>> Betsy Peterson: I'm
Betsy Peterson, the director
of the American Folklife Center
in the Library of Congress.
And for those of you who
are new to the library,
I want to give you a
little bit of background.
The American Folklife Center
was established in 1976
to both present and
preserve folklife,
and by that I mean the
traditional cultural practices
and expressions relating to
music, dance, craft, and food,
as well as oral tradition
such as storytelling
from across the world
and throughout the US.
And for almost half a century
now, AFC staff has been working
to present cultural
traditions to the public
through our many concerts,
lectures, and related programs
as a means of raising awareness
about the rich diversity
and importance of folklife.
But we also preserve folklife
on behalf of the public
through our extensive archives
and educational programs,
as well as by supporting
research
and documentation
projects focused
on living cultural traditions,
and their communities.
The Center's archives
of traditional culture is
the largest in the world,
with over 6.5 million items.
Archival collections
range from some
of the oldest sound recordings
of Native American languages
and spiritual music
ever recorded,
dating back to the 1890s,
to more recent documentation
of a wide array of
cultures and traditions,
including from West Virginia.
So today, it is my
pleasure to welcome everyone
to this final event of
our Homegrown Foodways
in West Virginia film series, a
live discussion and audience Q&A
with the series producers
and the participants.
Over the past several weeks from
August 18th to September 15th,
we've been treated to
four beautiful films
that explore a range
of food traditions,
or what is often called foodways
in the state of West Virginia.
And in order of the
premieres which took place
on the AFC's Facebook page, The
films are Foraging and Relations
with Dr. Jonathan Hall;
Kimchi Fermentation
with Marlyn McClendon; Ravioli
and Sauce with Lou Maury;
and Turkish Cuisine and Seed
Keeping with Mehmet Oztan.
And I'm happy to say that
today we have Jonathan,
Marlyn and Mehmet here with us.
I should also note that if you
missed any of the premieres,
we will be posting the film
links in the chat for you,
and as well as I'm sure we'll
be sharing other links with you.
But you can bookmark
and watch them later.
To produce the homegrown
foodways series
in West Virginia program, the
AFC has been fortunate to team
up with the now former West
Virginia State folklorist Emily
Hilliard, and the
chef's, farmers
and filmmakers Mike Costello and
Amy Dawson of Lost Creek Farm.
The couple make their home on a
farm that's been in Amy's family
for several generations.
And the beautiful farm
includes fields of sorghum
and bloody butcher corn,
heirloom vegetable beds,
free range chickens, rabbit
hutches, grazing Hereford cattle
and a heritage apple orchard
in the north central
part of the state.
Mike and Amy operate
a traveling kitchen ,
r as they sometimes call it, a
culinary roadshow, celebrating
and sharing West
Virginia foodways
with audiences local and afar.
And they produce the popular
Pickle Shelf Radio Hour Podcast.
And as reflected in each of
the films of this series,
they guide us into the stories
they've learned from elders,
farmers, cooks, foragers,
hunters,
and other foodways practitioners
of the diverse cultural
communities
in the Mountain State.
And as Emily has written
in her guest AFC blog posts
over the past few weeks,
many of the histories
of foodways traditions
can be traced
in the Center's own West
Virginia collections.
And I invite you all to check
them out on our website,
or please come and visit us once
we're open to the public again.
But in the New River Gorge
Folklife Project Collection,
which was documented
from 1991 to 1993,
folklorists Mary Hufford
and Rita Munsami documented
diverse cultural practices
of communities embedded within
and surrounding the [inaudible],
which was at the
time a national river
and now is the country's
newest National Park.
They conducted interviews with
vegetable gardeners, hunters
and fishers, restauranteurs,
a former railroad crew cook,
herbalists and many more.
In addition, in the Coal River
Folklife Project Collection,
Mary Hufford documented the
still pervasive foraging,
hunting, fishing, gardening
and preservation practices
in the big Coal River
Valley from 1992 to --
I'm sorry, 1992 to
2000, which was a period
of great ecological disruption.
Through interviews with
home cooks and canners,
ginseng diggers, grape
and berry pickers moral
or Molly moocher mushroom
foragers, fishers and hunters,
she records how these land-based
traditions have been affected
by climate change and
industry, particularly timber
and mountaintop removal mining.
I know Emily will be
talking a bit more
about these important
collections as she received
in 2018 an American Folklife
Center Parsons Fund award
to spend time in the
Center's archives
to research sound recordings,
photographs, field notes,
and ephemera related
to the state during her time
directing West Virginia Folklife
Program, which is based
in the West Virginia
Humanities Council.
Finally, before we begin,
I do need to thank AFC
and library staff who have
made this series possible
from behind the scenes.
It definitely takes a village
to make these things happen,
and I want to give
special thanks
to AFC staff Michelle Stefano,
Thea Austin, John Fenn,
Steve Winnick, Stephanie Hall,
Jennifer Cutting,
and Ebony Spurlock.
And I also want to thank library
staff Glenn Ricci, Tom Neuer,
Elizabeth Shriver-Beyer, and
all the folks in the Office
of the Chief Information Officer
who helped get us our
virtual programming coded
and ready for broadcast.
I have one last housekeeping
note,
and that is that you
submit your questions
through the Zoom Q&A feature
at the bottom of the screen.
Michelle and Thea will
try their best to ensure
that they are posed
to participants during
the Q&A period later.
And so without further ado,
I am going to turn everything
over to Emily, Amy and Mike, who
will be introducing our guests,
Dr. Jonathan Hall, Marlyn
McClendon and Mehmet Oztan,
and leading a discussion
for the first 45 minutes
on the traditional knowledge and
food practices they have shared
with us in their films.
So again, thanks
so much for coming.
And welcome Emily, Amy and Mike.
>> Thanks so much, Betsy.
Thank you for having us
here today and to everyone
who helped make this panel
in this series possible.
So like Betsy said,
I'm Emily Hilliard.
I'm now with Mid Atlantic arts
as program officer in folk
and traditional arts
with a focus
on our central Appalachia
living traditions program.
And we supported the series that
was produced by Mike Costello
and Amy Dawson of
Lost Creek farm
with our amazing
participants, Marlyn, Jonathan.
Mehmet and Lou.
And I think to start, Mike and
I and Amy are going to talk
about some of the goals that
Mike and Amy had for the series
and what we talked about when we
started discussing the project.
And then we'll have
our participants
introduce themselves.
And then Mike and I have some
questions for each of them,
particularly focused on
some of the themes that came
up across the different films.
So I thought first, we could
start hearing from Mike and Amy
about their goals for the
series when we came to them
with this project and the
common threads that emerged
across them intentionally,
and then that just came
up over the course of filming
and producing the series.
>> Mike Costello: Yeah,
well thanks Emily.
And thanks to everybody
else for joining us
and to the AFC crew
for having us today.
Yeah, it was such an interesting
opportunity to get to work
on this series because over the
years, Amy and I have sort of --
we get kind of picked out
from time to time to sort
of represent Appalachian
food or West Virginia food,
you know, whatever that is.
And I think that that point of
it can sometimes be problematic,
because there's not
necessarily a definition,
a concrete definition of
what Appalachian food means.
I mean, you could say
it's a lot of things.
It could be, you know,
traditions of people
who have been here for
a very, very long time,
people who were here first.
You know, many indigenous
communities get overlooked
when we talk about who
gets to be Appalachian.
You can say it's
food that was made
from recipes that
were grown here.
And, you know, my answer is sort
of like, it's maybe a little bit
of all those things, but
there's not really a definition.
And when we get sort of sought
out to represent West Virginia
or Appalachian food, you
know, we have a story to tell
of our own as everybody does.
But there's a tendency to kind
of, you know, reduce this idea
of identity to something that
is often, well, white for one.
And sort of, there are a lot of
other things that they kind of,
you know, fit the, you know,
trope or the stereotype
about what Appalachian food is,
and therefore what
Appalachian culture is,
and who Appalachian people are.
So for us, as you
know, practitioners
in Appalachian food, we
are also storytellers.
And through the stories is sort
of where we -- you know, again,
we don't really try to
define it, but it's sort
of where we can find, you know,
the sort of meaning to people
of what connects food to place.
So, you know, we have in our
participants in the film series,
these are for people who are
very good friends of ours
who have, you know, very sort
of inspiring stories to us.
They're very close members
of our food community.
And, you know, their stories
are compelling stories
about carrying on
through traditions,
but also connecting
it to place in a way
that is often challenging to
the way that people often think
about Appalachian food.
>> Amy Dawson: Yeah,
and we specifically picked
these four individuals, one,
because we admire
and respect them
and their commitment
to food practices.
We've connected with all four of
these individuals through food
in a very meaningful way.
And we tried to pick
four stories
that explored very different,
a very diverse range
of experiences.
We had two people who were born
and grew up in West Virginia,
and two people who came
here from somewhere else.
And our goal in choosing
four diverse individuals were
to highlight the diversity,
that there are differences.
But it's funny, because
we did --
in telling all four
of the stories,
we did find that they were all
very, very similar stories.
And that just goes to show
the human experience is the
same everywhere.
And so from, you know, wanting
to feel like you belong,
wanting to connect to a place
and wanting to feel sort
of a familial connection.
And also, mothers were a big
theme throughout all four.
And so in that way, it
was a good diversity,
but a common story.
>> Mike Costello: Yeah,
and I think another interesting
point is that, you know,
we are connected to all these
four people through food,
but you know, this was
special for us as professionals
and as chefs to get to sort
of highlight what West Virginia
food means as, you know,
like storytellers to people
who are not professional chefs
or professional, you know, cooks
or, you know, food businesses.
Because those are the people
who often get sought out to sort
of represent the culture
of a place, is like people
who do it professionally.
But you know, the culture is so
different, and the experience,
like it is so different
for everybody.
And a lot of that culture
really shows up in the home.
One thing I find very
interesting is that two
of these people, Marlyn
and Lou, we have known
for a very long time, and
we initially connected
to them not at all through food.
And we, you know, sort
of remained friends
and over the years, it sort
of, you know, comes out that,
you know, everyone has these
kind of compelling food stories.
And I think that is a very
sort of important takeaway,
is that we often think about
the people who have food stories
as being, you know, food
people, like professional cooks,
or people who are, you know,
very skilled and practiced and,
you know, have these sort
of, you know, hobbies
or whatever it is, as a prolific
gardener, hunter, whatever.
But I think, you know, it goes
to show that that is very,
very common, and a lot of
people have a food story
that connects them to place.
>> Yeah, and I think
that's one point
that is very folklife
oriented, that there's a focus
on home cooks and foodways
practitioners that are part
of cultural communities,
but aren't necessarily
professional chefs.
But someone who's coming to this
from the food media world might
not expect to see home cooks
and practitioners
and seed keepers,
especially with the direction
you know, food media has gone
on a mainstream level,
where there's this real
focus on celebrity chefs.
But from a folklife standpoint,
we do focus on these, you know,
cultural communities and
home-based practitioners.
I was talking to an
herbalist in West Virginia
and asked her what her
vision was for herbalism,
the tradition in the state.
And she said an herbalist
in every home.
And she said, you know,
that might be strange,
but it's not unusual to think
about how we have a
cook in every home.
And I think that's one reason
why foodways traditions persist.
Many cultural communities,
immigrant communities lose other
traditions, music and dance,
but food generally
is one that persists
because it's part
of everyday life.
It's part of daily
life and family life.
So I think that's a
really important point.
Mike and Amy, I was wondering
if you could talk a
little bit about, you know,
especially people who might not
be from the region or familiar
with the region, what
are some important points
in Appalachian food
and important themes?
I know, it's really difficult to
define because of this diversity
and breadth of practice.
But also, what does that
sense of regionalism offer
and allow us to examine?
But what might that idea
of Appalachianness --
how does that present a barrier?
And how can it also exclude?
>> Mike Costello: Yeah, this is
a really good question to sort
of think about, you know, how
we would approach a series
like this, you know, because
I think this sort of idea
of Appalachian as an Appalachian
food is often not defined
by people in West Virginia,
and the sort of legitimacy
of Appalachian food
is not defined
in West Virginia
or in Appalachia.
And I think that in the context
of food, a really, you know,
recent and obvious
example of this is sort
of in the commercial food
world, there's been this sort
of touted food trend
by food media.
But what that has done, you
know, a lot of people think
that creates all these
great opportunities for us
who are here on the ground,
but I think what it is done
more often than not is sort
of create this desire for
a very narrowly focused,
rather stereotypical
image of, you know,
what Appalachian food means
and in turn, you know,
who gets to be Appalachian.
Because when you are talking
about the food of a people
or of a place, you know, you
are talking about that culture
and you are talking
about those people.
So, you know, when
Amy and I, you know,
when we go on the road, or
when we put on events here
and we tell these stories, you
know, this is exactly why we,
you know, will tell
stories about the, you know,
the Lebanese communities
throughout West Virginia, or,
you know, the black
communities or the, you know,
the historic immigrant
communities
and the new immigrant
communities.
Because Appalachia has
always been sort of evolving,
and it's always been this place
where people are
coming and going.
So you know, how that shows
up in food is also this,
you know, ever changing story.
And I think that a
commonality that we saw
in this series was that,
you know, when people settle
in a different place, whether
that's, you know, 100 years ago
as part of a well-established
by now immigrant community
like the Italian American
community, or they came
to West Virginia just a few
years ago in Mehmet's case.
You know, there's still this
desire to use food as a way
to connect to a place that's
maybe outside the region, right?
But you're also using
food to connect to
and establish a home
where you are here.
So I think, you know, the
meaning of Appalachian food
and of Appalachianness is not
necessarily for us to define.
It's like everybody sort of
has their own relationship
with identity and their own
relationship with place.
And, you know, what is our
responsibility is to sort
of make sure that all of those
different stories are getting
out there so that we have a more
complete, you know, inclusive,
kind of -- not a definition,
but sort of an idea
of what Appalachianness
could mean.
You know, and I think that
traditionally, you know,
Appalachia has sort of
been portrayed in the media
to the rest of the
world, as you know,
basically a white space, right?
So these are the things
that we have to think
about when we think about
what Appalachian food means.
I think a lot of times it is
sort of understanding, you know,
how people have this idea of
Appalachia in their minds,
and how we might be
able to challenge that.
And sometimes, most often it
works and people are, you know,
like, "Wow, I never really knew
that, you know, there were not
like people other than
Scotch-Irish people
in West Virginia, right?"
But then sometimes we'll go,
we'll put on a dinner in a place
like DC, and people will
come up to us afterwards
and they'll be like, "Wow,
you know, I don't know that I
like this, because like I
thought I was coming here
for Appalachian food,
and you served this
like Spanish sausage.
And that's not Appalachian.
That's Spanish.
And you know, at first it
kind irks me that people have
that reaction, but
then, you know,
it usually starts a conversation
of like, "Well, okay,
there were these Spanish
communities that came here,
you know, for labor as part
of an immigrant movement.
They're still here, you know,
like what makes them any less
Appalachian than, you know,
the people who are in
your mind and who sort
of get to be Appalachian?"
So it is, you know, it is a
sort of a double-edged sword,
like this idea of there being
something that's been highly
touted as Appalachian.
But yeah, I don't know.
>> Yeah, I mean, Appalachia
is part of America.
>> Mike Costello: Right.
>> And you know, this
is a very American story
of immigration and migration.
And Appalachia is
not exempt from that
and all those issues as well.
So I think now we
could have each
of the panelists
introduce themselves.
>> Jonathan Hall: Right.
Thank you, Emily, Amy, and Mike,
and the other hosts of the film
for this space and
the Folklife Center
and everything, Library
of Congress.
This is a really awesome
opportunity to sort
of share this space, and
to talk about, you know,
our commonalities and
our unique stories.
So I am an assistant
professor of biology
at Eastern Michigan University.
So you may be wondering, like,
how did I get in this space?
But I used to be, as of
last year I was an Assistant
Professor of geography at
West Virginia University.
And so my research, you know, my
day job is doing like ecology,
wildlife ecology research.
So I study California
condors and hunting practices,
and food provisioning
practices in Appalachia.
And so that research really
came from a personal interest
in you know, gaining more
understanding and control
of where my food comes from.
And moving to West Virginia,
moving to Morgantown now nine
years ago, I really wanted
to kind of embrace what I
thought or the perception
that I had about what it meant
to be Appalachian or to live
in this region, which was, you
know, being self-sufficient,
hunting, foraging,
those sorts of things.
Those are the kind
of cultural ideas
that I had about this region.
Some of the more
flattering cultural ideas
that I had about the region.
The less flattering
ones I learned over time
that were deeply problematic
and not particularly true.
So you know, it became a
personal interest of mine.
And through that personal
interest, as is the case,
you know, with I think
anything that people do
when they pursue their
interests, they seek out people
with those same interests, and
you build community that way,
you build community around
things that bring you joy,
that challenge you,
that teach you things.
And that's how I've
come to meet, you know,
some of the people here.
And you know, this has sort
of blossomed into this web
of relations that I just,
you know, really treasure
and continue to depend on.
So, yeah, that's what I do.
>> Thank you.
Marlyn.
>> Marlyn McClendon: Yeah.
Am I unmuted?
Yeah. Okay.
Hi, my name is Marlyn.
I am Korean West Virginian,
I guess you could say.
My father's family is from
Preston County, West Virginia,
and my mother's from Korea.
And that's important because --
anyways, so yeah,
I'm a photographer.
I do like wedding
photography and portraits.
And then I also do
documentary stuff of motherhood,
Asian American identity,
and community and food.
And yeah, my other job is
being a mom to two kids.
And so I mentioned the Korean
American thing to say that,
you know, growing up in West
Virginia, I was always asked
where I was really from.
And even though I was from here,
I never felt like
I was from here.
So I kind of rejected
that Korean side of myself
and embraced the American side.
And it wasn't until I moved to a
rural area in Pocahontas County
that it all kind of
came like full circle.
I, you know, was far
away from grocery stores,
I had to start learning to cook
in different ways, and started,
you know, caring about
where my food came from.
And so I started growing food.
And as I became a mother, I
started questioning, you know,
what's important to me,
what's important to pass
on to my children, what
culture, what ideas,
what rituals and
things like that?
And so as food has become more
important to me and getting
in touch with my Korean
side through food,
I am trying to figure out a way
how to pass that to my kids.
And so yeah, you know,
I've always made kimchi,
I've always grown up
eating Korean food.
But I hadn't spent a
lot of time making it
and getting more
in depth into it.
So through gardening and things
like that, I have started
to make more Korean food
and get more in touch
with that side of myself.
And in turn, like passing
that on to my kids.
And so I guess, like
what you guys are saying
about place has been
really important to me,
because it's been, you know,
living next to the mountains
in this rural area,
like, attaching myself
to the literal land has brought
all of that back to me --
embracing my Korean culture,
embracing food, you know,
figuring out what
I can eat nature
and putting that into my food.
So yeah, that's me.
>> Thanks, Marlyn.
Mehmen?
>> Mehmet Oztan:
Yes, hi, everyone.
My name is Mehmet.
And I came to this
country in 2006.
So I'm fairly new.
Or maybe not, I don't know.
It has been 15, 16 years.
But to do my PhD in
civil engineering
at Michigan State University.
So, you know, this is
kind of wild, you know,
sitting in a panel
about my food practice.
You know, the way life, I
think, took me, you know,
thinking about it, reflecting
on it, it's kind of wild.
But anyway, so after
that, after my education,
I followed my partner who
accepted a faculty job
at University of South
Florida in Tampa.
And then prior to that,
of course, you know,
beginning the first day of my
arrival to the United States,
my search for food began because
that was one of the biggest
and most pressing, I think,
challenges for me
as an immigrant.
Or, you know, at the time
as just a student who came
for his studies, to find a way
to reconnect with my culture
and home and family and friends.
That search continued for a long
time without an access to land.
Because I think having that
access is very crucial in terms
of making that cultural
connection.
But that realizing after
moving to Tampa, Florida
and having a small backyard,
realizing how, you know,
the land access can actually be
a very refreshing and, you know,
significant experience,
that challenges someone
to find the direction, to find
a new way about connecting
or reconnecting with culture.
So when I started gardening
and then finding out about,
you know, different
kinds of seeds
and how traditional
seeds can make
that cultural connection
very, very uplifting.
And I transitioned from my
education and engineering career
into becoming a full-time
farmer,
eventually starting a seed
company, and continuing that,
you know, committing to
space and renting space
for five years, which was a
very challenging experience.
But then moving to, again,
making another move
to West Virginia.
Then again I followed
my partner,
because she got a job here,
and then I came here with her.
And working also at
West Virginia University
as an assistant professor
who currently, you know,
doesn't have a specific program.
But you know, kind of
floating in those spaces
across the college, basically
working on programming related
to food justice, not necessarily
focusing on food ecology,
but also trying to tell the
stories like mine and trying
to connect with other
underrepresented,
marginalized food communities
and people and looking
at their food traditions
and working
on community engagement
outreach projects.
>> Thank you.
Mike, you want to start
off with your question?
>> Mike Costello: Yeah, sorry.
Yeah. So, you know, back to
the idea of sort of, like,
who gets to be Appalachian or
who gets to have the experiences
that we consider Appalachian,
one of the things that came up
and that has really driven
a lot of the conversations
with Jonathan and us over
the years and sort of led
to this video is
the idea of who gets
to access all these
places, right?
Like the places, the wild spaces
that, you know, we grew up sort
of feeling like we have
this unimpeded access
to all these places around
us in rural West Virginia.
But it turns out that can be
a very different experience
for different people.
And if you watched
Jonathan's video,
you know a little
bit about this.
But Jonathan, I would
like to hear sort
of in your words a little
bit about, you know,
about this experience, about
having a very different sort
of level of access to places
where we can enjoy, you know,
our wild foodways,
and hunt and fish
and forage and all the things.
>> Jonathan Hall: Yeah,
thanks for the question, Mike.
I think that, you know, it
relates to my reluctance,
and I still am reluctant
to sort of identify myself
as somebody who's tied
to Appalachia, you know,
like that's part of my identity
as an Appalachian person, right?
I don't consider myself that.
But one of the things I've
appreciated about, you know,
my friendship with
both of you is
that you really kind
of challenged that.
And you talked about that
today about how, you know,
Appalachia gets defined
by the people
who make community
in these spaces.
And it reminds me of a concept
in Robin Wall-Kimmerer's
book Braiding Sweetgrass
about becoming indigenous
to a space.
Right? And it has to do with
the intent that you have
in that space, and what kind
of relative you want to be.
But, you know, some of you may
have noticed that I'm black.
And so that means that, you
know, entering into spaces,
there's a baggage that
comes with that, right?
There's a certain
set of expectations
that we're all socialized
into, whether or not, you know,
we've been living in
this country, you know,
for less than two decades
or if we were raised
in this country, right?
Blackness is understood in
a variety of different ways,
but it is understood
and it's something
that we are all exposed to, and
that we are all sort of take in.
And so moving to an
overwhelmingly white state,
some of the perceptions about
West Virginia being like,
"Oh man, this West Virginia
is super racist, right?
Like, hyper racist because it's
like nothing but white folks,
and you know, backwoods
white folks and all these
like awful stereotypes
of people that are here."
And so, you know, I
think that the reality
of how we understand race and
blackness show up in spaces
that are white has
to be in conversation
with the experiences that
people who are subject
to the negative consequences of
these structures sort of have.
And so my experience has been
overwhelmingly positive compared
to what I was worried about,
you know, moving to this area.
But it's also been pretty
fraught with the way
that people are socialized to
think about blackness, right?
So, you know, when it comes to
going into spaces to like hunt,
and forage, like
I'm hyper cognizant
of the people who are around me.
And you know, it's one of the
reasons why I talk about like,
I don't hunt on public land.
Just because I've never seen
black people when I've been
out hunting, or just sort
of like driving around,
like see black people
in camo who are
like out there in the woods.
And so you know, I
have to think about,
how is a white person
going to react
when they see a black
person in a space
that they normally don't
see with a firearm?
And we have all sorts of
examples of people reacting
with deadly consequences,
even just like the threat --
or not even the threat,
but like the perception
that a black person
has a firearm, right?
And it often ends in deadly
consequences for that person.
So you know, it's something
that lots of people, you know,
who look like me talk about --
you know, the Black Forager who
is one of my favorite follows
on social media talks
about this all the time.
And about, you know,
it's different to be
out in the spaces in the
outdoors and to have people
who are socializing,
they're all white people,
that this is their space, right.
The great outdoors, and people
walking around with like shirts
that say, "I'm a public
land owner," and everything,
like that's a cultural
inheritance of whiteness,
that so many people of color,
especially black people don't
have to the same degree.
And so, you know, it has
shaped my experiences.
But it's also brought me I think
in close community with people
who are also aware of these
things and are troubled by them.
And, you know, more than just
like the rhetoric of, you know,
being an ally or the
rhetoric of understanding,
because it's very easy to --
for some, it's very easy to sort
of embody that rhetoric.
But to actually act on,
right, to actually be
in close community, to actually
support those who, you know,
live in marginalized identities,
that's a whole different
thing entirely.
And, you know, I've
been very fortunate
because of the relationships
that I've built with people,
and the fact that we can
like sit around the table
and talk about these things.
You know, it's created
a platform,
and I'm really grateful
for that.
But I think it's, you
know, to the people
who are less understanding and
less aware of these things,
there's a history to the way
that land has been shaped
and the expectations
around access
that we all have
a responsibility
to understand first of all.
And then to, if we are going
to say that we are advocates
and we're going to
say that we're allies,
we're going to sort of drape
ourselves in that identity,
then we actually need to back it
up with action and
build community.
So it's really important.
>> Thanks for sharing
that, Jonathan.
I think an important point
that maybe connects to some
of the other topics in
the films is the way
that social circumstances,
you know,
affect sometimes
negatively the transmission
of cultural traditions and
how they are able to be shared
and experienced and accessed.
And I think, you know, Marlyn,
that came up in your video
a little bit with this idea
and your experience of food
as a marker of otherness.
And, you know, your experiences
as, you know, when you were
in elementary school about
bringing kimchi to school
and kind of experiencing
food as a source of shame.
But then also transforming
that to a point of connection
which I think is
Jonathan's point too.
There's opportunities
for building community
amidst these issues
and these experiences, you know,
negative experiences
around food.
>> Marlyn McClendon: Yeah.
>> So do you want to talk a
little bit about that idea
and how, you know, those
initial experiences
and then how food became
this point of connection both
to your community in West
Virginia and also your mother?
>> Marlyn McClendon: Yeah.
Yeah, so yeah, like you guys
saw in the film, you know,
I grew up with my mom
being the main person
who cooks the food, right.
So at home we're eating
a lot of Korean food
and so naturally she, you
know, puts that in my lunch
and I take it to school, and it
smells funny and it looks funny.
And so yeah, immediately
othered for that situation.
And so yeah, that kind
of stuff happened a lot,
not just from food but
from the way I looked.
So you know, I kind
of internalize that
and pushed that to the side.
And so for a long time just
really didn't even think
about that or food.
Like I always ate Korean food.
But food didn't really become
important to me until I moved
to this rural area,
into this community
in which food is important
to the people here.
You're really far away
from grocery stores and so
out of necessity, you know, I
started connecting to my food
and becoming more curious
about where my food comes from.
And once you learn about that
whole system, you kind of have
to start gardening in a
lot of ways to, you know,
eat in the best way
that you want to.
And also much like the Mehmet
and eggplants, you know,
there's no access to
a lot of Korean food
or vegetables or herbs here.
So out of necessity I've started
growing those things and have,
you know, connected to
other people through Mehmet
who are growing seeds in
California and hopefully going
to grow those things next year.
But yeah, so you know,
moving here and then,
yeah, becoming a mother.
Yeah, when you become a
mom you start to, you know,
think about all of
the things again.
What matters to you?
What's meaningful?
And through my own
experience becoming a mother,
I started thinking more
about my mom's experience,
like what it must have been
like for her to move here at 23,
Korean to West Virginia --
what that experience
must have meant for her.
And so you know, I started
cooking more Korean food,
thinking about my
mom, and just thinking
about how I can pass those
memories on to my kids
of their ancestors, of
what it means to be Korean.
And so for me, that
main memory is food.
And so it's kind
of all come back
around to me making those
dishes and calling my mom and,
you know, looking
up things on YouTube
and learning how to
make these foods.
And then also foraging, you
know, certain ingredients
from Appalachia and putting
those two things together,
so through that that
fusion and the idea
of passing that on to my kids.
Yeah, that's kind of what
I was trying to get at.
Yeah. I lost my train
of thought there.
>> Mike Costello: No, I
think one thing that's very
interesting about Marlyns story,
your family's story is sort
of there are two pieces of
like, you know, very different
but also kind of common
immigration stories
in West Virginia.
I mean, one of those stories
is the people coming here sort
of as part of a community,
and then the other side
of that is the people,
you know, people are kind
of here and rather isolated.
And I think it's
interesting that, you know,
in your situation there is
a community of Korean women
in West Virginia
because of this dynamic
with the American military
and Korean women marrying
American military men.
But then also, you know,
when she moves to a place
like Preston County, it
can feel very isolated.
And Mehmet happens to live
in Preston County you know,
not exactly, you know, the
bustling Turkish community
that you might imagine
it to be, right.
But anyway, I mean, this is
a totally different thing.
I mean, a lot of the immigrant
food traditions that we have
in West Virginia are
from communities.
And when people like the Mehmet
are sort of here by themselves,
they use their food
traditions to build community.
One way you saw that
in the video was
through this oven
that Mehmet built.
And Mehmet, I'd like to maybe
hear you talk a little bit
about that process, maybe the
process of how building it
and using it has sort of worked
and how you hope it works
to build community
through your food.
>> Mehmet Oztan: Yeah,
I have been thinking
about this lately a
lot about, you know,
how did I manage
to build community?
I did do that without
actually having many people,
many Turkish people or people
from Turkey that, you know,
I could connect with, that I can
speak the same language with.
You know, did it happen, you
know, how did that happen?
Because I didn't really
have a lot of connections
with these people, with people
of my country, actually,
other than, I think in
Michigan, I was a student
so we had quite a few
Turkish students there.
And that kind of communication
and interaction happened a lot.
And then, you know, I guess,
you know, looking at the end
and telling that if
you're not talking to me,
if I'm not opening my
mouth, and you know,
starting to speak English, you
may or may not be able to tell,
you know, I am not
an American, right?
But then it's usually
the language, right?
So, because all of a sudden,
you know, people who I'm talking
to for the first time, will
say, I know, you know --
not everyone, but most people
-- "Oh, you have an accent.
You know, where are you from?"
And then unless I had the
proximity with that person
to respond back and say that,
"Oh, you have an accent, too."
You know, unless, you know, I
feel bold enough to say that,
you know, so the conversation
will not end before it begins,
I say, you know,
"I'm from Turkey."
But so knowing this, and then
being an L2 speaker of English,
and then writing, you know, a
dissertation in a language other
than my own, you know,
finishing surviving
that naturally white academic
space, you know, at the end of,
you know, five years, that's
one level of challenge, right?
And then moving with my
partner to a, you know, place,
actually looking back at it not
being actually that welcoming,
especially to a neighborhood
with an HOA
which is historically about
segregated communities, right.
It's deeply rooted in that, so
I'm thinking about it, you know,
we never actually in
meaningful ways interacted
with our neighbors
back in Tampa, Florida.
And why is that?
I mean, because, you know, I
think HOA was one of the issues,
because it was a
white space mostly,
except we had a Lebanese
neighbor, which we talked
about food and different
things, you know.
Like that also says a lot,
right, him being the only person
that I communicated with
in that neighborhood.
So coming here, you know, people
that are close with my partner
and I are close with
telling us, "Oh,
are you moving to West Virginia?
Oh, you know, be careful."
And then me thinking about
all these challenges that I,
you know, went through in the
United States and, you know,
like thinking, you know, what
are these people talking about?
Because, usually
these, you know,
are liberal progressiveness,
right,
when people make
these comparisons.
And then, you know, if you
think about it, you know,
San Francisco has a
population with only 5%
of its population is black.
And 56% of the incarcerated
people
in San Francisco is black.
So and then Philadelphia,
Chicago, New York, you know,
these places are, you know,
neighborhoods are
racially segregated.
And all of the sudden, some
people are just worried
about me moving in, you know,
to this space, which is known
as racist and then full
of ignorant people.
So, you know, we listen to
these concerns and of course,
you know, moving to a rural
space was not something
that I ever had done and until
that moment, so that comes
with some sort of anxiety.
I mean, even if you're not
worried about or, you know,
concerned about your
neighbors around you,
it's kind of a wild
space, right?
I mean, there's wild animals.
I mean, you will be, you know,
concerned about, you know,
black bears around
us, or, you know --
as I was reading about the
state and its wildlife and such.
So that kind of anxiety
there is.
And then we moved
into the neighborhood,
there was gun practicing.
That was one thing that
kind of startled me
and made me a little bit
stressed in the beginning,
but then I got over that,
you know, I got used to that,
which is, I mean, it's a
rural space and people hunt.
So, you know, that
was also, you know,
after a certain point was a
common thing to get used to.
But then getting to know --
you know, we started to
get to know our neighbors,
and then start building
a relationship,
and then them helping
each other.
And then in our state
especially, you know,
there's that statement, right,
"We West Virginians take
care of each other."
So, you know, that made
me think, you know,
in a state where 95% of
the population is white,
who takes care of who, right?
So basically, me moving to
that and my partner moving
to that space, especially
being, you know,
me a part-time academic,
she a full-time academic,
moving into that space, whereas
also there's a lot of prejudice
on the side of white academics
about the community around us,
especially with people who claim
to be doing work on or around
or with communities but
yet, lacking connection
with these communities.
You know, it came with
a lot of anxieties,
but it has been a
very refreshing
and rewarding experience,
especially, again,
me moving into that neighborhood
and then kind of contributing
into that statement of we
take care of each other,
and kind of taking
ownership of that statement.
Right? So now who's
taking care of who?
I think that's a very
-- it gives me hope,
because I think we have
especially with one neighbor --
you know, Jonathan and Mike and
Amy know -- he had a very close,
very I think rewarding
relationship
where we learned
from each other.
And then these are the
people again, by academics
and food experts, and also
some nonprofits that suffer
from whiteness, you know,
kind of bring up, you know,
that class relationship.
And then you know, trying
to name these people names
and call them ignorant and
racist and stuff like that.
Our neighbors are much
more understanding than,
you know -- are well educated.
I mean, an education,
that's a quotation you know,
like "well-educated" friends
and colleagues and such.
And then the relationship
around food
and building this
community, because we did
that with our community, our
neighbors helped us build
that oven without us
even asking for help.
That was very interesting, it
was a self-initiating process.
They came to pour our
concrete slab and disappeared.
It was like a very
interesting thing to see.
They faded away and then they
came back and then helped
with the process, just without
us -- it was very, you know,
like it happened in harmony.
And then the timeline was
very interesting, too.
They knew when they would
come back, they would need
to come back to help
with a different process.
Because as you can see, it's a
dome that is placed on a frame.
So us lifting all the
concrete and then it to make
that concrete slab
would be impossible.
So neighborhood kids came
and then our neighbor came,
our neighbor used
the neighborhood kids
to help pour the concrete so
that we wouldn't hurt our backs.
So yeah, and then cooking in it,
and then asking questions
I think helped.
And it's been been really,
really interesting
and I love it.
And then looking at
different recipes, yeah,
it has been very
rewarding I think.
>> Really a beautiful oven.
I think maybe, Mike, since
Lou is not joining us today,
I thought maybe wanted to
talk a little bit about Lou
and his stories and
connecting especially to the,
you know, immigrant narrative.
There's some commonalities
with the themes
that come up in Mehmet's.
And Lou, even though he was
born here, who is the child
of Italian immigrants, and some
of the commonalities there.
And this idea of
cultural transmission.
Who is passing on
these traditions?
And in I think all of the videos
really mothers, as you said,
was a big theme that
wasn't necessarily planned.
So maybe at that point we could
open up to just people jumping
in about that, you know,
sharing that knowledge
and also being the
recipients of that knowledge.
But why don't you bring
in Lou a little here?
>> Mike Costello: Yeah, sure.
So Lou is almost 93.
He will be 93 years
old in November,
and actually he's
into so many things.
We actually met Lou
probably, 12 years ago or so
through the world of music
and dance and then it was
through that that
we got to know Lou
as a gardener and
as a seed keeper.
And he would share his
heirloom beans with us.
And then, you know, through
these conversations about beans,
he would say in the next phase,
"I've got to have you
guys up for this ravioli.
I mean, it's something that I
make only a couple times a year,
you know, a very special thing."
But I think in all of those
things what Lou does very,
very well is he connects all
of those traditions to people
and he ensures that there's a
story that goes with the seed,
with the recipe, with the song
or the dance that
he's passing on.
And you know, Lou has
always been a person as long
as we've known him to be
very adamant that, you know,
that these traditions need to
be passed on because as long
as they're connected to
certain people, you know,
that keeps those people alive,
right, even when they're gone.
Like those people kind of live
on through those traditions.
So this is why, you know,
for someone like Lou is very
important for him to seek
out people like Amy
and I who he can trust
to keep the story
going to, you know,
pass the recipe forward,
to share the beans.
Because in doing so, you
know, even when he's not
around anymore like
that, that piece of him,
that piece of his family,
that piece of his
community will be preserved.
And I think that Lou in
one way is very different
than the other three
participants because he has sort
of been here for so long.
I think a lot of people can
look at Lou and sort of say
that he embodies a
lot of, you know,
that sort of like more
stereotypical idea
of like what the West Virginia
old timer looks like, right?
You know, he's a
square dance caller
and he wears his you
know, camo ball cap
and he's got his great garden.
But then you get Lou talking
about his Italian heritage
and it's, you know,
it's really special
because there's a
lot of commonality.
You know, when his dad and mom
came here in the early 1900s,
you know, that Italian
American community was very much
marginalized in a lot of the
same ways in the labor camps.
So his dad came to work on the
railroads in Pocahontas County,
and then he sort of moved down
to where his mom had settled
in the Kanawha Valley
where Italian families
were mostly coal miners.
But you know, there
was a lot of, you know,
desire to connect back
to, as Lou always says,
like to connect back
to the old country.
So the way they would
do that is through food.
You know, and you know, Lou
said something in the film
that it was very special.
Like this is like going
back in time for a visit.
When you make these recipes
that his mom taught him,
it is like going back and
reconnecting with his mom.
And that's the other special
thing about Lou and his stories,
is that all of it is so much
more about his mom or his dad
or the people who taught it
to him than the actual act
or the result of the recipe.
And yeah, it's very special.
So, you know, Lou is not,
you know, so plugged in to be
with us on a webinar today,
but yeah, watch his video.
He's also on our podcast.
I'll mention he's
also on an episode
of our podcast along
with Mehmet.
We did kind of a
seakeeping episode last year,
and he's featured there too.
>> Yeah, I think
that idea of food
as a practice is
really important.
And I think often, we think
about food as the product,
but approaching it as a
practice often that is embedded
within community and is
about connection is something
that comes up in all
four of the films.
And I'm curious to hear
from the participants,
having the experience of
being filmed and talking
about your own practice,
if you had kind of moments
of recognition or illumination
watching the other three films
that maybe shed light on your
own work, or made you think
about it in a new
or different way,
or see how it was a
kind of commonality.
You can just jump in.
Maybe you didn't
have that experience.
>> Mike Costello: One
more time, the question?
I want to make sure I get it.
>> Yeah, I think like
watching the other three films,
were there moments that made
you kind of recognize something
in your own practice
or illuminate something
that you do, make you think
about it in a new way?
>> Jonathan Hall: Yeah, I mean,
one of the things that struck me
like deeply was mom and
talking about her experience
of the pressures of what I
perceive as whiteness on people
who are not white,
especially as children.
And what that does to
your own sense of identity
and your relationship
to it, right?
So this idea that like in order
to fit in, in order to just
like navigate these spaces,
you know, there's a compromise,
there's a cost that's offered
up to what are you willing
to compromise and sacrifice to
gain proximity to whiteness.
Because getting proximity
to whiteness is going
to make your life easier, right?
So I think it really speaks
to the fact that, you know,
whiteness is a structure
that impacts all of us.
And that from a very young age,
we understand the
structure, right?
Because we understand what's
going to get us into trouble,
what's going to get us
isolated, what's going
to get us made fun
of, what's going
to make us more acceptable.
Which, you know, I think
that we as human beings want
to be accepted, we
want community.
And so hearing about, you
know, your experience, Marlyn,
really that really struck
me because, for me growing
up in an affluent neighborhood
in Maryland and being one
of three black families that
actually lived in this, like,
you know, suburban planned
community, and then going
to school and being the nerdy
black kid who talked white,
right -- as I heard
from like black friends
and people that I knew.
But then was like, "Wait,
you're in the gifted
and talented class?
Black kid, like what?
What are you doing here?"
You know, being caught
in between, you know,
the way that whiteness as normal
is understood and accepted,
and then trying to
have to navigate that.
You know, I graduated high
school not having a very good
relationship with blackness.
You know, and I've talked about
this in other contexts as well.
And it wasn't until I
went to Morehouse College,
shout out to the house -- a
historically black college,
some say it's the greatest, you
know, historically black college
or college in the world.
I tend to agree.
But, you know, it wasn't until
then that I saw a spectrum
of blackness and really
began to like accept the fact
that the things that
I was interested in,
that were not sort of
legible through the white gaze
of what blackness is, was okay.
And so, you know, so that
like strengthened sense
of identity really connects
to my experience here
in West Virginia, in coming
here and having the confidence
to be like, "Okay, this
may not be the space --
these may not be spaces
where I'm expected to be.
But I like to taste
of deer meat,
and I like to challenge myself.
And I like the environment.
So like, why not?
Why shouldn't I step
into these areas?"
And then discovery that in
the process of moving here,
that my great, great
uncle, Joseph Nickerson,
started a church in
Hinton, West Virginia.
He and his wife and
infant son at the time were
in this book called
Negros of West Virginia.
Like you can go on like WVU's
libraries and find this book
and see a picture of
my great, great uncle.
I had no idea that his
picture was in like the back
of the family reunion.
So then, like, moving here
and then going to Hinton
and finding the site of the
church, and walking around.
And my wife and I and at the
time our 18-month-old daughter
running into a black woman
who knew the little baby boy
in that photo in that book.
"Oh yeah, I knew Mr. Nick."
This is my great uncle.
Not my great, great
uncle -- my great uncle.
And, you know, to see that like,
oh, my goodness, yes, like we --
black people -- have been here.
Like we've been in these spaces,
we have been represented,
we are Appalachia, right?
We have a home here,
we have a place here.
But it was wild because,
you know, we tend to think
about like spatial segregation
as a thing of the past,
but like driving
through Hinton --
and I don't know if
it's still the case,
but like you enter
Hinton from, I don't know,
one cardinal direction
and sort of drive
through town across river.
And like we drove into Hinton,
and it was like, very clearly,
like white people
that were there.
We just saw white people.
We saw some Confederate flags.
It was always baffling to me,
especially in places
like West Virginia.
But you know, whatever.
But then like there was almost
a point in Hinton where you
like saw black people.
And it was like you
still had this incredible
spatial segregation.
And, you know, these sort of
legacies that exist today.
But, you know, I think that,
you know, hearing Marlyn's story
and experience, I think it's
something that all of us
in the films can relate to,
about like the tax that is
on people who do not fit
in what is normative,
who don't immediately
fit into whiteness.
How do we navigate these spaces?
And what's the tax
we have to pay?
What's the calculus
we have to pay
to like remain true
to ourselves, right?
And while also kind
of creating space
so we can, like survive, right?
And I think we're all doing
that in really beautiful
and amazing ways that, you know,
sort of threads the common --
there's a common thread
through all our experiences
in the films.
But I seriously like that
emotional one when Marlyn said
that about like your
experiences.
Because I remember feeling the
same way over different things.
Just be like, "Oh, you know,
I guess that's not okay.
I guess I have to tone that part
of myself down in order to just
like make it through the day."
So yeah.
>> Marlyn, do you want
to respond or chime in?
I saw that you were unmuted.
>> Marlyn McClendon: I was just
unmuted in case I wanted to.
Yeah. No, that's
really touching.
Yeah, no, I mean, I
can't say anything better
than what he just said.
You have a really wonderful
way of speaking about things.
Yeah, no, I'm glad that
people can relate to that.
Because yeah, I felt
very isolated.
You know, and just thinking
about what you just
said, about like the tax.
I mean, yeah, I don't know.
That's illuminating for me to
think about because, you know,
the tax for me I guess was like
15 years of just like ignoring
that whole like side of
myself and choosing one side
or the other to survive.
And that's just a really, yeah,
powerful way of saying that.
Yeah.
>> Mehmet, do you
want to respond?
I think we have about
five more minutes
and then we can open
it up to questions.
>> Mehmet Oztan: Yeah,
I think in my case,
also not having an
immediate community
of my culture has been a
reason behind me having
to find new ways of connecting
with the people around me
and creating my own community.
Because I think this is all
about, you know, my practices
as a seed keeper, as
a farmer and what I do
for the university here.
I think it's deeply rooted
in community building.
So rather than -- and again,
the notion of Turkishness,
I have a very strong
Turkish identity.
But then again, I
oftentimes refer to, you know,
try to be careful about
not putting too much weight
on my Turkishness when I
refer to food that comes
from my cultural background.
Because this oven,
it's a community space,
basically a community
builder, right?
It doesn't only belong to, you
know, the people who identify
as Turks or, you know, as
Kurds or, you know, Armenians
or Greeks or, you know, people
who live in the country.
Because when you overdo
that, then someone's going
to just be confrontational or be
upset and say that, "You know,
I mean, this is actually
not true."
You know, this was in
my village growing up,
you know, in Istanbul, Turkey.
And even in my case, I
also feel more responsible
and accountable, especially
because I grew up in a big city.
And I shouldn't claim ownership
on that very important
cultural aspect of food.
But I see myself as
someone who is trying
to make better connections
with these scenes
of food culture and communities.
And it's true, if you look
at pictures, 40 years,
50 years back, that I grew
up -- the capital of Turkey,
there are some pictures that you
can find that there is main hubs
of traffic, shepherds with
sheep were passing through.
So the developments in
city is also, you know,
built around these
rural spaces, right?
It's not that old.
Especially also thinking, you
know, my parents background too,
connection to land, because my
dad was specifically born in --
back in that time -- a quite
rural part of the old that was,
you know, a "town",
kind of a rural space.
So, yeah, I think it's
about creating my --
and there's only I
think, as far as I know,
if it didn't change
recently much,
400,000 Turks live
in the United States.
And then these are
very scattered, too.
So other than that student
experience in Michigan,
nowadays, it's getting
more and more stronger.
My connection with
Turkish community
across this country is
happening through seeds.
Someone, you know, a Turk
who basically is deeply
missing stuffing peppers
so that they can make the
traditional stuffed pepper
recipe, seeing me stewarding
that pepper, finds a way to,
you know, connect with me,
and then that's how
the connection happens.
>> Michelle, do you
want to bring in some
of the voices from the Q&A?
>> Yes, absolutely.
Thank you all.
What a rich discussion.
Excellent questions.
So yeah, we have -- one of
the first questions we have
that has come in from
the audience was --
sounds like it was sparked
by Mehmet's earlier comments
about maybe 12 minutes ago.
And so this person notes
that they're always curious
about other cultures, they
like to ask people questions
about their cultures, especially
about food traditions.
But this person worries
about that being taken
as offensive or me being nosy.
It sounds like sometimes
those are very welcoming.
This person says, "Is it nosy?
Or is it someone being
open-minded and eager to learn?"
So whoever wants
to comment on that.
How would you feel about
someone being a little hesitant
about asking about food
traditions, and being nervous
about being offensive
or too nosy?
>> Was I able to be heard?
Sorry. I had the construction
across the street, I'm sorry.
Would anyone want to
-- yeah, Jonathan?
>> Jonathan Hall: You know,
I think that's a very common
question that I think a lot
of people, especially people
who come from backgrounds
and experiences -- like I don't
want to speak for other people
on the panel, but
as a black person,
I get this question
a lot, right?
Like, how do I like
relate, without, you know,
falling into the traps?
Or not even traps, but
like, how do I relate
without being offensive or
saying the wrong thing or,
you know, all that stuff?
And, you know, I think a lot
of that is like the attitude
with which you approach getting
to know people and an identity.
And it comes from --
like I think, you know,
you're on the right
track when you can say
that you love a people
or a person,
and that person loves you back.
And you know that, right?
You don't have to ask
the question to yourself.
Like you know that.
The people who I know, you know,
like Mike and Amy and Mehmet
and Emily, you know, like, I
would feel confident in saying
that like I am loved by
them, and then they love you.
And Marlyn, the only reason
why I'm not including you is
because like we haven't
really met, but I kind of feel
like we would be
BFFs pretty quickly.
And I think that that, you know,
that comes from like the way
that a person approaches getting
to know a person or an identity.
And when you approach that
curiosity with the goal in mind
of being in good relation and
getting to a place of love,
then you become inherently
aware of the ways
that those identities of the
people that you seek to be
in community with are
marginalized and understood
as people who don't live
in that identity, right?
So like, if you really want to
like get to know a black person
and want to be loved
by a black person,
then you learn how
blackness is understood
like more broadly, right?
And so if you're a white person
who's wanting to do that,
then as a white person, you have
to understand how your identity,
your contrasting identity to the
person you don't know like shows
up and is understood in
that relationship, right?
And so you learn, like, you
know, if you're a white person
who wants to get to know black
people, you learn the ways
that like white people
unintentionally
or intentionally sort of,
like marginalize blackness
and say things that
are not okay.
Like you do that
work because you want
to get to a place of love.
So, you know, in a
given moment, whether
or not somebody's curiosity is
taken as like genuine curiosity
or offense depends on how
that person is approaching
this situation.
Is it from a place of love?
And when people screw up
I think is when, you know,
they have this mindset of being
like extractive or thinking
that you can build
connection and make connection
without having that mindset
towards love, being loved
and giving love, right?
And, you know, I'll
speak for myself,
but I think this is
the same for anyone
who has a marginalized
identity -- you become very,
very good at reading people's
intentions very quickly.
And so because you
have to, right?
You have to avoid situations
where things are
unpleasant, right?
So with that in mind, I
think it's important to again
like be genuine about
going beyond just the bit
of information that you
want to get from somebody
and really being interested
in the person, and then how
that person understands
their identity
and their multiple identities,
you know, moving forward.
So, you know, I think that I
do appreciate this question.
And I think that it's
important that --
I think as you get to a point
where you understand what I'm
trying to say as I'm rambling,
like you ask that question
less and less, right?
You worry less and less
about like being offensive,
and really focus on
understanding the identity.
And knowing that you're not
going to bat 1000, right?
You're going to miss some stuff.
But are you are you
missing stuff in the process
of getting to a point of love?
Or are you missing
stuff because, you know,
you just want to
like, signal that?
Like "Oh, I know about like
you know, Turkish peppers.
Or, you know, I made
kimchi once.
And, you know, I want you to
know that I know how that tastes
and that's good and I
don't think it's nasty.
You know, something
like that, right?
So, you know, I think
approaching it from a standpoint
of wanting to love and
wanting to be loved.
Like can you be claimed by
the people that you want to be
in community with is a
really important metric.
And it takes time.
There's a lot of delicious
food along the way.
So yeah.
>> Does anyone else
want to add anything?
It also brings to
mind, you know,
the issues around this
appropriation of food traditions
and misrepresentation as well.
But shall we move on
to the next question,
because we're getting
there with time.
So I'm going to hand it over
to my colleague Thea Austin.
She has another audience
question.
>> Hi. Yeah, everybody.
Great, great conversation.
This audience member
wanted to say thank you
so much for the series.
Just wonderful, and
particularly,
Marlyn is a special favorite.
And she said she wanted to
hear what you all think.
Do you think this series
would be more impactful
for fellow West Virginians,
or for people outside
of West Virginia?
She says, or this person says,
lots of othering
happens on both levels.
And this person is asking
for any positive impact the
series had on either dynamic,
and wondering what you think.
>> Mike Costello: Well,
I guess I could speak
to at least some of this.
I mean, Amy and I can speak
to it as the filmmakers.
And I don't think we
have to pick necessarily.
And I think that the
answer in this case is both.
I think, especially given
the venue here, the platform
that it is, you know,
Library of Congress,
it is for a national audience.
But also, all of the
stories we tell are
for us, for West Virginians.
You know, I think when
we started this business,
part of what drove it certainly
was this decades and decades of,
you know, the buildup of seeing
how West Virginia was portrayed
to, you know, people
outside the region,
to people outside West Virginia.
But I think the more we started
doing it, it was like, you know,
the value of the stories,
like these are our stories.
You know, it is very
valuable for us to, you know,
be able to give people
inspiration and agency
to tell their own
stories, you know,
to realize that this
place is rich in stories,
and that we are empowered
when we tell them ourselves.
And you know, that's a very
different dynamic than,
you know, an outside national
media outlet dropping in,
telling the stories about these
four people would have looked
very different, you know,
than if it were, you know,
from someone, you know, like us.
So it is different, but I
think at the end of the day,
as a storyteller I just
care a lot less these days
about what people outside of
West Virginia think about us.
And I care a lot more about
making people hear or feel like,
you know, these stories that
we have are worthy, are,
you know, pride worthy.
Because I think in all
that, sort of, you know,
decades of the way that West
Virginia has been portrayed,
there's been a lot
of disempowerment
through the stories, and a lot
of sort of feeling like for one,
we are unable to
tell our own stories,
that somebody else will always
tell our stories for us.
And that, you know, we have
no control over the narrative.
So that's just sort
of my take on that.
>> Amy Dawson: Yeah.
Yeah. And the stories
told are not always --
they're not always
true and authentic,
and they're not always
flattering.
And so that's in large part
internalized in the region.
And I think a lot of what we do
is kind of turn the narrative
and speak to, you know, not
the negative stereotypes
that maybe is thought
of nationally
and internalized locally.
But we try to get the story
out there that is hopeful,
is inspiring, and empowering.
And that, you know,
we're perfectly capable
of telling our story ourselves.
[ Silence ]
>> Okay. Does anybody
else want to respond?
Or do you have one?
>> Okay. So one thing that
came across in the films was
that not only are you
practicing using locally grown
or locally sourced
food to make dishes.
And we're wondering if you know
the impact on the environment,
sourcing locally and cooking
locally, rather than cooking
with food that is brought
in a huge carbon footprint.
>> Mehmet Oztan: I
couldn't hear the question.
>> Jonathan Hall: Yeah, I
think the connection was kind
of garbled, yeah.
>> Were you able to hear that?
Should I ask the
question one more time?
>> You can try but it sounds
like you're asking about --
>> I'll try again.
Okay, I'll try again.
>> You have the question.
>> Okay, I'll try
it one more time.
You guys -- and let me
know if you can hear it.
You do a great job showing
how all eat locally.
And grow and source it
locally using traditions
that are very important to you.
And does using locally grown
or locally sourced food
to make traditional dishes have
an impact on the environment
of cooking locally as
opposed to using things
that you have to import?
And looking for local
resources in order to --
>> Jonathan Hall: It's
still cutting out a lot.
>> I think your connection
is bad, Thea.
>> Jonathan Hall:
If you can type it
in the Q&A, that would be good.
Yeah.
>> Well, she texted it to me.
And so okay, one
thing that comes
across -- everyone can hear me?
Okay, great.
Go Baltimore.
Okay, one thing that
comes across is
that not only are you
practicing your traditions,
but all of you use locally
grown or locally sourced food
to make traditional dishes.
Do you have thoughts about
the impact on the environment
of sourcing locally to
prepare your dishes,
consume your dishes?
So it sounds like it's a
question on the, you know,
environmental impacts,
but locally.
>> Jonathan Hall: Yeah, I think
I'll just answer real quick
that you know, one of
the things that got me
into like foraging -- and I mean
particularly foraging and just
like learning the names of
plants that were around.
I was just like baffled
by how much free food was
like available, right?
It's like just growing for
like the low price of free-99.
And so you know, then getting
my PhD in ecology and, you know,
learning about sustainability
and these sorts of things
from that angle, it was
like this just makes
so much more sense to
like walk out my door
and like build a salad.
Or go down to the pond or the
river or something like that
and catch some fish or, you
know, get out into the woods
and like put meat in my freezer.
And then having the language
to be like, oh my goodness,
like my carbon footprint
is so much less, you know,
if I'm eating locally.
And you know, I think that
that such an important aspect
of the way that I approach food
and the food traditions
that I have.
And it reminds me
of the way that --
Monica White is a brilliant
scholar at the University
of Madison, wrote in
her book Freedom Farmers
and about George
Washington Carver, right,
the famous scientist
who's known for, you know,
like the peanut man, right?
But he's also largely
responsible for, you know,
like the locavore movement,
and working with newly
emancipated black folks.
And having like an
Extension Center
through the Tuskegee
Institute, right,
a historically black college.
Because all of these, you know,
newly emancipated black folks,
they couldn't like go
down to the university,
the state university and
like, talk to the white folks
and get information
about how to grow plants.
So like he did that work
and showed them how to use,
you know, manure and fertilizer
and all these sorts of things.
So, you know, I think that
it's holistic when you kind
of like focus on the impact
that your food is making
on the environment.
You really begin to sort
of see the entire scope
of what it takes to
put food on your plate.
And, you know, the systems that
have been built have designed us
to be removed from that.
And it becomes, you know,
difficult for us to understand
when like our food comes
from a grocery store.
So like why do I have to care
about the impact of that?
All I have to do is go
to the grocery store.
But when you are immersed
in this and you're depending
on your local environment,
then it does all sorts
of wonderful things
to understanding the
world that you live in.
Not only like the
environmental impact,
but then like the
sociological impact
and the history that
exists there.
So yeah, I mean,
it's central to that.
Yeah.
>> Thank you.
So we're over time,
but we just got a flood
of questions in the Q&A.
How about I just ask one more?
How's everyone feel about that?
And this goes speaks to Marlyn's
experience that she shared.
How can we help kids connect
to these ideas of connection
to place and building community?
So many students have
the same experience
of being even passively shamed
for their different foodways,
obviously, beyond celebratory
international days in schools,
that can reinforce the othering.
[ Silence ]
So you know, in a way, how can
we go beyond just these one-off,
right, International
Food Day celebrations,
and building community with kids
and to fight against the shame
and discrimination and
demonization that they face?
If anyone would like
to chime in,
because in many ways
it's been discussed.
>> Jonathan Hall:
I want to talk,
but I've been talking too much.
>> Marlyn McClendon: My kids
just rushed in, so I'm trying
to get them to -- here we go.
Here they are, my kids.
Yeah, and I was trying
to reread it again.
And it disappeared.
Let me see.
Hold on one second.
How do we help kids connect
to these ideas of connection
to place and building community?
I think, you know, it
sounds a little silly,
but I think you know, this
sounds a little silly.
But you know, videos like this,
telling other people's stories
is a way to feel connected.
You know, me just
seeing more Asian stories
in the media has made me feel
like I've got a little
bit more space to breathe,
a little bit more room.
So I think that that's
one really important thing
is storytelling.
And, you know, the way that we
help get our kids connected is
by just doing things with our
community and gardening and kind
of taking them through
the process of food and,
you know, things like that.
I'm not sure.
Sorry.
>> Mehmet, would you
want to add anything?
Because we are now rounding
out this fabulous discussion.
>> Mehmet Oztan: Yeah, I think
community building has a lot
to do with it, with
other people.
You know, I think I saw also
in the questions a the question
about internalization,
internalization
of the ordering of
West Virginians.
Yeah, I think, you know,
I reflect on my time here
since we arrived in 2018.
And I think we only do it in
a non-extractive way by just,
you know, cooking together,
you know, or sharing meals
with neighbors, I think.
It always amazes me to see this
delicacy, which is a delicacy
in Turkey, which is beef cheeks.
When I was looking for it
here, because I was craving it,
they are specialty restaurants
who that cook beef
cheeks in Turkey.
And if you think about it,
it's a leftover part
of the animal, right?
It's what's considered
a "poor people's food".
Because it was thrown once
the entire animal is processed
for its, again, "valuable
parts," you know,
for people who could
have afforded it.
But then it became a
big cooking tradition
to basically prepared
dishes out of these parts
of the animal that's
thrown away.
So when I was looking for it,
of course, I couldn't find it.
And then our neighbor, without
telling me talked to the people
in the slaughterhouse
in the area.
Again, the kindness in
this, it's just, you know,
it makes me all the time
appreciate our neighbor.
Because he just thought
it was important for me.
And he was also curious
-- curiosity too.
I mean, that's the
sincere curiosity,
because he was interested
in what it could taste like.
So he took his time and then
went to the slaughterhouse and,
you know, this is kind of
graphic, but, you know,
he brought the cow heads
to take the cheeks out.
And then I cooked it and
then it became a huge deal.
Now, every once in a while,
they request that this dish
that I just make, just
basically very simple,
roasted in the oven.
And I realized that
actually, we haven't made it
in the Greek oven yet.
So this is a new request that
our neighbor made the other day.
I think we are going
to try it in the oven.
So yeah, I mean, I
think trying to connect
in meaningful ways
while being also, --
you know, this is
something that Jonathan
and I have discussed a lot, not
as an ally, but as an accomplice
and sharing these cultural
significances, right?
You know, how far
are you willing to go
for advocating these
cultural traditions?
Because it always connects
to place, identity and race,
you know, even if it
looks like it's just,
you know, simply about food?
You know, quote, unquote.
Yeah, I think -- yeah, I think
I'm enjoying these lately,
the shows that appears on,
you know, on some networks,
just finding out, you know,
especially made by people
of color and then also produced
by other underrepresented
marginalized communities.
>> Jonathan Hall: And I'll
just jump in real quick.
And I'll say that like as
it relates to children,
I think it's really important
that we are honest with them.
Because one of the
things that I'm finding
about the hard stuff,
about our lives
and like the way
things are structured --
because one of the things
I'm finding as somebody
who teaches young adults
in higher education,
and we talk about, you know,
like these problematic histories
that have been hidden
from, you know,
most of us in our education,
that they're mad, right?
And like they're mad at
the older generations.
It's like, "Why didn't
you teach us this?
Right? You know, why
didn't you teach us
that the Mayo Clinic was
started by, you know,
harvesting the bones of
indigenous men were hanged
in the Dakota wars, the
largest mass execution
in the United States that
was signed by Abraham Lincoln
in the midst of the
Civil War, right?"
So like these facts about
history, like they want to know,
and they're upset
when they're like,
"How come nobody told me this?"
So I think it's really
important to talk to our kids,
the young people in our lives,
not just like the ones who,
you know, come from our bodies,
but the young people that are
around us, to like
be honest about this.
And to let them know that
we will walk with them
through this hard history,
and that we're all learning
and trying to do better.
Because nothing is going to
get fixed, nothing's going
to get better if we
don't face, you know,
these problematic structures.
And, you know, some of the
biggest ones are white supremacy
and patriarchy, right?
So we have to be honest with
our children about that and not
to be afraid about how
that may make us look,
but to be courageous
enough to see ourselves
on the other side
of that, right?
So we need to talk to our kids
like from a very young age,
I think, from a very young age
about these hard histories.
And then they can
be better prepared
to like build community.
So yeah.
>> Well, thank you.
I think that's a
beautiful note to end on.
We are a little over time.
So I'm going to just thank
everyone for being here,
for taking this time for
this really rich discussion.
It will be recorded and
available on the Library
of Congress website in due time.
And of course, thank you
to Mike and Amy and Emily
for leading this discussion
and to all of our participants.
On behalf of the
American Folklife Center,
it's been such an
honor to work with you.
I feel I can say that.
So thank you.
And sorry to rush you off.
I wish we could talk all day.
>> Marlyn McClendon: Thank
you all so much, everyone.
>> Mehmet Oztan: Thank you.
>> Thank you so much.