My
Appalachia
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| A view of downtown Pikeville. Credit: Social Media Explorer: "What Small Towns can Teach us about Social Business" |
Growing
up in Pikeville was an interesting experience, one that I had trouble seeing
positively. Pike County had the largest rates of obesity and cancer in the state
due to poor diet and the rampant coal dust that settled up to an inch per night
on every outside surface. Not to mention the education seemed lacking; I never
wrote a research paper before college and still know little of basic geography,
chemistry, or math. My parents told me that the schools made a big celebration of
8th grade graduation because most of my peers would not go on to graduate
from high school (they were right). “Insiders” were privileged over “outsiders”
for jobs, so if you didn’t know the right people you were out of luck. The
youth had little opportunities for fun except turning to drugs and alcohol. My
schooling was my ticket out of that one-horse town, and I pursued every
opportunity—Booth Scholars, Governor’s Scholars, Academic Team, Future Problem
Solving, etc. I am incredibly lucky to be a child of two academics who value
education as a means to prosperity. Of my graduating class of 70, a handful
went to college close to home and slowly but surely most have dropped out. I
felt like the ambassador for my high school, away at graduate school, the
prodigal student who everyone could look up to. When my grandfather passed
away, my family moved to Northern Kentucky and I never looked back. I focused
on suppressing any trace of the Eastern Kentucky accent that would differentiate
me from my undergraduate peers.
But
then I read Sohn.
The
Pikeville that Sohn describes is the same Pikeville of my childhood/adolescence.
She mentions the coal trucks, hollers, poverty, religion, and mines. Curiously,
she left out Hillbilly Days, an annual festival of the entire
Appalachian/Eastern Kentucky region where participants don their best
stereotypical Hillbilly gear/attitude and gather in downtown Pikeville to “celebrate”
their heritage and donate money to the Shriners Hospital. Anyway, my fears that
Sohn would portray an inaccurate picture of Pikeville and Pikeville College
(now University of Pikeville) were put at ease. My mother was a nursing
instructor there and I was heavily involved in their music and high school
outreach programs.
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| Hillbilly Days. Credit: www.visitpikeville.com |
| Pikeville College's "99", Credit: Appalachian College Association website |
In
class we discussed the ways in which literacy changes relationships with the
community, how religion influences literacy, and the difficulty of
transitioning from the academic to the public sphere. Instead of contributing my own lengthy
literacy narrative to this forum, I will say that those outside Appalachia
should not realize their position as privileged, but simply different.
Education matters to all, but in very different ways. As one of our classmates
pointed out, studying Appalachia helps us all to realize that we don’t see,
value, or study.
Were
your opinions or preconceived notions of Appalachia changed by reading Sohn’s
study? What questions would you like to ask me about the culture or people?
Interesting post, Brianna. I too have mixed feelings about the piece. I often wonder about the rhetorical implications of "naming" Appalachia. Even in a positive (liberatory) research narrative such as Sohn-what are the implications of an essentialized Appalachian identity? On one hand, scholarship like this valorizes the existence of a marginalized/stereotyped population; it problematizes the construct of the mainstream comp student. But does it also reinforce negative essentialisms about Appalachia/Appalachians? Are these women "exceptions to the rule" because of their academic experiences? Furthermore, who profits from this research? The subjects or the scholar? The community or the University?
ReplyDeleteI think the name "Appalachian" is what gets to me most, because the connotations that come with it are (in my mind) negative and sometimes untrue. For example, many assume that Appalachians are ignorant or do not have opportunities for advanced education. In reality, many know they are ignorant and simply do not take the opportunities for education because education does not fit their practical needs. I know that studying the region is necessary, and assigning a name just makes that easier. I just wish it wasn't impossible to let go of the stereotype/implications that come with being "Appalachian." Honestly, I don't think the subjects profit from the research unless they know/understand what it is about, and unless those in power decide to change the situation. We are a group of students reading Sohn's article and saying "oh that's nice" and discussing the various aspects she brings up- but how will the region/women benefit from that unless we actively do something? Who says that there are any problems in Appalachia?
ReplyDeleteI think the considerations of the term "Appalachian" are hugely important, for the exact reasons you pose. I've been reading some of Kim Donehower's work, and she seems to be advocating not only the de-emphasizing of the term, but also the de-emphasizing of the concept of Appalachia as a distinct cultural group/s, as this separation contributes to stereotyping. Personally, I'm not sure about this last part; I'm not convinced ignoring cultural differences would benefit anybody, and I'm more of a celebrate-your-differences kind of hippie by nature, but I think your last question hits at a root consideration that gets overlooked in all this: WHO SAYS? Who gets to decide things about "Appalachia," if such a monolithic term is even relevant? Great questions.
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