Iowa’s largest population of Pacific Islanders are the Marshallese, ‘a very loving people’ displaced and sickened by U.S. nuclear testing

On May 23, government officials from the Republic of the Marshall Islands traveled 6,000 miles to commemorate their country’s Constitution Day in Dubuque. The Iowa city has gathered to mark the Marshallese holiday since 2005.

“Today is more than a national celebration,” Isaac Zackhras, Vice Speaker of the Marshall Islands’ parliament told the crowd in Dubuque. “It is a reminder who we are, as the Marshallese people. A people of strength, resilience, faith and unity. Many of us are separated by ocean and distance.”

The Marshallese have a unique legal status in the United States that allows them to stay indefinitely, without a visa or citizenship. It’s a recompense, in part, for the U.S. military bringing armageddon to the nation’s doorstep 80 years ago.

The Republic of the Marshall Islands is built upon the remnants of long-dormant volcanos, made up of 29 atolls (ring-shaped island chains with massive lagoons inside) and five main islands in the great expanse of the Pacific Ocean between Hawaii and the Philippines, just north of the equator and east of Micronesia. The entire land area of the republic is only 70 square miles, and is home to about 37,500 Marshallese. 

People have lived on the archipelago for millennia, but they’ve been at the mercy of British, American, German and Japanese colonial forces for nearly 250 years. The U.S. government took control of the Marshall Islands during WWII, and soon found a way to exploit them. 

Two atolls, Bikini and Enewetak, were selected as nuclear test sites. Residents were forcibly relocated by the U.S. military, though many went willingly, trusting American assurances that the evacuation was temporary and the tests were “for the good of all humanity.”

From July 1, 1946 to Aug. 18, 1958, 67 nuclear weapons were detonated in and near the atolls’ lagoons, some of them more than 1,000 times stronger than those used on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Sea beds were cratered and radioactive debris rained down on the region. The infamous Castle Bravo hydrogen bomb test over Bikini on March 1, 1954 caused radiation burns, hair loss and illness for Marshallese people living more than 100 miles away on the Rongelap, Ailinginae and Rongerik atolls. The long-term effects spread far further.

Whole island chains were rendered uninhabitable because of the testing. Soil, vegetation and animals became dangerously irradiated. Cancer rates soared. Miscarriages, stillbirths and devastating birth defects were common. All these hazards remain generations later. Meanwhile, rising sea levels caused by climate change threaten to destroy what little radiation mitigation has been done. 

The islands are among the most vulnerable in the world to rising sea levels. Some are projected to be totally submerged by 2100. The government of the Marshall Islands began to sound the alarm of rising sea levels soon after joining the United Nations in 1991, and continues to advocate for swift action to address climate change. Pacific Research on Island Solutions for Adaptation, one of NOAA’s climate change research projects, estimated in a recent report that 25 to 45 percent of Marshall Islands residents are experiencing health issues stemming from climate stress.

Coconuts are central to Marshallese cuisine, from immature coconuts (ni) to mature coconuts (waini) to sprouting coconut seedlings (iu). Coconut trees produce a sweet, nutrient-dense sap (jokaro) that’s far healthier than sugar. But because many of their food sources, including coconut trees, were poisoned by the nuclear tests, the Marshallese must rely heavily on imported, processed foods, contributing to a higher-than-average rate of diabetes. 

Enewetak people were able to return home in the ’80s and ’90s, but the Bikini, Rongelap, Ailinginae and Rongerik atolls remain unsafe for humans. Ebeye, an the Kwajalein Atoll, became a primary resettlement site. To this day, the 80-acre island is home to roughly 8,000 people, giving it one of the greatest population densities in the world. Many residents struggle with poverty. A June fire in Ebeye left more than 100 people homeless.

The devastation brought by U.S. nuclear weapons testing fueled Marshallese resolve to secure independence. Their first ratified constitution established the Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI) on May 23, 1979 — the first Constitution Day.

Rejecting the offer to become a U.S. territory or commonwealth, RMI (along with Micronesia and Palau) signed a Compact of Free Association, or COFA, in 1986, which was renewed in 2003 and 2023. The U.S. agreed to provide a trust fund and grant assistance, making settlements available to residents affected by the nuclear tests, in exchange for a continued military presence. Many Marshallese, it should be noted, say they’ve been waiting years, even decades, for their claims to be processed. Resettlement payments to Bikinians and their ancestors ran dry in 2023; the first Trump administration stopped U.S. audits of the trust fund in 2017.

RMI cannot form its own military under the compact, but individuals can join the U.S. armed forces. The Marshallese people have one of the highest rates of enlistment of any group.

COFA also gives the Marshallese “lawful nonimmigrant status,” allowing them to live and work in the U.S. at will, without a visa or green card. Thousands have taken advantage of this opportunity and moved stateside in the decades since, seeking jobs and healthcare. The 2020 census counted 47,300 Marshallese Americans. 

Iowa has a history of being a leader in resettling refugees. When President Gerald Ford called for states to aid members of the Vietnamese Indigenous group Tai Dam, Iowa’s Republican Governor, Robert D. Ray, helped create what became the first Bureau of Refugee Services in the country. Subsequently, Bosnians, Sudanese and more displaced peoples found new homes in rural and urban Iowa communities.

The Midwest’s largest population of Marshallese is in the Dubuque area, the banks of the Mississippi serving as something of a substitute for RMI’s Pacific shores. The first Marshallese came to study at the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary in the 1970s. Before long, family members followed.

Most estimates put the Dubuque area’s Marshallese population around 1,400, though one local leader, Pastor Stan Samson, reckons it’s more than 2,000. Originally from Ebeye, he arrived in Iowa in 2002 and serves as the pastor at Dubuque’s Paradise Church, an Assemblies of God ministry with Marshallese-language sermons. Samson helps immigrants access English education and medical resources. 

They are “shy people,” he said, “but very loving people too.” The Marshallese are extremely communal; no markets or trading posts existed until 19th-century colonizers brought them. After 200 years of visits from Protestant, Catholic and Latter-day Saints missionaries, more than 96 percent of Marshallese are Christian. The Marshallese word io̧kwe simultaneously means “hello,” “goodbye,” “love” and, literally, “you are a rainbow.” 

Advocacy has become a family affair for Samson. His daughter serves in the National Guard and works at the Crescent Community Health Center, which specializes in serving Marshallese patients. His daughter-in-law, Ayuoko Maun, is a multilingual advocate and outreach worker with Monsoon, a statewide nonprofit fighting gender-based violence in Asian American Pacific Islander communities. 

In 1988, an Academy Award-nominated documentary directed by Robert Stone, Radio Bikini, drew widespread attention to the nuclear testing that decimated Marshallese ancestral homes. As Dubuquers got to know the Marshallese and learned of their struggles — including high rates of diabetes, heart disease, cancer and, come 2020, COVID-19 — they began to organize free or low-cost healthcare options for their islander neighbors.

If you call Crescent Community Health Center, their phone menu cycles through English, Spanish and Marshallese language options, also represented “in all signage, forms, and patient educational materials.”  They employ community health workers who help patients navigate the U.S. healthcare and Medicaid system, as nearly 60 percent of their patients are Medicaid enrollees. The Dubuque Pacific Islander Health Project, operated through Crescent, provided care to 600 patients last year, with an ever-growing caseload. 

In RMI and Dubuque, women lead many preservation and community-building efforts. While men are more likely to be landowners and policy-makers in the Marshall Islands, there is a strong matrilineal tradition in which women are the primary cultural custodians. 

Like many Indigenous peoples, the Marshallese have been separated from their lands and food sources. The cost of losing natural vegetation and in some cases the knowledge of traditional practices, such as how to process fibrous or toxic raw plants into nutritious food, has created an imperative to preserve and uplift what remains.

Manit (“culture” or “custom” in English) Day was born in 1988, as more and more Marshallese people began to pack their bags for Hawaii, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Hawaii, Iowa and other states thousands of miles from RMI — and with thousands of times more square miles of living space. A Marshallese nonprofit, Kōrā em an Kōl, or KEAK, takes the lead on planning both Manit Day and Constitution Day in Dubuque.

On the last Friday in September, people across the diaspora gather and enjoy traditional Marshallese foods like grilled fish (such as bigeye tuna, yellowfin and barramundi, often cooked inside a banana leaf), chukuchuk (rice balls rolled in grated coconut), Makmōk (a starchy, stemless herb that grows on the islands), fried sweet potatoes and bananas, and coconut syrup. 

You can find Marshallese dancing, coconut husking contests and artisans weaving the leaves of pandanus (a palm-like tree or shrub also called “screw palm”). Dubuque and Ottumwa, another city with a sizable Marshallese population, host and compete in men’s softball tournaments, each team named for a different RMI island or atoll. 

A small business in Maquoketa works to keep Marshallese cultural foods within reach, for holidays and every day. DJ Mini Mart, run by a Pohnpeian woman named Patricia Alex, ensures that people do not have to drive to Chicago to purchase the fish, rice and coconut snacks that help these Dubuquers feel connected to their Pacific homeland. Dubuque’s Multicultural Family Center provides a venue for the gatherings.

When RMI Vice Speaker Zackhras, Sen. Marie Davis Milne of Ebon Atoll and Assistant Attorney General Mrs. Tianaake Sunny Berro arrived at the Cedar Rapids airport for the Constitution Day celebration in May, the Marshallese community greeted them with song, food, dance and waving blue, orange and white flags. 

Maitha Jolet, who emceed the event and leads KEAK along with Noreen Kang, spearheaded efforts to bring the government officials to Dubuque. RMI’s constitution is in the process of a fifth redrafting, and Jolet wanted to ensure his community’s voices were heard. 

“Part of my job is to greet the people, and tell them about who we are,” Jolet said in an interview with Little Village from RMI’s capital city, Majuro, where more than half of the nation’s population of roughly 53,167 live. “Marshallese are really kind people. Marshallese people are really humble, respectful and they’re really good people.” 

“They like the people living in Dubuque,” he added. “We don’t have any problem with the other culture. … I think our neighbor is really good to us.”

Of course, life in America isn’t perfect for the Marshallese. There’s a language barrier, and Jolet noted that the minimum wage can make it hard to get by, especially when families back in RMI “really need help from us … especially food.”

“Every time we have extra money, we send it to them,” he said. “We really look after each other. It’s part of our culture.”

On Constitution Day, Vice Speaker of the Parliament Zackhras acknowledged Marshallese Americans’ generosity.

“Many work long hours to support loved ones both here and back home. Many continue to balance life between two worlds, while remaining committed to family, faith and communities,” he said. “Your resilience and determination inspire all of us.”

“To our Marshallese community living abroad, especially here in Iowa: You remain an important part of our nation,” Zackhras continued. “Even though you may live far from home, your connection to the Marshall Islands remains strong. Your hard work, your sacrifice, your prayer and your continued love for our islands, continue to strengthen our people and our future. We are proud of the way the Marshallese community across the United States continue to preserve our culture and tradition.”

Bonus history: Buried treasure

“Things change[d] so fast in the Marshall Islands once the Europeans came. Then the Japanese also, with the influx of those different cultures,” said Sue Rosoff, a photographer, teacher and Manit Day organizer in Dubuque.

“Manit Day is a way to try and keep the Marshallese cultural things alive,” she explained.

Improbably, one of the first Europeans to abandon ship and build a life in the Marshalls, Joachim DeBrum of Portugal, helped preserve the cultural knowledge that continues to inform Manit Day. DeBrum took the first ever photographs of Marshallese life in the late 1800s and early 1900s, just as their traditions were under threat from Spanish and German expansion. 

DeBrum also helped form the island’s first market and trading post. In this era, Germany began to supplement their whale blubber with vegetable-based oils, like coconut, which were used for fuel, lamp light and lipstick. Dried coconut (copra) continues to be the largest export for RMI.

“They ended up having a trading store. So, imagine up until [1860s], the Marshallese people are going along just trying to be Marshallese and not having any other cultural influx,” Rosoff said.

In the late 1990s, Rosoff began receiving calls at odd hours. The calls came from Raytheon, the major U.S. defense contractor and weapons manufacturer. They wanted to hire a photographer to highlight the beauty of the Marshall Islands. 

Rosoff, who had once studied under Ansel Adams, had never heard of the Marshall Islands. But when she learned that her daily commute on Kwajalein Atoll would be 20 minutes by bicycle, dramatically less than the hours she was spending at the time in California traffic, Rosoff took the job.

“Within the first six months, the people with the Marshall Islands Cultural Center found out that I knew how to do [photo scanning],” Rosoff told Little Village. “I started learning about Marshallese culture pretty much from the get go.”

The stuff in question? DeBrum’s historic photographs — roughly 2,600, taken over a century before.

Just prior to WWII, DeBrum’s son Leonard buried his father’s work in the sand on a remote island to protect them from bombs and invaders. The original photographs DeBrum printed disintegrated long ago, but the wet plates, despite the odds, survived the elements and warfare.

“I would scan them, but I would also look and try and figure out what he was trying to show us,” Rosoff said. Ultimately, she realized DeBrum was documenting cultural practices. “And that’s when I got so involved in Manit Day.”

A descendent of DeBrum, Eugene De Brum Kawakami, endorsed Maitha Jolet when he ran for delegate of the Likieup Atoll on a platform of “unity, service, progress, and a brighter future,” and nearly won. Jolet is a community leader in Dubuque who emceed this year’s Constitution Day. 

This article was originally published in Little Village’s August 2026 issue.