Will Hate Leave our Holler?
On Friday people of my hometown Whitesburg, Kentucky, joined the nation to peacefully protest for the Black Lives Matter movement. Letcher County is nestled in the heart of Appalachia and is home to roughly 21,000 people with beaming southern pride, .6% being Black or African American. A new phrase gaining popularity through the mountains, even before the new wave of the movement, is “No Hate in our Holler.” For those of you who do not speak Appalachian, “holler” translates as hollow, a narrow valley between two hills or mountains, often only a one lane road. If my dear mother wouldn’t die of a broken heart, I might tattoo the phrase on my face. I love it, you see, because I am proudly Appalachian, yet don’t want my southern drawl to brand me as intolerant. Of course, I have options to mask my dialect, unlike my Black brothers and sisters when branded as criminals by their skin.
I ponder at my keyboard like a country activist version of Carrie Bradshaw: Can we really erase the hate from our hollers? I am moved by the new Appalachian — individuals who speak up with southern slang for the BIPOC and LGBTQ+ communities. Although, physically, our home might be secluded from the world, we seek inclusivity. Although we have our own and less egregious version of being misunderstood, we seek understanding. You might think the new Appalachian consists of only Generation Z and X. I am here to tell you differently. My mother, a recovering conservative, supports the movement. My father, a staunch Trump supporter, agrees at the very least change is needed. We may not be the majority, but we exist. What causes the metamorphosis from old Appalachian to new? My hypothesis: an experience outside of Appalachia paired with a willingness to unlearn, then relearn.
I’ve said before that Appalachian culture may only be understood by birthright. But make no mistake, Appalachians show camaraderie unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. I have seen my entire town painted blue in memory of Jacob Lucas. I have seen thousands of dollars donated to a friend’s hefty veterinarian bill. I have seen a visitation line stretch from the funeral home across the county seat for Michael Hogg. In times of tragedy my hometown shows up for each other. As a new Appalachian, I yearn for the day when all of Appalachia can recognize the tragedies happening across America. I ache for the day we can all show up for the BIPOC community and their tragedies as we do our own.
During my short 26 years of life, Friday’s protest was one of two I can remember in my neck of the woods. The other took place in Harlan last year when the Blackjewel Coal Company went bankrupt, leaving miners with unpaid wages. The miners physically blocked a train of coal leaving Eastern Kentucky for two months. Even as someone who supports a Green New Deal, I was proud. My hometown rallied behind them. But not everyone rallied on Friday. Social media was a war zone; even an elected official joined in to accuse the peaceful protestors of being a small group of far leftists stirring trouble. Several nooses were found hanging around the town. Letcher County is home to hollers like Stinking Branch, Licking Branch, and Chopping Branch. I propose a new holler for the owner of these nooses: Bigot Branch.
The opposition might take a cue from those who marched on Main Street. Perhaps one day they will march for themselves when the straw breaks the marginalized camel’s back. Perhaps then Appalachians might get reliable internet and cell phone service, clean water in Martin County, or affordable utilities. I digress, let us leave that discussion for another day. Today we fight for social justice within the movement. Today we stand as allies — the New Appalachian. Hate might yet live in our holler, but the truth will stand when Minneapolis is on fire — our nation is changing, even if we must force it. While we are reimagining the fundamentals of our society, we should reimagine the role Appalachia can play. As we fight against mountaintop removal, I pray we do not let our beloved mountains block our view of the world. Let us detach the accused laziness from our hillbilly elegy and burn it in hillbilly effigy.
