Allen Sarven ran away with the circus at age 18 and never looked back. At least, that’s how he sees it.
Born in northwestern Ohio, Al was captivated from a young age by the idea of becoming a professional wrestler. As a teenager, he maintained a monthly ritual of calling up every major wrestling promotion he could find and asking for a shot at training with them. Each month, they said no. And each month, he called them again.
The fall after I turned 18, I moved from my hometown in Pikeville to the town of Bowling Green for college. The drive was less than five hours, an easy trip down the Cumberland Parkway anytime I needed a weekend at home. But despite being within state lines, and a mere one county outside what the ARC designates as the Appalachian region, something about Bowling Green felt like I had dropped onto a different planet.
In the early 2010s, this phrase felt like it was on a t-shirt in every store I walked into. Usually, it was accompanied by stick figures or silhouettes of people in a canoe. Other times the shirt inexplicably featured popular TV characters like Family Guy’s Brian and Stewie. Regardless, the phrase showed up enough that 15-year-old me took notice. And despite never having seen the film these shirts referenced, I could sense that they were mocking someone - someone who kind of felt like me.
The one I noticed the most by far is a trope I’ve come to call Degraded - the idea that Appalachians are primitive, degenerate, and destitute. Sometimes, these images are meant to be funny; others, deadly serious. In all cases, Appalachians are positioned as a society wholly separate from the rest of the world - a group that is other.
It became clear to me at a young age that stories were how we learned about and connected with each other. They were a source of joy, remembrance, wisdom, and humor. But as I grew up, I realized that stories can have a dark side - especially when they’re used against you.
The next time you think about what is synonymous with our great state, don’t forget to throw professional wrestling in the mix. Kentucky is woven into the fabric of this great and entertaining brand of sports entertainment.
An unwavering motivation to debunk stereotypes and offer unexpected perspectives has been consistent in Desi Lydic’s work as a correspondent on The Daily Show. It was because of this commitment that she was asked to host last Spring. “It was really a total dream come true to even get that opportunity to do it for even a brief moment,” she told KTW. But after nine years at The Daily Show, it feels like she’s just getting started.
In an exclusive interview with Kentucky to the World, he shares how our culture’s devotions to artifacts like “My Old Kentucky Home” can be viewed as a symptom of a much larger problem – and how an educational refocusing can respond to it.
As I grew, studied history and became passionate about learning Louisville’s vast and interesting past, I realized that the world of The Stephen Foster Story was not all pretty dresses and romance. It was unbelievably dark in ways we cannot truly imagine.
The truth is that American exceptionalism is a lie. Moreover, for Kentuckians, the song “My Old Kentucky Home” and the play about its writer, The Stephen Foster Story, in Bardstown are lies, too.