Life in Appalachia is like a kid standing in the center of a seesaw. It's a fragile balance, somewhere between the old world and the new, flat-broke or getting by, rooted in place or getting out. Sometimes, folks here lose footing, lean too far one way or another. If one end of the seesaw comes down hard, it knocks them right off.
These are stories of hard-scrapped, everyday Appalachians. Think laid off miners, moms who garden and can food, gravediggers, dishwashers, Mennonite farmers, and big-box store cashiers. They inhabit hollers, rust belt towns, trailer courts, and farms.
In the Cut
, A teen faces a pregnancy scare as a mountaintop removal mining operation threatens her home. A twenty-something Chile's dishwasher returns to his small town from the city to deal with his hoarder mom and her pet raccoon. A third grader destroys a schoolmate's Lisa Frank art kit after her methed-out mom crashes into a small-town football hero's car, and two moms come face-to-face in the checkout line at Walmart after their daughters plan to run-off to Florida and things end tragically.
But it's not hardship that defines these folks. Rather, it's their dynamic nature, their resilience that spurs them to get on with life the best they can. With little resources, no easy pass, no money-bought solution, no ready way out,
will leave you somewhere between the balance and the fall.