You’re from Alabama?
I was in the bay area of California, one of the bluest regions of the country, talking to a group of people I had met at a conference. Wide eyed and curious, they asked me questions about my home state on the other side of the nation:
Is it as bad as it seems?
What’s it like in such a conservative area?
Is it rundown? All farmland? Is everyone super racist?
I was taken aback, but sadly not shocked at this stereotypical view of the South. Those asking me were not trying to offend me, and I know the cultural image of "rural" America has always been rife with stigma and degradation. However, this image needs more perspective.
Last month, Hurricane Helene brought heartbreaking devastation to rural communities not only in Appalachia, but also entire regions across the southeastern United States. The spotlight put on North Carolina has drawn national attention to neglected areas, giving ear to a communal cry for advocacy and help.
But the impacts of this historic storm have also brought to the surface the complicated, problematic national rhetoric surrounding these areas. Rural folk are continuously reduced to "hicks" and "hillbillies," hounded with criticism that weaponizes genuine issues against them.
Poor education, economic deficits and pastoral living have been equated with white supremacy, discriminative policies and other pigeonholing assumptions. The devastation has been used as fodder for conspiracy theories and tokenized as a political wake-up call for climate action, with people blaming the lack of evacuation on North Carolina’s self-reliant culture.
With less than a month until the 2024 presidential election, the topic of Helene’s impact is being used as a measure of bipartisan moralism, another "whose side are you on" battle involving the scrutiny of both Harris and Trump’s responses. Republican Vice President nominee JD Vance uses Appalachia as an instrument of political platforming, with many Appalachians questioning his legitimacy.
Debates over recovery and the meaning of it are all over social media, and the internet is inundated both with advocation and admonition towards affected areas.
Among all the noise, one thing demands attention: the conversation and language around rural America must change.
Growing up in South Alabama and witnessing the last two election cycles has deeply informed my adolescent and early adult years. The intense influence of the internet on mainstream thought has encouraged the gauging of moral alignment against a growing political binary, seemingly between right and wrong. This hard line between partisanship often lends itself to stereotyping rhetoric that generalizes entire populations.
It is a fact that rural America is closely associated with a more conservative school of thought. Any demographic map or short drive down the street will reveal as much. It is also true that harmful far-right extremism undeniably exists, and it is vital to acknowledge and combat this issue.
However, it is ignorant and negligible to use such facts as blanket statements to vilify entire regions of the country, dismissing whole communities as uneducated, racist, extremist or threatening. Employing stereotypes to degrade rural Americans and use them as scapegoats for many holistic national issues is unhelpful and misdirecting. It is also ignorant to pretend these issues do not simultaneously occur in non-rural areas.
The real issues must be faced. There are movements of people genuinely and actively seeking change, pushing against social injustice across the board: dismantling systems of racism, poverty and discrimination for all people. However, those who use such social movements as indicators of their moral alignment cannot in the same breath condemn communities where such disparities exist.
One cannot practice anti-racism without acknowledging diverse populations in rural communities. One cannot claim to advocate for those in poverty while ignoring poverty in areas that may have different political alignments. One cannot downplay the plights of American agriculture and industry, then deny how they benefit from it.
Often in times of great tension, in a high-stakes election cycle for example, or in the wake of natural disaster, people tend to vilify those they view as in opposition to them. In the current climate, rural communities bear the brunt of criticism and vitriol, simply based on cruel stereotypes.
Condemning rural Americans as "stupid," "backwards" and a "threat to the country," blaming them for the devastation wrought on their homeland and for not getting out fast enough, is antithetical to the pursuit of social justice and civil liberty.
In the wake of Helene, what must be addressed going forward is not simply the people of rural America, but rather the systemic issues plaguing them: Insufficient infrastructure that makes disaster prevention and recovery even more difficult, continuously ignored calls to fix this infrastructure to better prevent catastrophic damage and the corporatist neglect of small farmers and independent agricultural industry, its prior suffering now exacerbated further by the storm.
In order to begin rebuilding, the devastation must be acknowledged. The conversation must change.
What some may call rural America’s "self-reliance" could instead be seen as its resilience. In the immediate aftermath, it has been members of the community leading post storm response, collecting essential items and providing meals for their neighbors. Local efforts and mutual aid organizations have been integral in early recovery. People who, to some, may be derided as "hillbillies" are delivering much needed supplies via mules to areas otherwise unreachable.
One of the most profound byproducts of Helene’s impact is the unification of communities across many diverse sociopolitical backgrounds, proving that change happens at the hometown level. Such a sobering disaster is not a platform for moral posturing, and using it as such minimizes the humanity of the very real people that reside in rural America.
When I was questioned about what it’s like in Alabama, I had no easy answers to give. Like any place, it is full of complexity. Many things are true: the sober reality of our history, the great lengths left to go in reconciling it, the many contradictions. But also true about rural America is the kindness of neighbors, the grit of its people, the richness of its soil, and the presence of it as a part of this nation.
Like any place, it is home.
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