Another Appalachia
Identity, especially Appalachian identity, has been on my mind a lot lately. I work at Appalshop, an Eastern Kentucky arts organization that serves concentric circles of community—local Letcher County, regional Central Appalachia, wider Appalachia, all rural or mountainous places, on it goes—and everyone has opinions on who is Appalachian and who is not, who can be trusted and who cannot, who belongs and who does not.
In Another Appalachia: Coming Up Queer and Indian in a Mountain Place, Neema Avashia takes distinct, delicate threads of identity and weaves them together into a full essay collection that ultimately reveals the author herself.
Each essay in this book is stunning in both its honesty and turn of phrase. Avashia’s gift of language bridges the gap between the reader and the author’s experiences. We begin with directions to Avashia’s childhood home on Pamela Circle in Cross Lanes, West Virginia. This opening piece is a written portal into the book and into Avashia’s world; it is an invitation to explore what it means to be a queer desi Appalachian woman. I also love how Pamela Circle becomes its own character throughout Another Appalachia.
It’s hard to choose a favorite essay, but I particularly enjoyed “Nine Forms of the Goddess,” “Finding the Holy in an Unholy Coconut,” and “Our Armor.” These essays highlight the differences among Avashia’s parents’ cultural foundations, wider American culture, and her own experiences somewhere in the middle. Again, the concept of a bridge comes to mind, a connection point where Avashia explores the often uncomfortable center between two identities. I was also impressed with the use of various structures. Avashia used what is best for each essay and together it culminates in a beautiful whole.
The closing piece, “Only-Generation Appalachian,” brings that identity concept home (intend your puns, cowards!). It punctuates the question, Who is Appalachian? As with The Climb from Salt Lick, there seems to be an invisible line of who gets to claim this place. In that memoir, Abrams was not born in Appalachia but moves to West Virginia and falls in love with the region and its culture. Avashia was born in West Virginia but does not have generational family roots; she also leaves the region. With Appalachia’s history of exploitation, it tracks that folks have opinions about who is Appalachian. Here’s my opinion: anyone who has lived here and has loved here—complexities, contradictions, and all—can claim Appalachia. Some of my most prolific Appalshop colleagues were not born in Appalachia, but Appalachia is better for having them. Some of us were born there but have had to move out of the region for whatever reason (hi, it’s me!). However, if you use Appalachia to further exploit the region (ahem, vice president), then you do not understand us at all.
This is a book I will happily read again and again. I highly recommend picking up a copy for yourself.
