A Strange Lad in a Strange Land: Historical Trauma and Indigenous Resilience in The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007)

Introduction

Native American identity is still significantly influenced by settler colonialism and the subsequent reservation system advocated by the Jacksonian Democrats throughout the nineteenth-century.¹ Consequently, these federal government policies led to displacement and forced assimilation of several Native American tribes. Presently, the inhabitants of these reservations continue to experience systematic marginalization, struggling with excessive alcohol consumption, poverty, and low levels of education. These enduring social and psychological struggles can be understood through the lens of historical trauma—the cumulative, intergenerational wounding caused by centuries of colonization, dispossession, and cultural genocide. The persistence of this trauma and discrimination in indigenous communities shapes individual, familial, and communal identities, still causing internal oppression within American Indian life today.

These themes are latent in Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007), following the story of Arnold Junior, a Spokane teenager who lives amid two worlds: the Spokane reservation and an all-white school (Reardan). In this Young Adult novel, not only does the author portray and criticise life’s difficulties in the reservation, but also underlines the complex hybridity, marginalization, and resilience that characterizes the Native American identity. For these reasons, the novel presents itself as a compelling corpus for a postcolonial reading. In parallel, the novel’s representation of inherited suffering and survival invites an interpretation grounded in historical trauma theory, which illuminates the emotional and transgenerational dimensions of colonial violence that prevail in Native American communities. Additionally, considering this to be a YA multicultural novel and a coming-of-age narrative, Alexie’s work provides a powerful framework for reflection about identity formation in a postcolonial world. Therefore, through a close-reading of Sherman Alexie’s novel, the article aims to answer the following question: how does historical trauma inform the identity formation of young American Indians?

In light of this, the article employs both postcolonial and historical trauma perspectives to examine how The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian illustrates the intergenerational effects of colonization on Native American identity formation. Building on this framework, the study is organized into three sections. The first discusses examples of discrimination and microaggressions as integral parts of current forms of trauma in indigenous communities. It also delves into how racism and stereotypes are represented and subverted in the novel. The second analyses major social issues experienced on the Spokane reservation (e.g. violence, alcoholism, deaths). The third explores contrasts and similarities between the Spokane reservation and the community of Reardan.

Postcolonialism & Historical Trauma: Rethinking American Indian Identity

Postcolonial theory provides critical tools for examining how systems of domination, representation and hybridity have shaped formerly colonized peoples. As John McLeod notes, there is no single postcolonialism but rather multiple perspectives that interrogate the historical continuities between colonial and postcolonial power. Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978) revealed how colonial discourse constructs the colonized as inferior, while Homi Bhabha’s The Location of Culture (1994) expanded this discussion through concepts such as mimicry, hybridity, and the Third Space—mechanisms through which resistance emerges within and against colonial authority.

However, when applied to Native American contexts, postcolonialism can appear too broad or external, chiefly unable to capture the lived consequences of colonization. As Cook-Lynn and Vizenor have separately argued, Native peoples’ experiences cannot be fully subsumed within postcolonial discourse, since colonization is not a completed historical event but an ongoing condition. In this sense, the concept of historical trauma offers a necessary complement to postcolonial analysis. Contrasting to postcolonialism, which primarily focuses on power and representation, historical trauma foregrounds the psychological and communal consequences of colonization and the ongoing struggle to heal.

Although human suffering has long been represented in literature, the formal study of trauma emerged in the early 1990s, largely influenced by an ethical turn in the humanities (Craps 1). Early trauma theory, as Craps acknowledges, was predominantly shaped by Western and Eurocentric perspectives that privileged individual experiences of suffering. Consequently, it tended to overlook collective, transgenerational, and structural forms of trauma that do not align with Western models, thereby marginalizing historical traumas rooted in colonialism and systematic violence.

To address these limitations, American Indian scholars such as Eduardo and Bonnie Duran, Maria Yellow Horse Brave Heart and Susan Yellow Horse-Davis were among the first to articulate the existence of a ‘soul wound’—a deep, collective injury resulting from colonization, cultural genocide and spiritual oppression that continues to affect Native communities (Duran et al. 341). They define historical trauma as a form of trauma that is “multigenerational and cumulative overtime,” extending across generations (342). Expanding on this, Teresa Evans-Campbell identifies historical trauma as encompassing both the traumatic events experienced by Native communities and their enduring psychological and social responses (321). She further argues that its impact operates in three interrelated levels: the individual, the family, and the community (322).

It is therefore evident that Native Americans have experienced both individual and communal forms of trauma, and that these experiences still permeate their identity. As Shelly A. Wiechelt and Jan Gryczynski observe, responses to such traumas often manifest in substance abuse, self-destructive behaviour, suicidal thoughts, depression and anxiety, low self-esteem, anger, difficulty recognizing and expressing emotions, identification with ancestral pain, and elevated mortality rates (199).

Notwithstanding these forms of trauma, American Indian scholarship also highlights the survival and resilience of indigenous communities. As Hilary N. Weaver asserts, Native Americans pursue healing from historical and contemporary trauma in the form of storytelling (149). In this sense, indigenous storytelling becomes both a mode of remembrance and a means of survival. Through narrative, self-reflection as well as humour, American Indian authors reframe the pain as resilience and reclaim agency from within traumatic histories.

Having alluded to the tension between historical trauma and resilience among the Native American communities, it is now possible to examine how The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian portrays the multilayered dimensions of trauma on the individual, the family and the community, as well as the array of traumatic responses mentioned previously. The following sections will focus on current forms of trauma experienced by Arnold, including relevant examples of racism, stereotypes, microaggressions, social issues, and—most significantly—how he subverts these in his unique path to healing the ‘soul wound’.

Beyond Colonial Constructs: Racism and Stereotypes

Bhabha borrows the concept of fetishism from Sigmund Freud, reflecting upon its presence within colonial discourse (105). The scholar also associates this concept with racial stereotypes—a simplification and a false depiction of the reality (Bhabha 107). Thus, the stereotype not only denies the differences in the colonized, but it also disavows them. Howsoever, children’s and YA texts often depict themes of race and ethnicity, aiming to promote diversity and multiculturalism as a form of counter-story (Hughes-Hassell 226). Nevertheless, living within the context of postcolonialism does not entail a complete liberation from the discourse of race.

In the context of Native American literature, the racial stereotypes are not merely external representation imposed by colonial power but also internalized symptoms of historical trauma. The persistence of racialized images (e.g. “stoic warrior” and “noble savage”) reflects the residue of colonization. Such stereotypes constrain how Native characters and readers see themselves within the dominant cultural order.

The first chapter of the novel characterizes the protagonist and clarifies why he is a frequent victim of bullying in his class and on the reservation: Arnold was born with hydrocephalus² and hyperdontia.³ Apart from this, he also suffers from both myopia and hyperopia,⁴ troublesome headaches, seizures, and stammer. Arnold’s appearance alone represents a subversion of Native American stereotypes and fetishism, such as the “stoic warrior” or the “noble savage,” which highlight expectations associated with masculine strength and virility, rather than vulnerability. Arnold himself exposes his ostracism: “Do you know what happens to retards on the rez? We get beat up. At least once a month” (Alexie 4). As Duran and colleagues commented, violence, whether directed at family members or other people from the community, functions as an example of internalized oppression (347). In light of this, Arnold’s body becomes a site of unresolved trauma. His self-awareness and humour function as coping mechanisms of his inherited historical trauma.

After Arnold punches his teacher with the geometry book that once belonged to his mother, Mr. P and Arnold undergo a deep conversation, also marked by occasional touches of humour. This early scene described in the novel reinforces not only the living conditions and struggles on the reservation, but also the protagonist’s rebellion and resistance against the system. Studying through the same book as his own mother did foregrounds the community’s poverty. Simultaneously, it overshadows the colonizer’s stereotype by underestimating the academic abilities of the reservation kids. As Arnold rebels against this fact, he both challenges and subverts the stereotype by acknowledging the systemic disparage directed to these young people, as well as by portraying himself as an enthusiastic and inquisitive student.

The novel accompanies the text with several illustrations drawn by Arnold, which mark significant moments throughout the protagonist’s narrative.⁵ The book-throwing episode is one of those moments, leading to a reflection on the impact of settler colonialism on the Native Americans. Mr. P starts by saying he forgives Arnold for the act of violence, reinforcing the colonial hierarchy in which the first considers himself morally superior. By “forgiving” the main character, the teacher is thus conducting the narrative in a paternalizing tone. Even though Mr. P acknowledges his role within the colonial project of cultural erasure—“We were supposed to make you give up being Indian. Your songs and stories and language and dancing” (Alexie 35)—, his apology may be insufficient, since he is still compliant to the political power that continuously ostracises and belittles the reservation’s communities. Similarly, Mr. P is also pointing to the violence within these communities, concluding that even when the previous generations committed atrocities, Native American anger should be subdued. On the other hand, Mr. P is the only character that pushes Arnold to not give up on his aspirations, guiding him to go study outside the “sad, sad, sad reservation” (43). Therefore, Mr. P represents a character of ambivalence as he continues to perpetuate the colonial project—“They’re going to kill you. I’m going to kill you. We’re all going to kill you. You can’t fight us forever” (43)—as well as when he offers valuable advice to the smartest kid on the reservation.

This is a clear mark of the assimilation policy adopted by the American federal government, particularly during the presidency of Jacksonian Democrats. Nevertheless, this episode signals Arnold’s frustration in regard to the inadequacy of the educational system, partly justified by the perpetuation of the colonial project towards Native Americans. Whereas the book-throwing episode acknowledges Arnold’s experience and rebellion against the system, the moment when the protagonist starts studying at the new school gives rise to other reflections about the misrepresentation of his community at large.

Skin is a mark of differentiation and “the most visible of fetishes,” as declared by Bhabha (112). Skin acts as both cultural and racial signifier at the heart of the colonial discourse, highlighting its presence even today in postcolonial societies. The novel under scrutiny is packed, perhaps unsurprisingly, with skin descriptions. Whereas the white community of Reardan is repulsed by Arnold’s skin tone, he fetishises paler skins, both romanticizing and exoticizing it with humour: “Her skin was pale white. Milky white. Cloud white. So she was all white on white on white, like the most perfect kind of vanilla dessert cake you’ve ever seen. I wanted to be her chocolate topping” (Alexie 114). Nonetheless, colourism is mainly evidenced as a phobic attitude, resulting in racism, and offensive stereotyping: “But I knew I’d have to put a stop to it eventually or I’d always be known as ‘Chief’ or ‘Tonto’ or ‘Squaw Boy’” (63–64). The description is accompanied with a significant illustration, in which are visible other harmful stereotypes and caricatures in relation to Native Americans, such as “Sitting Bull” and “Red skin” (63).

These discriminatory stereotypes reflect the colonial hierarchy, the historical trauma made visible, belittling Native American culture and diversity. On one hand, these expressions maintain the portrayal of these communities as stoic, passive, uncivilized and, on the other, as violent savages who need to be managed. Following Arnold’s vent about his experience in the white school of Reardan, racism meets its apogee in the narrative, when Roger (a white youngster) attempts to make a joke: “Did you know that Indians are living proof that niggers fuck buffalo?” (64). The protagonist knows he must deal with this kind of attitude and, even though he is not an aggressive boy, he uses the stereotype he is so often accused of, and punches Roger. In this sense, Arnold subverts the misrepresentation of Native Americans as stoic and passive people and he quickly takes pride in this act (65). However, the punch is also interpreted by Roger as confirmation of Native American raging temperament, due to his shock and conclusion (65). Similarly to Mr. P’s incident, the punching episode reveals Arnold’s rebellion against racism which is directed not only towards himself but also to his community.

Despite this, the main character’s struggles with racism and marginalization are not restricted to Reardan. In fact, he faces oppression within the reservation. While this can be viewed as a different form of racism, it exposes the impact of colonialism on these communities. Considering Arnold a traitor, a white culture lover, the Spokane reservation regards him as more white than Indian, hence the final part of the graphic novel’s title: “part-time Indian.” This ambivalence and dual identity position him as a hybrid figure: “Traveling between Reardan and Wellpinit, between the little white town and the reservation, I always felt like a stranger. I was half Indian in one place and half white in the other. It was like being Indian was my job, but it was only a part-time job” (118).

Changing schools caused polarizing reactions on the community: from one point of view, it was a brave and daring decision, perhaps understood as an attempt to find improved living conditions and, ultimately, breaking the cycle of poverty in the family. Conversely, the decision was met with violence and resentment (79), possibly on account of abandonment and neglect issues as a consequence of several centuries of colonialism. Given the contrasting reactions, it is also evident that the reservation is a place of fragmentation, where various scars are still healing, caused by a long history of colonial exploitation and oppression.

On the Lone Rez: Alcohol, Violence, and Death

According to Sandra Hughes-Hassell, “in order to succeed, many American Indian youth feel compelled, like Junior, to reject their Indian culture” (225). Although the main character aspires to succeed on building a better future for himself, he is still impacted by the harsh reality of living on the Spokane reservation. Therefore, the struggles of his community (poverty, discrimination, alcohol consumption, violence, and death) are his struggles as well. His motivation to leave the Indian school reflects how he acknowledges these pervasive issues (whether by writing or literally illustrating them), and how he tries to escape them.

In the novel, alcohol is portrayed as a continuous issue, desolating the lives of Spokane characters.⁶ The role of alcohol within the context of the colonial project should not be overlooked, since it can be considered a tool of colonial control over the native communities.⁷ American Indian scholarship has thusly highlighted it as a response to unresolved patterns of historical trauma. Initially, beverage consumption among Native Americans was restricted to significant rituals and religious celebrations (Abbott 11). Howbeit, the first contact between Europeans and Native Americans created disruptive repercussions, one of them being the introduction of alcohol consumption which took destructive proportions on the latter. As stated by Larry Gould, “alcohol was first used as a means of separating indigenous peoples from their lands and other valuable goods and then as a means of dehumanizing and devaluing them” (89). In this regard, the presence of alcoholism throughout the novel speaks to this long history of trauma, exploitation, dependency, unequal trade dynamics, and unfair treaty negotiations, leading ultimately not only to land loss, but also to a weakening resistance on the part of the Native Americans.

Alexie provides the reader with several examples of the consequences of drunkenness, so that the intergenerational trauma could not be any clearer. In the beginning of the novel, the protagonist tells how his best friend Rowdy is systematically getting beat up by his drunken father.⁸ Arnold adds that his own parents are drunks, too, even so they have never hit him. Rowdy’s aggressive demeanour is partly explained by his upbringing. Arnold endeavours to convey the idea that Rowdy, it seems, has always been fighting.⁹ On the surface, Rowdy appears to conform to the stereotype of the aggressive Native American. However, Alexie gradually subverts this misrepresentation by making the reader feel empathy towards this character, especially when Rowdy reacts so emotionally to Arnold’s sister’s death (Alexie 209–211). Rowdy’s personality is more nuanced, unlike it may seem at first glance. He can both challenge the stoic stereotype by coping with violence and acting tough, as well as reveal a deep affection to his community by holding on to his indigeneity.

The adverse impact of alcohol consumption does not only affect Rowdy, but the whole reservation. Nowhere is this more noticeable than in the deaths of both Eugene and Mary. Whereas Rowdy copes with the obstacles through aggression, the other characters take refuge in excessive drunkenness. The overconsumption of liquor mainly results in deaths and tragedy. Arnold’s grandmother was killed by a drunk driver; Eugene and Arnold’s sister are also victims of alcohol dependency. Accustomed to the presence of death within his community, Arnold recounts what happened to Eugene straightforwardly, highlighting the normalization of the situation: “Way drunk, Eugene was shot and killed by one of his good friends, Bobby, who was too drunk to even remember pulling the trigger. The police think Eugene and Bobby fought over the last drink in a bottle of wine” (169).

The same direct tone of narration is used to tell the consequences of Eugene’s death, which result in another tragedy: “When Bobby was sober enough to realize what he’d done, he could only call Eugene’s name over and over … A few weeks later, in jail, Bobby hung himself with a bedsheet” (171). Remarkably blunt, these announcements reflect the constant deaths on the reservation, hence the normalization and desensitisation. Additionally, the matter-of-fact way of narrating these happenings may be considered a coping mechanism on Arnold’s part. Notwithstanding the stark statements, Arnold also deals with his grief by drawing a whole page of cartoons about the accident between Eugene and Bobby (170). Humour, as at several other points in the narrative, is used as a means of resilience.

Moreover, grief and loss are recurring feelings when living in the reserve. By his friend Gordy’s recommendation, the protagonist discovers Medea, one of Euripides’ classic tragedies. The classical tragedy is not only a way to process grief and loss for his loved ones, but it is also a tool for Arnold to reflect on his identity as a displaced person. The protagonist engages particularly with specific quote from the text: “What greater grief than the loss of one’s native land?” Through Medea, he acknowledges themes, such as grief, displacement, loss, and exile, voicing the cultural erasure suffered by his community: “We Indians have lost everything. We lost our native land, we lost our languages, we lost our songs and dances. We lost each other. We only know how to lose and be lost” (173). Moreover, Mary’s death adds yet another layer of tragedy. Even though she had moved away from the Spokane reservation, Mary continued to perpetuate the vices of the place where she was born. The character’s absurd death underlines the intergenerational trauma.

Alcohol and death are interconnected themes in Alexie’s YA novel, revealing the lingering effects of settler colonialism and the remaining cycles of cultural suppression and oppression. Through the examples previously discussed, it is clear how grief and loss are part of the day-to-day life in Native American reservations. Apart from the depth of the systemic issues portrayed throughout the narrative, Arnold’s perseverance is also evident. Even when he informs the reader of the various problematics interloping in the lives of Native Americans, Arnold is still a figure of strength, hope and awareness. Furthermore, Arnold invites the reader to hold his community in great esteem and advocate for change.

Strange Lads, Strange Lands: Spokane reservation and Reardan

As previously mentioned, Arnold’s decision to go to a white school outside his reservation can be considered an act of rebellion against the system in which remnants of colonialism still prevail. Firstly, Arnold’s perception of the new school and town is one of complete opposition to the school he used to attend (Alexie 56). Similarly, the protagonist contrasts the way in which kids from both places live their lives: Arnold argues that the kids in the reservation, although they struggle with numerous issues already discussed above, enjoy life more than those in Reardan; they are more outgoing and impulsive just like young people should be for the sake of being: “The Reardan kids were so worried about grades and sports and THEIR FUTURES that they sometimes acted like repressed middle-aged business dudes with cell phones stuck in their small intestines” (130–31).

Another key difference that the main character realises has to do with the family of Reardan kids. Arnold criticises the fact that most white parents ignore their children (153). For him, this is a major cultural difference, since back in the reservation everyone knows each other and the community is close. The most poignant example of the community’s dynamic was when Grandmother Spirit died. Her funeral mirrored the closeness between Spokane people, when they all mourned as a collective. Part of this resilience is mediated by humour. Even in tragic situations such as the death of loved ones, the community unites and laughs as part of their honouring ritual: “Indians were drunk and sad and displaced and crazy and mean, but, dang, we knew how to laugh. When it comes to death, we know that laughter and tears are pretty much the same thing” (166).¹⁰ There is strength in unity, heightened with humour, but Arnold does not recognize the same communal connection on white society. Even so, as the narrative progresses, similarities between the kids from the reservation and the ones from Reardan start to manifest, emphasizing the ambivalent characterization of both places.

Primarily, what both sides have in common is related to the human experience. All youngsters portrayed in the novel deal with the same rites of passage, regardless of the place they belong to. Over the course of his studies, Arnold is able to strike significant friendships with Reardan’s kids, namely with Gordy, Penelope, and Roger. With Gordy, the protagonist develops a stronger connection, in which both share a passion for learning, sharing knowledge, and staying curious in the face of adversity. This friendship suggests that the love for studying and educating oneself are not exclusive of Reardan—Arnold is the living proof of this, getting high grades on his final freshman year report card as he funnily draws in a cartoon (214).

The same can be said about dreams and aspirations. Despite the poor living standards on the reservation, characters like Rowdy and Mary do not give up on their goals. Rowdy does not give up hope on beating Reardan’s basketball team one day, neither does Mary yield on her love for romance novels, aspiring to write one herself. Correspondingly, while Penelope is suffering from bulimia, she still aspires to leave Reardan, referring to it as a small town where people have small dreams. Because of Penelope’s struggles, Arnold understands how whiteness and privilege do not necessarily mean a perfect life. Far from it, Penelope’s bulimia demonstrates that her community suffers from insecurities and peer pressure. Beneath the surface, all these characters suffer in their own way, whilst maintaining hope and dreaming of a better future.

While acknowledging the inequalities between the Spokane reservation and Reardan, the narrative also highlights the similarities on both sides. Therefore, Alexie proposes that we look beyond the prism of binarism/dualism. In other words, Sherman Alexie deconstructs Said’s binary perspective of the world, as he is more closely aligned with Bhabha’s theories on hybridity.

This mirroring between Spokane and Reardan also reveals the pervasive effects of historical trauma, which extends beyond Indigenous communities and into broader American society. Arnold demonstrates that loss and the struggle for self-definition are not confined to the reservation. Both spaces reflect fractured identities. While the Spokane reservation embodies the inherited trauma that resulted in the wounds of colonization and cultural erasure, Reardan frequently lacks empathy and collective memory. Therefore, the novel represents a privileged site of recognition but also healing.

Conclusion

This study analysed The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian through the combined lenses of postcolonial theory and historical trauma, applied to the Native American context. It demonstrated how the novel functions as a literary site of historical trauma—a cumulative intergenerational wound, resulting from colonization, genocide, and cultural erasure. The analysis focussed first on how racism and stereotyping are represented and subverted in the novel, showcasing contemporary manifestations of historical trauma. Secondly, it explored the major social issues affecting the Spokane reservation, such as violence, abuse of alcoholism, high number of premature deaths, interpreting them as symptoms and responses to collective trauma. Lastly, it discussed how the protagonist’s struggle for self-definition is not exclusive to the Indigenous community, but extends to American society at large.

Alexie’s narrative confronts the pervasive issues of settler colonialism in the Spokane reservation, in a manner that is both accessible and profound, blending humour, irony, and satire to transform pain into understanding and, ultimately, healing. His work challenges readers to reconsider Indigenous experiences not as victimhood stories but as creative survival.

This study has also underscored the need to adapt postcolonial theory to Indigenous contexts, acknowledging that colonial hierarchies persist in the context of the postcolonial and multicultural world. As Native American scholarship reminds us, the endurance of suffering is parallelled with a remarkable capacity of resistance and continuous renewal.

Even though the effects of historical trauma continue to reverberate across generations, storytelling provides a significant means of reclaiming history and enabling healing. Sherman Alexie’s YA novel exemplifies this potential, inspiring new generations of young readers, particularly those who navigate the tension between multiple worlds.

Through Arnold’s story, Alexie envisions storytelling as a form of communal resilience. Contemporary Native American narratives may be, indeed, an act of reimagining belonging and identity, turning old wounds into warrior scars that testify strength.