Aloha, I’m Kahu Kaleo Patterson. I wear many hats but through it all, my faith guides me to serve the people of Hawai‘i with aloha and compassion.
One of the projects closest to my heart is packing backpack care packages for people coming out of prison. For many here, especially native Hawaiians, reentry is tough. Hawai‘i is beautiful, but it’s also expensive. Many have been priced out of paradise, facing food insecurity, homelessness, and limited access to services. When someone gets out of prison, they’re often left with nothing and nowhere to turn.
These backpacks aren’t just filled with toiletries or snacks—they’re filled with hope. Each one carries a prayer, some encouragement, and a message that says, “You’re not forgotten.” Before sending them out, I pray over every pack, asking for strength and healing for those who receive them.
Serving Hawai‘i’s people means recognizing the deep wounds caused by colonization, displacement, and systemic injustice. Native Hawaiians have been pushed to the margins, and supporting those coming out of prison is one way to honor their dignity and work toward healing.
I go where many won’t—into communities that are often overlooked because they’re hard to reach or uncomfortable to face. But that’s where the need is greatest. It’s not just about handing out supplies; it’s about nourishing spirits, restoring hope, and creating bonds that remind us all we belong.
When I pack these backpacks, I think about the strength of our ʻohana and how important it is to stand with each other through tough times. Sharing stories, recipes, and prayers with those receiving the packs reminds me we’re all connected by faith and humanity.
At the heart of it, this work is about justice and love—showing up for our people in Hawai‘i who too often get left behind. It’s a small act with a big impact, and I’m humbled to be a part of it.
One of the projects closest to my heart is packing backpack care packages for people coming out of prison. For many here, especially native Hawaiians, reentry is tough. Hawai‘i is beautiful, but it’s also expensive. Many have been priced out of paradise, facing food insecurity, homelessness, and limited access to services. When someone gets out of prison, they’re often left with nothing and nowhere to turn.
These backpacks aren’t just filled with toiletries or snacks—they’re filled with hope. Each one carries a prayer, some encouragement, and a message that says, “You’re not forgotten.” Before sending them out, I pray over every pack, asking for strength and healing for those who receive them.
Serving Hawai‘i’s people means recognizing the deep wounds caused by colonization, displacement, and systemic injustice. Native Hawaiians have been pushed to the margins, and supporting those coming out of prison is one way to honor their dignity and work toward healing.
I go where many won’t—into communities that are often overlooked because they’re hard to reach or uncomfortable to face. But that’s where the need is greatest. It’s not just about handing out supplies; it’s about nourishing spirits, restoring hope, and creating bonds that remind us all we belong.
When I pack these backpacks, I think about the strength of our ʻohana and how important it is to stand with each other through tough times. Sharing stories, recipes, and prayers with those receiving the packs reminds me we’re all connected by faith and humanity.
At the heart of it, this work is about justice and love—showing up for our people in Hawai‘i who too often get left behind. It’s a small act with a big impact, and I’m humbled to be a part of it.