The paradisiacal and the terrifying

King's Court, Hopkinsville, Kentucky

Photo Credit: Boston Public Library

In the Pennyroyal region of southwestern Kentucky, amidst the smoky ranges of dark-fired tobacco, rests the town of Hopkinsville. Initially claimed in 1796 by Bartholomew Wood as part of a grant for his service in the American Revolution, a small tract of land quietly grew, until a town was formally established in 1804. Nearly 150 years later, in the fall of 1952, Hopkinsville welcomed its newest citizen, a baby girl born to Rosa Bell Oldham and Veodis Watkins.

Gloria Jean Watkins came roaring into a segregated world that was unprepared for the robust impregnability of a young Black girl’s voice. Raised by a man who worked as a janitor for the United States postal service and a woman who worked as a maid for white families, Gloria Jean described her rural childhood as “a rich magical world of southern black culture that was sometimes paradisiacal and at other times terrifying.” Amongst a white hegemony that could offer both the benefits of literature and the punishments of discrimination, Gloria Jean, a loner with “too much spirit”, crafted one of the most enduring identities in American social critique. bell hooks.

Greetings from Kentucky

Photo Credit: Shook Photos

A hymn for the pastoral 

bell hooks, a pen name borrowed from her maternal great-grandmother and stylized in lowercase in order to decenter the author, would go on to write nearly seventy published works, spanning from poetry and children’s literature to memoirs and magazine articles. While hooks is perhaps best known for her foundational contributions to the modern conceptualizations of intersectionality, the initial focus of this reflection is a small book of poetry released in 2012.

Appalachian Elegy opens with the following sentiment:

Even as a child I knew that to be raised in the country, to come from the backwoods, left one without meaning or presence. Growing up we did not use terms like ‘hillbilly.’ Country folk lived on isolated farms away from the city; backwoods folks lived in remote areas, in the hills and hollers. To be from the backwoods was to be part of the wild. Where we lived, black folks were as much a part of the wild, living in a natural way on the earth, as white folks. All backwoods folks were poor by material standards; they know how to make do. They were not wanting to tame the wildness, in themselves or nature. Living in the Kentucky hills was where I first learned the importance of being wild.

The collection itself, a series of “intimate untitled poems”, is a meditation on the threads that bind us, for better or worse, to our places of origin. Interrogating the enduring ways that ancestry tattoos our personage long after we leave the places we once called home. hooks’ exploration informally tracks her return to her Kentucky birthplace “blending memory with the harsh realities of destruction and the erasure of Black Appalachian history." While the work does not present a singular, nor stagnant iteration of what it means to claim an identity rooted in the rural, the introduction does, notably, distance the work from the concept of terms like 'hillbilly', a rather ironic sentiment, given what followed just four years later.

Postcard from St. Clairsville, Ohio

Photo Credit: Boston Public Library

The name taker

As of the writing of this post, there are probably few Americans unfamiliar with J.D. Vance’s 2016 memoir Hillbilly Elegy, at least in name. Within weeks of its release, the book was a New York Times bestseller and went on to be dramatized in a film directed by Oscar winner Ron Howard. Not to mention, of course, that Vance is currently serving as Vice President of the United States.

At the time of its release, there wasn’t significant notice taken, at least in most circles, of the similarities between hooks and Vance’s titles. The Hillbilly Elegy Wikipedia entry makes no mention of hooks’ work, despite referencing several other Appalachian literatures. Perhaps that is suitable, titular similarities are hardly rare in the realm of publishing, and beyond their rural origins, no one has evidenced any particular connection between the two authors or that Vance has any knowledge of hooks and her writings. The similitudes were, it seemed, pure chance.

That is, until Vance announced his second memoir, set to release in June later this year. Communion: Finding My Way Back to Faith is:

A spiritual exploration of what it means to be a Christian in all the seasons of life JD Vance has experienced—as a child, a young man, a husband, a father, and a leader. Picking up in some ways where Hillbilly Elegy left off, Communion recounts how Vance's pursuit of material privileges ultimately led him into a secular wilderness. Communion reveals how Vance regained his faith and discusses his conversion to Catholicism, how his faith guides his work in public life, and how it shapes his thoughts about the future.

Given the subject matter, the title is entirely apropos. Communion is defined as “the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially when the exchange is on a mental or spiritual level." As such, on its face, there is nothing particularly noteworthy about Vance’s selection. However, as first noted by Claire Guinan for Jezebel, what is noteworthy is that his book isn’t the first to bear that title. Who else wrote a book titled Communion? Well, bell hooks of course.

Postcard from Castalia, Ohio

Photo Credit: Sent from the Past

The agrestic aggressor

On the sliding scale between complete coincidence and full-blown conspiracy, it is unclear where this story situates itself. While I find it difficult to suggest that Vance is uniquely plagued by a desire to co-opt the titles of hooks, to suppress her works to make room for his own; that is, in many effects, exactly what is happening. If you conduct a simple Google search for ‘elegy book’ or ‘communion book’ his works appear before hers in both iterations.

In theory, there should be room for a multitude of rural voices, but critics are beginning to express concern that Vance’s parallelism is hostile in either intent or effect. Guinan writes “I’m choosing to believe that [Vance] is a huge fan, rather than the other, more likely option, which is that he is appropriating IP from a prominent black, feminist voice.” Author B.N. Russo further opined:

Not only is this plagiarism of a Black woman’s work, it’s also search engine manipulation and keyword appropriation that will result in the detraction from Black feminist thought. Now, a student searching for “Communion book” may find promotional resources for a pseudo-religious political propaganda piece, rather than resources on hooks’ critical social philosophies. In this moment of attacks on Critical Race and Feminist Theories, removal of sociology studies from state schools, historical revisionism in National Parks, schools, and museums, censorship of public service organizations and institutions, book banning, ‘DEI’ investigations, and curriculum challenges, this is de facto censorship in the digital age.

Postcard from Lompoc, California

Photo Credit: Sent from the Past

An Arcadian mouthpiece 

One female. One male. One Black. One White. One queer. One straight. One passed on. One living. One lowercase in an attempt to decenter the self. One seeking the most powerful title in the world. Diametrically opposed, yet united in a desire to contribute to the cultural consciousness on rural identity. Only time will tell which narrative will devour the other, or whether, perhaps, coexistence is possible. I, for one, will be monitoring the situation with careful fascination, anticipating Vance’s third memoir title with bated breath.

Further readings

For further reading on these subjects please direct your attention to the following blog posts:

“On bell hooks: Black, female, working class and ‘semirural’” 

“J.D. Vance pulls ahead in race for Republican nomination for U.S. Senate seat in Ohio, prompting comparisons to positions he took in his book”

“Hillbilly cosplay and the privilege coverup”

Rural health "slush fund" distributions announced

Fall River Mills, California
(c) Lisa R. Pruitt 2018

The Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services announced this week the establishment of the Rural Health Transformation Program in relation to Trump's "One Big Beautiful Bill" passed in July--and the so called "rural slush fund" that was a last-minute addition to that law.  An earlier post about that late addition to the law is here, also noting that it was added in part to secure the vote of U.S. Senator Lisa Muskowski's (Alaska) support for the law.  

The Rural Health Transformation Program website touts it as 

empower[ing] states to strengthen rural communities across America by improving healthcare access, quality, and outcomes by transforming the healthcare delivery ecosystem. Through innovative system-wide change, the RHT Program invests in the rural healthcare delivery ecosystem for future generations.

Its stated goals are: 

• make rural America healthy again
• sustainable access
• workforce development
• innovative care
• tech innovation

At the end of this post, I cut and pasted from this website more information about the structure and requirements.  For now, however, I want to focus on details of the distribution.  First, all states got a share of the distribution,  and the states that fared best were Texas, Alaska, California, Oklahoma and Montana.  That said, the award amounts to the states did not vary dramatically.  The average amount awarded to each state was $200 million, with the range from $147 million (New Jersey) to $281 million (Texas).  Here's an excerpt from the CMS announcement of the awards, which went to all 50 states.  

This unprecedented federal investment will help states expand access to care in rural communities, strengthen the rural health workforce, modernize rural facilities and technology, and support innovative models that bring high-quality, dependable care closer to home.

It includes this long quote from Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.:  

More than 60 million Americans living in rural areas have the right to equal access to quality care.  This historic investment puts local hospitals, clinics, and health workers in control of their communities’ healthcare. Thanks to President Trump’s leadership, rural Americans will now have affordable healthcare close to home, free from bureaucratic obstacles.

It also features this direct quote from Dr. Mehmet Oz, the CMS administrator:  

Today marks an extraordinary milestone for rural health in America. Thanks to Congress establishing this investment and President Trump for his leadership, states are stepping forward with bold, creative plans to expand rural access, strengthen their workforces, modernize care, and support the communities that keep our nation running. CMS is proud to partner with every state to turn their ideas into lasting improvements for rural families.

Roll call covered the matter, with a focus on Texas.  Some key excerpts follow: 

Twenty percent of [a state's] score [on the application for the competitive part] was determined by a state’s policy actions, including vows to pursue waivers to ban SNAP users from buying certain items like soda and candy, reinstating the presidential fitness test for schoolchildren and requiring that medical schools teach students about nutrition, among other things. States could lose money in future years through a “rescoring” process if they don’t follow through on those initiatives, Oz said.

The remaining 30 percent is based on the strength of the ideas that states proposed in their applications.

Projects highlighted by CMS on Monday include ones that aim to expand access to preventative, primary, maternal and behavioral health care. States also are pursuing “food as medicine” initiatives, models to address chronic disease prevention and programs to shore up their health care workforce.

Critics had argued the amount of funding available is nowhere near large enough to offset reductions in federal Medicaid spending made by the reconciliation law, which amounts to $911 billion over 10 years. Sen. Susan Collins, R-Maine, who voted against the bill, had pushed for at least $100 billion in rural health funding.

The $50 billion would offset only about 37 percent of the estimated loss of federal Medicaid funding in rural areas, according to KFF, a health policy research organization.

But Dr. Mehmet Ozi is quoted as saying the funding is not intended to offset the reductions:  

The purpose of this $50 billion investment in rural health care is not to pay off bills.  The purpose of this $50 billion investment is to allow us to right-size the system and to deal with the fundamental hindrances of improvement in rural health care.

This excerpt from PBS Newshour coverage hits more squarely at the politics of the matter and what the Trump administration's CMS is trying to accomplish with these awards in relation to its wider "Make America Healthy Again" agenda: 

Several Republican-led states — including Arkansas, Iowa, Louisiana, Nebraska, Oklahoma and Texas — have already adopted rules banning the purchase of foods like candy and soda with SNAP benefits.

The money that the states get will be recalculated annually, Oz said, allowing the administration to "claw back" funds if, for example, state leaders don't pass promised policies. Oz said the clawbacks are not punishments, but leverage governors can use to push policies by pointing to the potential loss of millions.

"I've already heard governors express that sentiment that this is not a threat, that this is actually an empowering element of the One Big Beautiful Bill," he said.

Carrie Cochran-McClain, chief policy officer with the National Rural Health Association, said she's heard from a number of Democratic-led states that refused to include such restrictions on SNAP benefits even though it could hurt their chance to get more money from the fund.

"It's not where their state leadership is," she said.

Next, I quote from the analysis of a rural health care consultant working out of Texas, which came across my LinkedIn feed: 

Just reviewed the state allocations from CMS’s landmark $50B Rural Health Transformation Program, and the per‑rural‑person math is fascinating. I'm a CPA and I love excel...so you know I had to create my end of year fun facts related to the CMS awards for RHTP.

If you missed the announcement, here is a link to the full article. 

For context, the average award across all states is $1,957 per rural person.
Texas received $329 per rural person — a solid, meaningful investment in our rural communities. 

N.B.   It is not clear how this consultant is defining "rural" for purposes of these calculations.  

To put that in perspective:
Rhode Island: $31,525 per rural person
Just above Texas: Ohio ($345), NC ($360), PA ($390), MI ($413)
Next tier below RI: NJ ($5,343), AK ($4,949), MA ($3,332), DE ($3,231)

Texas’s total award is $1.4 billion over five years — the largest in the country. While we weren’t guaranteed the top spot, the hard work by the Texas team at HHSC on the application positioned us to lead in rural innovation.

I was personally hoping for closer to $2.1B, but we’ll take this $1.4B and put it to work transforming the rural health landscape across Texas. Huge congratulations to the HHSC team and all our partners who made this possible.

Here’s to an innovative, data‑driven 2026 and beyond for rural Texas! 🌟

Finally, I'm pasting here the details on the program (as promised above), which is essentially the call for applications: 

Program Structure

RHT Program funding is $50 billion to be allocated to approved States over five fiscal years, with $10 billion of funding available each fiscal year, beginning in fiscal year 2026 and ending in fiscal year 2030.

• 50% to be distributed equally amongst all approved States
• 50% will be allocated by CMS based on a variety of factors including rural population, the proportion of rural health facilities in the State, the situation of certain hospitals in the State, and other factors to be specified by CMS in the NOFO

Uses of Funds

States must use RHT Program funds for three or more of the approved uses of funds:Promoting evidence-based, measurable interventions to improve prevention and chronic disease management.

• Providing payments to health care providers for the provision of health care items or services, as specified by the Administrator.
• Promoting consumer-facing, technology-driven solutions for the prevention and management of chronic diseases.
• Providing training and technical assistance for the development and adoption of technology-enabled solutions that improve care delivery in rural hospitals, including remote monitoring, robotics, artificial intelligence, and other advanced technologies.
• Recruiting and retaining clinical workforce talent to rural areas, with commitments to serve rural communities for a minimum of 5 years.
• Providing technical assistance, software, and hardware for significant information technology advances designed to improve efficiency, enhance cybersecurity capability development, and improve patient health outcomes.
• Assisting rural communities to right size their health care delivery systems by identifying needed preventative, ambulatory, pre-hospital, emergency, acute inpatient care, outpatient care, and post-acute care service lines.
• Supporting access to opioid use disorder treatment services (as defined in section 1861(jjj)(1)), other substance use disorder treatment services, and mental health services.
• Developing projects that support innovative models of care that include value-based care arrangements and alternative payment models, as appropriate.
• Additional uses designed to promote sustainable access to high quality rural health care services, as determined by the Administrator.

This KFF Health News site tracked the states' applications for these funds.  

Another NY Times take on rural culture, in relation to Trump and MAGA

Today's New York Times Opinions podcast features a conversation about "The Aesthetic that Explains American Identity Now."  The alternative headline is "MAGA and the Country Aesthetic."  Here's the NYT's overview description of the episode: 

Rural aesthetics are in, from cowboy boots to country albums by pop stars to pastoral idealism peddled by influencers. The New York Times Opinion editor Meher Ahmad speaks to the columnist Tressie McMillan Cottom and the contributor Emily Keegin about what these cultural touch points mean for our politics and society at large.

Before including some key quotes, I'll just observe that I think the commentator's argument is overstated.  Here are some excerpts:  

Ahmad: Both Tressie and Emily are keen observers of the cultural zeitgeist, and in their own spheres they’ve been noticing an ongoing mainstreaming of all things country and rural. Think shows like “Yellowstone” and “The Hunting Wives”. Pop stars like Beyoncé and Sabrina Carpenter produce country songs as part of their repertoire. And tradwife influencers like Hannah Neeleman, popularly known on social media as Ballerina Farm, has now more than 10 million followers.

* * *

McMillan Cottom: There’s a show where a farmer takes a wife ... But you can even get into shows that aren’t as character driven, where the rurality is actually a character. So then you’ve got shows where there are alligator hunters in Louisiana, a show called “Swamp People.”

* * * 

Keegin: Yes. I think we’ve had a very long romance with rural aesthetics in this country.  (emphasis added)

And after the second Trump win, what I noticed was there was a big cowboy trend that took off. Denim is big. Western culture is big. “S.N.L.” this season had a musical act in a hayloft. Realtree coming in and dominating the sweatshirt world.

Ok, honest confession, I had to look up "Reatree."  Had no idea what that was.  I had heard of a realty company with a similar name selling rural properties.  As best I can tell, the two are not related. 

Keegin: Well, OK. Where would you have seen it? You would have seen the pattern on the merch of Chappell Roan. She has a hat that says “Midwest Princess.” And Midwest Princess, I think, is part of this trend, as well. That was picked up by the Harris Walz campaign. If you recall they also had a Camo hat.

* * * 

McMillan Cottom: When we’re talking about being romantic for rural life, we’re really talking about an imaginary place. This isn’t really the rural life that actual people who live in rural America tend to be familiar with. These are signifiers that are maybe less about a physical place, a geography.  (emphasis added)

I would say the divide is between nostalgia and today’s politics. It manifests in many different ways. But when you say something like “Make America Great,” that’s a backward-looking vision. That is not about the future — although it’s trying to own the idea of what the future should look like. It is really calling to a nostalgia for an imagined American past where all families were “traditional” and all women were real women and home life looked this way.

* * *

Keegin: We look at how culture changed through the Clinton years and what was on TV. And when the rural revolt happened in 1994, we had a narrative around that about a shift in a rising conservative culture in this country — which was absolutely true. Narratives are based in truth. And our television shows followed that. 

* * *  

McMillan Cottom: [K]eeping in mind that when we talk about Donald Trump being a sort of a quintessential New York urban figure, that may be true in his biography, but we’re not talking about real places when we talk about urban versus rural.

And when you appeal to rural, you are always, always, calling up the idea of urban. These two things exist at the same time. So that’s the first thing.

The second thing is: I would say that what Donald Trump does — the way he enters into the rural imagination: He does it through Southernness.

* * *

I think that what Donald Trump does is he becomes associated with rural life because of how often he has appealed to Southernness, when he, of course, raises the specter of racism or raises the specter of genteel womanhood — all of those things that the South is kind of known for.

They came in the figure of Donald Trump and his rhetoric, so we keep this big treasure chest — a repertoire of ideas in the South. And when somebody wants to call them up, they can go and open the toy chest, and there it is. You can pull out the Confederate flag, and you can pull out songs of the South or whatever it is.

And suddenly, people’s imagination is in the South. Well, once you are in the South, in the imagination, you are just a — if you’ll forgive me — you are just a hayride away from rural America.

And so those two things, I think, are happening simultaneously with Donald Trump. Appealing to nostalgia will always have political power, especially when people are very anxious and afraid, which is what I would argue people are — for many, many reasons. And that’s why I think Donald Trump reads as rural to some people.

Although I’d pay money to see Donald Trump in actual rural America, for what it’s worth.

* * *

Keegin: You know, Donald Trump shows the seams. You see where the makeup ends on his face. It’s very clear that his hair is done by himself, and you see the grease in it. There’s a photo of him where you see that he holds his tie together with tape.

I think when we boil down what a rural aesthetic is, regardless of who is engaging with it, it is about the human hand and showing what humans create — versus the urban aesthetic, which is based in machines and in technology. We think about our urban centers: That is where we produce a lot of our culture, but they’re also the center of our governments and our financial centers.

All of the aesthetics that we associate with urban life come from those occupations, which are about the mind over the body. This is not where you are toiling and making things with the human hand and with your physical self. And that is the schism. When I look at Trump, I think: Yes, there are a lot of things about him that are very rural — because he’s not slick.

Then there's more in this podcast about the "Renaissance of country music" and what it suggests about this political moment.  I'll leave that to you readers to assess.  Some of the illustration of what these NYTimes folks label "rural"--especially matters related to cowboys and Taylor Sheridan's "Yellowstone"--seem to me more specifically about the imaginary associated with the "wild west" and with patriarchy.   In the latter regard, I was reminded of Kristen Kobes Du Mez' Jesus and John Wayne, a book I highly recommend.  

Ro Khanna talks "Epstein class" in relation to rural and working-class unrest

David Leonhardt interviewed U.S. Congressman Ro Khanna on the NYT opinion podcast yesterday under the headline, "The Democrat Who Split MAGA Over the Epstein Files."  Khanna styles himself an economic populist, and he has paid a lot of attention recent years to spatial inequality and the ways in which rural and rural-ish communities have been hurt by U.S. trade policies of recent years.  That is, he takes seriously the woes of places often styled as "left behind," including rural ones.  (Here's a December 2022 post about Khanna's interest in rural America).  

In this interview with Leonhardt, Khanna talks about his collaboration with Kentucky Republican Thomas Massie to push for the release of the Epstein files.  The quotes below, all from Khanna, link rural and working class agitation that drew them to Trump to their discontent with the so-called "Epstein class."  

Khanna: I have been going on podcasts to argue for my economic patriotism agenda — an agenda that says we’ve got to focus on factory towns that have been hollowed out in rural communities. I was going and visiting these communities, and so I was on Theo Von’s podcast and I was on the “Flagrant” podcast and I was going to places like Johnstown, Pa., and going to places like Warren, Ohio. When I was there, the issue would come up about the “Epstein class” — that’s what they called it. They said, well, are you on the side of the forgotten Americans or on the side of the Epstein class?

I realized how much the abuse by rich and powerful men of young girls and the sense of a rape island that Epstein had set up for people embodied the corruption of government. And then many of them saw Donald Trump as fighting this corrupt government and standing up for forgotten Americans. And this was the symbol for the most disgusting abuse and corruption of our government. And so when the issue came up that Pam Bondi said that there was nothing to release, I knew that this was a betrayal of the core promise that Trump had made to MAGA voters.

I said, we should push for the release. And I put out some tweet initially and then we introduced a bill. Then Massie and I have worked together for years; we have a real friendship. He called me and he said: Well, why don’t we try to collaborate on this instead of just doing something partisan? And I think we can reshape the coalition.

In the process, I then met the survivors and when I met the survivors, then it became personal. I mean, these are women who are talking about being raped at the age of 14 and being told to recruit other junior high and high school students. I think I had the same experience that Marjorie Taylor Greene or Nancy Mace or Thomas Massie had — once you meet these survivors, I mean, it’s just one of the most horrific crimes in our country’s history.

* * *

And once these files are released, people can judge for themselves the abusive conditions of those young girls. But one of the survivors really struck me and said, “Ro, I don’t remember what happened to me, and I want to see the files to understand the trauma I went through.” And for these survivors, some of them voted for Trump. It’s not personal. In fact, we’re having a press conference and one of the asks of the survivors will be to meet with Donald Trump to have these files released. But anyone who meets them realizes that, look, there were over a thousand victims. The idea that only two people would be doing this with a thousand victims just doesn’t make sense. I mean, it’s more than Epstein and Maxwell. It’s a symbol for the recklessness of an elite that could do things without impunity.

* * *

It gave me a sense of how deep it went. I didn’t really follow the details. Now, there is a whole island of people with a thousand-plus victims abused so that the scale of it, it resonated. And it occurred to me how many people view this as the central example of the corruption of their own government. And many of them had said — look, they thought that there were more Democrats than Republicans involved. I think that’s probably because of Trump’s messaging. And I don’t believe that to be the case, I think it’s widespread, but that was the sentiment. And so the emotional power of it is something that I grasped only because I was in these communities. I was on these podcasts and I was talking to people in the MAGA base.

* * *

And I would often say to people, after I go into these communities, when I was in Aliquippa or Johnstown, I said, if I was in one of those communities, I’d vote everyone out too. Why wouldn’t you? Those towns have been abandoned for 40 years and it’s not just the working class.

I think this is one of the places that Democrats make a mistake — it’s not just the person who’s making $13 an hour who should be making $15 or $17 or $20 an hour. It’s people who are doctors or who are lawyers or who are small-business owners who think their entire communities have been hollowed out. The pride is gone. Their jobs were shipped overseas. They see districts like mine that are succeeding. They think they built America and a governing class has abandoned them. And Trump evoked that sentiment and he said, I’m going to tear down this corrupt system. I would often say, well, what we need to do is build things up. But they said, well, your party is not even understanding what needs to be torn down.

The Epstein class often became Exhibit 1 in what they thought that the status quo had protected, and didn’t care enough about. So I think it’s deeper than just the economics. It was this sense that these people feel and felt they were losing their country.

* * *

I did not know, in full honesty, where the MAGA base would go because one of the things — having just been to so many small towns, rural communities, factory towns for the past nine years — that I think we don’t understand is the emotional connection that Trump built with these communities because he was one of the first people to say, you got shafted, you got screwed and I’m going to bring back your pride.

And so they give him a lot of latitude because they think he was the first to emotionally speak to their ambition and their pain and their hopes. But what started to happen is, as we built momentum for this, I started to see commentators first in the MAGA base say: “You know what? This is really important. This is core to what Trump ran on.”

Planned Parenthood closes five California clinics, two of them rural(ish)

This story in the San Francisco Chronicle by Sara DiNatale reports that recent budget cuts in the so-called "Big, Beautiful Bill" have led to the closure of five Planned Parenthood health care centers in California, including two in places that are rural by some measure, Gilroy (Santa Clara County) and Madera (Madera County).  Other closures were in South San Fancisco, San Mateo, and Santa Cruz.  

Mar Monte is the largest Planned Parenthood affiliate in the United States.  As DiNatale reports, "The GOP-led federal spending bill that Trump signed into law earlier this month eliminated federal Medicaid funding for any type of medical care to organizations that perform abortions."  

National and regional media have paid a great deal of attention to the consequences Trump's budget cuts will have for rural health care.   

Supreme Court decision on Planned Parenthood and Medicaid will undermine rural health

The U.S. Supreme Court today ruled (quoting the Associated Press) that 

States can block the country’s biggest abortion provider, Planned Parenthood, from receiving Medicaid money for health services such as contraception and cancer screenings.  

 The case rose to the Supreme Court from South Carolina.  The Associated Press explains: 

South Carolina Gov. Henry McMaster, a Republican, said Planned Parenthood should not get any taxpayer money. The budget bill backed by President Donald Trump in Congress would also cut Medicaid money for the group. That could force the closure of about 200 centers, most of them in states where abortion is legal, Planned Parenthood has said.

Several news outlets have mentioned the impact that this decision will have on rural healthcare.  NPR brings us this: 

Planned Parenthood's president and CEO, Alexis McGill Johnson, in an interview with NPR, said the decision would have widespread ramifications and would allow seventeen states to strip Planned Parenthood clinics of the ability to provide non-abortion medical services to rural and low income people.  (emphasis added)

The story further quotes Johnson:  

It's a dark time [when] a health center has to close, any time a patient is not able to get the care that they need.  That is a dark time because we can provide that care for our nation's most vulnerable. 

When will women in rural Missouri have true abortion access?

On November 5, 2024, as much of the country watched Donald Trump regain the presidency, abortion advocates in Missouri celebrated. Amendment 3, a ballot proposition to repeal Missouri's total abortion ban, had passed. Missouri was one of seven states that enacted amendments to protect abortion rights on November 5. And in a state that Donald Trump won by over 18 points, voters had somehow simultaneously restored the right to abortion by a narrow margin of 52 to 48 percent. For abortion advocates, passing Amendment 3 was a hard-fought but undeniable victory. 

Then, the question became: "What's next?"

For rural Missourians, the answer is complicated. Over the past few decades, Missouri has severely limited abortion access. Hit hardest were women in rural communities. For years, there were only three abortion clinics in Missouri, which has a population of over 6 million. By 2017, a Planned Parenthood in St. Louis was the only place in the entire state you could get a medical abortion. And in 2022, Missouri passed the "Right to Life of the Unborn Child Act," a trigger ban that months later became the first in the nation to go into effect when Dobbs v. Jackson overturned the constitutional right to an abortion. 

This was the landscape framing desperate efforts to restore medical access to abortion in Missouri. But celebrations fell quiet in weeks after the election as anti-abortion advocates began to respond. Elected officials in Missouri pledged to "vigorously defend" abortion bans in the state. On January 16, 2025, U.S. Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) introduced federal legislation to defund Planned Parenthood. I felt my own stomach churn when my little sister, a veterinary student at the University of Missouri, texted me: "I'm getting anxious. About living [here]." 

One-third of Missourians live in rural areas. But even those in urban counties have felt the effects of the decades-long effort to restrict access to abortion. Columbia, Missouri, where my sister lives, has a population of 130,000. But it's over a two hour drive to St. Louis, where the sole abortion provider in Missouri is located. Rural Ozark County ⁠— which has a 29.6 percent poverty rate, the highest in the state — is a four hour drive from St. Louis. Not to mention travel costs, medical expenses, and scraping together time off work — all challenges exacerbated by rurality.

While Amendment 3 granted abortion access until the point of fetal viability, the St. Louis Planned Parenthood cannot legally resume providing abortions. This is, in part, due to a December ruling by Jackson County Judge Jerri Zhang which upheld licensure requirements for abortion clinics — meaning that though Missourians have a renewed right to abortion, there is no place for them to obtain one. This leaves rural women in Missouri vulnerable, particularly those in the southern half, where the nearest abortion clinic might be several states away. 

However, progress was made: In the same opinion, Judge Zhang struck down other restrictive laws, including a 72-hour waiting period and a requirement that physicians who perform abortions have admitting privileges in all hospitals that provide obstetric or gynaecological care within "30 minutes or a 15-minute drive." Judge Zhang considered rural Missourians in the decision, writing that: 

[A] person who travels three hours to get a medication abortion and then returns home, would not benefit from [these restrictions]. If complications arise after taking the medication, the individual would need to seek emergency care at the nearest hospital emergency room, as with any other medical emergency.

Aside from the judiciary, what else can be done? In a state like Missouri, where only 28.9 percent of statewide legislators are women, many will turn to grassroots organizing. "What's Next?," an organization dedicated to improving abortion access in Missouri, has advocated for Know-Your-Rights Trainings and other local initiatives. In a 2024 study by the Kaiser Family Foundation, over 35 percent of rural women reported they wouldn't know where to go or where to find abortion information. This post by Rooney Debutts details other statewide legislative efforts to improve abortion access. 

One thing is clear: The fight for abortion access in rural Missouri is far from over. 

A flex from China's rural women

The top story on the New York Times website right now--at least for us on the Pacific coast--is about rural Chinese women. The headline is, "In Rural China, ‘Sisterhoods’ Demand Justice, and Cash."  Vivian Wang reports; here is the lede:  

The women came from different villages, converging outside the local Rural Affairs Bureau shortly after 10 a.m. One had taken the morning off from her job selling rice rolls. Another was a tour operator. Yet another was a recent retiree.

The group, nine in all, double-checked their paperwork, then strode in. In a dimly lit office, they cornered three officials and demanded to know why they had been excluded from government payouts, worth tens of thousands of dollars, that were supposed to go to each villager.

“I had these rights at birth. Why did I suddenly lose them?” one woman asked.

That was the question uniting these women in Guangdong Province, in southern China. They were joining a growing number of rural women, all across the country, who are finding each other to confront a longstanding custom of denying them land rights — all because of whom they had married.

In much of rural China, if a woman marries someone from outside her village, she becomes a “married-out woman.” To the village, she is no longer a member, even if she continues to live there.

That means the village assembly — a decision-making body technically open to all adults, but usually dominated by men — can deny her village-sponsored benefits such as health insurance, as well as money that is awarded to residents when the government takes over their land. (A man remains eligible no matter whom he marries.)

Now, women are fighting back, in a rare bright spot for women’s rights and civil society. They are filing lawsuits and petitioning officials, energized by the conviction that they should be treated more fairly, and by the government’s increasing recognition of their rights.

In doing so, they are challenging centuries of tradition that have defined women as appendages to men: their fathers before marriage, their husbands after. That view has persisted even as the country has rapidly modernized, and women have gone to school and sometimes even become their families’ breadwinners.

They are also exposing a gap between the ruling Communist Party’s words and its actions. Many courts, which are controlled by the party, refuse to take on the women’s lawsuits.

This reminds me of the case of Santa Clara Pueblo v. Martinez (U.S. Supreme Court 1979).  This excerpt from the case digest should explain the comparison based on a loss of rights for women who married outside their tribe:  

Respondents, a female member of the Santa Clara Pueblo and her daughter, brought this action for declaratory and injunctive relief against petitioners, the Pueblo and its Governor, alleging that a Pueblo ordinance that denies tribal membership to the children of female members who marry outside the tribe, but not to similarly situated children of men of that tribe, violates Title I of the Indian Civil Rights Act of 1968 (ICRA), 25 U.S.C. §§ 1301-1303, which, in relevant part, provides that "[n]o Indian tribe in exercising powers of self-government shall . . . deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of its laws." 25 U.S.C. § 1302(8). The ICRA's only express remedial provision, 25 U.S.C. § 1303, extends the writ of habeas corpus to any person, in a federal court, "to test the legality of his detention by order of an Indian tribe." The District Court held that jurisdiction was conferred by 28 U.S.C. § 1343(4) and 25 U.S.C. § 1302(8), apparently concluding that the substantive provisions of Title I impliedly authorized civil actions for declaratory and injunctive relief, and also that the tribe was not immune from such a suit. Subsequently, the court found for petitioners on the merits. The Court of Appeals, while agreeing on the jurisdictional issue, reversed on the merits.

Rural legal scholarship: Just a place or a just place? Domestic violence, urban-rural differences, and access to justice

Cassie Chambers Armstrong has posted this piece to ssrn.com.  It is forthcoming in the Kentucky Law Journal.  The abstract follows:

This Article examines rural court systems to understand how they are serving survivors of domestic violence. It does so by gathering quantitative data about civil protective order proceedings from over one hundred courtrooms across more than seventy-five counties. Specifically, it examines the rate of legal representation, provision of non-court resources and information, the structures of a given court system (open or closed docket, virtual or in-person attendance, dedicated family court or not), and patterns of judicial discretion. For each variable, this Study asks: Are outcomes different in a rural community? The answer is, resoundingly, yes. Domestic violence survivors navigating rural court systems are less likely to be represented by counsel, and courts are less likely to provide them with information about supportive resources. They are less likely to have access to a dedicated family court judge and unlikely to have a judge enter ancillary orders to address issues of child custody or child support. They are less likely to have meaningful access to virtual court options and more likely to have a court hear their petition in open court instead of a closed proceeding. These findings, and others, suggest rural survivors face unique challenges in obtaining civil protective orders compared to their urban counterparts. Additionally, these data show that all survivors-whether in urban or rural areas-face barriers navigating court systems. Collectively, these results call for place based study and policy interventions to ensure that all survivors can seek meaningful justice in the courts.

The school vouchers story I've been waiting for because it centers rural schools and communities

This excellent long read comes from Alec MacGillis for ProPublica, and it came to my attention only because it was on the New York Times audio site.   Bottom line:  rural folks, normally conservative, have lots of reasons to oppose conservative state leaders when it comes to school vouchers.  Why:  school vouchers, by depriving public schools of money, will lead to the closure of those schools.  Of course, school vouchers, by channeling public tax dollars to private schools, will hurt all public schools.  But rural schools are more vulnerable to falling student enrollment and therefore to closure.  All of that has big implications for rural communities.  I've blogged about this issue previously, such as here, here and here (among others) 

Following are some key quotes from the story, which features vignettes from rural parts of many states, including Ohio, Georgia, and Texas.  But first, there's this lede from Tennessee:

Drive an hour south of Nashville into the rolling countryside of Marshall County, Tennessee — past horse farms, mobile homes and McMansions — and you will arrive in Chapel Hill, population 1,796. It’s the birthplace of Confederate Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest, who helped found the Ku Klux Klan. And it’s the home of Todd Warner, one of the most unlikely and important defenders of America’s besieged public schools.

Warner is the gregarious 53-year-old owner of PCS of TN, a 30-person company that does site grading for shopping centers and other construction projects. The second-term Republican state representative “absolutely” supports Donald Trump, who won Marshall County by 50 points in 2020. Warner likes to talk of the threats posed by culture-war bogeymen, such as critical race theory; diversity, equity and inclusion; and Shariah law.

And yet, one May afternoon in his office, under a TV playing Fox News and a mounted buck that he’d bagged in Alabama, he told me about his effort to halt Republican Gov. Bill Lee’s push for private school vouchers in Tennessee. Warner’s objections are rooted in the reality of his district: It contains not a single private school, so to Warner, taxpayer money for the new vouchers would clearly be flowing elsewhere, mostly to well-off families in metro Nashville, Memphis and other cities whose kids are already enrolled in private schools. Why should his small-town constituents be subsidizing the private education of metropolitan rich kids?

A further quote from Warner follows:   

I’m for less government, but it’s government’s role to provide a good public education.  If you want to send your kid to private school, then you should pay for it.

Here are some other excerpts, after McGillis notes that 11 states "now have "universal or near-universal vouchers, meaning that even affluent families can receive thousands of dollars toward their kids’ private school tuition" in the name of "school choice."  

Voucher advocates are "again and again ... running against rural Republicans like Warner," the Tennessee politician.  Those rural Republicans are also increasingly "joining forces with Democratic lawmakers in a rare bipartisan alliance.  That is, it’s the reddest regions of these red and purple states that are putting up some of the strongest resistance to the conservative assault on public schools."

Conservative orthodoxy at the national level holds that parents must be given an out from a failing public education system that force-feeds children progressive fads. But many rural Republican lawmakers have trouble reconciling this with the reality in their districts, where many public schools are not only the sole educational option, but also the largest employer and the hub of the community — where everyone goes for holiday concerts, Friday night football and basketball. Unlike schools in blue metro areas, rural schools mostly reopened for in-person instruction in the fall of 2020, and they are far less likely to be courting controversy on issues involving race and gender.

* * *

The response from voucher proponents to the resistance from fellow Republicans has taken several forms, all of which implicitly grant the critics’ case that voucher programs currently offer little benefit to rural areas. In some states, funding for vouchers is being paired with more money for public schools, to offer support for rural districts. In Ohio, voucher advocates are proposing to fund the construction of new private schools in rural areas where none exist, giving families places to use vouchers.

But the overriding Republican response to rural skeptics has been a political threat: Get with the program on vouchers, or else.

That’s what played out this year in Ohio’s 83rd District, in the state’s rural northwest.

* * * 

In Georgia, of the 15 Republican state representatives who blocked a voucher proposal last year, more than half came from rural areas with substantial Black populations. One of them was Gerald Greene, who spent more than three decades as a high school social studies teacher and has managed to survive as a Republican in his majority-Black district in the state’s southwestern corner after switching parties in 2010.

Greene believes vouchers will harm his district. It has a couple of small private schools in it or just outside it — with student bodies that are starkly more white than the district’s public schools — but the majority of his constituents rely on the public schools, and he worries that vouchers will leave less money for them.

The story next turns to Texas: 

The highest-profile rural Republican resistance to vouchers has come in Texas, the land of Friday Night Lights and far-flung oil country settlements where the public schools anchor communities.

* * * 

Among those [legislators] targeted was Drew Darby, who represents a sprawling 10-county district in West Texas and who frames the issue in starkly regional terms: The state’s metro areas depend on his constituents to provide “food, fiber and hide,” to “tend the oil wells and wind turbines to provide electricity to people who want to be just a little cooler in the cities.” But without good public schools, these rural areas will wither. “Robert Lee, Winters, Sterling, Blackwell,” he said, listing some hamlets — “these communities exist because they have strong public schools. They would literally not exist without a good public school system.”

* * * 

“In rural Texas, there’s not a whole lot of private school options, and we want our schools to get every dollar they can. This doesn’t add $1, and it’s not good for rural Texas.”

* * * 

But in Tennessee, Todd Warner and his allies staved off the threat again this year. To overcome rural resistance, voucher proponents in the Tennessee House felt the need to constrain them and pair them with hundreds of millions of dollars in additional funding for public schools, but this was at odds with the state Senate’s more straightforward voucher legislation.

Then the story circles back to Warner, the rural Tennessee Republican, with a vignette hitting on rural intergenerational roots in a place:  

For Democratic voucher opponents in the state, the alliance with Warner and other rural Republicans was as helpful as it was unusual.

* * * 

Warner remains unfazed by all this. He is pretty sure that his voucher opposition in fact helped him win his seat in 2020, after the incumbent Republican voted for a pilot voucher system limited to Nashville and Memphis. And he notes that no one has registered to challenge him in the state’s Aug. 1 primary.

Warner is quoted as saying, with a chuckle,

They tried to find a primary opponent but couldn’t.  I was born and raised here all my life. My family’s been here since the 18th century. I won’t say I can’t be beat, but bring your big-boy pants and come on, let’s go.

I'm just remembering that my most recent post on "school choice" is here, out of my home state, Arkansas.  It links to prior related posts, too.  Those posts are about school choice in the context of consolidation.  But vouchers are now also a thing in Arkansas, and a rural school advocate and patron is among the plaintiffs challenging Arkansas' new LEARNS Act, a voucher program and the product of a big push by Governor Sarah Huckabee Sanders.  Here's an October 2023 guest opinion piece in the Arkansas Times that makes the link between the LEARNS Act and the threat to rural Arkansas, "Disappearing towns: The LEARNS Act and the myth of schools as community panacea."  

Rural women attorneys comment on work-life balance

Danielle C. Forseth and Melissa Luna wrote in the Advocate, the Idaho State Bar Magazine, last fall about "Women Attorneys and Achieving Work/Life Balance in Rural Idaho."  Here's an excerpt about Idaho State Bar geo-demographics generally:

Idaho has a total of 5,474 active attorneys of which 4,005 reside or have an office in-state.  Idaho’s Fourth Judicial District represents 2,226 of these active and in-state attorneys, leaving 1,779 attorneys to serve the remainder of Idaho. In comparison, Idaho’s Sixth Judicial District claims 189 active, in-state attorneys. In 2020, the ABA reported “two-thirds of [Idaho] counties (29 of 44) have less than one lawyer per 1,000 residents, including three counties with no lawyers at all and two counties with only one lawyer.”For every 1,000 residents, Idaho has 2.2 attorneys. The number of attorneys available to enter into attorney-client relationships with local residents shrinks once prosecutors, city attorneys, and county attorneys are subtracted from available attorneys. Further, the “graying of the bar,” or many attorneys who are older and nearing retirement or retiring within the ISB, adds to the scarcity of rural attorneys. 

And this is what the authors wrote about opportunities in the state's rural-ish counties.  They both practice in Moscow, population 24,000, and home to the University of Idaho.  Moscow is the county seat of Latah County, with a population of nearly 40,000.

Danelle Forseth joined long-time Moscow attorney Ronald Landeck in 2011 full-time after having worked part-time for several years to care for two children until they reached school-age. Melissa Luna joined the law firm in 2015 after working as an in-house civil rights investigator for colleges and universities. She landed in Moscow when her spouse took a position in the region. Danelle recalls:

“Melissa and I graduated from law school together. We had been chatting about job opportunities in Idaho when she said she would be moving to Moscow. I urged her to meet with Ron and me and consider coming to work with us as we had a tremendous need for another attorney to serve our clients. In my experience, there is never a shortage of people or businesses in need of legal assistance in our community.”

Another rural attorney, Susan Wilson, who has mostly practiced as a solo practitioner, also enjoys working in small towns in Idaho.  She states:

“I have more than enough clients to support my lifestyle. I think attorneys in small towns will always be busy – just the nature of having a general practice and conflicts of interest with other attorneys – the whole supply and demand model is very much applicable to attorneys and just like any other market restriction, we have conflicts of interests that force involving other counsel. I’m not even talking about litigation – even transactional attorneys, estate planning attorneys, probates, etc. Every area of law.”

In the authors’ practices, there are enough billable hours to cover expenses and pay themselves salaries above the annual mean wage earned by all attorneys in Idaho. In fact, at different times of the year, they must decline cases to keep their caseloads at a manageable level. In addition, author Melissa has also qualified as a Parenting Coordinator under the Family Law Rules of Procedure and works with parents to make decisions after the entry of a custody decree. 

Another local attorney, solo practitioner Jennifer Ewers, offers other types of legal services to the community, such as mediation services. She comments, “As a mediator, I hope I am helping the community by providing a service that allows parties to resolve family law and other disputes in a less contentious and costly forum than court, and that leaves the outcome of the process in their hands.”.

So little has been written about female lawyers practicing in the rural United States.  That made me especially happy to see these reflections recorded, even though the authors are not writing much that is explicitly gendered.  As much as anything, the story seems to confirm that there's plenty of business for small-town attorneys--at least in "small towns" the size of Moscow, which isn't all that small.  

Humboldt County, California judge under fire for ethics violations as election looms

The headline from The Press Democrat (of Sonoma County, California but covering the north coast up through Humboldt), is "Humboldt County Judge Greg Kreis accused of sexual harassment, drunken bullying, throwing curveball into his reelection bid." Here's an excerpt from the deeply reported story by Andrew Graham and Marisa Endicott: 

The commission that oversees California’s judiciary has served presiding Humboldt County Superior Court Judge Gregory Kreis a 35-page notice charging him with 19 ethical violations including drunken bullying of attorneys, lewd behavior toward women, poor courtroom behavior, cronyism and abuse of power.

The allegations outlined by the commission on Feb. 2 stretch back years and have thrown his reelection campaign into turmoil just weeks before the March 5 election.

In one case, in May 2019, he is accused of using an antisemitic slur against a deputy public defender, insulting his manliness and then pushing him fully clothed off a pontoon boat into Lake Shasta.

A 2015 allegation from before he became a judge states that he took two attorneys with him to buy cocaine, then used the drug in the car as he drove back from the purchase.

Another accusation alleges he sneaked into a sleeping woman’s bedroom, exposed his genitals and tried to wake her.

Here are more posts about Humboldt County, which is metropolitan, but sparsely populated.  I'm just thinking about the presumably helpful role of this state commission in providing oversight of a sensitive matter like this one.  It seems far preferable to local oversight--and, to my mind, is even preferable to letting the voters decide in a couple of weeks. 

Community radio in rural India

Community radio has been gaining notable traction in India's rural regions. One reason is that rural communities in India suffer from lower literacy rates compared to urban areas. In 2018 rural areas in India had a 73.5% literacy rate compared to 87.7% in urban areas, making radio an effective way to communicate with the populace. 

Community radio is partially used to "bridge the information gap between urban and rural audiences." During large-scale flooding in 2013, three radio stations set up communication lines to allow people to call for help and reach their loved ones. In 2019, Radio Surabhi was able to alert people that a cyclone had hit Odisha, and it shared information about available shelters. 

Community radio became even more important during the first COVID-19 lockdown when it broadcast educational programs and spread community health guidelines, vaccine information, and more. Multiple community radio stations have popped up around India since 2008, many of which are products of NGOs and community service initiatives.   

One community radio station in particular has received worldwide attention. Alfaz-e-Mewat, which is loosely translated to "voice of the Mewati people" or "rural voices of Mewat." Mewat is the cultural region that spans the state of Haryana, Rajasthan, and Uttar Pradesh. Mewat district, a rural district in the foothills of the Aravali mountains, was renamed Nuh in 2016 and is one of the 22 districts in the northern Indian state of Haryana. 

Located roughly two hours south of Delhi, India, Nuh is "home to the country’s ethnic Meo Muslims and a minority Hindu population" and in recent years “has emerged as a hub of cyber crime and sextortion rackets.” 

Alfaz-e-Mewat broadcasts for 13 hours every day in Hindi, Urdu, and Mewati, reaching 225 villages. Millions of people listen in from all over Nuh as Alfaz-e-Mewat, through the Indian airwaves, provides various programs including group therapy, education, women's empowerment, and entertainment. 

This community station started raising awareness about the COVID-19 pandemic shortly before the first outbreak in India. Alfaz-e-Mewat's program "21 din 21 baatein," meaning "21 days 21 topics," hosted experts to speak on the importance of frequent handwashing, accessing healthcare, and social and physical distancing. They also encouraged spreading positivity and encouraged their listeners to try yoga. 

One Alfaz-e-Mewat reporter spoke about the importance of radio in disseminating this information saying, "In my village of 250 families, only one house has a television. So, you can understand how important our role is as reporters in this region."

This region of India has some of the lowest female literacy rates in the country. Only 1/3 of women in Nuh are literate and 90% of Nuh women have dropped out of school before the age of 10. The norm in Nuh is reportedly that of early marriages and violence against women. In this region, where women are considered beneath their male counterparts, Alfaz-e-Mewat is becoming the voice of change. 

Alfaz-e-Mewat was started in 2012 by the S.M. Sehgal Foundation, a nonprofit the government funded with $18,000. What started as a community radio station to promote water conservation and agrarian practices now helps women get connected to resources if they are experiencing domestic violence. It also helps stop the spread of disinformation and is transforming the lives of their female listeners. 

Alfaz-e-Mewat receives around 50 calls daily, many from women experiencing health-related problems. Dr. Yadav, who occasionally answers questions on the radio station, reported that women in this region are often neglected at home, leaving many of them with severe anemia. Anemia, which is a shortage of healthy red blood cells to carry the necessary oxygen to one's organs, can lead to weakness and dizziness. Increasing one's iron and protein intake is an antidote so Dr. Yadav instructed a listener on how to make protein-rich meals out of available ingredients like chickpeas.

Bhagwan Devi, a 51-year-old listener, was inspired by Alfaz-e-Mewat to start a campaign to build toilets inside houses in her village. Noor Mohmamd, a 65-year-old from Mubarakpur Rawalki village, says he's a fan of the radio station, which has led him to change his farming practices. Women across the district have been impassioned to get educated, get jobs, and gain protection from violence. 

“Community radio gives women a platform not only as listeners to get information, but as active participants" -Anjali Makhija, chief executive of S.M. Sehgal Foundation.

Tyler Childers' "In Your Love" video breaks stereotypes and captures the complexities of LGBTQ relationships in Appalachia

Tyler Childers is an American country singer-songwriter. On September 8th, he released his sixth studio album, Rustin' In the Rain. The album's hit song, co-written with Geno Seale, is called "In Your Love." 

When I first saw the "In Your Love" music video, written by Silas House, the only word that came to mind was "powerful." The video portrays the first-ever gay romance and gay kiss in a country music video released by a major label. 

Beyond telling a love story of two Appalachian coal miners, the video depicts the struggles coal miners have faced for centuries and how rural communities are often not accepting of LGBTQ relationships. 

In the video, the gay miner's coworkers beat him up after seeing him engage in a same-sex kiss; at the end, the miner dies from the black lung disease in his partner's arms. 

While most critics have praised the video, some of Childers's fans have complained that the artist has “gone woke.” In response to the video, fans burned him T-shirts and concert tickets, posted comments full of bigotry, and accused Childers of being gay himself (even though he is married and often sings about his wife). 

While these reactions were disheartening, they are unfortunately not surprising. According to the Trevor project, LGBTQ youth from small towns or rural areas are more likely to hear anti-LGBTQ remarks and experience discrimination than those from urban and suburban areas. You can read more about LGBTQ hatred and intolerance in rural communities here, here, and here. 

Regardless, Childers said the majority of the video's response has been “overwhelmingly more positive than negative.” Some fans thanked him for telling more than one type of love story in the region. Others felt emboldened to come out after watching it. 

Writer, Kentucky-native, and poet laureate Silas House explained why LGBT representation in rural places is so important in a Rolling Stones article: 

It’s very rare to see LGBT people portrayed in a rural place. The idea is that most LGBT people escape or have to go to the city. And that is true for a lot of people: We have historically sought the safety of cities. There’s strength in numbers. But there are also lots and lots of LGBTQ people who live in rural places.

In a recent NPR article, House elaborated on why the mining aspect of the video was essential: 

Both of us [him and Childers] come from families who have worked in the mining industry. [...] To see yourself in art is a really important thing, especially when you're from an "other" place. You rarely see LGBT people in rural settings in a positive way. You often see them getting murdered there, or escaping from there, but that's it. That's why this [video] matters, especially for country music.

Childers is from Lawrence County, Kentucky, an Appalachian county which shares a border with West Virginia. Lawrence County is a metropolitan county, with a population of 16,293. Demographically,  98.93% of the county is white and 30.70% of residents live below the poverty line. 

Childers, to me, is one of Appalachia's best storytellers. The bulk of his songwriting and lyrics detail the struggles and daily life of Appalachia. In another song, "Coal," Childers sings about the struggles of poverty, gender roles, and the lack of economic opportunity present in Appalachia:

God made coal for the men who sold their lives to West Van Lear
And you keep on digging 'til you get down there
Where it's darker than your darkest fears
And that woman in the kitchen
She keeps on cookin', but she ain't had meat in years
Just live off bread, live off hope, and a pool of a million tears

Childers's lyrics reference Van Lear, a small mining town in Johnson County, Kentucky.  The town's existence was owed to Consolidated Coal Company.  In 1935, there was an explosion in a mine that killed nine people. Since the end of local mining, only a handful of businesses continue to operate in the Van Lear area. Today, the town is home to only 1600 people. 

In another song, "Nose on the Grindstone" Childers sings about his father's job as a coal miner, the opioid crisis, and how his father told him to get out of Appalachia to seek better employment opportunities: 

Daddy worked like a mule minin' Pike County coal
'Til he f*cked up his back and couldn't work anymore
He said one of these days, you'll get out of these hills
Keep your nose on the grindstone and out of the pills

We need more voices from rural America who support beliefs and social movements that some rural Americans do not support. In 2020, Childers publicly expressed his support for the Black Lives Matter Movement. 

Childers' storytelling through lyricism could be the solution in bridging ideas and negating biases that are distinctly held by rural and urban audiences. While he introduces the idea of LGBTQ acceptance and support for social justice movements to his rural listeners, Childers also teaches his urban listeners about the hardships Appalachians have faced.

House wrote an article for The Bitter Southerner detailing the complexities of Appalachia: 

Appalachia [...] may not have as much diversity as the rest of the country, but we are not all alike, either, and we’re certainly not all white, straight, cis, or Christian, as many people around the world might think. The same could be said for rural America, no matter where it is in the nation.

If there's one take away from the "In Your Love" video, it should be never to underestimate the storytelling power of music. 

Literary Ruralism (Part XXXIX): Monica Potts' The Forgotten Girls

Monica Potts published her memoir, The Forgotten Girls: A Memoir of Friendship and Lost Promise in Rural America, in late May, 2023 (Penguin Random House).  It is set in her hometown, Clinton, Arkansas, within her home county, Van Buren.  Potts tells the parallel stories of herself and her childhood friend, Darci.  Potts went off to a posh college, while Darci didn't even finish high school. Potts tries to explain the divergent paths of two children who were once so close. 

The book is chock full of references--implicit or explicit--to the patriarchy that thrives in rural America.  (That's a topic I wrote about here).  She also talks a lot about the links between the patriarchy and religion.  What follows is an excerpt from Potts' book that illustrates the phenomenon, with implicit reference to what I've written about as "white trash" (also here): 

Children and teenagers were sorted into another binary as well: the upstanding citizens and the ne’er-do-wells. The “good” kids were those bound for college. They avoided partying or did it only discreetly, played sports, spent nights and weekends at ballgames and church events, and formed monogamous relationships early. Parents encouraged their teenage relationships, chaperoning and ushering them on dates and folding them into family events. Their families went to church every Sunday, nicely dressed in church clothes, and went to lunch afterward at the Ozark Café or some other restaurant in town, or to a grandmother’s house for a pot roast. Those students were destined to enter adult life early, marry at a young age, and move seamlessly into roles their parents fulfilled: teachers, doctors, dentists. Their social spots seemed almost inherited.

My friend April, who moved back to Clinton to raise her two children, saw this clearly as an adult. “Like, Kid A: ‘We’re thinking you’ll go to college and make something out of yourself, so we’ll put more effort into you.’ ” Her own kids benefited from the reputation she’d had as a good student. The teachers, who were her peers and sometimes friends from her own school days, automatically trusted her.

By contrast, the “bad” kids were those who sneaked out of their homes and partied on weekends. It was an unspoken assumption that they wouldn’t make it to college. They got into trouble at school. We kids gossiped about them, and so did some of the adults. As April put it, “Kid B: ‘Well, you come from a line of poverty and living off the system, so we’ll just hope you don’t get knocked up.’ ” It could be hard, living in a small town like ours, to escape family history. “I don’t think it’s spoken,” April said, “but it’s kind of hard not to pass that history on in a lot of ways.”

She told me that two boys from her class—rowdy, athletic, good-natured class clowns and troublemakers—now had young sons of their own in the same class at school. A teacher looked at the young pair and joked, “Here we go again!” Everyone laughed, as if the sons would inevitably be the same as the fathers—the same story would play over and over with each new generation. Seeing this cycle helped me understand why my mom had felt strongly about cutting off my dad’s family, and why I had been so careful not to follow in what I thought were his footsteps. People who tried to break the pattern were often alone, set against the larger forces of small-town thinking and small-town gossip.

Darci was getting a reputation as a partier, and hanging out with her became increasingly fraught. During Darci’s fourteenth birthday slumber party, half the girls sneaked out and half didn’t. After that, the “good” girls stopped going to Darci’s house. They also avoided Thriftway parking lot parties, where teenagers sat in cars and got drunk and hooked up. Instead, the “good” kids had serious boyfriends and wore promise rings. Their lives were already revolving around their futures as wives and mothers, regardless of any potential career.

As a child, I felt trapped by this system. I didn’t want to be judged by those around me, but I didn’t have the power to ignore their judgments, so I became judgmental too. And though I never really fit in with either the “good” kids or the partiers, I decided to align with the “good” kids. Today it’s sometimes painful, or laughable, to look back at how severe I was. I didn’t believe in the religious prohibitions on sex before marriage, but I did see the social consequences in Clinton that those who failed to follow them suffered. I can see now that I had few options as a teenager. I was still close to Darci, but in order to make sure others saw the differences between us, I was more judgmental than I might have been. I also felt that in a town where people married and had children young, teenagers’ missteps carried a lot of weight.

I'll write more about Potts' book--and include more excerpts--in a future post.  

Here is an earlier post about the book, when it was excerpted in The Atlantic.  And here is the New York Times review of the book, by Rachel Louise Snyder, who questions the ethics of what Potts' reveals about Darci in relation to what Potts told Darci she was going to reveal. 

Here is a post about a 2019 NYT op-ed by Potts about Clinton and Van Buren County politics in relation to national trends.