We are Appalachian too.

In a recent article for Book Riot, I wrote about this scene:

“I recently traveled home to Appalachia and visited my old haunts, eventually finding myself sitting at the edge of the Ohio River. An old river barge came around the bend, meandering its way under the bridges that connect Ohio and Kentucky. I used to watch scenes like this every day. I never realized how much I took them for granted until I left. I love where I came from and the people that made me who I am today. Even with its problems, Appalachia is still a beautiful complex place full of life and wonder.”

The river connects the two halves of my Appalachian identity, Kentucky and Ohio sitting side by side. Whenever I go home, I often realize that I’m holding my breath right as we turn around the bend. And when I see the river, it feels like I can finally breathe again.

Being an “expatalachian” is a complicated business and often feels like I’m stuck between two worlds. Too city for the mountains. Too mountain girl for the Low Country.

I’ve listened to a lot of folks rant that a lot of us from the diaspora aren’t even hillbilly enough to consider ourselves Appalachian. We’ve changed too much. We’ve experienced too many outside influences. If we really loved Appalachia enough, we would have stayed.

But I see Appalachian expats fight for Appalachia everyday. We create podcasts, newsletters, documentaries, and social media accounts, educating outsiders about the incredible world that is Appalachia, detailing our problems, and showing folks how they can help make Appalachia a better place.

A man interviewing me for an article asked why I still cared about the region when I hadn’t lived in the Ohio river Valley for over a decade. I responded, no matter where I go or where I live, there is still no place like home.

Expats would not advocate this hard if we did not love the place we came from, even if it feels sometimes like it doesn’t love us back.

We are Appalachian too.