“Because it is traditional, it is very intimate to me:” Trinity Norwood Carries on Lenape Storytelling Tradition
"Because it is traditional, it is very intimate to me. When I am sharing stories, it is keeping that practice alive in my family from my grandfather to my father, and then from my father to me. "
Interview by Caitlin Coad with Trinity Norwood
Trinity Norwood has shared her Lenape culture through storytelling for more than 10 years. She founded a nonprofit to raise money, at first to fund book scholarships for kids in her tribe, and now to support the establishment of a tribal museum in Bridgeton, New Jersey. We talked about her storytelling tradition.
What's your first memory of storytelling?
My very first memory of storytelling, I was maybe six or seven and my dad would tell this story of the little bird who couldn't sing. It's about three little birds who are living in their little nest and they coo, and they're beautiful. And then the third bird makes this atrocious sound, and everybody makes fun of him for his weird noise. One day there's a fox coming up to attack their little nest, and the only way their mom and dad know is because the third little bird makes his atrocious sound. The story teaches you to be thankful for your gifts, even if you're not exactly sure what they're for. And to recognize that everyone is different, but everybody has their purpose. I always loved that story. My dad is a really big guy, so to listen to him make this insane shrill noise trying to describe what the bird sounded like was just so great to me. To this day, that's my favorite story to tell.
Do you know where your dad learned it?
Actually, my dad made the story. I am an only girl and so he didn't have to worry about having story time with the boys. They just played rough until they passed out. So story time became something very special for me and him. And he would create stories for me to help me deal with things that were going on in my life.
My grandfather used to share stories with him before bed. My grandmother was kind of the strict law in the house when my dad was little. So he has these wonderful, warm memories of my grandpa sneaking in, even though he's supposed to be in bed, and having this quality time with him at night. My grandfather passed away before I was born, so it was also a connection that was able to link me to my grandfather I was never able to meet.
Do you think there’s something special about coming up with a story, versus reading a story from a book?
It is much more intimate. The stories that my dad would share with me at story time came from within. So they came from what he’d seen me doing throughout the week, as well as things that he hoped to be able to prepare me for in the future. So creating a story that is almost customized to a child, or to a group of children is very special.
Who is your community, and what’s the significance of storytelling within your community?
The Lenape people are the original people of this area. So my ancestors lived in what is modern day New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and the southern part of New York. Lenape is translated to mean “the grandfathers,” we are one of the oldest tribal nations here in North America. There are a lot of tribal communities that grew out of us like the Nanticoke. Our current sovereign nation is the Nanticoke Lenni-Lenape Nation of New Jersey.
Storytelling is very important for us traditionally because things were not written down. We did not hold a physical record of things. You knew your Lenape history and your Lenape traditions, because they were taught through stories, through talking circles with our elders, and through song. So being able to essentially keep our traditions alive, storytelling was a large part of that.
We are writing things down now because we understand how it is a necessity. We have a Lenape dictionary so that it's easier for our young people to learn their language. But it is also important for us to stick to our traditions and recognize them as being just as valuable.
Our tribal community has storytellers, they are elders in our community that you rely on to tell stories and share our traditions. We have a tribal summer camp where we have someone come and share stories with our young people. We also have tribal gatherings where we make sure that we are practicing our traditions and storytelling is one of those things.
Is the Storyteller title earned, and is that something you aspire to?
That title definitely is earned. I tell stories, I would not call myself a storyteller. I think like many titles in our community, that title is earned after decades of experience. You’ve got stories to tell cause you've lived a lot of stories to tell.
To be honest, I have never put that much thought into that. It would be an absolute honor to be able to be a storyteller and to hold and share our traditions with our young people. But for my storytelling right now in my life I concentrate mostly on using it as a tool to share my culture with people outside of the community. That's my main goal in my storytelling now.
How did you start thinking about storytelling for an audience like that?
At one of the annual powwows down in Delaware with the Nanticoke community, they have a storyteller every year, Raggy. She has a time slot in the day when all the dancing stops and everyone just listens to her stories. Since I was young, one of my favorite parts of the day was to listen to her stories, and see how she lit up, and how she would create these characters and they would become alive in her words. Watching her as a young person sparked this love for how storytelling can create this bridge and connection to people who are interested in learning about our culture.
But I did not actually start storytelling in schools until maybe about 10 years ago. I had an English teacher who asked me to do a presentation on Lenape history in our classroom. And originally I was like, ‘Oh, my dad will do it.’ My dad is a pastor, so he's got the oratory skills and he's a tribal judge, so he speaks on our tribe all the time. And she's like, ‘No, you do it, it's your culture, you know what you need to say.’ She really pushed me out to do it.
The message I try to get across in everything I do, whether it is storytelling or educational programs, is that we are still here, we are alive and we are a vibrant culture. In a history class, there’s one paragraph about the story of Native Americans and it always talks about us in the past tense like we're not here now. There are over 500 tribal communities. We have different traditions, we have different histories, we have different treaties with the United States. So even me just being able to be there and plant the seeds in these children and allow them to look at native culture and indigenous culture as alive and vibrant, and not just a paragraph or a portrait in the museum, I think is a very important lesson.
Where do you get your inspiration for your stories?
Really a little bit of everything. I have told some of the stories that my father told me when I was a little girl. I share some of our traditional stories. I also make stories based on the interactions I have with young people. I've been teaching Sunday school for about 15 years now, and I have young nieces and nephews and a godson, and I speak with them about what's going on in their lives and things they have to deal with. My youngest niece got a cell phone for her birthday last year and if anything inconvenient happens to her, she's giving me a call to complain about it. Sometimes I'm like, ‘I need to write that down because I'm sure she's not the only kid who feels like this and this could be a story.’ The fun part of working with kids is that you can have a complete plan, but there's one talkative kid that just takes the story to the left.
That goes back to what you were saying about storytelling being intimate, because you’re also improvising. So there’s an element of surprise if you’re listening to a story that’s not written down, and that seems very engaging.
Absolutely. Back to Raggy, she told a story one time at a conference I was at and I told her how much I loved it. Someone had lost a family member at this conference, and she said, ‘I had a whole different story planned until about an hour before this. And I felt like this is what we needed to touch on.’ She got in her head what she felt like she needed to say, and let the story play out organically. I don't think that I have those skills, but I know everyone in the room was touched by her story.
How do you judge how good a story is?
First and foremost, the feeling I get. If you can't get into the story, you're not going to be able to tell it well, and you're not going to be able to land the moral. So finding a story that I'm able to get wrapped into and have that youthful feeling of excitement as an adult. Also the lesson at the end of the story is very important to me. I think they can be timely for what's going on in the world and also for the age group. A lot of the stories I tell concentrate around caring for others and acknowledging other people's gifts.
When you talk about the feeling, could it be sad, happy, scared, or any feeling?
All of the feelings I think are important, especially for children. We don't like to think about children having to deal with sorrow or anger or fear, but the reality is that they do. Sometimes a child hearing that someone in a story is experiencing those same feelings that they haven't been able to communicate or understand can be an emotional and spiritual bridge. I think it is important that we allow all of those feelings to take place in the stories that we create. You want a child to be able to feel like all of their feelings are valid and they're not alone in those feelings.
Is your storytelling in the tradition of your community, or is it more personal to you?
Because it is traditional, it is very intimate to me. It is how I am able to emotionally and spiritually connect to my ancestors. When I am sharing stories with my nephew or my nieces, it is keeping that practice alive in my family from my grandfather to my father, and then for my father to me.
My tribal community is down in Bridgeton, New Jersey and they all live pretty close to each other. I didn't go to school with other native children from grade school all the way into college. It can be a very isolating feeling, and some days it's more than you can bear. So to feel connected also makes me feel encouraged. Thinking about that connection to my ancestors, what they went through, biochemical warfare, Indian boarding schools, being relocated, and they still fought and thrived and survived, and that's why I'm here. That makes my day look very small and gives me the courage to feel like tomorrow will be better and I can take it on.
This conversation has been condensed and edited.
Photo credit: Teko Photography. Courtesy of https://ipdphilly.org and https://www.tekophoto.com/.
