Yet, like many other members of the country’s white working class, Jessie and Tracy feel that the country has abandoned them. When I called him last week, Jessie said that he feels as though the government is “bending over backwards” to help other groups—immigrants, minorities—while ignoring the people hurting in his community. “They worry about making everybody else happy,” he said. “I feel forgotten.” In November, he and Tracy plan to vote for Donald Trump.
In the spring of 2009, I travelled to rural Ohio to meet the people my friend Matt Eich had been photographing. It was an uneasy time in America. Depression-style tent cities were springing up across the country. The foreclosure crisis was looming. Our military was mired in Iraq. It felt as if America’s place in the world was slipping.
As Matt and I drove along Route 13, a highway that snakes through the Appalachian hills in the southeastern part of the state, the sense of dissolution deepened. The region had once been known for its abundance of coal and timber, but now the mines were largely dried up, and manufacturing jobs had moved overseas. Aside from a couple of bars, a few dollar stores, and a drive-through liquor joint that advertised “Guns and Ammo,” most businesses were shuttered.
Matt, a Virginia native who was studying photography as an undergraduate at Ohio University, in Athens, was interested in what was left. In Athens County, where one in three people lives below the poverty line, he befriended young men whose idea of fun was to speed down dirt roads in pickup trucks while plowing through a twenty-four-pack of Coors. He hung out in trailer parks and at Little League games, demolition derbies, and church gatherings.
Many of his photographs from the region, which are collected in the new book “Carry Me Ohio,” show scenes of poverty and disaffection. (The project was funded by a Getty Grant and by the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.) One chilling image shows a young man in a dirty shirt with a dotted line tattooed around his neck. Straddling the line are instructions: “Cut here.” But not all of Matt’s pictures are gloomy. He became a husband and a father while working on this project, and many of his most affecting pictures are celebrations of family life.
The post “I Feel Forgotten”: A Decade Of Struggle In Rural Ohio appeared first on The Aquila Report.
