instead we holed up
in a burned-out department store
rechristened junk shop
sifting boxes of ten cent
black and white photos
JD Vance has climbed to his current position as former President Donald Trump’s running mate, in part, by selling himself as a hillbilly, calling on his Appalachian background to bolster … Continue reading →
Lynn’s songs defied societal expectations by connecting her musical representations of working-class and rural women to broader social issues affecting women across the U.S.
Drink to the twisted torch of freedom, washed down
with fracking waste, red clay dust, the bitter soot
of coal’s see ya later sucka!
I am never happy to see summer go,
earth stripped of its finest voice.
At a water park deep in the Appalachian Mountains, Nelly locks eyes with Dane. On an awkward date, they drive around their West Virginia town, and Dane shares a version of himself others don’t see.
Tell me,
what am I
supposed to do
with all this love?
I wish I could say
I lay your body under the honeysuckle
the day you crossed over, let vine and wisp
hang nectar all around you.
There’s only past throwing
its shadow on the lane that sends you back
toward what is gone. Your eyes will soon adjust.
Granny Woman dances
under breeze-shivering branches,
her skirts a waltz of wings,
mouth full of stories.
She has emptied her house of men.
J.D. Vance grew up in a small, poor city in the Rust Belt of southern Ohio, where he had a front-row seat to many of the social ills plaguing America: a heroin epidemic, failing schools, families torn apart by divorce and sometimes violence.
When we finally sprung my father from the hospital
after days spent staring at the cardio unit’s
cinderblock walls the color of nothing
good, his joy could not be contained.
I hear my grandmother’s voice, a divination,
Thick rolls the mist, that smokes and falls in dew.
A turning point took place 30 years ago, when Black Appalachian culture experienced a renaissance centered around a single word: “Affrilachia.”