By Abby Retz

Instead of frequent visits to the doctor, my family frequented trips to the herb garden maintained by my maternal grandmother. While there was no outwardly spoken disapproval from our small-town Indiana family doctor, it was abundantly clear that healing one’s self should always involve the hands of a very trusted healer. Put plainly, my grandmother would chock us full of fried potatoes and onions, sickly sweet elderberry syrup, and fire cider during cold and flu season rather than send us to the doctor for a round of antibiotics.

For the majority of her life, my grandmother’s side of the family resided in Bedford, Indiana. Before taking residence there, they called Kenton County, Kentucky home. The paternal side of my grandmother’s family came from near Camden, Arkansas, and met my grandmother’s mother in Kenton County while looking for work. He, like many people during the 1940s, moved north to look for work. My grandmother’s maternal family had lived in the Kenton County area for as long as anyone could remember, but its current landscape has certainly changed since my grandmother was a girl. Before she passed, my grandmother’s mother told stories of trips to Cincinnati with the same grandiosity she relayed about the hills of northern Kentucky. My grandmother’s family made the move to Bedford, Indiana, when she was about five years old in the early 1950’s

These places are not generally recognized as being part of Appalachia. What then, should I make of the mountain traditions that filled our church, kitchen, and garden? What then, should I make of the healing methods passed down to generation after generation of women within my family? While I was never able to ask my great-grandmother about her childhood or relationship to the Appalachian identity specifically; certain parts of that identity were definitely passed down through the kinds of healing we practiced in our home.

Through the Urban Appalachian Community Coalition’s Kith and Kin Story Gathering project, I was able to connect further with a community of Appalachians often faced with a similar dilemma. I participated as a Story Gatherer at the annual Appalachian Festival in May. Many stories told by the participants of Kith and Kin involved a question about their home, and how they related to Appalachia. After spending an afternoon volunteering to collect stories on behalf of UACC, it became clear that stories we tell ourselves about home can be full of great love, admiration, and triumph but also longing, hurt, and confusion.

Personally, I relate to the latter camp when asked about where my family roots are. My grandmother and her side of the family related so heavily to many methods, practices, and sentiments that aligned with Appalachian culture, and it was acceptable in our family to consider ourselves mountain people… minus the mountains. Living in Indiana for my entire life, and even attending university there, it wasn’t until I explored the concept of diaspora during college that I was able to hypothesize what it means to be an Appalachian without living in Appalachia.

Particularly intriguing to me were the methods of healing I had learned from my grandmother and her family, and how these practices may or may not be shared by other Appalachians. I brought these methods with me to my college dorm, astounding my freshman-year roommate with an assortment of herbs, teas, salves, and honey that I had never thought to be strange. Since then, as a student of anthropology, I have learned about how people of other cultures all around the globe heal themselves. Notably, Appalachia did not make any appearance in these discussions.

During my junior year, it came time for me to choose a path of research. I immediately jumped at the opportunity to engage with Appalachian culture related to healing. While I am still working out the details and deadlines, I have found nothing to be a greater attribute to my research than being surrounded by the stories and knowledge of fellow Appalachians and those equally invested and connected to the Appalachian identity. I have heard stories similar to my own, but have also been graced with stories that differ from mine entirely. Being Appalachian cannot necessarily be pinned down to a map, but it can certainly bring a plethora of perspectives together to create the most wonderful, wholesome cup of tea you’ve ever drank.

As I enter my senior year of undergraduate research, I have learned to lean into the details, being sure to cherish every perspective and persona. Along the way, I have found camaraderie with other Appalachians, some sharing my mountain methods of healing, others having their own practices entirely. The community around the UACC has been part of that learning, and I am excited to see what the future holds for Appalachians both inside and outside of the great Cincinnati area.

The next Kith and Kin Story Gathering Training will be held on Wednesday, August 14, 6-8 pm, 1556 Chase Avenue (WordPlay Cincy in Northside.) Pizza is provided. The event is sponsored by A Picture’s Worth and UACC’s Kith & Kin and Place Keepers Programs. RSVP by August 12 to [email protected].

Abby Retz is a current undergraduate student at Butler University in Indianapolis, Indiana, studying History, Anthropology, and Environmental Studies. To learn how to participate in Abby Retz’s undergraduate research, contact her at [email protected].