‘Hillbillies we are’

BY RACHEL DOVE

We can learn a lot from a child. If we stop and look at the world without clouding our vision with our own opinions and beliefs, we might see goodness as a child who has never hardened their heart or corrupted their mind.

My grandson just turned 12, and he amazes me with his way of looking at a situation or circumstance. It’s uncanny that he still sees the good around him because he has gone through a lot in his short life. But even with some painful experiences, he harbors no bad feelings. Matter of fact, his motto is, “You just have to love them through it.”

He’s been following all the news about the flooding in our region since the first night of hard rain. He’s read countless articles, watched videos, read social media posts – and he’s cried. He prays for the victims and talks to his friends about how many people lost their lives, homes and belongings. He’s worried and asks how we can raise money to help, if we can donate clothes and wanted to know the best way to “adopt a school” and get raise funds to purchase or take up donations of new school supplies. His heart and mind will not allow him to rest until he’s involved and helping somehow. It’s just who he is.

Unfortunately, all his friends and acquaintances don’t share his feelings. He became angrier than I’ve seen him when a teenager he was playing a video game with told him to “shut up already about the stupid floods” and went on to say most of those that lost their homes were “trailer trash hillbillies” and the houses weren’t worth saving. He said it was “nature’s way of eliminating the trash.”

My grandson was shocked, appalled and angry. He could not wrap his head around the fact that a 14-year-old child could be so cold, callous, judgmental and harsh. 

We had a long talk after he quit the game, and I had to explain that, more than likely, the child was a product of his raising.

What a child hears and sees, they will eventually become. I told him to pray for the teen, that his heart would be softened, his eyes would be opened, and he would see the error of his ways.

My grandson then started asking about the word “hillbilly,” how it came to describe Appalachian people, and why there’s such a stigma attached. After a condensed history lesson on how it all began and evolved through the years, he sat there for a moment and said, “Well, a hillbilly I am, a hillbilly I will be, and that is something I’ll never be ashamed of.”

Right then and there, I wished more than anything that I could, as the old saying goes, “bottle and sell” what was inside his heart. I wish I could influence others who look down on us, think they’re a better class of people, or like the teen, believe we are less than deserving. At that moment, I vowed always to show him how proud I am of our heritage and the legacy our ancestors built for future generations.

I will never be ashamed or tolerate bigotry toward our region. I will shout from the mountaintops, “Yes, I’m a hillbilly, an Eastern Kentucky girl, the daughter of a coal miner who for the first 12 years was raised in a four-room house with a path leading to the outhouse.”

We are artisans, poets, educators, engineers, business owners, entrepreneurs, artists and musicians, doctors, lawyers and community leaders. We are whoever and whatever we want to be. And yes, we are hillbillies.

Let the goodness of your “hillbilly” heart forever shine. God bless the hillbillies. 

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