I grew up in the Appalachian region, nestled in the foothills of valleys in Ohio—a place defined by its natural beauty, tight-knit communities, and rich cultural heritage. I am deeply proud of where I come from and embrace the word “hillbilly” as a badge of honor, reclaiming it as a symbol of resilience and identity. However, this pride was not always present. Growing up, I often felt the need to disguise where I was from, as stereotypes about Appalachia painted it as backward or unworthy. These misconceptions weighed heavily on me, and I distanced myself from my roots in an attempt to fit in elsewhere.
Everything began to change as the Appalachian region became a central talking point during the 2016 election. Media narratives frequently portrayed the region in simplistic, often negative terms, blaming Appalachia for Trump’s rise to power. This oversimplification of a diverse and complex region sparked a deeper interest in understanding the realities of my home. I began reading about the economic and social challenges facing Appalachia, but also its strengths—the resourcefulness of its people, the grassroots efforts to revitalize communities, and the importance of preserving its culture.
I also started reflecting on my own experiences. Growing up in a small, rural town, I witnessed firsthand the struggles of an area impacted by economic decline—limited job opportunities, underfunded schools, and the mass exodus of young people seeking better prospects elsewhere. Despite these challenges, I also saw extraordinary acts of kindness, creativity, and determination. I realized that while there is work to be done, there is also immense potential and beauty in the region. This newfound understanding reignited my commitment to Appalachia and motivated me to give back. I now view my education and future career as tools to support and uplift the communities that shaped me, ensuring that the region’s challenges are met with solutions that come from within as well as from well-meaning organizations of Fayette County.
Participating in this research opportunity has opened my eyes to the incredible work happening within small Appalachian communities, including my own, to revitalize their towns and foster sustainable development. Working with Mike and Dan from the Fayette County Cultural Trust has been particularly inspiring. Their commitment to the community has restored my faith in the potential for collaboration with individuals and organizations from outside the region. Unlike the exploitative practices that have historically plagued Appalachia—where outsiders often come to extract resources or profit from its natural beauty, such as Ohiopyle, Falling water, and Nemacolin—they have taken a different approach. Mike and Dan have worked hand-in-hand with local residents to build a stronger, more resilient community. They have focused on creating educational opportunities, such as programs through the Fayette County Cultural Trust and the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute, which offer courses on topics like financial literacy, Irish nationalism, and the politics of Appalachia. These initiatives not only enrich the community but also provide tools for empowerment and civic engagement.
During our presentation at the Connellsville Canteen, I was very moved by the turnout and the genuine engagement from community members. People showed up eager to hear our findings, listen to the challenges we identified, and thoughtfully consider the solutions we proposed. Their enthusiasm and willingness to engage reaffirmed my deep love and respect for the region. As I stood there presenting, I could see the passion and care these individuals have for their community. It reminded me that, contrary to the narrative often spun by media outlets, Appalachia is far from stagnant or apathetic. This program and the work being done in Fayette County are proof that Appalachian people love their communities deeply and are tirelessly working to see them thrive.
What struck me most was the shared commitment to overcoming obstacles together. Despite facing systemic challenges like economic hardship and limited resources, these community members are not giving up. Instead, they are actively seeking ways to innovate, collaborate, and invest in the future of their towns. Witnessing this firsthand has strengthened my resolve to contribute meaningfully to the region’s revitalization. It’s a reminder that change doesn’t have to come from the outside—it can and should be led by the people who call this place home, with a shared vision for a brighter, more equitable future.
My experience throughout my time working for the ACRI has reinforced my belief that progress within Appalachia must be driven by those who work to understand its unique challenges and strengths as a region. The solutions that will have lasting impact are not those imposed by investors from the outside looking to make a profit or those who have little connection or knowledge of the region, but from those who are within and those who care about the region. Solutions are crafted by the people who have lived through the region’s struggles and continue to call Appalachia home.
My time at the Fayette County Cultural Trust has given me a tangible example of what grassroots-driven change looks like. The programs the Trust has developed empower its local residents, providing them with knowledge and skills that can develop the local economy and help to create skills that foster self-sufficiency within the community. Financial literacy courses help individuals navigate economic challenges, and educational programs that cover history and politics create and strengthen civic engagement. These are efforts that are not imposed by outsiders; rather, they are community members equipping other community members with resources to shape their own futures.
When I am old and gray, I will tell my grandchildren about the moment I stood in the Connellsville Canteen looking out at a room full of people who deeply cared about their community. I will tell them I saw firsthand the power of collective action in Appalachia—not just in news or books, but in real people who have worked tirelessly to make their hometown stronger. I will tell them that as I presented our findings to the crowd, I saw nods of agreement, heard thoughtful questions, and felt the energy of people who refused to let their community be defined by its struggles. I will tell them that this was the moment I knew I would work the rest of my life to see my home region thrive.
Unlike other classes I have taken, this experience was not confined to the four walls of a classroom. It was an immersive experience rooted in real-world challenges and solutions. My political science classes gave me a theoretical knowledge about economic development, policy, and grassroots movements, but this project allowed me to see these concepts in action. I didn’t just study community revitalization in this class—I saw it firsthand. I didn’t just analyze rural economic decline; I spoke with people who were living through it and had been directly impacted by it. I also spoke with people who are actively fighting to reverse it.
In more traditional classes, I find myself absorbing information, writing papers, and moving on to the next assignment. But this experience was different because it demanded my full engagement. It required me to listen, collaborate, and think beyond abstract concepts I’ve learned through other classes. Working with the Fayette County Cultural Trust, I saw how local leaders like Dan and Mike were implementing solutions to systemic problems in their community. Their programs, from financial literacy to Appalachian history and politics, weren’t just theories—they were making a tangible and visible difference in people’s lives.
Perhaps the most profound difference between this class and others that I have taken at the university was the emotional connection I developed. In most courses, I learn because I am curious and passionate about the topic. In this class, I learned because it was personal. Every statistic, every discussion, and every policy resonated with me in a way no other class had before. I wasn’t just doing in-depth research on a region—I was studying my home. In doing so, I found a renewed sense of pride in where I come from and a clear vision for how I can contribute to its future.
I will tell my grandchildren that this experience shaped the path I chose to take in life. That it reminded me of the resilience of our people, the power of community, and the importance of giving back. This experience taught me the value of listening to the stories, struggles, and hopes of the people who make up Appalachia. It showed me that real change doesn’t come from sweeping policies but from conversations held in small-town cafés, from neighbors coming together to solve problems, and from those who choose to stay and invest in the places they love. I will tell them that the most important lessons I learned didn’t come from the various books I’ve read but from the voices of other Appalachian people who refuse to be defined by the hardship of the region. And I will tell them, with the same deep love I feel now, that Appalachia is worth fighting for—not just in my time, but in theirs too.