Like an important but unseen operating system, trauma courses through many of the pieces in the inaugural National Native American Ten Minute Play Festival, founded by playwright and director Rhiana Yazzie, who also founded New Native Theater.
In Jaren Navenma's "Tawa's Rising," the opening playlet in the festival that concludes its run Sunday at Bedlam Theatre in Lowertown, St. Paul,

the hurt is historic and deeply buried. But it can be gleaned in the weary voice and fear of a Hopi father who wakes his daughter at dawn to talk with her against the backdrop of sunrise on the Arizona mesa. The father, played with stoicism by director Brian Joyce, frets for the well-being of his daugther (played by Isabella LaBlanc) and about her losing connection to her history.
In another piece, "One Feather," the trauma is right at the surface as ornery writer-actor C.W. Bearshield takes us into his alienated childhood in his darkly comic autobiographical piece.
Sometimes the trauma is eruptive, as in "Sell Fish," Joseph A. Dandurand's piece about tensions boiling over in a relationship between a pregnant woman (played by Delinda "Oogie" Pushetonequa) and her fisherman partner (Bearshield).
At other times, the trauma that informs the festival works can't be read in the vocalizations of the characters, whether dramatic or comic. The wounds are carried in the bodies of the performers. In fact, the most emotionally raw piece in the festival is not a playlet, but a solo dance by Andrea Fairbanks.
In Fairbanks' "All in Fun," a woman at a party drinks and takes drugs, lapsing between a contemporary soundtrack with music by the likes of Rihanna and LMFAO ("Party Rock Anthem") and her own ancestral songs. Her dancing also veers between the fancy dance of her heritage (Leech Lake Ojibwe) and a nightclub abandon. Eventually, as she gets drunker, she can no longer keep up with the rhythm of her heritage. In fact, she does not hear the music at all. Unmoored from the sources that sustain her identity, and under the influence of drugs, she becomes vulnerable, and ends up being assaulted.
Fairbanks plays it simply, without much affect, lying on her back and yelling "Get off of me." Our imaginations fill in the rest.