Editor’s note: This Community Voice was one of numerous entries in our recently concluded Emerging Writers Contest.

In November of 2009 I finally accepted the fact that my home is in Waianae. We moved here in September of 2004, but it wasn’t until November 2008 that I finally changed my driver’s license to reflect my “new” zip code of 96792.

What prompted me to change it was that I needed to vote and wanted my license to match my voter registration just in case I got denied at the poll. It wasn’t that I was ashamed to live in Waianae, it’s just the stigma attached to people that live out this way and I thought I didn’t fit.

Most people I know don’t move to Waianae — they move out of Waianae. They have roots planted here and generations of family members. We moved here with no family except for a second cousin that we rarely saw who acquired homestead land in Waianae Valley.

When I first moved here it was a bit of a culture shock. It seems like a different set of rules and laws apply once you go past Honokai Hale. For instance, drinking beer straight from the bottle or can as you walk down Farrington Highway is perfectly fine — no need to hide your alcoholic preference in a plastic red cup. Smoking pakalolo at Maili Beach while a Christian Easter Service is being held or under a tree at Makaha Beach, no problem. Both things I have witnessed within my first few months here.

Other smells I have grown accustomed to besides pakalolo in the air at almost any park, is the whiff from the pig farms, the waste water station otherwise known as “Sewers,” right across from Pizza Hut and many other farm animal aromas. I awoke at the crack of dawn everyday due to the noise from my neighbors’ pets — aka, fighting cocks.

Then there’s the issue of the other household “pets” that pay us visits too. I was not used to mice, centipedes and yes, rats! I have never bought so many sticky traps in my life, and now I know why Longs has a whole aisle dedicated to these products.

Living in Waianae has also proven to be educational for me. I learned that packing your house in your car is necessary especially when you’re stuck in town when all the light poles have fallen, or traffic is so bad that there is no way in or out of Waianae.

‘It’s Not That Bad’

Years ago I took two classes at Leeward Community College in Waianae. There, I got acquainted with others born and/or raised here. I felt like such an outsider because everyone knew each other or what family they were from, etc. There, they taught me the nicknames for different places on the coast as well as the names they had for our local “celebrities,” the man with the dreads who shadow boxes and stands outside the various 7-Elevens asking for money.

I heard shocking stories of drugs, homelessness and abuse and saw how it directly affected families. They shared with me funny anecdotes of going to school or living in Nanakuli versus Waianae. (I never knew there was a difference.)

Taking that class was an eye-opener to my surroundings. Oh, yeah, I did brush up on my math and writing skills as well.

Living in Waianae has also proven to be educational for me.

This is in no way and attempt to disrespect Waianae or the people of Waianae. I am reflecting on and what I have observed in my years here as a transplant.

Since my first day in this house in 2004, my son has played Pop Warner Football for Makaha and Waianae, my youngest daughter attended pre-school in Makaha and my eldest met a lot of friends that ride the bus in to Kamehameha Schools from Nanakuli to Makaha.

I have learned and taken part in various programs offered to Native Hawaiians and residents of the Waianae Coast. I never knew these programs existed until living here.

Recently a co-worker made a reference to the ghettos in Southern California and he said something like “it’s not as bad as Waianae.” I got really offended and caught myself defending the place I now call home. I never imagined myself ever doing this.

Yes, there is a stigma attached, but I have learned to see the beauty as well. With my 1.5 hour drive in traffic to work comes the splendor of the ocean and the magnificent sunsets coming home. I feel the aloha from my neighbors as we trade our tangerine for their yard work and how we all look after each other. I won’t lie and say, that there’s no place I’d rather be, but it’s not that bad.