I was listening to a friend’s cri du cuour over fighting racism. I have some thoughts on the subject. Remember that old second wave feminist slogan THE PERSONAL IS POLITICAL? Boy, howdy, whoever came up with that MUST have been from Appalachia. B/c that is how I’m seeing the battle against racism and white privilege fought here. It is being waged on a home-front battleground: in conversations in pick-up trucks on the way to Lowes; talks over family dinners; chats on transit on the way to Krogers; exchanges in front of that Confederate statue on Main; LTEs in the paper; groups teachers formed themselves in the school system; the swift retirement of a police chief. THIS is how change happens here. It might not be as swift as we wish. It might not be the sweeping overhaul we want nor need. But it IS reflective of the way we have conversations and conduct business that are ongoing with those messy things that are human beings. And I believe, to quote Sam Cooke, a change is gonna come.
Tag: Appalachia
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Stay (Poem)
I think I’ll stay just a little bit longer.
Life here in the mountains can still surprise me.
A wood turner who makes steampunk lamps.
A chef who practices traditional Chinese medicine.
A professor who tickles trout for photos .
A dear friend here from far away who is found to be a distant relative.
(And that latter, I’m convinced, is some sort of Appalachian magic-
Because in the mountains ALL folks are related!)
And that’s just to mention people.
If I were to start talking about these things.
The way the sky looks when a storm is about to hit.
The Canadian geese and the train whistle that help rhythm my day.
The greenery of the town, and my back yard in particular.
(Ere the six old trees that stand sentinel come down in a bad wind,
I might not live to write again.)
And music. Sigh.
The music strikes a visceral cord in me.
The same wail that I heard in the old Cajun songs runs through songs.
So at the end of the day, I feel at home.
One of my trees. And how could I leave a place that produces music like this?
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Why Appalachia Needs Immigrants
The following is a repost of a LTE I had published recently in the Bristol Herald Courier. I could have made a much more nuanced argument but for brevity’s sake decided to K-I-S-S.
The other day I overheard a person (white older male) comment that that he was tired of seeing all these immigrants coming in and stealing jobs away from good, hard-working Americans and he esp. didn’t want any of them around HERE! I felt compelled then to answer him in this letter. Sir, have you noticed that the population of SWVA is shrinking? We are losing folks, not gaining them. The young people are leaving, by and large, and it is the habit of old people to die. That alone would seem a rather good reason to be welcoming immigrants, not discouraging them. And, let me say, they are indeed NOT taking jobs away from hard-working Americans. Have you seen any immigrants lazing around the streets or just hanging out at a coffee shop? I’d hazard a guess not. Chances are the immigrants you HAVE seen have most likely been working harder than many Americans would at the jobs they have and doing them very efficiently while learning a new language, to boot. Think about that the next time you talk about stealing jobs. And have you SEEN all the “help wanted” signs out? Americans aren’t lining up for these jobs. Finally, and I can’t believe I’m having to say this, WE ARE ALL IMMIGRANTS, indigenous inhabitants excepted (and they too originally walked from somewhere else). It’s just a matter of when did we get here? The United States was founded by immigrants; it has traditionally welcomed immigrants; and that has long been a source of pride and strength for this nation. It can be for APPALACHIA, too. If we let it. a -
The Kindness Of Strangers
I’m struggling with a herniated disc right now. I was at our local representative Evil Empire (AKA Walmart) to pick up some Dream Bones and Community Coffee, those being the only two items that I can’t get anywhere else in town. I come out of the store to see the bus leaving the lot. I must have looked visibly distressed, b/c this man passing by stopped and asked what was wrong. Now, after traipsing from one end of Wally-world to the other, I was already in pain and the prospect of waiting for another to catch the bus was daunting. But I didn’t tell him anything other than I had missed the bus, darn it. He sympathized and walked to his truck. Then he came in a few minutes and inquired where I lived. When I told him, he offered me a ride home.
Now, I’m not normally in the habit of acepting rides from strangers, especially at Walmart. I covertly checked his groceries-no beer was evident, just food-and checked my internal warning system, admittedly not the best thing, but gut instinct will at least say, “hey, don’t go there”. Everything seemed normal. I said, “Thanks, that is very kind of you.” and followed him to his truck. He put my groceries in his truck and we proceeded to drive off.
On the way he told me about his daughter who was around my age who had just finished going back to school to get her degree in education. I told him about my newly discovered back woes and some stories from the library. We both agreed that Abingdon is a fine place to live. He said that if I’ve been in Appalachia since my 30s, I should just go ahead and now start saying that I’m from here. When we finally got to my place, he said it had been nice to meet me, I thanked him for the ride, and we parted most amicably. No creepy Deliverance music ever made an appearance.
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The Kindness Of Strangers
I’m struggling with a herniated disc right now. I was at our local representative Evil Empire (AKA Walmart) to pick up some Dream Bones and Community Coffee, those being the only two items that I can’t get anywhere else in town. I come out of the store to see the bus leaving the lot. I must have looked visibly distressed, b/c this man passing by stopped and asked what was wrong. Now, after traipsing from one end of Wally-world to the other, I was already in pain and the prospect of waiting for another to catch the bus was daunting. But I didn’t tell him anything other than I had missed the bus, darn it. He sympathized and walked to his truck. Then he came in a few minutes and inquired where I lived. When I told him, he offered me a ride home.
Now, I’m not normally in the habit of acepting rides from strangers, especially at Walmart. I covertly checked his groceries-no beer was evident, just food-and checked my internal warning system, admittedly not the best thing, but gut instinct will at least say, “hey, don’t go there”. Everything seemed normal. I said, “Thanks, that is very kind of you.” and followed him to his truck. He put my groceries in his truck and we proceeded to drive off.
On the way he told me about his daughter who was around my age who had just finished going back to school to get her degree in education. I told him about my newly discovered back woes and some stories from the library. We both agreed that Abingdon is a fine place to live. He said that if I’ve been in Appalachia since my 30s, I should just go ahead and now start saying that I’m from here. When we finally got to my place, he said it had been nice to meet me, I thanked him for the ride, and we parted most amicably. No creepy Deliverance music ever made an appearance.
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White Christian Male: “I Feel Oppressed!”
Recently I was talking to a friend of mine. He is a 50-ish Caucasian male, Christian, employed, and heterosexual/married. He informed me that he feels oppressed. My jaw dropped in amazement. After a moment of silence on my part, while I processed this, he went on to tell me WHY: he thinks that he and his kind are now persecuted and ridiculed by the media, that everyone else has governmental protections for their rights-he cited those protecting minorities and equal rights for women, and that Christians are daily being harassed. Now, mind you, this is in a smallish town in the mostly white white white Appalachian foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains where there is nothing BUT Christians around! I can hit four churches with a rock from my apartment…and those are just the ones from the MAJOR denominations. This place is still tribal and patriarchal. I could not stay quiet in the face of this errant nonsense. I understand that if you watch a steady diet of right-wing news, you will get fed this erroneous view. I find it on Fox and Breitbart and Infowars, sites that I visit regularly. I do so in order to find out just what people like my friend are viewing. (Trust me, this is not something I enjoy.) I challenged him to give me some concrete examples of HOW he was oppressed: Had he ever been arrested for “driving while white” or had the local police view him with suspicion b/c of his skin color? Had he or his ancestors ever been forced to leave a region or country b/c of their race or religion? Had he ever been denied a job or promotion b/c of his gender or sexual orientation? Had he ever been denied the right to vote b/c of his race, religion, gender or sexual orientation? Had he ever been denied the right to run for office b/c of his religion? Had he ever threatened with death b/c of his race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation? He was quite taken aback by these questions. He wanted to know why I was asking them. I told him that unless he could answer YES to any one of these questions, he had no right to say he was oppressed, that oppression had not to do with a “feeling” or “discomfort” but with real consequences in the world and to THINK ABOUT THAT the next time he heard a white Christian man talking about his oppressed status. I told him about my relatives who never made it out of the German death camps b/c they were the wrong religion (Jews). Then I told him about friends who were fired from jobs for being queer. Women are STILL paid only 79 percent of men’s hourly wages. And 7 states currently have laws even now prohibiting atheists from running for public office. So…HE wants to talk about feeling oppressed??? Smh. And the internet trolls all whine about liberals being crybabies!
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White Christian Male: “I Feel Oppressed!”
Recently I was talking to a friend of mine. He is a 50-ish Caucasian male, Christian, employed, and heterosexual/married. He informed me that he feels oppressed. My jaw dropped in amazement. After a moment of silence on my part, while I processed this, he went on to tell me WHY: he thinks that he and his kind are now persecuted and ridiculed by the media, that everyone else has governmental protections for their rights-he cited those protecting minorities and equal rights for women, and that Christians are daily being harassed. Now, mind you, this is in a smallish town in the mostly white white white Appalachian foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains where there is nothing BUT Christians around! I can hit four churches with a rock from my apartment…and those are just the ones from the MAJOR denominations. This place is still tribal and patriarchal. I could not stay quiet in the face of this errant nonsense. I understand that if you watch a steady diet of right-wing news, you will get fed this erroneous view. I find it on Fox and Breitbart and Infowars, sites that I visit regularly. I do so in order to find out just what people like my friend are viewing. (Trust me, this is not something I enjoy.) I challenged him to give me some concrete examples of HOW he was oppressed: Had he ever been arrested for “driving while white” or had the local police view him with suspicion b/c of his skin color? Had he or his ancestors ever been forced to leave a region or country b/c of their race or religion? Had he ever been denied a job or promotion b/c of his gender or sexual orientation? Had he ever been denied the right to vote b/c of his race, religion, gender or sexual orientation? Had he ever been denied the right to run for office b/c of his religion? Had he ever threatened with death b/c of his race, religion, gender, or sexual orientation? He was quite taken aback by these questions. He wanted to know why I was asking them. I told him that unless he could answer YES to any one of these questions, he had no right to say he was oppressed, that oppression had not to do with a “feeling” or “discomfort” but with real consequences in the world and to THINK ABOUT THAT the next time he heard a white Christian man talking about his oppressed status. I told him about my relatives who never made it out of the German death camps b/c they were the wrong religion (Jews). Then I told him about friends who were fired from jobs for being queer. Women are STILL paid only 79 percent of men’s hourly wages. And 7 states currently have laws even now prohibiting atheists from running for public office. So…HE wants to talk about feeling oppressed??? Smh. And the internet trolls all whine about liberals being crybabies!
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Hillbilly Elegy By J.D. Vance-A Review
Back to books, after a hiatus! I think that Hillbilly Elegy has garnered the amount of attention it has by seeming to offer insight on the demographic that might elect (shudder) Trump as POTUS. I confess that I read the book with some anticipation of finding a fresh perspective on an Appalachian connection, seeing as how I’ve lived in this region for almost twenty odd (in all senses of the word) years now. I was disappointed. Vance serves up the the usual fare I’ve come to expect from Appallit-there’s drinking, drug addiction, and violence aplenty, down to the almost stereotypical gun-toting “Mamaw,” but in the end he offers no fresh perspective on the the people he writes almost cruelly about, unless it that’s there’s little hope to be found among them. I HAVE been reading Appalachian authors for awhile now, and they do tend to a grim, dark, and cheerless worldview. Hillbilly Elegy, though a memoir, certainly follows that same tradition. So, here’s my take: this is a matter of the fortuitous book: Vance published the right book at the right time. It’s not a BAD book, but it’s certainly not a GREAT one. You want to read really GREAT Appallit, try Ron Rash.
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Hillbilly Elegy By J.D. Vance-A Review
Back to books, after a hiatus! I think that Hillbilly Elegy has garnered the amount of attention it has by seeming to offer insight on the demographic that might elect (shudder) Trump as POTUS. I confess that I read the book with some anticipation of finding a fresh perspective on an Appalachian connection, seeing as how I’ve lived in this region for almost twenty odd (in all senses of the word) years now. I was disappointed. Vance serves up the the usual fare I’ve come to expect from Appallit-there’s drinking, drug addiction, and violence aplenty, down to the almost stereotypical gun-toting “Mamaw,” but in the end he offers no fresh perspective on the the people he writes almost cruelly about, unless it that’s there’s little hope to be found among them. I HAVE been reading Appalachian authors for awhile now, and they do tend to a grim, dark, and cheerless worldview. Hillbilly Elegy, though a memoir, certainly follows that same tradition. So, here’s my take: this is a matter of the fortuitous book: Vance published the right book at the right time. It’s not a BAD book, but it’s certainly not a GREAT one. You want to read really GREAT Appallit, try Ron Rash.