Map: West Virginia, setting of I Remember: West Virginia in Light and Shadow by Elizabeth Gaucher on andreareadsamerica.comThis is a guest post from writer Elizabeth Gaucher who submitted in response to the American Vignette call for submissions. The setting is West Virginia.

My maternal grandfather scissored his ​own father out of ​a wedding portrait​: his mother stands smiling, aglow, and alone. Poppa was young when he cut the photograph, the eighth of ten children, too young to know that in West Virginia, dead and absent coal miner fathers can’t be ignored​. They live forever, whether you want them to or not.​

West Virginia​ is​ conflict. Our history highlights wars like the Battle of Blair Mountain and intense skirmishes like the textbook controversy that rocked Kanawha County in the 1970s. My people fight hard. Gunshots, axe handles, knives, and balled fists take lives. Our cultural landscape is scarred. On a recent visit out of state I heard myself trying to explain life in West Virginia, and what came out of my mouth ​was​, “We are a culture of winners and losers.”

It was so obvious once I said it that I hardly knew where to start explaining. My dinner companions were confused by a way of life that routinely gives a benefit to some and a penalty to others. That someone or some group doesn’t always have to suffer is foreign to us. The country needs cheap electricity, so some families are just going to have heavy metals in their drinking water. It’s too expensive to delay ​coal ​production, so from time to time equipment will break and fatalities will occur. Communities thriving in other parts of the universe have either never accepted this dynamic or have so solidly rejected it that hearing it is still real is like hearing that dragons exist. It’s not out of the realm of possibilities, but one is still surprised to learn about​ it.

We don’t resolve things in Appalachia. ​We allow our wounds to ​become ​scars. When I look at mountaintop removal, or mine deaths, or cancer rates, I wonder where the line is when people stop trying to get well and resign themselves to cataloguing marks on their skin. Our life has beautiful moments, and they are often good enough to disguise the oppression. Maybe we are good enough to ignore it in favor of what we love.​ We ​are tied to the land, to the creeks​, to the​ sky and hills. ​We are bound by ​a birthright and burdened by a collective pain. I imagine my great-grandfather was like most of us, that he held a conviction ​that the land around him was worth fighting for, that anyone who would endanger hills and streams and air ​would be defeated. What none of us know at first is that our place is a commodity, and that our loyalty means a lifetime of loss.

Breece D’J Pancake once wrote this to his mother from Charlottesville, Virginia:

I’m going to come back to West Virginia when this is over. There’s something ancient and deeply-rooted in my soul. I like to think that I have left my ghost up one of those hollows, and I’ll never really be able to leave for good until I find it. And I don’t want to look for it, because I might find it and have to leave.

We all leave pieces of our hearts in West Virginia when we go. Looking for them is foolish, irresistible, dangerous. My family on both sides is made up generations of Appalachian people, but we are in other mountains now. We will pray and dream. We will remember the dead; but going forward we will live in the light.


Elizabeth Damewood Gaucher is a writer and West Virginia native living with her husband, young daughter, and Goldendoodle dog in Vermont. Gaucher’s published work appears in books by Westminster John Knox Press, Seventh Star Press, and Visibility Press. Her online essays and op-eds appear on River Teeth, The Revivalist: Word from the Appalachian South, Essays on Childhood, Esse Diem, and The Charleston Gazette. She is a degree candidate for a Masters in Fine Arts (MFA) from WV Wesleyan College. Follow her on Twitter @ElizGaucher.

4 thoughts on “Guest post: West Virginia in Sunlight and Shadow

  1. Beautiful! So many powerful images. I like this one especially: “We are bound by ​a birthright and burdened by a collective pain.” I’ve never been to West Virginia, but from novels and movies I’ve seen about the area, this strikes me as true, or at least true for those that wrote about it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much for reading and for your comment, Wild Side. It’s a strange, special place. I hope you can get there some time. If you love the outdoors, I recommend Cranberry Glades in Pocahontas County. It’s breathtaking. Then swing through McDowell County. At that point you might have psychological whiplash, so I recommend a soak in the mineral baths at The Greenbrier resort on your way home. Again, I appreciate you coming by!

      Like

    1. Wow. Well, first, thank you. I am so glad it resonated with you. But secondly, that is really unsettling, that it is not recognized or remembered. It was the topic of my honors History thesis at Davidson College. Trey Key won a Peabody Award for his programming on this event just a couple of years ago. This is one of the things that really scares me. The utter denial. Thanks again for reading and commenting.

      Like

What are your thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s