Lee A.

I am a freelance writer (former journalist and playwright) and professional astrologer (Granny Witch). I was also executive director of a non-profit arts venue for three years.

Appalachia is an underserved region of people who generally lack sufficient education and medical care. Disrespect for education continues in generation after generation of entire families, keeping high percentages of the population underemployed and unrealized, generally without hope that change is possible. Lack of proper housing is a significant problem; many people carefully invest in their cars so they have transportation to work outside the community, yet live with insufficient heat in winter and poor plumbing in their homes.

Yes, we need internal change within Appalachia regarding our culture's self-perception. So many are still "proud" to continue fighting the Civil War, even though the south lost that war 150 years ago. A roadside store in my neighborhood garishly flies flags of the Confederacy and "Trump Train" to reinforce the idea that Blacks are still not welcome here.

To challenge damaging stereotypes of Appalachia, we need more positive role models. My local community drew together to show support for "Big Tom," of Saltville, when he was a contestant on the television show "Survivor" but ultimately he was ostracized as a redneck idiot whose son was labeled stupid because the kid appeared on the show and damaged another player's food-gathering tool. Although "Big Tom" did well on the show and almost won, in the end he was nothing more than a hillbilly spoiling for a fight. That remains our image. We had a minor stir in the small Black community when the film "Hidden Figures" emerged, the NASA story of a woman whose math skills brought astronauts home. She was a teacher here before integration. But that heroine story faded quickly because it failed to reflect greatness on the largely White population here.

I live in this region primarily because the land itself inspires me, and sometimes I find good friends among the largely unappealing community. For now, I live in Marion, "Home of Mountain Dew" and home to Hungry Mother State Park -- both positive images, I think. For three years, I worked as executive director of The Lincoln Theatre, Inc., trying to build an artistic magnent in the community, with little success. As a journalist for the local newspaper, I made an effort to write clearly and concisely so that local people could fully understand the actions of their local government and understand changing laws and ordinances. Further, I invested myself in writing a weekly humor column that was popular reading, a reason to continue buying the newspaper and having a handy source of information about community function. I tried hard to be a trusted voice in my community, and achieved a few wins along the way. When a local Black minister wanted to rename a road to honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., I suggested the town instead name a street for a Black man who lived here and became one of the first Black teachers at the formerly all-white high school during integration. We succeeded in renaming the street in front of that formerly all-white school Dabney Drive for him. We also made progress in bringing attention to handicap accessibility at public buildings. But those wins were hard fought battles. Ultimately, I was fired both from The Lincoln Theatre, Inc. (for supporting a sustainable long-term operational plan rather than limiting the project to a local architect's bottom line); and from the newspaper when my health failed.

I hope my husband and I can move to Asheville, NC, in retirement to tap into a less backwards community. Before the pandemic, I traveled to Asheville once a week to work as an Astrology Reader in a Metaphysical Shop there and enjoyed being part of the pagan community. I feel as if Asheville has far more to offer both of us, and I already know I have work waiting there once the pandemic is under control. I expect to find writing outlets there as well.