Voices from Appalachia

This past weekend I went to my hometown to attend the yearly Glass Festival. It’s typical of a small town festival; bright lights flashing, overcrowded streets, music blaring, and food as far as the eye can see.

When we crossed over the state line, it didn’t feel like we had ever left West Virginia. I witnessed the same things I’ve seen here; trees beginning to change colors, teenagers hanging out with their friends, and people flocking by the dozen to watch local bands.

As dusk was nearing, I was able to meet up with a few old friends. Thinking back, it doesn’t seem like we did all that much. We roamed the streets for hours before giving in to the urge to buy food. Needless to say, the smell of all the types of food was just too tempting. We feasted like kings until we couldn’t possibly eat anymore.

After the festivities had come to an end, my friend mentioned that she wanted to go to WVU for college. She has to wear a uniform year round except every now and then, when they will have dress down days where they can choose to wear clothing from a college they hope to attend. So, of course, she jumped on the opportunity to display her love for WVU.

She if often criticized for loving a sports team from hillbilly nation. Some people even went as far as to say things like, “Don’t you know why they don’t have a CSI West Virginia? It’s because they are all closely related!” I have to admit, that is one of the more clever ways I have heard someone stereotype people from West Virginia. This witty comment did put my view into perspective, however. Even though my hometown is only a short drive away, and considerately smaller than Morgantown; stereotypes are present nonetheless. I never stopped to think that a place so close by would see us as another world. To me, it always felt the same place. After all, the people were more or less the same; same accent, same habits, and just ordinary people.




Kaylee