Tiki Talk

My first visit to Disney World, I made my family miss the fireworks in favor of seeing the birds of the Tiki Room. My sisters were mad at me, but I had heard a song and it had to be experienced in person. Actually, I think I ended up falling asleep, but tiki culture definitely had an early influence on me.

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The Rise and Fall and Rise of Tiki

Obviously, I wasn’t the only one to have been affected by tiki culture—the catch all phrase to describe Pacific Island influences in America. This past week the “largest and longest-running Tiki festival in the world.[1]” occurred in San Diego. That the Tiki Oasis convention has been going on two decades and is still growing is telling of style’s popularity. Americans first became interested in Polynesian influences in the 1910s, but it wasn’t until after WWII with GIs returning from the Pacific that the tiki bar really took off[2]. The next decades saw Hawaii becoming a state, new rum-based drinks being created, and tiki bars showing up across the country. America was collectively looking for an escape, and these “exotic” lounges were slices of a different reality.

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The Problem

The inspiration of tiki bars is heavily rooted in cultural appropriation. And by heavily rooted, I mean they took the whole tree and transplanted it without bothering to get the care instructions. The word “tiki” itself refers to the carved wooden statues of gods, goddesses, and sometimes ancestors. While most statues featured in the bars aren’t authentic carvings…does the fact that they’re fake representations of religious relics make it that much better? 

The issue has been addressed a few times in recent years. NPR had a small piece discussing it on All Things Considered in 2016[4], and the next year public pressure urged a tiki bar owner in Corvallis, Oregon to rebrand in the weeks after opening[5]

But overall, it’s not a conversation being had.

Like the escapism mentality that the tiki bar is meant to invoke, many want to escape the idea of cultural exploitation altogether. The mythical Land of Tiki that bars are trying to capture isn’t specifically a real place, rather a paradise in the Pacific Islands where one goes to forget their problems for a time. But in forgetting problems, we are also forgetting the history of colonization and strife in Polynesia. The Dole Food Company, which sponsors the Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room[6], is named for the family that overthrew Hawaii’s monarchy. But how often does this occur to people as they enjoy their Dole Whip in “The Most Magical Place on Earth?”

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Shelby Allison, a co-owner of a tiki bar in Chicago, says that today’s tiki bars are “more conscientious and more considerate”[7] but in the case of the tiki bar in Corvallis, the nixing of the Hawaiian name, leis, and cartoonish decorations was enough to appease the public; that’s hardly a significant departure from the thatched roofs of yore. 

Which makes the new wave of tiki that much more difficult to reflect on. In the nostalgic age that has gripped the millennial generation especially, it’s possible we aren’t trying to create an island escape at all, but a purposefully kitschy copy of a golden era. An echo of an echo. From early in their creations, tiki bars were largely American inventions. The drinks, the music, the food—while starting with somewhat authentic roots—were quickly tweaked for the sake of convenience and creativity. 

Today’s tiki bars are often judged based on a TiPSY Factor (Tikis Per Square Yard Factor) which refers to any prop that elevates the atmosphere of the locale. Quality and presentation of the drinks is also an important factor. These two aspects often carry the most weight in evaluating a tiki bar; whereas, food, music, and service—typically the main points of interest in a standard American venue—might be overlooked.[8] It’s quite a deviation from how millennials typically speak with their money. The bar is its own experience, and the campy island atmosphere is almost too far removed from reality for typically political-correctness-savvy-visitors to truly associate it with the Pacific Islands.

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So…Do you Stop Going to Tiki Bars?

We can’t ignore the origins of the tiki bar. The characterization of an entire region into a Jimmy Buffet song is problematic and disrespectful and the peoples of Polynesia deserve better than that, and we can do better than that. 

But don’t throw out your coconut cup just yet. 

One of the great parts of the human experience is being able to see another’s way of doing something and adopt it as your own. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, right? The problem a lot of people have with cultural appropriation is the tendency to praise the appropriator and dismiss the originator. Celebrating tiki bars as fun and kitschy while disparaging the thatched roof huts that still exist in the world, for example, tears down the very culture we are meant to be celebrating.  

It’s important to be informed about what it is you’re enjoying—and interesting too. Understanding the history of the post-war fascination with the Pacific Islands adds to the depth of the modern tiki bar experience. You’re not just visiting the Polynesian culture, you’re taking a peak at post-war America’s as well. Knowing that those depictions of hula dancers are exploiting a native people might not be the escape we want, but it’s honest. And knowing that the Mai Tai was created in California might not be exotic, but it’s the truth.

For most of my life, my understanding of Polynesian culture was based off a picture painted for me by traditionalists and the baby boomer generation—in retrospect not necessarily the best group to take cultural cues from. Now we have a Polynesian Disney Princess, a Hawaiian superhero. I can follow people on social media who live in the Pacific Islands. I can paint my own picture, and so can you.

So enjoy having your drink served to you from a pineapple. Just be sure you know what it is you’re enjoying.

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Kasey Klein is a contributing Blogger and Writer for Wanderlust Journeys LLC. All information, views and opinions are not affiliated or shared by Wanderlust Journeys, it’s employees, contractors or suppliers.

Kasey Klein