Today’s Women in SF&F Month guest is Shay Kauwe! The Killing Spell, her upcoming novel that follows a young Hawaiian woman in a future with language magic, will be released on April 14 in the US and April 23 in the UK. Her book has received starred reviews from Booklist and Publishers Weekly, which called it a “smart and satisfying urban fantasy debut [that] combines gripping mystery, tantalizing romance, and sharp cultural critique.” I’m delighted she’s here today to discuss a link she shares with her novel’s protagonist in “The Kuleana of Being an Eldest Daughter.”

About The Killing Spell:

In this spellbinding fantasy debut set in a future where language magic reigns, a young Hawaiian woman must solve a murder to clear her name.

Kea Petrova is dealing with more than her fair share of trouble.

At just twenty-five years old, she’s the youngest of five Hawaiian clan leaders living on the Homestead in outer Los Angeles. Nearly 200 years ago, when a catastrophic flood submerged the Hawaiian islands and unleashed magic into the world, these clans forged a treaty with the city, establishing a new Hawaiian homeland. But that treaty is about to expire.

Kea struggles to keep her small clan afloat, scraping together rent each month through odd jobs and selling her own crafted Hawaiian language spells. While her talent for language magic is her saving grace, she feels like a shadow of those who came before her. Just when she thinks things can’t get any more complicated, the murder of Angelo Reyes—LA’s most prominent Filipino activist—turns her world upside-down.

Angelo was killed by a death spell—something that, due to the properties of each school of language magic, can only exist in Hawaiian. With independent spellsmithing being technically illegal, Kea quickly becomes the prime suspect, known for her spellwork on the Homestead. To clear her name, she must unravel the mystery behind Angelo’s murder and confront LA’s most powerful (and dangerous) players, each wielding their own type of magic. The clock is ticking—can Kea save herself, her clan, and the Homestead before it’s too late?

The Kuleana of Being an Eldest Daughter
By Shay Kauwe

A quick Hawaiian-to-English dictionary search will define kuleana as “responsibility,” but like most translations, this is incomplete. Kuleana is a responsibility, but it’s also a right, a privilege, a title, a reason, a cause, and a liability. In short, it’s complicated. Yet, when I think of my experiences as an eldest daughter, there is no better word to encompass the full weight of that role.

I am the firstborn in my family, not only to four siblings, but also nineteen first cousins. (Yes, nineteen.) We all grew up in a small town in Hawaiʻi, and by the time I was a preteen, I was an expert at feeding, changing, and burping babies. At twelve, I could help three kids with homework and carry a toddler at the hip while stirring a giant pot of chili. Big sisters, by virtue of our births, become the unofficial and unacknowledged heirs of our families. We’re tasked with taking on both masculine and feminine roles in a household—all without acknowledgement or appreciation. It isn’t just a responsibility, but an expectation.

It’s therefore unsurprising that being an eldest daughter has gained some infamy as a kind of curse. Eldest daughters are told to quit complaining, encouraged instead to cut their demanding families out of their lives if they have an issue with the weight of their title. However, I can’t help but feel that this perspective is very white. The Western solution to relationship problems often assumes that a person is better off alone than inconvenienced. And while that may be true for some, the vast majority of folks desire community. They want, need, and love their families.

However, the false belief that people can go at it alone has seeped deep into a gamut of cultural norms, and Science Fiction/Fantasy is no exception. The Hero’s Journey, for example, is held up as THE blueprint for storytelling, but it’s an unequivocally masculine tale. In his story, a Hero overcomes the odds by facing trials alone and triumphs by relying on his individual awesomeness.

Daughters don’t even enter the equation.

I took issue with this. So, when I wrote The Killing Spell, I explored different routes and was drawn to idea of the Heroine’s Journey. After reading Gail Carriger’s book by the same name, I was shocked at how different a Heroine’s trajectory was. She relied on others, she built communities, she succeeded with others. The defining quality of a Heroine was teamwork because she was surrounded by people.

I began to see this pattern in all of my favorite stories: The Scholomance trilogy by Naomi Novik, where El’s friendships are what help her escape the deadly academy in one piece; the Kate Daniels series by Ilona Andrews, where Kate builds a literal pack of people who love and support her; and even childhood classics like Howl’s Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones, where Sophie Hatter defies every fairy-tale trope with her sisters and found family. It was revolutionary for me, as a young writer, to see familial relationships as the source of womens’ strength, rather than a ball-and-chain.

Drawing on these tales as a new compass, my Heroine took shape—and I knew she had to be an eldest child. Keaalaokaleo Petrova, or Kea for short, is the Heroine of The Killing Spell, and my not-so-silent wish for all daughters: success, community, and the feeling of being at ease in your own skin. Though Kea actively struggles with self-doubt, in the end, she’s able to protect the people she loves by building networks of support to lift herself, and everyone else, up. I placed Kea in a familiar role, as the eldest daughter of a struggling clan. I knew that in this position she would be overwhelmed (Aren’t we always?), but I also knew that she’d succeed because of her family—not in spite of them.

It’s my hope that The Killing Spell resonates with eldest daughters everywhere, because while it’s true that we may feel an inflated sense of responsibility, or struggle to set boundaries, I don’t believe that the solution is to walk away. Girls shouldn’t need to cut off their families to be happy—we just need some goddamn help!

Because the truth is that we love being big sisters.

I know how that sounds. Why would anyone want that weight? That kuleana? The answer lies in the layers of that word. Kuleana is more than just a burden. It’s a privilege. An honor. And in the end, the responsibility of being the eldest is worth it for the simple fact that we love our siblings. Call it corny, call it cliché—or call it what it is. Powerful. I, for one, continue to believe that love is always the most radical choice a person can make.

Shay Kauwe is a Kanaka Maoli (Native Hawaiian) author from Hawaiʻi. She grew up on the Homestead in Waimānalo but moved to Russia because she fell in love with a boy. They now live in Oʻahu. Shay holds an M.Ed in Education and was named an NCTE Early Educator of Color in 2021. In 2022, she was awarded an Empowering ʻŌiwi Leadership Award by the Hawaiian Council, for her work in storytelling and literacy. Her debut urban fantasy THE KILLING SPELL is forthcoming from Saga/Solaris Books and will be the first traditionally published adult fantasy novel by a Hawaiian author.