Cutbacks to public media likely to hurt rural communities the most

The disporportionate impact that federal funding cuts to public media will have on rural communities has been a theme of several publications in recent weeks, all in the run up Congress' vote to do just that--take back $1.1 billion previously allocated in support of public media.  

The first item I want to highlight is this July 11, 2025 episode of The Daily (New York Times audio), "Is Congress about to Kill this Local Radio Station?"  It discusses the likely impact of the proposed cuts on a public radio station, KFSK, in Petersburg, Alaska, population 3,000, in the southeast part of the state.  Jessica Cheung of The Daily sets up the interview with KFSK Station Manager Tom Abbott:    

Small rural stations, like KFSK, rely on federal funding to exist. And in a town like Petersburg, that is conservative, a town that voted for Trump by almost two to one in the last election, people are grappling with the Republican Party that is now trying to defund an important resource within the community — a radio station that a lot of people love. So I wanted to talk to Tom about what that’s been like, what’s at stake, and just what a station like KFSK offers people.

They start with a discussion of the place, including its beauty, economy, wildlife, and remoteness. 

Tom Abbott:  We also don’t have any chain stores here. Everything is mom and pop. Even though if you go to the post office, you’ll see a lot of Amazon boxes coming across the counter, because on occasion, there are things that can’t be found here, just because it’s a small market and it’s a small community. And that’s what brings us back around. radio. That’s why there’s only public radio here.

Jessica Cheung:  And if you turn the dial in Petersburg, can you hear any other radio station out there?

Tom Abbott:  Yeah, you can catch 88.5, which is the Lutheran Church.

Jessica Cheung:  And that’s it?

Tom Abbott:  Yeah, they broadcast for the shut ins that can’t make it to their service on Sunday. And that’s the only other service that’s on the FM dial. And there’s nothing on the AM dial.

What follows in the interview is a description of a service that reminds me of the "party line" feature on the local radio station I listened to while growing up in the Arkansas Ozarks.  On KFSK, it is called Tradio.  Here's an excerpt: 

Tom Abbott:  Where the caller calls in to the radio station. We put them on the air. And they either make an announcement about an event coming up. Maybe they’re having a garage sale on Saturday.

Archived Recording:  And we have tons of stuff — chairs, dozens of hand tools, fishing poles, sporting goods. There’s books and movies. And you name it, we got it.

Tom Abbott:  Well, this week, we’ve got a lot of fishing poles. Or this week, we’ve got a lot of baby clothes, something, whatever it may be.

Archived Recording:  Yes, good morning. This is Earl. I got a 2012 Nissan red vehicle with low mileage.

As Cheung expresses it, 

This is basically Facebook Marketplace on the radio.

At some point, Abbott starts talking about how the station ceased live broadcasts of some meetings during the pandemic because what some residents were saying at the meetings constituted misinformation, as locals stated their opinions about public health measures.

Cheung then turns to the likely effect of the proposed federal budget cuts on KFSK. 

Tom Abbott:  Our service would be drastically altered. The CPB funding that we receive is 30 percent of our budget. As public radio does, we rely on membership donations. And that is our largest single source. Our second largest single source funding is CPB funds.

Jessica Cheung:  And without that 30 percent you get from the federal government, what are you contemplating?

Tom Abbott:  As far as the expenses go, personnel expenses are 65 percent of our budget.

Jessica Cheung:  And how many personnel do you have on staff right now?

Tom Abbott:  Five, and there’s two high school kids that help us out when we’re doing live broadcasts in the evenings. And going forward, I foresee KFSK eliminating all staff except for two. And both of those I would like to see it remain two reporters. If you were to go down to one reporter, you’re on an endless cycle of burnout.

Jessica Cheung:  And is it my understanding that with 30 percent cut, you could still survive? Or is taking KFSK off the air an option you’re contemplating?

Tom Abbott:  I don’t think you’d ever have to go off the air, because the infrastructure is here, the antenna is here. But it wouldn’t be locally run anymore. It just couldn’t be. 

Right now, we have 27 individual public radio stations in the state of Alaska. I think that’s going to go down to two, maybe three if this rescission goes through. It’s not going to happen immediately, but it’s going to go that route. And that’s what’s under threat here.

Then Abbott discusses how some NPR reporting has been received by locals. There's a lot here, and I'm just going to include a very brief excerpt:

Tom Abbott:  [W]hat we have control over is local. I have no control over the editorial content of NPR. I have no control over that whatsoever.

In fact, I have, myself, as a station manager, contacted them many times over the years with complaints. I think there are certain subject matters that are covered heavily that are not necessarily representative. They’re certainly not representative of the audience that I serve.

Jessica Cheung:  Is there a specific story that you’re thinking about, maybe one that you wrote to NPR about?

Tom Abbott:  I don’t know. What comes to mind is the propensity for the LGBTQ+ stories. I don’t believe that the percentage of the stories that that subject matter has is equivalent to certainly the service area that I have. And I’m not saying that people are not caring about others. I’m not saying that at all.

I get the editorial decision on it. It’s under threat. But I’m just saying, what is pertinent in your personal life? And I think this holds for Kansas, Nebraska, Oklahoma, wherever you are. Small town, rural areas, to me, it sounds like the editorial decisions are being made for the audiences that are in New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, the big metro areas.

And on occasion, there is a great story that NPR does that covers small-town America or relates to small-town America plenty of times. I’m not saying that they totally have a blind eye towards it. I just think the target audience that NPR has is metro areas.

Jessica Cheung:  And what would you rather hear get coverage by NPR?

Tom Abbott:  Well, what’s the effect of the tariffs on the farmers of America, the seafood industry of America? That would really resonate here locally.

Following on this excellent and very comprehensive podcast focused on KFSK in Alaska, the New York Times editorial board published on July 16, "This is Why America Needs Public Media." Here, I'm just going to excerpt the part that mentions rural places, as well as an acknowledgement that NPR's programming (as distinct from local programming) may not reflect "the citizenry that is subsidizing them": 

When the private sector doesn’t provide an important service, the government often steps in. That is why the framers established the U.S. Postal Service; they believed no one else would deliver the mail to the entire country. Many places in America, especially in rural communities, would not have a library without public funding. Police departments, the military, Medicare, Social Security and public education offer other examples.

* * *

Republicans complain, not always wrongly, that public media reflects left-leaning assumptions and biases. And they can fairly tell NPR and PBS to do a better job of reflecting the citizenry that is subsidizing them.

* * *  

We are reminded of the excesses of the “defund the police” and “abolish ICE” movements on the other side of the ideological spectrum. They adopted a fatalistic view of vital government services, suggesting that their imperfections justified their elimination. They were wrong, and so are the conservatives who want to defund public media.

* * *

Public media, like every other major institution, is imperfect. But it improves the lives of millions of Americans, and it strengthens American interests. 

I earlier commented on NPR's political bias here.  To be clear, I completely trust NPR's reporting on factual matters, such as whether the 2020 Presidential election was stolen.  It was not.  I simply think that the entity's editorial slant is often far enough to the left of middle America to fuel distrust by many--as suggested by some of the patrons of KFSK.

Finally, today, NPR's Frank Langfitt reported from Dunmore, West Virginia, under the headline, "Cuts to public media will smash budgets of some local radio stations."  I'll just include some key excerpts here:  

[S]ome of those hardest hit by Congress' decision last week to clawback $1.1 billion in federal funds are small radio operations that provide local news and information to rural communities.

One is Allegheny Mountain Radio, a cooperative of three stations which cover Pocahontas County, West Virginia as well as Bath and Highland counties in Virginia. Allegheny Mountain is not an NPR member station, but it does run NPR's daily newscast, a quick run down of top stories.

* * * 

Allegheny Mountain's mix of programming includes local news and information as well as gospel, country and blues shows. A recent episode of the Noon Hour Magazine reported on a $5,000 signing bonus to attract new teachers and how the energy demands from data centers could eventually affect this remote region where people sometimes have to drive 60 miles to reach the nearest shopping center.

Allegheny Mountain relies on funding from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB) for up to 65 percent of its annual budget of about half a million dollars. Smith says his stations do have financial reserves, but the hole in their budget could become existential.

Langfitt quotes station's general manager:

There is only so long that you can continue to exist when you are operating in the red. ... At some point that well runs dry.

One bottom line, this quoting the NYT editorial:

[T]he “national” part of NPR (or National Public Radio, as it used to call itself) that chafes conservatives may well be just fine without federal funds.   

It is local stations, trying to provide local programming, that will suffer most from these cuts, along with their listeners.  

One other detail worth noting on the Congressional vote to claw back the public media funding:  Senator Mike Rounds (R) of South Dakota had previously indicated that he would oppose the cuts but decided to support the package after "top Trump administration officials" said they would steer unspent funds 'to continue grants to tribal radio stations without interruption' for next year."  Yet, Loris Taylor of Native Public Media commented: 

There is currently no clear path for redirecting these funds to tribal broadcasters without significant legislative and administrative changes.

Anti-trans policies hit hard in rural America

In his second inaugural address, President Trump declared “As of today, it will henceforth be the official policy of the United States government that there are only two genders: male and female.”

Transgender individuals account for roughly 1.6 million people in the United States, accounting for only roughly .48% of the US population. Roughly one in six transgender individuals live in a rural area.

Over the past decade, anti-trans rhetoric and policies have become a focal point in the culture war for the Republican Party and the far right. The ACLU is currently tracking 388 laws that target LGBTQ+ individuals, many of which specifically target transgender individuals and their civil rights (from gender-affirming care, bathroom access, ability to participate in sports, curriculum content, drag show bans, redefining sex, and more)(for a prior blog post about anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, see here). 26 states currently ban gender-affirming care for minors in some capacity (16 of which are being challenged in court; 10 states have bans that are currently enforced). These laws all explicitly target trans individuals, with all 26 states having exceptions for puberty blockers, hormone treatment, and gender affirming surgery if the patients are cisgender. In addition to laws targeting transgender minor's access to gender-affirming care, seven states currently have laws that aim to restrict access to gender-affirming care for transgender adults by targeting insurance policies. 

Anti-trans rhetoric and laws have clear implications for the safety of the trans community. On January 27th, 2025, President Trump signed an executive order banning transgender individuals from serving in the military, echoing an order he signed in his first term. The order is estimated to affect around 15,000 military personnel, which is sure to affect not only their livelihoods (if they are discharged from the service), but also has the strong possibility of forcing transgender service members back into the closet in order to keep their position and station. The order also included language that directly insinuated that transgender individuals were not mentally healthy, were physically unable to serve, and were unable to have "the humility and selflessness required of a service member." 

The Human Rights Campaign has tracked the deaths of 265 individuals from 2018 to 2024 whose deaths were caused by "anti-trans motivations." In 2024, 32% of these victims were misgendered or misnamed in the press after being murdered. 

Anti-trans laws, in addition to restricting access to care, have a significant impact on the mental health of trans youth. According to the Trevor Project:

From 2018 to 2022, 48 anti-transgender laws were enacted in the U.S. across 19 different state governments. The study examined the causal relationship between these laws and suicide risk over this five-year time period, using national survey data collected from more than 61,000 transgender and nonbinary youth. Results concluded that, during this time period, anti-transgender laws significantly increased incidents of past-year suicide attempts among transgender and nonbinary youth by as much as 72%.

While anti-trans rhetoric and policies have a clear negative impact on the trans community, its effects hit especially hard in rural areas. Being transgender in a rural community means your access to much needed support is likely lower than compared to your urban counterparts. One study found that 47% of rural transgender individuals do not feel emotionally supported by their families; and that "only 16.3% of rural transgender adults said they felt supported by their families, compared to 30.4% of urban transgender adults." Further exacerbating this lack of emotional support is that for trans individuals in rural communities, is that they are likely to be the only member of the community who is not cisgender.

It is known that general support (from family, or others in your social sphere) and health access are incredibly helpful in reducing the risk of suicide ideation for trans individuals. In rural areas however, trans individuals are less likely to have access to the technology needed for virtual support, less likely to find a supportive in-person community, and less likely to have access to medical care within their community (for prior blog post about LGBTQ+ issues in rural medical care, see here).

When it comes to accessing medical care, trans individuals are likely to face even more obstacles than those already faced in rural communities. Roughly one in three rural transgender individuals experience some form of discrimination by their healthcare provider. A third of rural transgender patients further report needing to inform their provider about their specific health care needs in order to receive adequate treatment (for prior blog posts about attempts in Colorado to educate rural healthcare providers on transgender care, see here). 

This lack of access and acceptance from medical providers carries a heavy toll. According to the 2018 Colorado Transgender Health Survey, having access to inclusive care resulted in being less likely to delay care due to discrimination, being less likely to have depression, and lower rates of attempted suicide. 

It is increasingly normal to see and hear anti-trans rhetoric, and increasingly common to see the introduction of anti-trans legislation. These anti-trans actions have very real, very painful, and very lethal effects on our fellow Americans. We must actively work towards supporting the trans community, especially those who live in rural areas. 

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. 

Scared straight: The legislative war on LGBTQ+ people

This year’s Pride felt different. June, a month that corporate America has for several years doted on as a rainbow festival, returned to its painful, humble beginnings: a protest. In 2023 alone, more than  540 anti-LGBTQ+ bills have been introduced in state legislatures, and 45 anti-LGBTQ+ laws have been enacted, with the majority targeting transgender and nonbinary people. Laws passed in certain states have banned gender-affirming care, allowed misgendering, banned drag performances, and censored school curriculums, including books.

Legislative attacks on the LGBTQ+ community are so worrisome that last week Canada issued a travel advisory to warn its LGBTQ+ community about U.S. laws that may affect them. The country’s Global Affairs department did not specify which states, instead advising travelers to “check relevant state and local laws” because “Canadians could face certain barriers and risks when they travel outside Canada.” In a similarly alarming vein, the Human Rights Campaign declared a ‘State of Emergency’ for LGBTQ+ Americans for the first time in its 40-year history following this year’s spike in anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. 

This past June, New York City’s West Village was dripping confetti, flags, and extravagant floats, celebrating the progress the city has made since the 1969 Stonewall Riots. Yet, amongst the crowds of urbanites in brightly colored bikinis and wigs, were signs that read, “Not All Country Boys are Bigots,” “Ban Assault Rifles Not Drag Queens,” or “Y’all Means All.” The dichotomy paints the bigger picture of Pride in America—one that includes the growing struggles of rural LGBTQ+ people. 

While overall support for the LGBTQ+ community has never been stronger, “nearly half (49%) of LGBT youth in rural areas and small towns stated that their community was somewhat or very unaccepting of LGBTQ people compared to just over a quarter (26%) of those in urban and suburban areas,” according to The Trevor Project. 

The urban-rural divide in LGBTQ+ community support hurts LGBTQ+ people. Equal rights cannot afford an “us” versus “them” rhetoric. Society has labeled some states as more “liberal” or “safer” than others, when in reality there are still pockets of "rural" and "red" in states like California. Read more about polarization and red LGBTQ+ lives here and here. 

Rural resistance to LGBTQ+ people and same-sex marriage can be attributed to a cultural divide. Luke Boso in “Rural Resentment and LGBTQ Equality,” posits that “[m]any rural Americans, especially in predominately white communities, feel that they are under attack” because policies that protect LGBTQ+ people from discrimination threaten “several core tenets of rural identity: community solidarity, self-reliance, and compliance with religiously informed gender and sexual norms.” Pro-LGBTQ+ legislation symbolizes a changing America and opposing LGBTQ+ rights is one mechanism to protect and assert rural identity.

Representation of LGBTQ+ people in mainstream media and popular culture suggests that LGBTQ+ people mainly live in cities or on the coasts. However, “an estimated three million or more LGBT people call rural America home,” according to The Movement Advancement Project’s 2019 Report. That number will likely grow, with “roughly 10% of youth identifying as LGBT,” and “with rural youth just as likely as urban youth to identify as LGBT.” Yet, rural LGBTQ+ people face additional challenges such as fewer alternatives to service providers when facing discrimination. You can read more about LGBTQ+ discrimination in healthcare here and here. 

Anti-LGBTQ+ legislation has become so threatening that families have fled their states out of fear that their children could face prejudice or violence. In a recent VICE News video, parents discuss leaving their schools and jobs behind to keep their transgender children safe from alt-right extremists who want to force their kids to be someone they are not. The Shappley family from Texas discuss leaving for a state with laws in place to prevent parents of trans children from being extradited after they move. Meanwhile, the Trujilo family from Arizona discuss their frustration with their state laws banning transgender kids from playing sports and getting gender-affirming surgery. 

“I get really freaked out,” Daniel Trujilo (15 years old) says, “they want to arrest parents or pediatricians and people that are helping.” 

“We are often reduced to just body parts,” says Daniel. 

“We have all of our family and friends here, and Daniel would lose more than he would gain,” says Lizette Trujilo (Daniel’s mother). 

Yet, there is hope to found as LGBTQ+ representation in government increases. Last week, Fabian Nelson, 38, became Mississippi’s first openly LGBTQ+ legislator. “When he campaigned in South Jackson, he talked about the city’s water crisis and about crime. When he campaigned in his district's rural areas, he talked about broadband access and economic development.” While Nelson’s platform strictly focused on specific issues facing his district, he wants people to understand that Mississippi has someone to fight anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. 

On the dangers that lurk in the rural South

Margaret Renkl writes in her most recent column in the New York Times of a new monograph, Dark Waters (Aperture 2023), by photographer Kristine Potter.  Here are some excerpts from Renkl's column, which strike me as echoing the themes of my 2013 book chapter, "The Rural Lawscape:  Space Tames Law Tames Space," in which I hypothesize the relative absence of law in rural spaces, which are more challenging and costly to police--and to keep people safe--because of the nature rural spatiality.  I also wrote about that book chapter here in relation to a McClatchy Press series about the practical realities of rural law enforcement in California.  

Here are some salient excerpts from Renkl's essay on Potter's book: 

The landscapes in these photographs are not so much threatening as bereft of protection. Entering such beautiful spaces is always a risk for a woman alone — not because of anything inherently dangerous about a mist-drenched stream or a bamboo-clotted riverbank or even a rocky waterfall, but because bucolic settings aren’t always as empty as they seem. And nobody would hear you scream if danger has followed you into the woods — or if danger is already there, just waiting for you to arrive.

* * * 

In the South, our most isolated places are at once the most beautiful and the most blood-soaked, and Ms. Potter understands that women are in no way the sole victims of this violent legacy. In one photo, an older white man teaches a young Black man how to tie on a fishing hook. The younger man’s position — kneeling, head bowed, eyes cast downward, arms raised, wrists together — suggests both resignation and supplication. He could be learning to tie a hook on a fishing line. He could as easily be crouching to avoid blows. He could as easily be presenting his wrists for handcuffs.

Our deep woods are lovely, our still waters restful, but the Southern landscape has never been a safe place for a woman alone. It has never been a safe place for a Black man alone. It has never been a safe place for L.G.B.T.Q. people of any race or gender. To enter an isolated place alone has always been to take a risk, and we have known that all our lives.

Rural Policing (Part 2): Community solutions

In my previous post, I discussed police shortages in rural areas, some adverse effects of these shortages, and the rise in sheriffs making individual determinations as to what laws they will enforce. 

I am extending the discussion from that post by exploring how communities, particularly those of color, have found their own solutions for the lack of adequate policing and general lack of resources. I also explore the "punishments" these communities receive while police officers are kept mostly unaccountable. 

I was inspired to continue this discussion after watching Check-It, a documentary in which a queer community forms a self-defense group after multiple people experience brutal attacks for their sexuality. While the self-defense group was initially characterized as a "gang" because of their brutal attacks on homophobic assailants, the group has now created a clothing label and funded a community center where they provide members with resources, help people develop practical skills, and organize fashion shows. Check-Its change was triggered when some of its members ended up in jail, causing others to realize that their violence inevitably kept some members in the cycle of poverty they all wished to escape. 

Key to the development of the Check-It community was the lack of adequate police response and even violence by the police against victims who sought help from them. Similarly, rural people take up arms to defend themselves because of a similar lack of adequate police responses to violent crimes, as I discussed in part I. Like those in Urban, D.C., many rural people believe their individual gun ownership will reduce crime rates.  It seems that police everywhere are failing people everywhere.

However, a crucial problem arises when abandoned groups of people take their defense and protection into their own hands: the court system fails them after every other part of the criminal justice system has done so. For instance, when queer people, and more predominantly people of color, engage in self-defense, they disproportionately end up in jail.

That was the case in Out at Night, a documentary discussing the lives of four lesbian women who each were sentenced to over eight years of prison for stabbing a man that charged at them after yelling homophobic epithets. Despite meeting all the elements of self-defense and having video and witness evidence, the women's self-defense claims were rejected, and all four women were charged with gang assault. 

This was also the case for Luke O Donovan, who ended up serving 2 years for pulling a knife on a group of men that attacked him and yelled derogatory remarks at him. Surely, these are not the only instances in which self-defense claims have resulted in the imprisonment of innocent people. 

Furthermore, it is often the case that women will end up in jail for fighting back against men who abuse them. This hole in the legal system can be particularly damaging to rural women who often face heightened instances of domestic violence. Exemplified by Brenda Golden, an attorney, and Muscogee Nation citizen, who had the police called on her for hitting her ex-husband with an ashtray after he would not stop abusing her. 

The horror of these instances is that, after being failed by the police, who cannot or will not help them, people take matters into their own hands and end up in jail anyway. This punishment happens at the hands of those who would not help victims in the first place. What's worse is that the root of this problem is not particularly clear or simple. Cynthia Lee's, Minnesota law review article suggests that self-defense's "reasonable person" standard is to blame for the horrors. While Phyllis Chesler suggests that the problem arises out of our gendered expectations, " Women are held to higher and different standards than men, who are expected to be violent; people do not expect and will not tolerate women to be violent, even in self-defense." 

The silver lining that comes from this issue is that communities find ways to help their members, even when the state and police fail to step in. This brings me back to Check-It, who seemingly came to the realization that self-defense measures can have varying results, instead, they turned their efforts to providing resources that help people change their lives. 

While rural members who take up arms and stay at home might not experience such devastating outcomes, similar resource centers are created in rural communities. This often occurs through churches, as exemplified in The Overnighters, (another documentary), where homeless rural people, including homeless LGBT+ people, seek refuge in their local churches.

It seems that community work is crucial to solving policing issues; something that marginalized communities have always known and provided for each other. How many problems could be fixed or reduced if we offered more funding for communities to provide better resources for themselves? And should we leave communities to resolve these issues alone? Or is a complete revamping of our criminal justice system? 

Queer Exile, and looking back at those left behind

After wrapping up our discussion on LGBTQ+ people in rural contexts, I wanted to take a step back and identify with Eli Clare's Exile & Pride. 

Looking back on his queer development in rural Oregon, Eli says, "I would never walk down Main Street holding hands with a [same-sex ] lover. That simple act would be too much." Eli's fear of being identified as queer by those in his community is not an experience limited to rural lives. 

Growing up in densely populated Miami, I, too, feared holding hands with my same-sex partner as we walked the malls in my hometown. Despite Eli's claim that urban life offers a deeper level of anonymity, I still believed that someone who knew my family could be lurking around and quickly reveal my queerness. 

As a result of some of this identity suppression, and in seeking to move into the middle class, Eli decided to leave his rural hometown. I also identify with Eli on his reasoning for leaving his hometown. As he stated, "simply put, my desire for [queer] community, for physical safety, for emotional well-being, and psychological comfort compelled me to leave."

I, too, found that despite living in a city, I was surrounded by emotional instability and lacked a free connection with the queer community. My unsupportive and openly homophobic family turned the big city away from anonymity into a place of anxiety and discomfort. Like Eli, I wanted to move out to a place where there was no one who had participated in my abuse. 

It is interesting how similar mine and Eli's experiences were despite our differences in upbringing. I often wonder if the rural-urban divide represented much of a difference at all. This made me wonder about the many barriers the queer experience can transcend.  

Despite deeply identifying with Eli's "exile," I think back mostly to what Eli says when discussing queerness as urban-centered. In embracing an urban lifestyle... " Have we collectively turned our backs on the small towns?...  that one by one are passing local anti-gay ordinances." 

Recently, Florida has become infamous for trailblazing anti-LGBT+ legislation. This makes me think back on the queer friends I have left behind. Florida is becoming hostile to LGBT+ people, regardless of whether they are rural or urban.  

Most recently, Florida's newest bill HB991, makes it a per se defamation claim to accuse people of transphobia or transphobic discrimination. This bill entitled those "defamed" to damages of at least $35,000. On its face, this bill will lead to chilling speech for those critical of Florida's anti-LGBT+ bills. This law may be targeted against those who pinpoint and criticize the transphobia inherent in Florida's, also recent, banning of gender-affirming care for minors. 

However, this is only the beginning of Florida's hostility towards the trans community, with another anti-LGBT bill recently proposed in Florida. The "reverse woke" act is seemingly a sequel to the stop-woke bill that passed in Florida last year. This reverse woke act attempts to influence insurance companies to stop providing any gender-affirming care. The act states that any employer or insurance company providing gender-affirming care will be forced to, in perpetuity,  provide care that "reverses gender dysphoria treatment."

The confusion and ambiguity brought on by the "reverse woke" bill is not a new strategy for Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. Last year, Florida's "Don't say gay" bill used similar ambiguity to ban discussions of LGBT identity in Florida classrooms. The bill's vague language led to the adoption of a wide range of different and often discriminatory school policies. 

For starters, less populated counties like Alachua County now mandate their students use bathrooms according to their “biological sex” to better align with the law. Similarly, the more populated Orange County School District in Orlando verbally warned all its teachers not to wear rainbows, to remove all pictures of same-sex spouses, and to remove all LGBTQ+ safe space stickers from classroom doors. Further, the Miami-Dade school district preemptively stripped all its schools of LGBT+ protections and banned discussions of the Supreme Court's same-sex marriage decision, Obergafell.

In going back to Eli's words, I find that, like those from rural communities, I sometimes struggle with whether to return to my hometown, despite the contrast in population. In light of Florida's antics, the question has become harder to answer. It seems like some experiences from the rural-urban divide aren't so different after all. 

Sexual and gender minority health care in rural America (Part I): The state of affairs

When I told my family practitioner that I was having sex with men, he walked out of the consultation room and never treated me again. The medical profession was not, as I had naively hoped, immune to the stigmas that permeated the rest of my life as a gay kid living in rural Virginia (prior post on LGBTQIA+ bullying here). 

A few years later, I expressed an interest to my replacement doctor in starting Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis (PrEP), a preventive treatment commonly used by gay and bisexual men, among other at risk populations, which decreases the risk of contracting HIV sexually by 99% according to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) (prior post on rural HIV treatment here). My doctor informed me that he had "never heard of that" and was "not comfortable prescribing" it to me.  

My experiences with health care providers are far from unique for sexual and gender minority (SGM) populations residing in rural America. In a CBS News article headlined "Transgender people in rural America struggle to find doctors willing or able to provide care," Tammy Rainey, a transgender woman who needs hormone estrogen, details her inability to access gender affirming care near her hometown in rural northern Mississippi. I mention Rainey, specifically, because my own doctor's words echo in her doctor's response to her request for an estrogen prescription: 

I just don't feel like I know enough about that. I don't want to get involved in that.

I now drive an additional 35 minutes towards Washington, D.C. for doctor's appointments. Rainey has to drive 170 miles round trip to pick up her estrogen from a provider in Memphis, Tennessee.

It is well documented, including by the CDC, that rural Americans suffer significantly poorer health outcomes relative to urban Americans. These disparities arise from a myriad of social determinants of rural health, many of which have been discussed on this blog, including financial constraints and the intertwined phenomena of rural doctor shortages and hospital closures. 

SGMs in rural America, a population estimated to be up to 3.8 million, face the same health disparities as their non-SGM counterparts, but also confront unique challenges as SGMs that are amplified by the rural experience. Specifically, heteronormativity, discrimination, and stigma distinguish the health of SGM groups in ways that demand specific attention from academics, public health professionals, and policymakers. 

As Ilan Meyer identifies in an editorial in the American Journal of Public Health, from an institutional perspective heteronormativity contributes to health disparities by disadvantaging SGM people in: 

the selection of research priorities, the design of public health prevention and intervention programs, the development of standards of care, access to care, and the provision of culturally sensitive care.

A WVUToday article from last year summarizing Zachary Ramsey's research highlights specific examples of obstacles SGMs face as a result of heteronormativity in health care systems, including insurance plans that fail to cover imperative SGM treatments and a knowledge gap between health care providers' training and SGM health needs. The existence of this knowledge gap is evident in a 2019 study conducted by the Movement Advancement Project (MAP), "Where We Call Home: Transgender People in Rural America," which found 23% of transgender people in rural America had to teach their provider about transgender health care needs in order to receive necessary care.

Zooming in, a 2021 Center for American Progress article, "Protecting and Advancing Health Care for Transgender Adult Communities," details how recurring exposure to discrimination, stigma, and the threat of violence, in conjunction with disadvantageous sociopolitical and economic risk factors, materially contributes to worsened overall health outcomes for SGMs, such as increased rates of chronic health conditions. Notably, mental illness among SGMs resulting from regular psychological stress is of particular concern in rural areas, where specialized SGM mental health resources are almost never available.   

Moreover, as I experienced in rural Virginia, the trauma of anti-SGM discrimination and stigma is frequently reenacted by poor clinical care. According to MAP's 2019 analysis, one in three transgender people in rural America experienced discrimination by their health care provider in the past year. Similarly, a 2021 Williams Institute survey found 38.3% of SGM patients expressed concern about being judged negatively when accessing health care due to their SGM status. Experience and fear of stigma in health care settings has significant implications beyond concerns of bedside manner. A 2016 study published in PLOS ONE identified that higher stigma in health care settings directly correlated to lower utilization of primary care services by rural SGM groups, thereby contributing to health disparities.       

Refocusing on rural contexts, MAP's 2019 analysis highlights four ways rural life exacerbates negative health consequences experienced by SGMs: (1) increased visibility, (2) ripple effects, (3) fewer alternatives, and (4) fewer support structures. First, increased visibility, arising from decreased population and heightened sense of community, renders non-conforming SGMs more at risk for harassment. Second, the intimate nature of rural communities increases the likelihood that ostracization by a portion of the community, such as a religious body, will have a ripple effect that spreads unlike it would in an urban setting. Third, scarcity of rural health care providers is especially challenging for SGMs because accessible providers often are not informed on their distinct needs and sometimes are religiously affiliated, such that, they can deny service under state religious exemption laws. Finally, geographic isolation means fewer support structures generally, a reality which leaves rural SGMs struggling to find adequate support in virtually every area ranging from social to legal.        

While I have painted a bleak picture of the American public health landscape as it pertains to SGM populations in rural areas, there are actionable ways in which we as individuals, local communities, and a nation can improve this state of affairs (prior post on improving transgender health care in rural Colorado here). Critically, adopting an intersectional framework that centers SGMs existing at the axis of multiple marginalized identities, specifically transgender people of color, is necessary for effective mitigation of SGM health disparities. 

On the LGBTQ experience in "red" California

Hailey Branson-Potts reports for the Los Angeles Times.  Here's an excerpt: 

After five people were shot dead in a gay nightclub in Colorado Springs, Colo., Matthew Grigsby thought about Club 501.

It was the only gay bar in Redding, a Northern California city of 93,000 that, like Colorado Springs, is deeply religious and conservative.

There, Grigsby felt comfortable holding hands or dancing with another man.

Club 501 closed this summer, leaving Grigsby and other LGBTQ people without a place where they could be themselves. The news from Club Q in Colorado Springs was another gut punch.

“There’s no safe place anywhere,” Grigsby, 53, said, his voice shaking. “It doesn’t matter where we are or what we do. People are going to come for us.”

In politically red stretches of California — from the old logging towns in the north through the dusty farmlands of the Central Valley — the Colorado Springs massacre was yet another devastating reminder of how difficult and lonely it can be to be queer in conservative America.  

On the midterm race in Washington's (rural-ish) Third Congressional District

This is the feature, "The Midterm Race that Has it All," on the front page of yesterday's Sunday Review in the New York Times, written by Michelle Goldberg.  Here's an except focusing on the rural and working-class elements of the story: 

The question of how you win an election in Washington’s Third Congressional District — a stretch along the southwestern border with Oregon that’s been reliably Republican, voting for Trump by four points in 2020 but still considered fairly moderate — is not just a political debate for right-wing YouTube. The race, pitting [Joe] Kent, a burgeoning MAGA-world star, against Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, a 34-year-old rural working-class Democrat who is emphasizing abortion rights, has national implications.

Her father, a Mexican immigrant, was an evangelical preacher; she told me she learned public speaking in his Texas church. She and her husband live, with their 13-month-old son, off an unpaved road in a house they built themselves “nail by nail,” as she likes to say on the stump. Like Kent, she is good-looking, resembling a taller, lankier Winona Ryder, which shouldn’t matter but probably does.

* * *

The shop Gluesenkamp Perez runs with her husband, Dean’s Car Care, employs eight people, and Gluesenkamp Perez speaks passionately about the struggles of both small-business owners and working parents. She often talks about putting infant noise-protecting headphones on her baby registry; because she couldn’t find a day care spot, her son spent a lot of time with her at the auto shop.

“If you think you can spend 15K a year on day care, per kid, and save for retirement, and save up for a mortgage, you’re living in a really different economy than me and most of the people that I know,” she said at one rally.

In high school, Gluesenkamp Perez told me, she was so obsessed with civics that she was active in both the Young Republicans and the Young Democrats. It was only when she was a freshman in college and her brother came out as gay that she decided the Republican Party wasn’t for her.

Kent beat Jaime Herrera Beutler in the Republican primary a few months ago. She was one of ten Republicans to vote in favor of Trump's impeachment. 

Increasing polarization between so-called red states and blue states

Shawn Hubler and.Jill Cowan reported yesterday for the New York Times under the headline, "Flurry of New Laws Move Blue and Red States Further Apart."  While I often remind folks that "red" is not synonymous with "rural state" and "blue" is not necessarily synonymous with "urban state," I'm doing to indulge the shorthand here, making it my justification for blogging about the story here on Legal Ruralism.  A brief excerpt from the Hubler-Cowan story follows:   

After the governor of Texas ordered state agencies to investigate parents for child abuse if they provide certain medical treatments to their transgender children, California lawmakers proposed a law making the state a refuge for transgender youths and their families.

When Idaho proposed a ban on abortions that empowers relatives to sue anyone who helps terminate a pregnancy after six weeks, nearby Oregon approved $15 million to help cover the abortion expenses of patients from out-of-state.

As Republican activists aggressively pursue conservative social policies in state legislatures across the country, liberal states are taking defensive actions. Spurred by a U.S. Supreme Court that is expected to soon upend an array of longstanding rights, including the constitutional right to abortion, left-leaning lawmakers from Washington to Vermont have begun to expand access to abortion, bolster voting rights and denounce laws in conservative states targeting L.G.B.T.Q. minors.

Other culture wars issues playing out in state legislatures:  abortion and voting rights.  The NYT piece continues:

Some legal analysts also say the anticipated rollback of abortion rights could throw a host of other privacy rights into state-level turmoil, from contraception to health care. Meanwhile, entrenched partisanship, which has already hobbled federal decision making, could block attempts to impose strong national standards in Congress.

“We’re potentially entering a new era of state-centered policymaking,” said Karthick Ramakrishnan, a professor of public policy and political science at the University of California, Riverside. “We may be heading into a future where you could have conservative states and progressive states deciding they are better off pushing their own visions of what government should be.”

The story notes that control of the state legislature is split between parties in only two states:  Minnesota and Virginia.  Contrast that with 15 states with divided legislatures just three decades ago.  Hubler and Cowan note a lot of legislative activity in the American West, in particular.  

As a related matter, my colleague recently noted on Twitter that California is now banning business travel to 20 states based on their regressive laws on LGBTQ issues.   

And that reminds me of this January 2017 column, by Roger Cohen for the New York Times, published soon after Trump's election:   

Getting America out of its mess begins with the acknowledgment that New York and California do not have a stranglehold on truth, any more than Kansas and Missouri do. Out there in God-fearing gun country there are plenty of smart, upstanding Americans who, as Mark Lilla of Columbia University put it, paraphrasing Bernie Sanders, are “sick and tired of hearing about liberals’ damn bathrooms.”

Oh, and after this Hubler-Cowan New York Times story on red-blue divide was published, Oklahoma passed a draconian abortion law, providing yet another piece of evidence of this red-blue divergence.  

Trans Nevadan, rural advocate seeks Lt. Governor job

 Molly Sprayregan reports for LGBTQNation under the headline is "Nevada’s Kimi Cole could be the first out trans statewide official elected in the country." Here's an excerpt: 

Nevada Democrat Kimi Cole announced her campaign this week to become the state’s next lieutenant governor. 

A victory for Cole would make her the first out transgender statewide elected official in the country.Cole is currently the chair of the Nevada Democratic Rural Caucus and before that she was the chair of the Douglas County Democratic Party.

She has devoted her political career to uplifting the voices of rural voters and told Politico that Democrats have a lot to learn when it comes to messaging to rural people.

“Talking points will [often] either come out of Las Vegas or Washington, D.C.,” she said, “and they really don’t connect with rural voters.”

Trans/queer haven in Colorado seeks to be left alone

 NPR reported a few days ago out of Custer County, population 4255, under the headline "A Would-Be Trans And Queer Haven In Rural Colorado Just Wants To Be Left Alone."  Here's the lede:  

There's a 6-foot-tall fence going up around the Tenacious Unicorn Ranch in rural Custer County, Colo. The people who live there say they need it because they've been the target of harassment since they relocated the trans-friendly ranch there in 2020.

The perimeter fence will add security to the ranch, which also has newly installed security cameras. There's a tension on the property, so much so that co-owner Penny Logue and fellow owner Bonnie Nelson, both transgender women, carry pistols at all times. One wall of the communal geodesic-dome ranch house is stocked with various assault weapons.

"There's some degree where we want that [militaristic] perspective," Nelson said. "All we want is to be left alone."

The 40-acre property, apart from its status as a working sheep and alpaca ranch, also serves as a "trans and queer haven" southeast of the small mountain town of Westcliffe. Nine people live on the site currently, less than half of the planned occupancy long term.

Improving transgender health care in rural Colorado

The Colorado Sun reports out of Cripple Creek, Colorado, population 1,189, under the headline, "New program aims to teach rural Colorado health providers about transgender care."  Here's an excerpt:

Called the Extension for Community Health Outcomes, or ECHO, this nonprofit offers virtual, interactive classes on complex health issues to providers outside of major metropolitan areas.

Starting in 2020, ECHO Colorado launched a monthly class dedicated to teaching people about gender-affirming care, which attracted 45 providers, including Bullis, from Colorado and surrounding states. Classes covered topics including proper terminology, creating an inclusive environment and managing a patient’s hormones. The hope moving forward is that a growing number of providers across rural America will learn these lessons, thus expanding access to gender-affirming health care.

The ECHO approach was created in 2003 by liver disease specialist Dr. Sanjeev Arora, at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. His goal was to mentor rural providers on how to treat hepatitis C patients who lacked adequate care and couldn’t make the trip to a city. Almost two decades later, the program has spread to many other states and offers classes on health conditions including opioid addiction, diabetes and HIV.

Accentuating the rural in the Secretary of Transportation's job

A few weeks ago, Pete Buttigieg appeared before the Senate for hearings on his nomination to be the Biden administration's Secretary of Transportation, and yesterday he was confirmed for that role by a vote of 86-13.  This nomination and confirmation have been most discussed because Buttigieg is the first openly LGBTQ cabinet member in U.S. history--and that is pretty remarkable.   

Twitter thread on 
Senator Tester's 
comments re: Buttigieg 
nomination and
confirmation as
Secretary 
of Transportation

But there are ruralist reasons to focus on this nomination.  I think that when most people think of the Department of Transportation, they are thinking of airports and train stations--think of the film "planes, trains [but less] automobiles."  Most people are focused on transportation infrastructure that is visible to metropolitan folks--or to those driving across the country, e.g., interstate highways.  But transportation infrastructure is also critical to rural folks--especially roads and the links that rural folks enjoy to airports and rail.  Some representative stories are here and here.  

So I thought it was interesting that when Pete Buttigieg appeared on January 21, 2021 before the U.S. Senate, Jon Tester, the senior Senator from Montana, commented on what is at stake for rural residents when it comes to federal transportation policy.  

Here's a transcript of some of Tester's comments:

Your intellect has preceded you into the room. You have put on a clinic on how a nominee should work and act. You haven’t avoided the questions. You’ve been straightforward. And you know what the hell you’re talking about. And that’s really pretty damn refreshing. 

Infrastructure in rural America is as important as it is anywhere in the country. And making sure that rural America has access to the dollars, even though we don’t have as many people per square mile, is critically important – and let me give you an example: There’s a little highway that runs south of my farm. It’s about twenty miles long. It was built when I was in grade school and extended out when I was in high school. That little highway saves every farmer that lives out in my community, literally hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars every year. Why? Less flat tires, front ends aren’t knocked out of align, less wear and tear on vehicles so you can run ‘em longer. That is why we need to make sure rural America is taken care of.

This part at the end is just so practical, so concrete that I can hear my father saying it.  He was always fretting about whether we were optimally taking care of our vehicles so that their lives were preserved.  The cost of new tires, of re-aligning a front end ... these are meaningful expenses for many rural Americans.  May sound little small potatoes for city folks, but that just shows their disconnectedness from rural livelihoods and rural household budgets.  

So who voted against Buttigieg?  lots of senators from lots states with significant rural populations:  Cotton (R-AR); Rubio (R-FL); Hawley (R-MO); Cruz (R-TX); Cassidy (R-LA); Blackburn (R-TN); Shelby (R-AL): Tuberville (R-AL); Scott (R-SC); Marshall (R-KS); Scott (R-FL); and Hagerty (R-TN).  Of course, regardless of the amount of rural territory, surely all of these senators have the ability to see how an intelligent technocratic Secretary of Transportation can be a benefit to their states.  

Biden's Executive Order on Racial Equity recognizes rural disadvantage

President Biden signed an "Executive Order On Advancing Racial Equity and Support for Underserved Communities Through the Federal Government" on January 20, 2021, his first day in office, and I was intrigued to see that it concerned a lot more than race.  Indeed, it includes "persons who live in rural areas" as well as "persons otherwise adversely affected by persistent poverty or inequality."  "Persistent poverty" is a federal government term of art for counties that have experienced high poverty (20% or more) for the last four decennial censuses, and the vast majority of those counties are nonmetro.  Thus, that last category seems also to be a nod toward rural disadvantage.  

Here's the full text of the definition section, with the salient portion highlighted.  

Sec. 2. Definitions. For purposes of this order: (a) The term “equity” means the consistent and systematic fair, just, and impartial treatment of all individuals, including individuals who belong to underserved communities that have been denied such treatment, such as Black, Latino, and Indigenous and Native American persons, Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders and other persons of color; members of religious minorities; lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ+) persons; persons with disabilities; persons who live in rural areas; and persons otherwise adversely affected by persistent poverty or inequality.

It'll be interesting to see how this is actualized.  Right now, as an executive order, this appears mostly symbolic.  

Nevertheless, it reminds me that of Guinier and Torres' suggestion in The Miner's Canary that rural whites are "political Blacks" for purposes of the Texas 10% plan.  Personally, I think it's good to try to build coalitions among disadvantaged populations.  

LGBT in rural America - the need for special programming?

The dominant cultural narrative of LGBT people living in rural parts of the United States is that a person will come out as gay and then move to a progressive urban center. Although true to some extent, this narrative ignores a large population of LGBT people living in agricultural communities. This population faces unique challenges and has unique characteristics that are molded by the circumstances in which they live.

As discussed in this earlier blog post, in 2014 the USDA Office of the Assistant Secretary of Civil Rights, in collaboration with the National Center for Lesbian Rights and The True Colors Fund, began a program to engage with rural LGBT communities. Titled the LGBT Rural Summit Series and the #RuralPride Campaign, the intention of the project was for “federal agencies to share information relating to policies, programs, and services that exist to protect, promote and strengthen LGBT rural communities.”

However, in August 2016 conservative talk show host Rush Limbaugh theorized on his radio program that the program is a strategic effort by the Obama Administration to make rural areas less conservative. This led to increased media awareness of the campaign and caused it to garner significant criticism as being unnecessary and a waste of taxpayer money.

Poverty, Employment, and Rural LGBT People 

According to a survey conducted by the Williams Institute, about 10% of same-sex couples live in rural America. These couples are statistically more likely to live in poverty than their urban counterparts. Female same-sex couples fare the worst in rural areas, as their poverty rates jump from 4.5% in a large city to 14.1% in a rural one.

Employment nondiscrimination laws protect LGBT people from suffering adverse employment actions because of their sexual orientation. Typically these are added by amending existing nondiscrimination ordinances, but occasionally they may be drafted as stand-alone ordinances. Some states have passed statewide nondiscrimination laws, while others only have them in specific areas.

According to a study conducted by the Movement Advancement Project, 70% of the geographic area of the United States has no city, county, or state employment protections for LGBT people. This divide is even more striking for people living in rural areas. Of the counties that are all or mostly rural, only two out of 581 counties had LGBT nondiscrimination ordinances. This is less than half of one percent of counties. This is an alarming statistic considering female same-sex couples that live in a state with no employment discrimination law are 9.2% more likely to live in poverty.

Rural LGBT Youth

Although the Summit Series is focused on adults using USDA, the #RuralPride Campaign is more broad in scope and designed for all ages. Just as with LGBT adults, rural youth face unique and heightened challenges. These challenges are also discussed in this earlier blog post.

One study found that 94% of rural LGBT students had heard homophobic language on a regular basis, with 25% having heard school staff members make similar comments. 81% had felt unsafe in the past year because of their sexual orientation or gender expression. 87% had been verbally harassed at school, and 22% had been physically assaulted in the past year because they were LGBT.

Most schools have anti-bullying policies in place meant to address harassment from other students. However, students often do not report harassment that they experience out of fear that it will only make things worse, or that it will not have any effect on the bullying.  In some cases, when students did report their experiences, teachers told them to “man up,” or to not take what students had said so seriously.  School officials may also make students feel unwelcome, especially for students who are ‘visibly’ LGBT, as they may demand that the student conforms to traditional gender roles in how they dress and act.

Students who feel unsafe in school are more likely to be distracted and do poorly in class, and are much less likely to attend class regularly. Eventually, chronic absenteeism can result in status offense charges of truancy or incorrigibility. These factors make it far more likely that someone will have a lower earning capacity later in life, and therefore have a higher chance of living in poverty.

Conclusion

Despite the USDA’s long, checkered past with discrimination(I have discussed here, here, and here), some may view their LGBT efforts as being a step too far, as there have not been any major litigation or reports on pervasive discrimination perpetrated by the USDA against this group. Others may see it as an affirmative step to fix problems before they become litigation, and as being part of a larger effort to reform the USDA. Regardless, a question remains on the necessity and effectiveness of the program.

The stark urban/rural divide for LGBT people clearly demonstrates the need for programming that combats discrimination. The increased poverty levels, lack of employment protections, and harassment of youth make it incredibly difficult for some LGBT people to live in rural America.

The effectiveness of the program is somewhat more difficult to ascertain, as the USDA has not published numbers with regards to how many people have attended the series, or how satisfied the attendees were. Anecdotally, participants interviewed by newspapers spoke positively of the event.

Considering one of the goals was to increase awareness of LGBT farmers, the backlash of the event can be viewed in a positive light, as it meant more people were made aware of it. And attendees were informed about some programs they might not have been aware of before.

Regardless, the LGBT Rural Summit Series and the #RuralPride Campaign appears to have now ended. The United States Secretary of Agriculture has the discretion to set the programming for the USDA, and it is likely that this particular project will not be continued. However, some anti-discrimination programming may be continued. On March 23rd Sonny Perdue, the United States Secretary of Agriculture nominee testified before the United States Senate Committee on Agriculture, Nutrition & Forestry regarding his four main goals for the USDA. One of these goals was

I will prioritize customer service every day. They expect, and have every right to demand, that we conduct the people’s business efficiently, effectively and with the utmost integrity.

Many minority farmers may hope that "with the utmost integrity" means that efforts to combat discrimination will continue.

Defying rural Southern stereotypes in satirizing them

NPR reported a few days ago on a new genre of stand-up comedians:  progressive rednecks.  These are men (and perhaps some women, though none are noted in the story) who play on the stereotypes of rural Southerners by ridiculing them.  Referring to Trae Crowder, one of the more famous among this lot, Will Huntsberry explains:  

He's doing something almost entirely unheard of in mainstream comedy: making a big deal out of his "Southern-ness" and his progressive values. 

"Yeah, I'm a white trash, trailer baby from the deep South," Crowder said. "But I'm also educated, agnostic, well-read, cultured. I'm [all] of those things at the same time and if you can't reconcile those things in your head, that's your problem."

Huntsberry explains the specific genre these comedians have carved out:

Embracing this paradox, of loving the South, while also being horrified by it, is exactly what makes these comedians so different than the ones that have come before them.

Huntsberry notes how these men are different even from comedians like Jeff Foxworthy, who embraces southern stereotypes to get a laugh.

One thing I find especially interesting about this piece is Crowder's analysis of how he came to be confident enough to shrug off the culture of his upbringing.  He and fellow "liberal redneck" Drew Morgan were valedictorians of their respective small-town Tennessee high schools.  

Crowder said he was "seriously treated like Good Will Hunting, like a prodigy or something. And so I left thinking that's the way I was. We both had to come to terms with a lot of s***." 

Even though Crowder eventually realized he wasn't as smart as he thought he was, he says, his perception that he was a prodigy back then influences the way he rails against Southern conservatism today. 

"This is gonna sound really terrible," said Crowder. "But because that's the way it was from a very young age, I never really concerned myself with the opinions of other people. Like I knew they might not agree with me, but in my head I was like, 'well I'm Good Will Hunting and they're not. ... They're just wrong.'"

Crowder recently left his job negotiating federal contracts to do stand-up full time.  

On the bathroom wars ... Is this a "rural story," or not?

The New York Times Anemona Hartocolis reported yesterday from Chester, Vermont under the headline, "Transgender Bathroom Debate Turns Personal at Vermont High School."  I decided to pick up this news story here because the journalist suggests that the "rural" nature of the high school has something to do with how events there have played out.  Chester's population is 3,154.  Here is an excerpt from the story: 

The way A J Jackson tells it, he kept his head ducked down and pretended to fiddle with his cellphone as he walked into the boys’ bathroom and headed for a stall at Green Mountain Union High School here. 

But the way some of his classmates see it, A J was still Autumn Jackson, a girl in boys’ clothing, who had violated an intimate sanctum, while two boys were standing at a urinal, their private parts exposed. 

One 15-year-old male student was quoted:

It’s like me going into a girls’ bathroom wearing a wig.  It’s just weird.

Hartcolis describes Green Mountain Union High--with 300 students grades 7-12--"like much of the country ... with teenagers carrying out a proxy culture war for their parents."

More broadly, the issue here has pitted resident against resident, often along social and economic lines. This is a place where big-city transplants wearing Birkenstocks and artsy jewelry mingle with working-class people in dirt-encrusted boots who know how to handle a shotgun and proudly inhabit the homes of their ancestors. Despite Vermont’s image as a place of bucolic egalitarianism, home of the avowedly socialist candidate for president, tensions over privilege and tradition simmer just under the surface, and the bathroom wars have brought them to the fore.

Hartcolis quotes Deb Brown, a member of the Board of Green Mountain Union High School for a characteristic associate with rural places, "society does not change on a dime, especially small town society."  The journalist notes that Brown's daughter was previously on a girls' sports team with AJ, again highlighting the lack of anonymity and personal relationships that mark rural communities.

Are "rural" places--even in progressive New England--less tolerant of sexual minorities?  Or could the same story be written about a Vermont "city" (of which there are not many, of course).  Read more on the rural-urban divide in relation to LGBTQ rights here.

P.S.  Several days after this post, the New York Times ran this story about how transgender Americans' "personal battle became a national showdown."  In it, they describe the man who is spearheading the litigation against bathroom choice.

In rural north-central Florida, a retired veterinarian and cattle rancher named Harrell Phillips was alarmed one evening in March, when his 17-year-old son reported over dinner that he had encountered a transgender boy in the high school bathroom.

“I marched myself down to the principal,” said Dr. Phillips, who believes that “you are born into a sex that God chose you to be.”

Dr. Phillips, who has vowed to take his fight to the Supreme Court, lives in Morriston, Florida, population 164.  Morriston is in Levy County, population 40,801.    

This story, too, has me wondering about the correlation between "rural" and "bathroom panic," though until someone proves to the contrary, I'm going to assume that even if there's a correlation, there's no causation--flowing either way--between the two factors.