Dr. Althea Webb received her PhD from EPE a few years ago and is now an assistant
professor at Berea College.
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http://chronicle.com/article/Color-Me-Appalachian/129174/
October 2, 2011
Color Me Appalachian
By Althea Webb
I am a black Southern woman born in 1956. I began to question that identity for the
first time in my life when I moved to the foothills of eastern Kentucky. As a native
Kentuckian, I thought that I knew the state. But the first time I heard traditional
mountain music, I was awestruck-I had never heard anything like it before. A
student, Ashley Long, was singing "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive" with the Berea
College Bluegrass Ensemble. Darrell Scott's lyrics and Long's haunting voice brought
tears to my eyes. The song tells the story of a man's great-granddaughter, who sings
about the family lineage in the "deep, dark hills of eastern Kentucky," where the
"sun comes up about 10 in the morning and the sun goes down about 3 in the day," and
"you spend your life just thinking how to get away." The pain and the despair were
palpable in the lyrics and in the style of singing.
When I came to Berea College four years ago, I accepted employment as a college
professor; but I quickly realized that I had embarked on something more than just a
job or career path. I was drawn to Berea because of its 150-year history and its
commitment to African-American students. But I did not want to live in what I
regarded as the mountains (in reality, the foothills), so I commuted from Lexington
the first year, not telling my family that I had taken a job in the region. I knew
they would worry about my living there because of all the negative stereotypes of
racist white mountain people.
I didn't know, but would soon learn, that Appalachian people represent a distinct
cultural group. I didn't understand that their music, traditions, and values were
rooted in a way of life I knew very little about; my family and I had accepted as
truth all the stereotypes. Over time, I came to know that the rich culture of
Appalachia extends beyond Kentucky, including 13 states from Mississippi to New
York, with West Virginia the only state entirely in the region.
After a year of commuting, I decided to move. I had found the people in town
friendly, and there was a vital black community.
My experience at Berea was different from any other job I had had as a college
professor. My first surprise was that, in my first class, there were more
African-American students than I had taught in 13 years of my being a professor in
Kentucky. The college's minority enrollment has ranged between 17 percent and 23
percent over the last 10 years, in a state whose African-American population is only
about 8 percent.
While it was wonderful working at a predominantly white institution with a
significant number of African-American students, even more surprising were the white
students. Most of them-60 percent of the 1,500 students on campus-identify
themselves as Appalachian. As the semester progressed and I got to know them a
little, I found them different from other white people I had encountered. I had
worked with working-class whites before, but these students' differences existed
apart from socioeconomic status. Aside from the cultural differences, they were
devoid of "white entitlement"; there was a humility and respect that I had never
experienced from white students before. They were outspoken about some things and
shy about others; they were smart, but not savvy-I found contradiction after
contradiction.
Talking with them about their homes in rural Appalachia was similar to talking to
international students about their lives in developing countries. I simply did not
understand their culture-I hadn't realized that although these people were white,
they were not part of mainstream white culture. That first semester was challenging
because I was working with a group that I knew very little about. But I wanted to
know more.
In my second semester, I took the college's weeklong Appalachian Seminar and Tour. I
thought it would answer all my questions about the region, but within minutes, I
realized that nothing was straightforward. My first question was: "Is it pronounced
"Ap-uh-lay-chuh" or "Ap-uh-lach-uh?" (I had been taught the former in grammar
school.) Chad Berry, director of Berea's Appalachian Center, explained that those
outside the region said the former, while those inside the region said the latter. I
decided to use the regional pronunciation. This was a place where I wanted to
belong. I had already begun to feel connected, and I wanted to explore those
feelings in more depth.
When I compared what I learned on the tour to what I thought I already knew, I
realized that what I had learned as a child had been served up with a large helping
of disdain for these people. I was taught what most outsiders assume: that mountain
people were poor, ignorant, and backward. During my childhood, whenever Kentucky
made the news or was depicted in a film, it was the world of eastern
Kentucky-Appalachia-that was portrayed. Therefore, western Kentucky had an image
problem, I was told by my elders, since eastern Kentucky was made to represent the
entire state.
The negative images and stereotypes I grew up persisted into my adulthood. When
Michael Kors, one of the judges on Project Runway, a reality show for aspiring
designers, told Raymundo Baltazar in Season 2 that his design for a Barbie outfit
looked like it was for a "barefoot Appalachian Barbie," I laughed as anyone would at
a snarky put-down that seemed to perfectly sum up the hideous design. But that was
before I moved to Berea. Now I realize that I was like a person who would never make
a racist joke herself, but who would laugh when someone else did. We live in a
society where you can lose your job for making a racist joke but where there are
usually no consequences for making regional slurs.
After moving to Berea, I began to question my assumptions about Appalachia, my
biases toward the people, and my complicity in the stereotypes I held. I had never
challenged or even recognized my prejudice. I did not know that there was such
beauty in the people, the land, and the culture; I felt guilty about my ignorance.
These are not poor, simple people who live in the past; Appalachian culture is
dynamic, vital, and very much looking to the future to survive.
I began to read as much as possible, I attended cultural events in the region, and I
talked to everyone and anyone who would share with me their experiences of having
grown up here. I began to see many connections between rural African-American
culture and Appalachian culture. There are similarities in food, religion, family
structure, and migration patterns. I gained a better understanding of my Appalachian
students, and I began to incorporate aspects of Appalachian culture into my courses.
I want to teach my students to take pride in their Appalachian heritage and to
understand the region's history, struggles, and triumphs.
About a year ago, Silas House, the National Endowment for the Humanities chair in
Appalachian studies here at Berea, spoke on the campus about his childhood and about
how being Appalachian was an important aspect of who he was. He said that all of us
at Berea were Appalachian-not just those who were born in the region, but also those
who had moved here: We were Appalachian by proxy, he told us. I was moved to be
included. I had wanted to be but wouldn't have dared ask. I had figured I would
always be an outsider, a flatlander.
My home now is in eastern Kentucky, and there are many aspects of Appalachian
culture that I value and share. I came to Berea to work with African-American
students, but I stay because of my connection to Appalachia.
Althea Webb is an assistant professor of education at Berea College.
