Shaylan Clark - Hope in Harlan

 

I grew up in a small town, the small town of Lynch, Kentucky, which is located in Harlan County, Kentucky, right across the mountain. [audience cheers and applause]

 

The thing I love most about my home is my close-knit community. Everyone takes care of everyone. We care about each other. We take care of our home and our people. I remember, in grade school, we had this thing called spirit week. It was the week right before homecoming, and there would be different themes every day of the week. 

 

So, you had decade day, and pajama day and all these different days. But one day that always remained the same thing was Coal Miner Day. I had this, because one thing that we had in common in my small community is everyone's family had a coal miner. My father was a coal miner. If your father wasn't a coal miner, then your uncle was or your papaw was. Didn't matter who you were, you knew a miner or you were related to a miner. And so, Coal Miner Day was the day that all the kids got to go home and ask their parents, “Can I wear your uniform? Can I put on your hat with the light on it? Can I put on your jacket with your name on it, or your big boots or your striped pants?” 

 

I just remember coming home being like, “Mom, it's Coal Miner Day. I need to borrow dad's big coal miner uniform. Do you think he'll let me wear his jacket, or his pants or his boots?” He was a much bigger man than me, and so he would always let me wear his jacket with the orange reflection stripes on it. It was so big, it came down all the way past my knees. I remember finding the biggest pair of boots I had and wearing them to school the next day. So proud. 

 

All the kids would come into school with their family names on their jackets. We'd rub our hands in the dirt, and put it all over our face to make it look like we just got off a second shift. We'd walk through the hallways, and the teachers would be smiling. It was like our way of honoring the hardworking men and women of our community. In high school, I remember I was a freshman, and I made so many new friends that year. One particular friend, I remember her name was Kelsey. Me and Kelsey clicked, immediately became best friends. Her dad was a coal miner too. 

 

As the year went by, I remember there was whispers in the classrooms of people being upset, because their families were having to move. And I was like, “Why is everyone having to leave?” It was because their fathers were losing their jobs. The mines were shutting down. There was no work. And so, I just remember pushing it to the back of my mind, because my dad still had his job. And so, I was like, “It's whatever. Your dad can just find another job. You're being dramatic.” Until one day, I walked into my science class that I had with Kelsey, and she was crying. My immediate thought was, “Girl, who we fighting after class?” Like, “Who is it? Who did it? What are we doing? What's up? You know, I'm down a ride for you.” Like, “Kelsey was good. Just let me know.” 

 

She was like, “No, we're not fighting anyone, but I'm moving.” I was like, “Why are you moving? Why would you leave? You're my first friend that I made. We clicked so well. Why are you having to leave?” She said, “My dad lost his job. The mine shut down.” That was the first time that it really hit me personally. I realized that what is our community without coal mines. We love it here, and we love each other. But without these jobs, my friends and their families had to leave. 

 

It was my junior year of high school, the summer of my junior year, and it was in July. I remember coming downstairs, and my mom was cooking dinner, and she just got off the phone, and I was like, “What's wrong?” She had a look on her face. She was like, “Your dad's mind shut down.” I just remember thinking, “Oh, my God, do we have to move? Do I have to leave this place and these people, these mountains that I love so much? Is this really what takes me away from my home?” And she's like, “I don't know.” So, fortunately, my father had been in the mines long enough to where he could get his retirement, and I was able to stay in a place that I love. But for a lot of other families, this wasn't the same outcome. 

 

When I graduated high school, I got into film and I did the AMI Summer Documentary Institute internship here in Whitesburg, Kentucky with Appalshop. They showed us many different films. I remember one day, we were learning about perception, and they showed us films of what outsiders see us as. One film they showed us was Diane Sawyer's, Hidden: Children of the Mountains. I just remember at the end of that film, there was steam coming out of my head, because all I had seen for that entire film was kids with no teeth and them claiming it was because they were drinking too much Mountain Dew, and kids with no shoes running around in the dirt. 

 

I was just like, “I have all my teeth.” I've lived here my whole life. All my friends have their teeth and we all have pretty nice shoes, although we prefer to be barefoot. [audience laughter] And so, after that, they showed us another film, Harlan County, USA. This film struck me in such a way that it brought tears to my eyes. There are not a lot of films that can make me cry. But I remember at the end of it being so proud to see what the people of my community fought for. These miners were fighting against these companies for basic human rights. I just remember that's the way I see my community. This is how I see my people. We're fighters and we'll fight for what we work for. 

 

So, it's the end of this summer, it is July 30th and I remember I'm sitting on a couch and I'm scrolling through Facebook and I see that Blackjewel miners go on protest on a train track in Cumberland, Kentucky. They're blocking a train from taking coal out of the mines. So, what happened was the Blackjewel coal company shut down and went bankruptcy. They had paid their miners on the weekend of the 4th of July. They got their checks, they cashed their checks, they paid their bills, they went on vacation. Come Monday, all of that money was taken out of their accounts and there were thousands of dollars in a negative. Families having to leave their vacation to pick up their children and say, “We can't stay at the beach anymore. We can't afford it.” 

 

And so, when I heard the news, I ran in the kitchen and I showed my mom, she was cooking dinner. She looks at me and she goes, “Well, I know you're going down there.” [audience laughter] So, I didn't have a camera on my own. I called some friends at Appalshop and I was like, “I need a camera.” And they were like, “Girl, come get it.” And so, I came over here I got the camera, I got the equipment and I went straight to the protests. I remember pulling up [chuckles] by myself with this huge camera bag and this monopod, this camera around my neck, and I'm ready. I'm ready to get the story. 

 

I walk up to a group of guys, and one of them looks at me with a straight face and he goes, “Who were you with?” “Excuse me? Well, sir--” I was a little taken back, but there were some other guys there that I went to high school with that recognized me immediately. And they were like, “No, dude, she's from here. She's with us. She's going to tell our story. You can talk to her. She's going to tell it right.” I understood where that miner was coming from. 

 

People come in here with their cameras, and they paint us in a completely different light of what we are. I want the Blackjewel miners to know that no matter how long this fight takes. The bloody Harlan fight took 13 months. We are six weeks in, and we will continue and they will have the love and support of their community behind them. I will be right there with my monopod, and my camera and my microphone, ready to tell our story the way it should be told. Thank you. 

 

[cheers and applause]