Tommy Orange’s There There is an insightful, poignant portrayal of what it means to be Native American in a modern, urban world. Though I’ve read a few books on Native American life, There There offered a fresh perspective that deepened my understanding of the struggles and resilience of Indigenous communities in America. Through a tapestry of interconnected stories, Orange examines the lives of twelve Native characters, each grappling with cultural loss, historical trauma, and the search for identity in unique ways, yet bound by common themes—all converging at the climactic Big Oakland Powwow. There There explores how historical trauma and urban displacement shape contemporary Native American identities while emphasizing the resilience needed to reclaim and preserve their heritage.
There There opens with a haunting Prologue that vividly illustrates the historical atrocities and enduring challenges faced by Native Americans. One of the most impactful quotes is: “An apple is red on the outside and white on the inside. But what we are is what our ancestors did. How they survived. We are the memories we don’t remember, which live in us, which we feel, which make us sing and dance and pray the way we do, feelings from memories that flare and bloom unexpectedly in our lives like blood through a blanket from a wound made by a bullet fired by a man shooting us in the back for our hair, for our heads, for a bounty, or just to get rid of us.” This quote delves into the concept of intergenerational trauma, where the legacy of violence and survival experienced by ancestors continues to live on in future generations. The comparison of inherited trauma to blood seeping through a blanket powerfully illustrates how these painful memories, though not always consciously remembered, still influence the actions, emotions, and cultural expressions of Native Americans.
Tony Loneman represents one of the many Native pe whose life is shaped by the weight of intergenerational trauma. Living with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, which he calls “the Drome,” Tony’s condition is both an internal and external marker of his struggle. His visible difference forces him to constantly contend with how others perceive him, and in turn, how he sees himself. Tony’s condition becomes emblematic of the deep psychological scars left by generations of violence and displacement. His frustration with his appearance reflects the societal stigma he faces, such as being treated as less intelligent and incapable at school, and the internalized pain from the historical trauma his people have endured. Tony wishes people wouldn’t see “the Drome” first, as its visibility defines him socially, trapping him in others’ judgment. When Tony looks in the mirror, he sees himself as “a villain,” conflicted about wanting to be proud of his Native American identity while also feeling the weight of how being Native has led to mistreatment. His grandmother, Maxine, tries to console him, reminding him that their difference is something to be valued. But for Tony, looking different evokes a fear rooted in historical violence—a reminder that, for Native people, being visibly other once meant being a target.
The next character, Dene Oxendene, seeks to shed light on the struggles of Native people, much like Tony Loneman, and illustrates how urban displacement and historical trauma shape contemporary Native American identities. While Tony’s story focuses on the internal struggles of generational trauma, Dene’s mission to document Indigenous stories in Oakland highlights the external effects of urbanization. Dene’s work underscores that Native identity is not bound to land but exists wherever Native people are, even in urban environments far from traditional homelands. Inspired by his uncle Lucas, Dene is dedicated to preserving the stories of urban Native Americans, ensuring their voices are heard and their cultural legacy remains intact despite the fragmentation caused by displacement. His project shows that even in the face of urbanization and disconnection from ancestral lands, Native culture persists and thrives. Through Dene’s efforts, Orange reinforces that Native identity is both pervasive and resilient, capable of enduring changing environments.
Although I focused on Tony and Dene, the novel’s cast of twelve characters reveals a profound truth: the Native identity is not a monolith but a tapestry of unique experiences, all shaped by shared histories of trauma and resilience. Each character’s story is different, yet they are all bound by the same cultural wounds and the complexities of living as Native in a modern world. In school, I briefly learned about Native American history, though it was always taught as something from the distant past—often from the colonizer’s perspective. Most history textbooks have at most a paragraph on the loss of land and culture— let alone acknowledge the continued presence and persistence of Indigenous peoples. This novel humanizes their stories in a way that history books seldom do, offering a more personal and genuine portrayal of Native lives. I value storytelling, especially fiction, for how it can foster empathy and understanding. The characters in There There may be fictional, but their struggles and triumphs reflect the experiences of many Native Americans today. Though the novel highlights the violence, urbanization, and intergenerational trauma that shape and complicate Native lives, it also reveals a powerful narrative of resilience that celebrates the enduring strength of their communities.