In the following research essay I take a stance of Appalachian Pride, initial negative stereotyping of the Appalachian culture, and the origins of both, historically and psychologically. By reflecting both on the history of the Appalachian region as well as the personal response by both Appalachian individuals and observers, I analyze the cultural influence of the region on its inhabitants versus the onlookers who make any judgments about its citizens.
It is safe to assume most people would immediately shy away from the initial negative stereotypes that accompany Appalachian Identity. Most reactions to these stereotypes or, moreover, misconceptions are one of three: humor, defense, and pride. The psychology behind the humor and the defense are both easily understood. Mainly due to the American entertainment industry, the stereotypes accompany a funny television show or a common thread of jokes. It follows the insulting theme of most myths that a local would promptly respond in defense, even a raised fist. But pride is a different breed of psychology, especially pride with a calm demeanor, and without immediate action to defend one’s honor. An attack, whether it is blatant, or subtle with a simple joke, warrants a response; as human beings our natural reaction would be fight or flight. Psychologically, it’s only natural for people to choose one or the other; a calm, prideful approach to the situation does not exactly fall under these categories. So where does it come from? What happens in the human mind that leads so many Appalachians to deny their basic instincts? As elementary as it may seem, they simply know better. Appalachian pride begins at an adolescent level due to an appreciation for education, passed down with increasing importance that you just don’t find in most other places, specifically in America. The education at hand is not only general either, but a distinct knowledge of one’s personal history. One of the most common—and most offensive—myths of the region is a vast lack of education. In order to understand where the pride comes from, locals and foreigners alike need to get a handle on why with no hope for a future.
The more popular association with language is developed and accepted by a white, upper-middle class majority. It is programmed into the members that make up that majority to hear a poorly constructed sentence with a nearly incomprehensible accent and assume the speaker lacks the intelligence to fix their vernacular, and therefore lacks the intelligence to do anything else for that matter. This immediate judgement of character comes from a misunderstanding between dialects, and while the slang may be wildly incorrect, it’s perfectly normal to the area. It is much easier to construct a proper sentence with proper spelling on paper than to throw out the native style of communication that many Appalachians grow up with. Despite common belief, this inability to converse with perfect grammar and pronunciation does not indicate a lack of education. In his reflection of Dialect and Education in Appalachia, found in the collection Talking Appalachian edited by Amy Clark and Nancy Hayward, Jeffery Reaser comments on this initial judgement. “Because language is assumed to be a part of a person’s overall ability, it is typically acceptable to admit deficiencies in a subject like math (“I can’t balance my checking account”) but not about language (“I can’t conjugate my verbs”.)” (Reaser, pg. 94)A person most often does introduce themselves and throw in an immediate tidbit of their intellectual deficiencies. “Nice to meet you, I’m Tom. I had to take Biology 101 four times before I passed it.” First impressions can dictate whether or not someone will be willing to take the time to cultivate an acquaintanceship, and if the first thing someone notices about someone else is a disability, chances are the interest stops there. The attempt to educate poor language out of someone can only come with correction, which can dangerously lead to a disillusionment of one’s home life or even background. This “correction methodology” can even brainwash educators themselves into believing students with poor language are unteachable. Reaser refers to this cycle as the “Rosenthal Effect.” (pg. 97)
Appalachian English is only the beginning of the stereotype. What’s really worth discovering is how Appalachians overcome the discouragement of being “unteachable.” What incites the pride behind an Appalachian identity, and why is it so dependent on education? Education is inherently powerful. Through education one develops not only the ability to seek out higher paying, important professions, but rhetorical abilities that allow him/her to communicate as broadly and as effectively as possible. In his novel The Thread That Runs So True, Jesse Stuart reflects on his experiences teaching in Kentucky for several years. He firmly believes in the power of education. Even in the Preface Stuart firmly declares, “No one can ever tell me that education, rightly directed without propaganda, cannot change the individual, community, county, state, and the world for the better. It can.” (Stuart, pg. 5) Stuart recounts later in the book that attendance grew promptly after encouraging his students to write about what they knew, their background, their family, their homes, etc. (pg. 72) In his other novel, To Teach, To Love, Stuart digs deeper into his past and reveals where some of his teaching methods originated, with an elementary teacher who personally cared for his students. Even further back, Stuart’s father always made it clear to him that Stuart would get an education, because he himself never had the opportunity. And Stuart did. He learned to revere education through his parent’s encouragement. The parental motivation here seems almost envious, as if they lived vicariously through their children’s opportunities. Stuart recalls his mother saying, “Son, even if your clothes are a little bad, I’ll keep them clean for you,” in reference to his attendance at school. (pg. 25) Because the previous generations never experienced such a luxury, education in Appalachia was an honor. If you’re proud of your education, you’re proud of what you know; and more often than not, what we know defines our character, or who we are.
Stuart isn’t the only one with a history of parental encouragement in this area of education. Sometimes, however, the encouragement has less to do with future prospects and more to do with the fear of getting stuck. In his book The Rhetoric of Appalachian Identity, Professor Todd Snyder recalls his own personal experience with his parents and his education. “Because my parents feared that this daunting future awaited my arrival to manhood, they began implanting the importance of education into my mind at a young age.” (Snyder, pg. 82) Again we run into the significance of escaping the lifestyle of the previous generations. Education indicates what you know, what you know defines your character, and your character opens as many doors as you set yourself up to walk through. Previous generations feel that sense of shame that sometimes accompanies the regional stereotypes; but as for the younger generations, their education counterbalances any of this embarrassment. It seems that there is a lot more contentment with who you are when you understand where you come from, and where you’re going.
General education is the main goal, but there is also a strong desire to know your history upon confronting these negative stereotypes. Referring back to a sense of human nature, if someone looks you in the eyes and tells you you’re ugly, chances are the wheels in your head start turning, and you begin to wonder why this person believes you are, in fact, ugly. “Is it my smile? Are my eyes too close together? Is my skin not clear? It must be my weight.” Unless we are totally and completely secure in our identity, we wonder why people think what they do about us. It is, again, human nature. It is also our nature to attempt to fix the issue at hand. However we cannot fix ourselves if we don’t know why there is a problem. So whether the effort begins with a genuine pride of the Appalachian culture or, seemingly more likely, a desire to understand these negative opinions, Appalachians aim to understand who they are and where they come from. In his article “We’re All Appalachian,” Mark Banker refers to his experiences as a professor at the Webb School of Knoxville in his Appalachian History course. He initially asks his students to write down a few adjectives that describe Appalachia and East Tennessee, finding several contrasts. The descriptors range from “poor, backward, and ignorant,” to “rugged, independent, hardworking, and quaint.” This little experiment begs the question, where is the disconnect? Banker goes on to tell his students to explore their backgrounds; ask their parents, grandparents, whoever about their history. Most of them returned with “richer and more detailed” descriptions than before. He reinforces, “They often express surprise at how little they actually know about their families and our region, and they have a sincere desire to learn more.”
Relative to the United States as a whole, Appalachians are a minority. With every minority comes a unique set of stereotypes and a discord between them and the majority. Because development begins at such a beginner level, educators have to understand who they are teaching, what perspective they are teaching from, and what perspective they need to adapt in order to get the lesson across successfully. In her memoir White Teacher, Vivian Paley speaks on her own experience teaching a class consisting of an African American majority of students. In the preface to the original edition, Paley writes, “anything a child feels is different about himself which cannot be referred to spontaneously, casually, naturally, and uncritically by the teacher can become a cause for anxiety and an obstacle to learning.” It’s a simple idea, but important nonetheless. It is easy enough to recognize if you are different from the masses, but if you cannot identify why immediately and “casually,” something is clearly wrong. Say you ask a non-Appalachian to describe an Appalachian in a negative, stereotypical context. A common response would be hick, hillbilly, etc. But go on to ask what that means, the person answering has to think about it, drum up some examples. It is important to recognize that there are no definite, universal definitions to these stereotypes, and they can generally shift depending on the individual perspective. Similar to Paley’s experiences with a black-majority classroom, a teacher in Appalachia cannot effectively teach them, let alone connect with them, as most efficient teachers often do.
Drawing on another minority, and stemming from the population of adolescence, southern women experienced a very similar desire to learn, even further back in the historical timeline. Not only did women in the old-south area suffer from the cultural male versus female roles, they had to overcome limitations that were basically written in their DNA. Because men are biologically stronger and more apt to physical dominance, women are historically expected to assume what are considered to be feminine roles. The Natural Complement Theory explains these differences and attributes them to our genetic makeup, and even defines spiritual, moral, and emotional duties. If the “stronger” sex is expected to provide, the “weaker” is expected to simply “administer to the emotional needs of their men and children.” (Ferguson, pg. 48) Susanna Delfino and Michele Gillespie remark on this feminine struggle that women underwent in the “old south.” Moreover, they comment on the role of education and how it affected not only the women, but society as a whole. “Southern education history had less to say about teachers than about schools and their role in knitting together communities and elite female identities.” (pg. 174) This circles back to Stuart’s ideas of changing the world with education, one step at a time. These women had to overcome their biological expectations; these Appalachians had to overcome their historical track record and expectations in general, or lack thereof.
A grown man or woman from Appalachia will never receive as much sympathy and understanding as an “uneducated” child from the region. It’s too late for the grown-ups, but the children “still have time.” Being influenced from every angle, by their parents, their predecessors, their local teachers, and the unavoidable stereotypes, Appalachian children have an almost innate desire to learn, to understand, to just know as much as they possibly can. It is an admirable trait, but one that they almost didn’t have a choice but to accept and adapt to. Bring up a negative Appalachian stereotype to a local from the region; human psychology tells us that you’ll either be met with a flight reaction, or a fight reaction. It’s instinct. But an appreciation for education and knowledge is born with exponentially more fervor in every Appalachian child that grows into an Appalachian adult, confronting the stereotypes with a learned, educated pride, even if it is masked by a funny accent.
Works Cited
Banker, Mark. “We’re All Appalachian.” Appalachian Journal (2002): n. pag. JSTOR [JSTOR]. Web. 09 June 2015.
Bingham, Emily. “The Female Academy and Beyond: Three Mordecai Sisters at Work in the Old South.” Neither Lady Nor Slave: Working Women of the Old South. By Penny Richards. Ed. Susanna Delfino and Michele Gillespie. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina, 2002. 176. Print.
Paley, Vivian Gussin. “Preface to the Original Edition.” Preface. White Teacher. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1979. XIX. Print.
Reaser, Jeffery. “Dialect and Education in Appalachia.” Talking Appalachian: Voice, Identity, and Community. Lexington: UP of Kentucky, 2013. 94-97. Print.
Snyder, Todd. Part II: Material Reality and Appalachian Identity. The Rhetoric of Appalachian Identity. Jefferosn: McFarland &, 1981. 82. Print.
Stuart, Jesse. The Thread That Runs So True. New York: Touchstone, 1998. Print.
Stuart, Jesse. To Teach, To Love. Ashland: Jesse Stuart Foundation, 1999. Print.
Vetterling-Braggin, Mary. II. Limits to Human Development: The Natural Complement Theory. Feminism and Philosophy. Comp. Frederick Elliston and Jane English. Totowa, NJ: Littlefield, Adams, 1977. 47-48. Print.
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Sarah Elizabeth Lemon
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