People with roots in Appalachia are taught to stand up to people because we haven’t forgotten what was taken from us. It is a huge region, but each major area has been pushed too far too often, with little agency or choice. For those in coal country, they lost their land to coercion, resource speculation, and railroad land use laws. They then found themselves bound in . . . Continue Reading
All of a sudden there’s a noise high up in the oaks, and a cool wind roars down from the mountains and races up the valley to envelope us. She turns her face to the wind, and her wavy gray hair moves as she smiles and . . . Continue Reading
Honey Branch, not unlike other parts of rural Appalachia, has a paradoxically bittersweet character. Home to rugged mountains, babbling creeks, thick foliage and various wildlife, the natural beauty and quiet stillness of the holler recall a simpler time. It is only five minutes away from St. Paul, Virginia, a small town whose revitalization has focused on rural tourism like kayaking and ATV trails. To those of us who lived on the branch, though, there is a haunting darkness . . . Continue Reading
We passed some rushing waterfalls tumbling over rocks as they splashed down the hill. Daddy said that June was the peak season for the rhododendrons that grew wild in the park. As we drove along, the roadside was lined with their pink blossoms and waxy green leaves, and beyond them the lush green hillsides, one after another, becoming blue and then a hazy kind of slate gray as they faded off into the distance . . . Continue Reading
Even a year and a half later, I have more thoughts, emotions, and stories from those weeks of immediate storm recovery than I could ever put fully into words. I think a lot about the people I never would have met if the hurricane hadn’t happened. I still have images burned into my brain . . .Continue Reading
. . . Unlike most of the locals around Bitburg, who upon hearing my Tennessee-accented mangling of their native tongue, would grimace and immediately switch to English, Dieter and Brigeta were willing to endure my twangy Deutsch.
I was determined to exceed the typical U.S. citizen’s . . . Continue Reading
You only had to tell us once that there were water snakes about. Or that back on terra firma, there was quicksand to look out for. Swinging vines were eager to snap, and adorable bear cubs were sure to be followed by outraged mamas . . . Continue Reading
Appalachia Bare recently attended the 2026 James Agee Conference located at Pellissippi State Community College’s Strawberry Plains Campus in Knoxville, Tennessee. I would encourage any writer—especially those around the mountain region—to attend the James Agee Conference. Wonderful experience.Continue Reading
In my case, and I’m sure many others, my grandmother frequently demanded I demonstrate my grit no matter how grim the outcome of doing so. Resilience is so deeply embedded in our oft-idyllic memories of our grandmothers that, as we age, our memories of them become our roadmaps for resistance. Shared through story on front porches across the region, these . . . Continue Reading
But first, I want to say that this endeavor to bring Appalachian creativity, talent, and history to the forefront would not be possible without all of you—contributors, submitters, subscribers, readers, perusers, accidental wanderers—walking this path with us. We have been delighted, or “tickled,” as my mamaw would have said, to stroll with you. And we are honored . . . Continue Reading