I grew up in a bubble. I didn’t get out much. In high school especially, I was the kind of kid that just wanted to play Call of Duty online with my friends more than the kid who went to football games and took part in extracurricular activities. But before that, I spent my childhood in the woods. Summers were spent next to Lake Cumberland in Somerset, right on the border of Nancy, with frequent trips in the fall to Haney’s Appledale Farm and Bear Wallow Farm. I played with neighborhood friends in abandoned trailer parks with double wides toppled over hills. Froze my feet off in treestands hunting in Campbellsville with my Grandad. Sat on a dead log housing a seed tick nest while chasing squirrels. Had front yard reunions with my Mom’s mom’s side of the family in Flemingsburg, and the Daulton family Christmas in my Aunt’s garage.
It’s a sentiment shared time and time again, from news organizations centered on the Black experience in West Virginia to works of fiction based in the reality of growing up Indigenous in North Carolina. Over 20% of the Appalachian population is nonwhite - including Black, Hispanic, and Indigenous folks, as well as many other races and ethnicities - and the region has become increasingly diverse since 2010. And yet, mainstream representations of the region almost always look the same: white.
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.
Because so much of CEDAR’s programming had to do with how coal as an industry needed to be supported, its gradual but now overpowering absence necessitated a shift in focus and in practice. So with a pretty substantial name change and a totally new concentration, CEDAR would begin to support students and educators in ways that would impact their communities directly.
Centrally, SOAR aims to promote entrepreneurs, small businesses, educators, and, above all, residents of Eastern Kentucky as the region recovers from the decline of the coal industry. Their primary goal is to introduce a new high-speed internet infrastructure across the region, one that will provide substantial economic, educational, and health benefits.
As our culture and economy continue to become more connected digitally, thought leaders in Appalachia have identified an opportunity to help an economy reliant on coal transition into a more technologically resilient future. From this model, Rusty Justice and Lynn Parish started Bit Source in 2014, an organization responsible for upskilling and reskilling former coal miners to make custom software and applications for clients across the globe.
Traveling to Boston or Austin or San Francisco to brag about all the smart people Kentucky has produced in the last 40 years isn’t going to change the way the world sees us. Working together to build a new economy for the Commonwealth will.
