Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Issue 8

Appalachia
November 2011
Property boundary marker, Eastern Kentucky, 2011.  Photo: Ryan Anderson

Introduction: Appalachia

This month's issue is one that I have been looking forward to for quite a while now, and I am glad to see it finally come to fruition.  Since moving to Kentucky for graduate school a little over two years ago, a number of things have impressed me about the university.  One of the most impressive is the University of Kentucky Appalachian Center.  I have to admit that my knowledge of Appalachia was pretty slim when I first came out here, and I have definitely enjoyed the opportunity to learn more about this part of the country.  That's the interesting thing about the US.  We love our history, and we love to talk about what it supposedly means to be "American," but some histories, and some stories, definitely get told more than others.  We may think we know a lot about the "imagined community" that is the United States, but what's missing?  Who is missing?  What histories get overshadowed by larger national narratives?  So the thing that I was most looking forward to with this issue is the chance to learn more from some great researchers whose work in and about Appalachia is truly fascinating.  The contributions for this month are excellent, and I hope all of you readers out there enjoy them as much as I have. 

This month we have contributions from Britteny Howell, Ann Kingsolver, Tammy Clemons, Shaunna Scott, Amanda Fickey & Lynne Rieske-Kinney, and Sarah Raskin.  I have also included a short selection of photographs. Thanks everyone for taking part!  I have really enjoyed all of your essays, and I definitely appreciate the time that you have taken out of your busy lives to share your ideas and knowledge.  Thanks again!

R.A.

Ain’t No Place Like Home: Appalachia, Anthropology, and Autoethnography*

“Ain’t no place / Anything like this place / Anywhere ‘round this place / This must be the place.” 
–-Lisa Mount, Community Playwright, Songwriter, and Director of Artistic Logistics

My interdisciplinary path of education has included many a winding turn, an occasional bump in the road, and duly delightful detours and discoveries. I have engaged my life-long interest in art, culture, language, social/environmental justice and their intersections throughout my various academic, professional, and activist endeavors. As a native Kentuckian, I have deep roots in and strong commitment to “this place.” I have wandered away a few times for brief spells, but I am always drawn back to the culture and landscape of home. Pursuing a doctoral degree from the University of Kentucky Department of Anthropology, and subsequently examining feminist media activism in mountain culture(s), is a very natural progression of my development and experience as an independent scholar, media and theater artist, and cultural organizer in the Appalachian region. Indeed, this must be the place.

I have been a writer for most of my life, a homesteader for the past 15 years, and an amateur filmmaker for more than a decade. For 20 years, I have been a dedicated activist on behalf of social and environmental justice and sustainable development in Appalachia. I am also a natural community organizer, and I feel called to use my communication and collaboration skills in the service of cultural and social movements in the region. I have only recently entered the official discipline of anthropology from an admittedly circuitous and indirect route, but I have come to realize that much of my academic and activist work for the past two decades could be considered applied anthropology.

My own identity as an Appalachian ecofeminist and my ongoing interest in Appalachian cultures, ecologies, and justice issues has resulted in a body of autoethnography [1] that frames my current doctoral endeavor to explore feminist media activism in the region and possibly other mountain culture(s). Interestingly, these elements of my pre-anthropology past overlap consistently throughout my academic, activist, and professional history, so I feel quite at home within my “new” chosen discipline after playing around its edges. My focus on feminist media activism in Appalachia arises from my interdisciplinary academic background as well as my interests and experience as a cultural organizer, documentarian, sustainability educator and activist, and theatre artist. All along the way, I have used primary research in well-suited archives as well as created my own primary materials through interviews, fieldwork, video, and cultural productions and performance. 

As an undergraduate, I produced several ethnographic projects, though at the time I did not understand this to be the case. I graduated as the first Women’s Studies major from Berea College, where I also completed a Spanish minor and several courses in Appalachian Studies. As part of my major, I created an independent study on “Women in Appalachia,” for which I conducted informal interviews with my mother and paternal grandmother as my final paper project. I also produced an archival research paper and my first documentary video project, about the closing of Berea College Appalachian Museum, as part of my final project for a course on “Appalachian Problems and Institutions.” For the documentary, I interviewed Christopher Miller (then Museum Director and current Associate Director of the Berea College Appalachian Center and College Curator of the Artifacts and Exhibits Studio), Shannon Wilson (then Berea College Archivist and current Head of Special Collections and Archives), Loyal Jones (founding director and namesake of the Berea College Appalachian Center, Sydney Saylor Farr (former Appalachian Heritage Editor and Berea College Special Collections staff), as well as students and other visitors to the museum.

 
 “Berea College Appalachian Museum: Preservation of History Becomes the Past" (10 minutes).

I deepened my ethnographic interests and skills in graduate school where I was also privileged to work for two years at the Schlesinger Library on the History of Women in America. My only formal anthropology course was called “Ethnographic Imaginations” for which I conducted interviews and surveys with library staff, conducted historical and ethnographic research, and wrote a paper on the role of food and community at the Schlesinger Library.

As a result of my interviews and research, I ended up writing a second paper exploring the role of women’s activism in the library’s holdings and the lives of library workers for an interdisciplinary course on “Communities and Women’s Activism." For another interdisciplinary course called “Latin American Women Represent Themselves,” I also transcribed, excerpted, and edited a first-person narrative by/about Marta Miranda, a self-identified “Cubalachian” woman and current President/CEO of The Center for Women and Families in Louisville.

After grad school, I also worked at Berea College for almost eight years, first as the Executive Assistant to the President and then as the campus-wide Sustainability Coordinator [2]. In the latter role, I developed programming related to sustainability and Appalachia and offered numerous local, regional, and national workshops and presentations. In addition to my primary responsibilities, I also had the privilege to teach some academic courses including a Special Topics Service-Learning Course on “Ecofeminism: Principles and Practices” and a hands-on course called “Acting the Part: Filmmaking and Community Activism.”

 
 “Acting the Part” Field Trip to Appalshop.

My experience as an employee and educator at my alma mater strengthened my overall commitment to my own philosophical mission and practical application of service to the Appalachian region. During this time, I continued my personal path of media and cultural production through activism with local and regional non-profit and community organizations.  I have focused most of my filmmaking efforts focus on creating storytelling portraits of the people, culture, and geography that I call home. I have made more than 20 short videos over the past 12 years, including a digital story about my grandparents and the connection between my Appalachian heritage and sustainable living. I also firmly believe in empowering communities and individuals to gain the media skills and access to tell their own stories.

 
 “Completing the Circle: A Labor of Love,” produced in collaboration with the Carpetbag Theatre
at the 2008 Brushy Fork Institute and screened at the 2009 Clear Creek Film Festival.

I am currently co-producing a documentary called “Remembering the Reedys: Appalachian Music, Migration, and Memory” about my partner’s grandparents Frances and John Reedy and their Bluegrass music. John is best known for writing the gospel song “Somebody Touched Me,” which is often erroneously credited as a traditional tune or to other composers, such as Bill Monroe [3]. John Reedy and the Stone Mountain Hillbillies were documented as founding Bluegrass musicians [4], and Frances’ vocals on a version of “Oh Death” has been compared to Julia Mainer [5]. Both Frances and John were prolific songwriters and under-recognized performers who left behind a substantial collection of commercial and home recordings.

 
 "Little Sparrow” from Frances and John Reedy's last recorded performance Christmas 1980.

For this project, my partner and I were awarded an Appalachian Sound Archives Fellowship where we began the formal research phase of the documentary and donated the Reedys' collection of recordings and memorabilia to the Berea College Special Collections and Sound Archives. During this Fellowship, we organized, digitized, and processed a substantial amount of donated materials from Frances' music and manuscript collection, which included the Reedys’ original commercial recordings as well as numerous homemade reel-to-reel and cassette recordings that they made on their own equipment. We also completed the Community Scholars certification program sponsored by the Kentucky Folklife Program and Kentucky Historical Society (KHS), and in fall 2010, we conducted additional research at the KHS Martin F. Schmidt Research Library and Special Collections through the Family Research Fellowship program.

 
 Appalachian Sound Archives Fellowship Presentation: Frances Reedy Oral History

In addition to research and media-making about music and culture, I love participating in and promoting the performing arts. As a theatre artist, I have performed in several short plays written by local/regional community playwrights. In 2009 and 2010, I also participated in the collective creation and performance of a short set of character sketches and skits called “On the Creek: Clear Creek Community Story Project” based on local story gathering, personal experiences, and improvisational exercises. For the past five years, I have co-produced the local Clear Creek Film Festival featuring film/video projects “focused on but not limited to natural and sustainable living, Appalachian storytelling, Appalachian youth culture, global awareness/human rights, and any films created or produced by local media artists.”

My particular interest and goal for pursuing a doctorate in cultural anthropology is exploring and documenting various forms of feminist media activism in Appalachia, including community plays, filmmaking, and community-based participatory research projects. For example, I am interested in the work of storytellers and community playwrights Lisa Mount and the late Jo Carson; Appalshop filmmakers Elizabeth Barret, Anne Lewis, and Mimi Pickering; and anthropologist and service-learning innovator Helen Lewis.

Helen Lewis is an especially inspiring and innovative model for me academically and personally. As the “mother” of Appalachian Studies and an anthropologist applying participatory research to community development projects in Appalachia, she embodies my ideal academic goal of becoming an "activist/scholar." She has been the focus of several recent publications emphasizing her special voice and contributions in community-based research and Appalachian studies. One article in the Fall 2011 issue of Southern Culture is entitled “Mountain Feminist: Helen Matthews Lewis, Appalachian Studies, and the Long Women’s Movement” and includes a substantial transcript of an interview with Lewis. Shortly afterward, the University Press of Kentucky published Helen Matthews Lewis: Living Social Justice in Appalachia, a new book by Lewis in collaboration with Patricia Beaver, Professor of Anthropology and Director of the Center for Appalachian Studies at Appalachian State University, and Judi Jennings, Executive Director of the Kentucky Foundation for Women. Most recently, the Georgia Appalachian Studies Center blog posted a short piece by Lewis about “Why You Should Study Appalachia.” She offers a pithy and poignant point of departure for emerging and seasoned Appalachian scholars alike:
So if you want to study Appalachia, here is what you do.

Start where you live: Interview your elders, map your community, write your local history. Who lives where and why? Who owns the land, minerals, resources? Who is rich and who is poor? Who has power and who is powerless? Who are the story tellers, the poets, the singers? Who is in jail, who is sick, who is angry and who is throwing the bodies in the river and who is pretending it is not happening?

Who is speaking truth to power, who is feeding the hungry, who is healing the sick? Who is writing the poetry, saving the stories, saving the land, singing the songs?

Find out who you are. What is your place in this place? (emphasis mine)
This question echoes my intent in returning to grad school after a decade and choosing the field of anthropology to deepen and broaden my understanding of this place I am from, in, of, and in some ways, apart from. As a result of my previous studies and my work with various local community organizations and service-learning projects, I share Lewis’ strong belief in a respectful and reciprocal relationship between academia and the communities that it studies, represents, and serves. I plan to continue my work as a cultural organizer, filmmaker, and also share my expanded knowledge in both formal academic settings and public education outlets in the Appalachian region. Through my professional development in the field of higher education and my active community involvement, I realized that “this”—anthropology as a discipline, Appalachia as my location and culture, and the University of Kentucky as my doctoral community—“must be the place.” Forging and fostering my academic career where I have already been building relationships and engaging in community for two decades makes cosmic and common sense. Now it simply remains to be seen where this ongoing autoethnography of feminist media activists in Appalachia will go from this place forward...


Tammy L. Clemons, MTS.
Doctoral Student, Cultural Anthropology, University of Kentucky


*This essay is a modified version of my original personal statement for application to the Department of Anthropology doctoral program at the University of Kentucky. 

[1] I fortuitously encountered the concept of autoethnography at the 2011 Appalachian Studies Association conference during a workshop called “Performing Autoethnography: Radical Methodology, Radical Pedagogy” by Appalachian State University graduate students Donna Corriher and Shannon Perry. They provided a helpful handout with exercises and resources. In their abstract, they describe authoethnography as “a radical interdisciplinary fusion of autobiographical and ethnographic writing that uses personal experiences as a basis for understanding cultural patterns and phenomena. … [Its] powerful appeal and increasing popularity lies in its critique of traditional social scientific stances on objectivity, validity, and ethical obligation by challenging the existence of the disembodied researcher and advocating for ways of knowing that encompass the emotional and experimental in pursuit of a more true history.”

[2] I recently returned to Berea College to serve as President Shinn’s Executive Assistant during his last year until his retirement at the end of June 2012, while simultaneously starting my doctoral program 2/3 time at the University of Kentucky.

[3] Rosenberg, Neil V. and Charles K. Wolfe. The Music of Bill Monroe. Champaign, Illinois: University of Illinois Press, 2007.

[4] “Somebody Touched Me” was included on the 1975 Rounder Records anthology The Early Days of Bluegrass, Vol. 1, which is archived in the Library of Congress (LC Classification: M1630.18).

[5] Q&A Response to Reader Queries, Bluegrass Unlimited, August 2004, Pp. 20-22.

Biocultural Perspectives on Appalachian Anthropology

My road to scholarly work in Appalachia has been bumpy with many turns along the way. In fact, if you had asked me two years ago if I thought I’d be working in the region I would have said “no.” However, sometimes we are just as surprised as our advisers, friends, and family members where our research takes us. This is a personal account of my intellectual journey and how Appalachian Studies plays an important role in my academic career.

Entering the Field
As a new anthropology PhD student in 2010, I was offered a funded graduate research assistant (RA) position in the department of behavioral sciences. A past graduate of the anthropology program, friend, and co-author of mine had recommended meeting with faculty outside the department when I visited the university before I had received my acceptance letter to the program. I am very glad I did meet with so many faculty that day, and that I apparently didn’t make a total fool of myself, because that opportunity has led me on the path that I follow today.

When I entered the program, my goal was to study malnutrition in Africa but my RA work took me to the hills of Eastern Kentucky to work on community-based participatory research (CBPR) health projects. What started as a very successful faith-based cervical cancer screening project evolved into multiple projects that now aim to increase cancer screening, fruit and vegetable intake, and physical activity while reducing body mass index (where appropriate) by reaching community members within their churches  (Schoenberg et al. 2009). Community-based participatory work often engages local communities with academics who strive for a partnership approach to research that result in high participation and program success as well as community capacity building (Israel et al. 2010). I had done CBPR work for a few years before starting with these projects in Eastern Kentucky but the work in Appalachia was somehow different, transformative. I became much more interested in the structural barriers to healthy living that I was witnessing in this remote, rural environment.

“They Made Themselves Fat”
Most public health work in the region (well in the nation, really) is frustratingly focused on individual behaviors, in what anthropologists usually refer to as “blaming the victim” (Moffat 2010) because individuals are blamed for making themselves unhealthy. This is most evident in the recent obesity “epidemic” discourse where lifestyle is a “choice” and unhealthy behaviors become conflated with risk factors that do not account for structural barriers to healthy living. Common misconceptions are that Appalachians do not know how to eat healthy, lay around all day and collect welfare, and so maybe they deserve the extraordinarily high rates of morbidity and mortality experienced in the region. For example, in 2008, 70% of Kentucky’s adults were overweight or obese, 30% of adults that had been screened had high blood pressure, 39% had high cholesterol, and 10% had diabetes, with even higher percentages existing in Eastern Kentucky counties (CDC 2008). But of course these percentages cannot include many of the rural residents who have not been screened or surveyed and these rates have been increasing in recent years.

Since individual food choices are often implicated in obesity and chronic disease research, I became interested in the other factors that contribute to unhealthy eating. For example, I am currently working on a project to measure the food environment in several Eastern Kentucky counties. This form of “ground truthing,” which involves visiting grocery and convenience stores to assess the food options (Sharkey and Horel 2008), has not been attempted in Eastern Kentucky and should allow us to evaluate access to grocery stores and the quantity and quality of healthy foods available to rural residents (Glanz et al. 2007). In this way, researchers can measure how far people must drive to get to to a store (which is of course difficult to impossible without a car or reliable public transportation), what kind of stores are within a reasonable driving distance (convenience, grocery, or dollar stores), and the types of foods that are available in these venues. Once this these barriers are measured and published, it should become difficult to blame low-income rural residents for eating poorly when the evidence indicates they must drive for 45 minutes to get to a grocery store with any produce.

“This is the Price We Pay for Living in the Mountains”
As a biocultural anthropology student, I am very interested in the role the environment plays in rural health. The environment limits access to healthy food and opportunities for physical activity. However, the environment itself can make people sick. This was especially salient for me working in Martin County, KY during the summer of 2011. With a number of other social science graduate students, I conducted survey research about the 2000 coal sludge spill that leaked over 300 million gallons of coal waste into the Coldwater and Wolf Creeks, which made it 30 times the magnitude of the Exxon Valdez spill (Scott et al. 2005). Receiving little to no national recognition, this coal sludge spill is implicated by community members in poor water quality, environmental degradation, and high rates of cancer in the region (Scott et al., forthcoming; B.M. Howell field notes).

What I found especially interesting about this follow-up research is that anger and distrust toward the coal companies has waned significantly over the past 10 years since the spill. Some people believe that things are back to the way they were before the spill, with a few commenting that things might even be better now that large-scale clean-up efforts have improved the local environment. A number of people were hostile to our research, stating that they were “friends of coal” and they didn’t want to take our surveys. One individual even commented that environmental disasters are the price they pay for their livelihoods in Martin County. Of course, that is not to mention that this livelihood makes Martin County one of the poorest counties in the state of Kentucky, Appalachia, and even the nation. In fact, as of May 2011 Martin County is ranked at 39 among the lowest income per capita counties in the entire nation. Only four of Kentucky’s 120 counties are poorer than Martin County (U.S. Census Bureau 2010).

It’s All about Structural Inequalities
These two disparate Appalachian research projects coalesce around issues of structural inequalities that lead to poor health. In Martin County, economic dependence on the coal companies has resulted in acceptance, and even some fatalistic attitudes, of environmental toxins. In southeastern Appalachian Kentucky, many people have little access to high quality and varied fresh produce and other healthy foods (this is probably true throughout Eastern Kentucky, but I am only working in the southeast). By revealing the underlying structures that create these inequities, many Appalachian researchers hope to eliminate victim blaming, especially when Appalachians have come to blame themselves for situations that they cannot fully control.
 
Both of these Appalachian projects utilize CBPR approaches to empower local communities to take action regarding their health and the environment. Althought access to healthy food and a toxin-free environment are basic human rights (United Nations 1948), many Appalachian communities are not granted these conditions. However, many Appalachian communities are willing and able to make changes that they deem important. I argue that the best research approach to research in the region is with CBPR which involves community members in all phases of the process, from formulating questions to data analysis, interpretation, and dissemination (Vaughn, Forbes, & Howell 2009).

Appalachia and Beyond
My work in Appalachian Kentucky has been integral for the development of my current research interests and future PhD dissertation work. Although I will be conducting dissertation research in Alaska, very similar issues of rural access to food and complex dietary decision-making link the two regions. In Alaska, these issues of food are complicated further by the harsh arctic environment and discourses of race involving the rights of low-income indigenous residents to continue obtaining traditional lifestyles and foods, such as seal and whale (Loring & Gerlach 2009). But, it is my work in Appalachia that helps me (begin to) grasp the structural inequalities in rural regions that I hope to investigate throughout my career.
 
Additionally, my work in the region has helped me find my roots. Growing up in the Detroit area, I was never really aware of my own heritage in the mountains. My father made a few references to family members “down south,” but it meant little to me because I had never met them. During my entire childhood I only visited relatives in Pikeville, KY once and all I remember is my brother having a pretty serious trampoline accident and my first encounter with wood ticks. However, working in Eastern Kentucky has helped me form a deeper relationship with my own father and to understand him and his family in a different way. In fact, his family was part of one of the major waves of migrations out of the mountains and into local industrial centers such as Cincinnati, OH and Detroit, MI (Obermiller 2004). Because he was not born in the mountains, my father was not aware of the term “Appalachian” and its current local meaning. We have had many interesting and rich conversations in the past two years due to my work in Eastern Kentucky. While it seems by accident that I ‘fell’ into Appalachian studies, it is for these and many more reasons that I am not struggling to get out of it.


Britteny M. Howell


References

CDC. 2008. Kentucky: Burden of Chronic Disease. Retrieved on 10/8/11 [link].

Glanz, K., J.F. Sallis, B.E. Saelens, and L.D. Frank. 2007. Nutrition Environment Measures Survey in Stores (NEMS-S): Development and Evaluation. American Journal of Preventive Medicine 32(4):282-289.

Israel, B.A., C.M. Coombe, R.R. Cheezum, A.J. Schulz, R.J. McGranaghan, R. Lichtenstein, A.G. Reyes, J. Clement, and A. Burris. 2010. Community-Based Participatory Research: A Capacity-Building Approach for Policy Advocacy Aimed at Eliminating Health Disparities. American Journal of Public Health 100(11):2094-2102.

Loring, P. A., and S.C. Gerlach. 2009. Food, Culture, and Human Health in Alaska: An Integrative Health Approach to Food Security. Environmental Science and Policy 12(4): 466-478.

Moffat, Tina. 2010. The “Childhood Obesity Epidemic”: Health Crisis or Social Construction? Medical Anthropology Quarterly 24(1):1-21.

Obermiller, P.J. 2004. Migration. In High Mountains Rising: Appalachia in Time and Place. R.A. Straw and H.T. Blethen (eds), pp. 88-100.

Schoenberg, N.E., J. Hatcher, M.B. Dignan, B. Shelton, S. Wright, and K.F. Dollarhide. 2009. Faith Moves Mountains: An Appalachian Cervical Cancer Prevention Program. American Journal of Health Behavior 33(6):627-638.

Scott, S.L., S. McSpirit, S. Hardesty, and R. Welch. 2005. Post Disaster Interviews with Martin County Citizens: “Gray Clouds” of Blame and Distrust. Journal of Appalachian Studies 11(1&2):7-29.

Scott, S.L., S. McSpirit, B.M. Howell, and M. Irvin. Forthcoming. “A Blessing in Disguise” (?) Reform of Public Water Management in Post-Disaster Martin County, Kentucky.

Sharkey, J.R., and S. Horel. 2008. Neighborhood Socioeconomic Deprivation and Minority Composition Are Associated with Better Potential Spatial Access to the Ground-Truthed Food Environment in a Large Rural Area. Journal of Nutrition 138:620-627.

United Nations.  1948.  The Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Retrieved on 10/8/11 [link].

U.S. Census Bureau. 2010.  Per Capita Income by County. Retrieved on 10/8/11 [link].

Vaughn, L.M., J.R. Forbes, and B.M. Howell. 2009.  Enhancing Home Visitation Programs: Input from a Participatory Evaluation Using Photovoice. Infants and Young Children 22(2):132-145.


My Life in the Field: Why I Study Appalachia

My research program in Appalachia is an outgrowth of my life experience in and around eastern Kentucky and West Virginia. I was born in Appalachia as were parents and their parents. My ancestors have participated in some of important, almost iconic historical events in our “neck of the woods”:  the Hatfield-McCoy “feud” and the Matewan Massacre. You can read more about great-grandfather, George T. Blankenship, Sr., in Rebecca Bailey’s (2008) Matewan Before the Massacre. Because my father worked for the telephone company, he was transferred periodically throughout my childhood. When I was 5 years old, my family moved from Pikeville to Winchester, KY. Though the Appalachian Regional Commission defines Winchester as part of Appalachia, most folks from the mountains view it as a Bluegrass suburb of Lexington. Until I moved to Winchester, I thought I was just a white, middle class American kid. But, in elementary school, I discovered that my eastern Kentucky accent marked me as culturally different –also, laughable and inferior. My accent faded over the years, and I was recognized as one of the smartest kids in the class. A few months before my 12th birthday, my family joined small migratory influx of population to the region. In a sense, my “fieldwork” in Appalachia started then:  when I returned to the mountains after six formative years in the Bluegrass. About two months after we moved to Johnson County, the Buffalo Creek coal waste dam collapsed and killed 125 people in West Virginia. I remember quite vividly my feeling of shock and horror, not only at the event, but at the fact that Pittston Steel and WV Governor Arch Moore blamed God for the disaster.

Perhaps I would have been an intellectually critical and politically rebellious teenager, wherever I lived. But I lived in Appalachia, so my critical gaze was focused there. I could not ignore the fact that eastern Kentucky’s social realities contradicted my idea of how things should be. These early field observations have informed my research in Appalachia since then; in fact, they inspired it. These include:  1) the poor quality of education; 2) class elitism and prejudice against rural residents; 3) the lack of racial / ethnic diversity; 4) the lack of substance and reason in political discourse; 5) religious hypocrisy; and 6) unwise policies  –most notably, the prohibition of alcohol sales there and in surrounding counties. I witnessed more public drunkenness in Paintsville, where the sale of alcohol was illegal, than in Winchester, which allowed liquor sales. So, if the purpose of being dry was to discourage public drunkenness and alcohol abuse, I reasoned, it should be repealed because it was not achieving the desired effect. Like many teenagers, I thought the adults in my town were unreasonable and unwise.

Some of them apparently thought I was a “trouble-maker.” One day, when my mother was shopping in a downtown store, she overheard one of the clerks say that, if I were her daughter, she would take me over her knee for good spanking because I spoke against the political rhetoric associated with a campaign to raise the town property tax rate for increased school funding. To clarify, I was not opposed higher taxes or increased school funding. Rather, I was offended at what I saw as an elitist political discourse surrounding the campaign to increase the tax rate. One day during class discussion, I noted that this political discourse reinforced and legitimized the advantages that town-dwelling, elite children had over the rural children who attended the more poorly-funded county school system. It was this exercise of my First Amendment rights that elicited the spanking threat from the store clerk. When I returned home from school that day, I found my mother eagerly awaiting my side of the story. I was amazed at the efficiency of the “grapevine” in Paintsville. Later, when I was participating in the construction of a memorial to deceased miners in Harlan County, I also noted how quickly rumors can circulate in small towns and, also how this gossip can serve as communication and deliberation as well as function as a social control mechanism (1995 and 1996).

If my educational journey had stopped after high school graduation, I would have abandoned Appalachia and remained somewhat embarrassed at my association with the region. But, instead, I went to the University of Kentucky where I took an Appalachian Politics course. Exposed to new ways of thinking about the world, my understanding and orientation toward the region changed dramatically. Instead of unreflexively accepting the hegemonic construction of the region’s residents as isolated, backward and inferior, I began to recognize the structural connections between economic underdevelopment of the region and wealth-creation elsewhere. I acquired the tools to expand my critical gaze beyond small town politics to recognize how it articulated with national and global economic, political and cultural forces. I began to explore these connections and forces in earnest when I went to graduate school. But my undergraduate education at U.K. marked a turning point for me. No longer was I ashamed by my association with eastern Kentucky. I embraced ancestors who formally served as a source of social embarrassment:  my great-uncle who was shot to death by law enforcement officials, my great-grandfather, uncles and cousins who engaged in a shoot-out with Baldwin-Felts agents in Matewan, and my great-grandmother who delivered neighbors’ babies.

Inspired by my great-grandmother, I wrote my senior Honors Thesis on Appalachian lay midwives. Under the tutelage of my UK professors, I won two research awards for the project, presented it at two professional conferences, and had the thesis published in a professional, peer-reviewed journal (1983). With their encouragement, I applied for graduate work in Anthropology at the University of California where I wrote a dissertation and later a book (1995) that was inspired by my family’s involvement in violent class conflict in the coalfields. After I completed my PhD, I took a position in sociology at U.K. where I have been lucky enough to work alongside of many of my former professors and mentors. Even though I switched disciplinary allegiance, my commitment to understanding and assisting the Appalachian region has remained constant. Over the past 21 years, my research program has become increasingly more engaged, participatory and practical. For the past ten years, I have been researching the social impacts of coal waste disaster and the relationship between social trust and perceptions of water quality with a colleague at Eastern Kentucky University (2005, McSpirit et al. 2005; 2011; in progress; projected 2012). Even more recently, I have revisited a 1980 community-based, participatory research project called the Appalachian Land Ownership Study (2008 and 2009); this study was instrumental in changing my view of the world during my undergraduate years. In addition, I am currently conducting ethnographic research on local economic development planning and local business promotion as a way to create a more sustainable and democratic economic and political basis for community life in eastern Kentucky. Finally, I am collaborating with colleagues to produce a critical assessment of the interdisciplinary field of Appalachian Studies. Coal waste disasters, political ideology and conflict, democratic deliberation, economic development, and critical evaluation –these are the foci of my current research program. They all have roots in the social phenomena and issues that I encountered during my first ethnographic encounter with my home region in 1972. You could say that have been happily plowing this same field for almost forty years now, and I have not yet exhausted the soil.


Shaunna L. Scott
Associate Professor, Sociology
Director of Graduate Studies

References

Bailey, Rebecca.  2008.  Matewan before the Massacre: Politics, Coal, and the Roots of Conflict in a West Virginia Mining Community. Morgantown: West Virginia University Press.

Berry, Chad,  Phil Obermiller and Shaunna L. Scott, eds.  In progress. Taking Stock: Appalachian Studies Examined.

Stephanie McSpirit, Shaunna L. Scott, Sharon Hardesty and Robert Welch.  2005.  “EPA Actions in Post-Disaster Martin County, Kentucky: An Analysis of Bureaucratic Slippage and Agency Recreancy.” Journal of Appalachian Studies 11 (1&2): 30-58.

Shaunna L. Scott.  1983.  “Grannies, Mothers and Midwives: An Examination of Traditional Southern Lay Midwifery.” Central Issues in Anthropology 4 (2): 17-29.

Shaunna L. Scott.  1996.  “’Dead Work’: The Construction and Reconstruction of the Harlan Miners Memorial.” Qualitative Sociology 19 (3): 365-94.

Shaunna L. Scott, Stephanie McSpirit, Sharon Hardesty and Robert Welch. 2005. “Post Disaster Interviews with Martin County Citizens: ‘Gray Clouds’ of Blame and Distrust.” Journal of Appalachian Studies 11 (1&2): 7-29.

Shaunna L. Scott. 2008. “Revisiting the Appalachian Land Ownership Study: An Oral Historical Account.” Appalachian Journal 35 (2): 236-252.

Shaunna L. Scott. 2009. “Discovering What the People Knew: The 1979 Appalachian Land  Ownership Study.” Action Research 7(2): 185-205.

Stephanie McSpirit and Shaunna L. Scott. In progress. “The Martin County Coal Waste Spill and Beyond: Citizen Efforts at Protecting Kentucky’s Vital and Vulnerable Water Resources” (working title). Chapter for Shaped by Water: Kentucky’s Watersheds, Landscapes, and People. Brian D. Lee, Alice Jones, Dan Carey ad John Burch, eds. University Press of Kentucky. Projected publication:  2012.

Scott, Shaunna L. and Stephanie McSpirit. In progress. “A Disasters’ Impacts on Local Media Framing of Coal Corporations in Martin County, Kentucky.” (working title)

When the stereotype is the research topic: Reflections on working on stigmatizing disease and clarifying critiques among the “last group of people it’s OK to make fun of”

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” the woman said to me, “and I have some feedback. I wish you’d have said some good things about Appalachia. Our sense of family, our perseverance through adversity, our generosity and care for community, our faith in God. I don’t know why everyone always focuses on the negative stuff. Why doesn’t anyone talk about the positives? My mother passed her knowledge of the land and handcrafts to me. I haven’t lived there for decades but I still remember that. I’m still proud of it. I don’t know why people don’t talk about that. Why you didn’t talk about that. Unless you didn’t see these things in your research in which case, of course, I understand.”

I listened to this woman, a collegial acquaintance who was in the audience I’d addressed at a statewide conference on oral health. I apologized to her. I thought that the narratives I’d shared had included some of the elements she’d mentioned, not because I was pandering but because the narratives represented my dissertation research on oral health disparities and access to dental care in far southwest Virginia: Janie, who had persistently tried to find dental care for her Medicaid-insured kids despite being continually refused. Dr. K, who gave free care to patients referred by his church’s ministry and his professional organization’s donated care network. While none of my participants had talked to me about gardening techniques or the traditional regional arts to which my colleague referred – topics that were, in fact, outside of my scope of research – I thought that these stories portrayed quite clearly themes of determination and faith, of family- and community-mindedness.

“Unless you didn’t see these things,” she had said. I certainly had observed attributes of what “local color” writers and residents alike call “Appalachian culture.” However, the goal of my talk – a plenary for clinicians, educators, policymakers, and funders – was to refocus the conversation from the easy target of individual behavior to structural and institutional contributors to the study population’s low access to dental care and poor oral health outcomes: The inequitable distribution of dentists in general, and pediatric dentists who took Medicaid in particular. Organized dentistry’s control over its “mid-level” professions, and the ways in which this lock suppresses pluralized options that might otherwise expand preventive care. The ways in which the individualizing and biomedicalized management of the region’s foremost syndemic – obesity and diabetes; chronic pain; and depression, anxiety, and dependence on substances from stimulants like tobacco and the dread Mountain Dew to prescription narcotics used for both somatic and somaticized pain – contributed to tooth decay, breakage, and loss. My audience may have been very applied, but my talk was grounded in colleagues’ recent admonishments to wrest our critiques from their obscuring and alienating positions-on-high, and move them, intelligibly, into the public realm.

But my most-local-acquaintance’s comments left me afeared that, alas, unless I talked about prize-worthy-tomatoes or corn shuck dolls (or, God forbid, coal ), I would not have fulfilled my stated commitment as a sort-of-daughter of Appalachia, for my kin aren’t from there but that’s where I was raised: to not only document an issue of local interest and maybe try to help address it, but also to fight stereotypes about the region by maybe demonstrating that the issue  hadn’t been such a problem after all…or, at least, there’s still good stuff to be found there despite the documented problems. So you might imagine how my greatest fears about my choice of dissertation topic, oral health problems among a poor, rural population in central Appalachia – that is, “toothlessness” among “hillbillies” – were encapsulated in that moment. That is, what if my very choice of topic and, even worse, my analysis of it, was perpetuating the very stereotypes that my data – and my politics – demand that I critique?

***

In my dissertation research, I investigate oral health disparities and access to dental care from the perspectives of patients, providers, stakeholders, and the people I have taken to calling, borrowing from contemporary political rhetoric, “discouraged patients” – people like Janie, who want and try to seek dental care for their families but are not successful – in far southwest Virginia. My choice of topic was informed by formative research in which I asked various community members what research topics would be most meaningful and useful to them. I know that some of my key informants advocated oral health so that I could deliver suggestions for a “culturally competent” social marketing campaign to convince locals to put down the chewing tobacco and pick up the floss [1]. But my commitment to interrogate, through ethnographic research, structural causes of poor oral health and low access to care hasn’t wavered, including when that commitment has demanded that I focus on the very institutions that these dear colleagues and collaborators, with whom I enjoy working and plan to continue doing so, represent. It’s not every professional group that invites a critically engaged medical anthropologist to say to its membership “your professional norms are part of the problem.” And then invites her back to say it again.

But what does this all have to do with Appalachia, the motivator of this essay? I posit that the topic of my meditation, that is, the stereotype as research topic, has a resonance that is, while somewhat universal, very very specific to the “last group of people it’s OK to make fun of” (c.f. Engelhardt 2005, Wray 2006) and, hence, an opportunity or some critical reflection on both research methods and analysis. What is it about poor, rural white people that makes it “OK” to make fun of, or malign or marginalize, their teeth? For one thing, like so many other stereotypes of Appalachians, we may not expect them to notice differences made visible out each time we smile or talk or laugh. For another, and this is as true about the more “positive” stereotypes of Appalachians, like “fiercely independent,” we don’t expect them to care. I have certainly heard this said by providers and other elites, including providers and elites who are from the region and, measuring their mouths by their own standards, do seem to care. They may academize their discussion, tracing local peoples’ “disinterest” in or deprioritization of good teeth to their British and Irish roots because, well, look at their teeth. But the assumption is always about patient disinterest and de-prioritization rather than an institutional dentistry’s disinterest or deprioritization that structures an inequitable distribution of care in the first place. The latter, and critiques of the former, are borne out in my data.

When I designed my interview questions, I included the question “How do your problems with your mouth, teeth, or gums affect your day-to-day life?” I expected patients to talk about changes they had to make in their eating, sleeping, working, and parenting habits to accommodate their dental problems. Instead, participants frequently entered into long and descriptive narratives of the stigma and alienation – sometimes self-imposed – that they experience as a result of oral health and the impression their mouths give people. Participants were self-reflective and specific; they said “I know what I look like,” listing traits including  poor, uneducated, lazy, stupid, dirty, drug-addicted, unworthy of respect, and “hillbilly,” “redneck,” or “white trash.” They framed their experiences in terms of their own irresponsibility – their use of tobacco or methamphetamines, their poor brushing habits or love of sweets as children – but they also framed them in terms of the dental establishment, and its lack of provision – its lack of concern – for poor people, especially poor adults for whom the only Medicaid-covered benefit, in the state of Virginia, is emergency extraction. For those parents like Janie, who are highly motivated to get their children care to keep them from suffering the social consequences that they did, the situation in Virginia is, as Castañeda and colleagues have described it in Florida (Castañeda et al 2010), full of “false hope” – the promise of coverage, but the inability to find care. Even those people who do have jobs and private health insurance in the region, like so many in the U.S., have neither dental insurance nor the cash reserves to pay out of pocket.
***

I opened this essay with a fellow Appalachian’s critique of my work. She has re-energized me to think critically about representation. Representation of my study population. Representation of the region I call my childhood home. Representation of my own work. She urged me to emphasize the more “positive” aspects of “Appalachian culture” as they relate to oral health, if they came out in my research; to be fair, she also agreed not to argue too hard if the more “negative” traits, like chewing tobacco and drinking pop, emerged too. I’ve been thinking a lot about what she asked me to do.

We can talk about planting corn and hunting morels, making quilts and making do and all those other things by which some claim to know Appalachia and its people. My neighbors love to do some of those things. I love to do some of those things too. But the “positive” aspect I find most compelling in the face of crushing structural forces, whether that crush is deliberate or accidental or, as in the case of organized dentistry, probably some of both is participants’ narratives – their painful and bare self-reflection on having to live out one of the worst stereotypes they know daily, their honesty about their own behavioral contributions to their suffering, and their critique of a dental establishment that has failed them – and so, I continue to share them.

Sarah Raskin


[1] For an excellent summary of critiques of “cultural competence” in health and medicine see Carpenter-Song et al 2007.

References

Carpenter-Song, E., M. Nordquest, and J. Longhofer. 2007. “Cultural Competence Re-examined: Critique and Directions for the Future.”Psychiatric Services 58:1362-1365.

Castañeda, Heide, Iraida V. Carrion, Nolan Kline, and Dinorah Martinez Tyson. 2010. False Hope: Effects of Social Class and Health Policy on Oral Health Inequalities for Migrant Farmworker Families. Social Science and Medicine 71: 2028-2037

Engelhardt, Elizabeth S.D. 2005. Creating Appalachian women’s studies: Dancing away from Granny and Elly May. In: Elizabeth S.D. Engelhardt, ed. Beyond Hill and Hollow: Original Readings in Appalachian Women’s Studies.  Athens: Ohio University Press

Wray, Matt. 2006. Not Quite White: White Trash and the Boundaries of Whiteness. Durham: Duke University Press.

Cultural Industries and Invasive Species: Ecological Threats to Handicraft Production in Central Appalachia

Overview
Regional gains from conventional growth-based development practices remain insufficient and unequally distributed throughout much of Central Appalachia. The legacy of absentee landownership, low wages, out-migration, and economic development policy failures, coupled with new challenges presented by forest fragmentation, exotic invasive species, and climate change, offers little hope for individuals seeking to improve their quality of life. Since the mid-twentieth century, Central Appalachia has suffered from economic decline as a result of decreases in employment in extractive industries. As resource extraction declined and jobs were lost, many individuals emigrated from the region. Those that chose to remain have often turned to alternative economic practices, such as handicraft production, to make a living. Thus, the recognition and advocacy of alternative economic practices in rural areas may offer communities new development possibilities.

Such new development possibilities must however, be analyzed both economically and ecologically. While organizations may financially support handicraft production, this is not enough to guarantee the sustainability of the handicraft industry. The raw materials handicraft producers’ use, such as hardwood trees (e.g., oak, walnut, ash), often face threats from insect pests and pathogens that affect resource quality and quantity. In this essay, the authors examine the significance of the handicraft industry as an alternative to failed conventional economic development strategies in Central Appalachia and explore ecological threats facing handicraft producers in this geographic region, focusing primarily on examples of threats to hardwoods. The authors hope to generate awareness of and to call attention to the need to bridge the gap between economic and ecological discussions pertaining to alternative development strategies in economically depressed rural regions such as Central Appalachia.

Recognizing and Advocating for Alternative Economic Practices in Central Appalachia
As employment in extractive industries continues to decrease and jobs have been lost throughout Central Appalachia, individuals have often turned to diverse economic practices such as small-scale agriculture and handicraft production to make ends meet (Mencken and Maggard 1997; Oberhauser 2002, 2005; Fickey 2011a). Such practices however, are not new. Woodland agricultural methods prevalent among Native American tribes and early European settlers were comprised of numerous diverse economic activities (Eller 1982, 2008; Williams 2002). Although such activities may have lessened with the rise of industrialization and wage-labor throughout the region, small-scale handicraft and agricultural production has persisted overtime and continues today (Fickey 2011a, 2011b).   

Such small-scale practices can be critical to sustaining livelihoods in rural regions with declining resource-based extraction industries (Oberhauser 2005; Carnegie 2008; Pretes and Gibson 2008; Fickey 2011a). For individuals who are no longer employed in mining and timber industries, who rely on state assistance for survival (as a result of injury, Black Lung disease, or retirement), the handicraft industry may serve a last resort that provides the cash needed to make ends meet without becoming disqualified for state programs. And yet, such economic activities are rarely understood as ‘development worthy’ in Appalachia and beyond (Gibson-Graham 1996, 2006; Carnegie 2008; Fickey 2011a, 2011b). Much work remains in the field of Appalachian Studies with regard to the documentation and fostering of alternative economic practices.

These small-scale practices however, are not simply ‘alternative’ in that, the handicraft industry and its producers are themselves quite diverse (see Fuller and Jonas 2003 for a discussion of degrees of alterity; Leyshon et al. 2003; Samers 2005). Craft producers may engage in handicraft production in opposition to capitalist wage labor, in substitution to capitalist forms of labor (such as employment in logging or mining) that is no longer available, or in addition to other forms of wage labor. Despite the dominance of neoliberal development strategies within the handicraft industry that promote self-sufficiency and entrepreneurialism, the state as well as regional entities, simultaneously supports self-sufficient entrepreneurs as well as more cooperative handicraft production and distribution (Fickey 2011a, 2011b).

In Kentucky, the state has allocated large sums of funding to the Kentucky Craft Marketing Program since the early 1980s (Barker 1991). Such funding has allowed the state to create a geographical lore for handicraft items produced in Kentucky; a lore which entices consumers – at regional, national, and international scales – with promises of high-quality, authentic products. This geographical lore benefits both cooperative members and entrepreneurs alike. Other states throughout Central Appalachia and Appalachia more broadly, may not have state-supported programs. Western North Carolina, for instance, has been very successful with the Handmade in America program which is primarily regionally based. Funding at the regional or state scale however, may provide a somewhat more stable market for handicrafts, and yet, it does not protect the industry in terms of accessibility to raw materials needed for handicraft production.

Examples of Ecological Threats to Handicraft Production
Financial support at the regional and state level does not necessarily guarantee the sustainability of the handicraft industry over time. Raw materials that crafters use to produce handicrafted products often face ecological threats which are rarely if ever recognized by arts-related organizations. For example, craft producers working with hardwoods are often unaware of the potential threats of invasive species. Instead, Artisans often recognize and capitalize on qualitative irregularities caused by native insects and pathogens in the form of burls and flag worms, which can provide intriguing irregularities in wood products which enhance product appeal.

Image 1 – Reed basket with cherry bottom. The two dark lines that appear in the upper left hand
corner of the basket bottom indicate worm damage. Photo by A. Fickey.
However, in recent decades entomologists as well as others have noted threats that originate from exotic invasive species, which disrupt ecosystem processes and threaten tree survival and resource sustainability. Non-native species, including plants, insects and diseases, that have expanded beyond the limits of their native range – often via human transportation – are labeled ‘invasive’ once they begin to cause economic and ecological harm (Lockwood et al. 2007). The following are several examples of invasive species that threaten hardwoods typically used by handicraft producers throughout Central Appalachia. These images, as well as the resource database included at the end of the article, are meant to provide assistance with the identification of invasive species. Contact information for regional, state, and national organizations that can assist with the management/eradication of invasive species has been included.

Oak
Image 2 – Symptoms of Sudden Oak Death (Phytophthora ramorum). Location: United States.
Photo by Bruce Moltzan, Missouri Department of Conservation, Bugwood.org.
Oaks are a dominant component of mixed mesophytic forests of Appalachia, and are tremendously important both economically and ecologically. Forest management strategies over recent decades have favored rapidly growing, shade tolerant species, to the detriment of oaks. These management strategies, conjoined with forest fragmentation, climate change, endemic pests, and recent exotic introductions, have been coupled with an alarming decline in our oak component. For example, the exotic Asiatic oak weevil is an acorn feeder that directly impacts oak regeneration. Invasive defoliating gypsy moth caterpillars can cause extensive oak mortality with a concomitant shift in species composition away from the highly valued oaks, and more recently, the sudden oak death pathogen threatens the sustainability of our red oaks. The decline of oaks in our forest will affect existing ecological interactions and economic practices, ultimately impacting the availability of this resource for the handicraft industry.

Walnut
Image 3 – Symptoms of Thousand Cankers Disease (Geosmithia morbida – proposed name). The image above is an example of large trunk cankers common in end stage infestations of cankers. Location: United States. Photo by Whiney Cranshaw, Colorado State University, Bugwood.org.
Walnut is a high value species under threat from thousand cankers disease (TCD), an emerging insect-associated pathogen complex caused by an unknown exotic fungus that forms coalescing stem and branch cankers on black walnut. TCD is associated with the native walnut twig beetle.  Initial reports of black walnut mortality occurred in western states in 2001, but retrospective reports of tree mortality throughout the 1990’s suggest that TCD may have been present in the west for over a decade. It has been reported in eight western US states and Mexico, and more recently in neighboring Tennessee. The full host range of the beetle vector and associated fungi is unknown and disease epidemiology is not fully understood. Though the walnut twig beetle is a western species, questions remain whether the associated fungus might be vectored by other beetles, either native or non-native, whether the western vector could establish in Appalachia, and the extent to which TCD might be transmitted via firewood and wood products. The susceptibility of other nut-producing trees, including closely related butternut and hickories, is unknown. Given the high value and geographic range of black walnut, and the prevalence of nut production throughout the eastern USA, our southeastern forests are clearly at risk from this emerging disease complex.  The insect-pathogen complex associated with TCD threatens the persistence of black walnut, and perhaps butternut, in the southeast. 

Ash
Image 4 – Symptoms of Emerald Ash Borer tunneling (Agrilus planipennis or Agrilus marcopoli).
Location: United States. Photo by Eric R. Day, Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, Bugwood.org
Ash are present throughout much of Appalachia, and are threatened by the exotic emerald ash borer (EAB). Since it was first reported in the USA in 2002, EAB has expanded its geographic range dramatically, causing extensive ash mortality and making headlines throughout the US.  North American ash are especially susceptible, and EAB has proved capable of traveling great distances in association with movement of firewood, and to a lesser extent infested nursery stock.  Although it has been present in Kentucky since mid 2009, EAB-induced ash mortality is not yet common. Urban forests will be particularly hard hit, and the ash component in Kentucky’s forests, particularly in the northern 1/3 of the state, is significant. EAB-induced ash mortality will reduce the ash available for commercial uses, including the handicraft industry, and markedly change the structure and composition of affected forests.

Conclusions
Our goal in providing these examples is to generate an awareness of the potential impact of invasive species upon Central Appalachia’s handicraft industry. Despite financial support for this industry at both state and regional levels, such economically-driven efforts must be complimented with ecological education with regard to invasive species. Many culturally-based industries, beyond and in addition to handicraft production, such as small-scale agriculture, eco-agro tourism ventures, and preservation initiatives, rely on a stable ecological environment. Yet, non-native species threaten both environments and economies. It is our hope that this brief essay contributes to the continuing dialogue pertaining to alternative economic development and invasive species.

Fickey, A., Department of Geography, University of Kentucky
Rieske-Kinney, L., Department of Entomology, University of Kentucky


Acknowledgements

We would like to thank Zeb Weese, Environmental Biologist Consultant, Kentucky Heritage Land Conservation Fund, for his assistance with this project.




Resources (Related to craft production, alternative economic practices, and invasive species – see References section for additional sources)

Printed Sources

Barker, G.  1991. The Handcraft Revival in Southern Appalachia, 1930-1990.  Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press.

Blee, K. and Billings, D. The Road to Poverty: The Making of Wealth and Hardship in Appalachia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Eller, R. 1982. Miners, Millhands, and Mountaineers: Industrialization of the Appalachian South. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press.

Eller, R. 2008. Uneven Ground: Appalachian Since 1945. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky.

Fickey, A. 2011. The focus has to be on helping people make a living: Exploring Diverse Economies and Alternative Economic Spaces (includes review of literature pertaining to diverse economies research program and alternative economies). Geography Compass 5(5): 237-248.

Fields, J.  2003. The Craft Heritage Trails of Western North Carolina.  Asheville, NC: Handmade in America.

Gibson-Graham, J.K. 1996. The end of capitalism (as we knew it): a feminist critique of political economy. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota.

Gibson-Graham, J.K. 2006. A postcapitalist politics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Gibson-Graham, J. K. 2008. Diverse economies: performative practices for ‘other worlds’ (includes extensive online bibliography). Progress in Human Geography 32 (5), pp. 613–632.

Hill, S. 1997. Weaving new worlds: Southeastern Cherokee women and their basketry. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Lockwood, J. L., Hoopes, M. F., and Marchetti, M. P. 2007. Invasion Ecology. Malden and Oxford: Blackwell Publishing.

Online Sources

References
Barker, G.  1991. The Handcraft Revival in Southern Appalachia, 1930-1990.  Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press.

Carnegie, M. 2008. Development prospects in Eastern Indonesia: learning from Oelua’s diverse economy. Asia Pacific Viewpoint 49(3): pp. 354–369.

Eller, R. 1982. Miners, Millhands, and Mountaineers: Industrialization of the Appalachian South. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press.

Eller, R. 2008. Uneven Ground: Appalachian Since 1945. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky.

Fickey, A. 2011a. The focus has to be on helping people make a living: Exploring Diverse Economies and Alternative Economic Spaces. Geography Compass 5(5): pp. 237-248.
---. 2011b. The Messy and Complex Politics of Cultural Intervention. Journal of Appalachian Studies 16(1/2 – Spring/Fall 2010): pp. 115-118.

Fuller, D. and Jonas, A. E. G., 2003. Alternative financial spaces. In: Leyshon, A., Lee, R. and Williams, C. C. (eds) Alternative Economic Spaces. London: Sage: pp. 55-73.

Gibson-Graham, J. K. 1996. The end of capitalism (as we knew it): a feminist critique of political economy. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Gibson-Graham, J.K. 2006. A postcapitalist politics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Leyshon, A., Lee, R. and Williams, C. C. (eds). 2003. Alternative economic spaces. London: Sage Publications.

Leyshon, A., Lee, R. and Williams, C. C. (eds). 2003. Alternative Economic Spaces. London: Sage.

Mencken, C. and Maggard, S. 1999. Informal economic activity in West Virginia. In: Keith, B. and Althouse, R. (eds) Inside West Virginia: public policy perspectives for the 21st century. Morgantown, WV: West Virginia University Press, pp. 87–106.

Oberhauser, A. 2002. Relocating gender and rural economic strategies. Environment and Planning A; 34(7): pp. 1221–1237. ---. 2005. Scaling gender and diverse economies: perspectives from Appalachia and South Africa. Antipode 37 (4), pp. 863–874.

Samers, M. 2005. The myopia of ‘‘diverse economies’’, or a critique of the ‘‘informal economy’’. Antipode 37 (4): pp. 875–886. Williams, J. 2002. Appalachia: A History. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.

Landscapes for Reclamation, Eastern Kentucky

In February of this year I went on a "Mountain Witness Tour" as part of the 2011 Dimensions of Political Ecology Conference at the University of Kentucky.  These tours are run by Kentuckians for the Commonwealth, and they are meant to help "people who don’t live in the coalfields understand the impact of coal mining on people, their homes, and their communities" (from the KFTC site).  More from KFTC:
KFTC organizes tours periodically to educate members and supporters.  Tours have been to Island Creek in Pike County, Red Bird in Clay County, Cloverlick in Harlan County, Ary in Perry County, and Sassafras in Knott County.  Participants have learned about the hazards of coal truck traffic, the total devastation caused by mountaintop removal, the damage caused by blasting, and the results of poor reclamation practices.
Author Silas House wrote an Op-Ed for the New York Times earlier this year called "My polluted Kentucky Home."  Here's a selection:
Since it was first used in 1970, mountaintop removal has destroyed some 500 mountains and poisoned at least 1,200 miles of rivers and streams across the Appalachian coal-mining region. Yet Governor Beshear is so committed to the practice that he recently allied with the Kentucky Coal Association in a suit against the Environmental Protection Agency to block more stringent regulations of it. In court his administration’s lawyers referred to public opposition as simply “an unwarranted burden."

The news media and the rest of the country typically think of mountaintop removal as an environmental problem. But it’s a human crisis as well, scraping away not just coal but also the freedoms of Appalachian residents, people who have always been told they are of less value than the resources they live above.
Here in the US, we consume resources like there is no tomorrow--literally.  One of the problems is that the effects of our choices and behaviors aren't always all that, well, visible.  At least for some people.  Mountaintop removal is certainly a process that takes place well outside of the public eye--and this is the reason why KFTC does their tours.  The MTR issue is extremely contentious, and the stakes are high on all sides.  But one way to address the problem--at least for starters--is to get a better understanding of some of the direct impacts, whether environmental, economic, or political.  I took my camera along with me on the Mountain Witness Tour.  I have included a few of the images I took that day.  I won't even pretend that these capture the entire story--not even close.  But they do tell part of the story, and that's a start.


One of the first places we stopped was a location where active mining was in process.  This site is located right alongside the small road that weaves through the area.  In the distance we could hear the drone of engines.

This image is was taken with a longer lens from around the same location as the previous.  What was striking to me was how much earth was being moved around.  The technological force is pretty staggering when you think about it.  And these processes are happening day in and day out, whether or not people pay attention.

Detail of one of one of the cuts into the wall of the mountain itself.

This was from another spot that we visited later in the day.  This is what's known as "reclaimed land," which means that the mining process is complete and now the soil and ecology are in the process of regeneration.  The actual success of the regeneration is up for debate, depending on who you ask.

Same place as the image above.  A small plant flagged in part of the reclamation process.

Another overview of the reclaimed landscape.  Notice the little peak in the distance with a few trees left.

Detail of the "reclaimed" soil.

Another overview of the reclaimed landscape.  This was at the end of the day, just as we were all heading back from the tour.  I turned around and caught this image, which is a pretty bleak and striking landscape all at once.


Photographs and text by Ryan Anderson