the beauty of Hawaiian culture with others. This cycle of adversity, kindness, and triumph is what Aloha means to me, and it has carried my family and me through difficult times. Art has always been a vital part of my family’s life. My father, a local artist, has created 10-foot-high wall sculptures and murals found in restaurants across Hawaii. Like him, I’ve used art as a way to connect with my heritage and give back to my community. I’ve created 3D computer-generated characters for Hawaiian tour companies, ensuring that Polynesian people are accurately represented. This is crucial, especially for companies unfamiliar with our features. I take pride in knowing that my work helps preserve the authenticity of Polynesian identity. From sketching Hawaiian plants on paper in the 5th grade to mastering 3D animation by the 7th, my journey has always been about using my art to celebrate and represent my culture. Through my work, I aim to continue the legacy of Aloha that has shaped my life and honor the strength of my Hawaiian heritage.

I grew up in a small, quiet, low-income neighborhood in Hawaii with my mother and father. At the age of six, I declared my artistic destiny by transforming my room into a canvas, covering the walls from floor to ceiling with my art. Little did I know what was going to occur. My Life was on a downward spiral. My father passed away, and my mother, grappling with alcoholism, became abusive. We moved 32 times before I turned 16. High school brought a new low; we moved from a trailer to a home without electricity, a shower, or a toilet. I had to walk to a coffee shop every day for internet to complete my homework. Despite the challenges, I transitioned into being a woman andmanaged to graduate, but my dreams of art and college were shattered. My mother insisted it was too late, and I needed to help with rent. This disagreement led to our separation and her issue with my transition. So she kicked me out at 17 living on the street, until I ended up in a homeless shelter at 19. The shelter was a dark chapter, and I turned to drugs to cope. However, my intelligence and art were the only aspects that retained some humanity in the eyes of others. A worker named Krista recognized my potential and invited me to help design a facility for homeless LGBT youths. This opportunity marked a turning point, revealing that my art had value beyond what my mother saw. That night I went to celebrate with my some othe people in the shelter to celebrate rising above mediocrity for 5 seconds only to fall below again by night's end. I was assaulted and choked on Christmas night and sent to the hospital. One of those people I was with, decided he wanted to start throwing slurs at me, and I yelled at him for it. In return, he attacked me, and choked till I was unconsious in adrunken rage. I got a neck brace put on me and was sent to the hospital. The shelter let me know I couldn’t return that night, and the police arrested the man who attacked me. I walked out of the hospital and looked at the intersection, wondering if I should just quit and run into the street. But instead, I curled up under a park slide hoping that it wouldn’t rain, and so it poured. The morning I returned to the shelter the silver lining finally played when Krista, along with other staff, presented a life-changing announcement. I would have my own place, free from the turmoil of the shelter. A transitional home. I stayed at this transitional housing, working my little buns off. I finally felt inspired to rise to my potential by starting my own independent business and going back to school at a local community college for animation and computer science. My business is dolll making company that also sells 3D VTuber models. It feels like the perfect circle to me. They comforted me through all the pain. Now it’s what I do for my business. I wanted people to feel the comfort I felt In the shelter, when I drew myself as one of these beautiful dolls or when I would spend three hours every day applying makeup to look like them, so I could have the confidence to be brave. doing my makeup and my Art helped me feel human again. And now, I feel whole again. Ready to pursue my dreams of art college, meeting friends who have the same, passion and struggles I did.

I grew up in a small, quiet, low-income neighborhood in Hawaii with my mother and father. At the age of six, I declared my artistic destiny by transforming my room into a canvas, covering the walls from floor to ceiling with my art. Little did I know what was going to occur. My Life was on a downward spiral. My father passed away, and my mother, grappling with alcoholism, became abusive. We moved 32 times before I turned 16. High school brought a new low; we moved from a trailer to a home without electricity, a shower, or a toilet. I had to walk to a coffee shop every day for internet to complete my homework. Despite the challenges, I transitioned into being a woman andmanaged to graduate, but my dreams of art and college were shattered. My mother insisted it was too late, and I needed to help with rent. This disagreement led to our separation and her issue with my transition. So she kicked me out at 17 living on the street, until I ended up in a homeless shelter at 19. The shelter was a dark chapter, and I turned to drugs to cope. However, my intelligence and art were the only aspects that retained some humanity in the eyes of others. A worker named Krista recognized my potential and invited me to help design a facility for homeless LGBT youths. This opportunity marked a turning point, revealing that my art had value beyond what my mother saw. That night I went to celebrate with my some othe people in the shelter to celebrate rising above mediocrity for 5 seconds only to fall below again by night's end. I was assaulted and choked on Christmas night and sent to the hospital. One of those people I was with, decided he wanted to start throwing slurs at me, and I yelled at him for it. In return, he attacked me, and choked till I was unconsious in adrunken rage. I got a neck brace put on me and was sent to the hospital. The shelter let me know I couldn’t return that night, and the police arrested the man who attacked me. I walked out of the hospital and looked at the intersection, wondering if I should just quit and run into the street. But instead, I curled up under a park slide hoping that it wouldn’t rain, and so it poured. The morning I returned to the shelter the silver lining finally played when Krista, along with other staff, presented a life-changing announcement. I would have my own place, free from the turmoil of the shelter. A transitional home. I stayed at this transitional housing, working my little buns off. I finally felt inspired to rise to my potential by starting my own independent business and going back to school at a local community college for animation and computer science. My business is dolll making company that also sells 3D VTuber models. It feels like the perfect circle to me. They comforted me through all the pain. Now it’s what I do for my business. I wanted people to feel the comfort I felt In the shelter, when I drew myself as one of these beautiful dolls or when I would spend three hours every day applying makeup to look like them, so I could have the confidence to be brave. doing my makeup and my Art helped me feel human again. And now, I feel whole again.