Appalachian Fury: When Generations Rise Against Government Greed
By A.L. Childers
Growing up in the Appalachian mountains, distrust in the government was not just a sentiment, it was a way of life passed down through generations. My grandparents, great-grandparents, and even my great-great-grandparents all shared this wariness, and for good reason. The history of this country, especially when it comes to its treatment of indigenous peoples and the working class, speaks volumes. From the forceful removal of Native Americans and the theft of their lands, to the exploitation of hardworking American citizens, we’ve seen how power is wielded against the very people who built this nation.
I remember sitting at my grandmother’s feet around the campfire, listening to her stories while she rocked in her chair. As she taught us how to can food, snap peas, and grow our own, she would tell us the stories of our people—stories of survival, resilience, and an unshakable sense of community. We weren’t just learning how to live off the land; we were learning why. In Appalachia, trust was earned, and the government had never earned it.
The Roots of Distrust: Land Theft and Broken Promises
The distrust of the government in Appalachia is deeply rooted in the historical injustices that have shaped the region. From the Trail of Tears, where thousands of Native Americans were forcibly removed from their ancestral lands, to the continued seizure of property under dubious legal pretenses, land theft has been a common theme. My ancestors, like many others in the region, were witness to these injustices. And it didn’t stop with the Native Americans—land was also stolen from American families under various schemes, with the government and big business often working hand in hand.
Appalachian people have long been skeptical of promises made by those in power. It’s easy to see why when you look at the way we’ve been treated. For centuries, we’ve seen the government act in the interests of the rich and powerful, not the common people. Whether it’s exploiting our resources or ignoring our needs during times of crisis, the message has always been clear: we are on our own.
Hurricane Helene: A Modern Day Betrayal
This distrust was only reinforced in recent times with Hurricane Helene. This storm, which wreaked havoc across many states, claimed the lives of many of my kinfolk. Yet, when FEMA finally arrived, all they offered was a pitiful $750. After generations of paying taxes, this was the government’s response to a disaster that took everything from us. Even worse, there was a clause stating that if we didn’t repay the $750, the government could seize our land. It was a slap in the face, a reminder that we were nothing more than pawns in their game.
But here’s the thing: we don’t need their money. Real Americans—our neighbors, our communities—have always been the ones to step up and help. While the government was slow to act, we were already helping each other, rebuilding and providing aid. And then we see where our tax dollars really go: billions spent on flying in illegal immigrants, many of whom are single young men of military age. It’s not that we don’t care for women and children seeking a better life, but we can see through the lies. This isn’t about compassion—it’s about weakening us from within. Our own government is using our money to bring in outsiders while ignoring the very people it claims to serve.
The Land Grab: Corporate Greed and Political Corruption
It’s no secret that Appalachian land is rich with resources, particularly lithium. In the region stretching from Kings Mountain to Chimney Rock, there are lithium mines that are now owned by companies like BlackRock and Vanguard—global behemoths with ties to our own political leaders. Kamala Harris’s husband, for instance, has financial interests in these operations, and it’s no surprise that Harris signed off on mining operations earlier than necessary. Is this not a conflict of interest?
The more you dig, the clearer the connections become. Albemarle Corporation, one of the largest lithium producers in the world, has its headquarters in Charlotte, and they’ve been quietly expanding their grip on the land. We know that this storm wasn’t a freak accident. It was engineered—thanks to HAARP and DARPA. Normally, storms slow down and dissipate, but Helene gained speed, defying all logic. It was a calculated move, a way to weaken our communities and make way for a corporate land grab.
And then there’s the delay. It took five days for the government to even respond to the disaster, while FEMA was actively blocking travel in and out of Greenville and confiscating donations intended for the victims. But they made a mistake this time—they’re messing with the wrong people.
Hatfields and McCoys: Uniting Against a Common Enemy
Now, it’s true that in Appalachia, we’ve had our feuds. The Hatfields and McCoys, perhaps the most famous example, fought a bloody war that lasted generations. But here’s the thing: when it comes to protecting our land, our way of life, and our people, we know how to come together. When the government threatens us—whether through disasters engineered for profit or by trying to strip us of our land—we stand united. The Hatfields and McCoys may have fought each other, but they would come together in an instant to fight the government if it meant defending their homes and their families.
The government has underestimated the strength of Appalachian resolve. They think they can divide us, weaken us, and drive us from our land, but they’re wrong. We know these hills, these forests, and these rivers better than anyone. We’ve lived here for generations, and we know how to survive. And we know how to fight back when the time comes.
Appalachia: A Region Built on Independence and Resilience
What the government fails to understand is that the people of Appalachia have never needed them. For generations, we’ve lived off the land, relying on ourselves and each other to survive. We know our forests, our mountains, and our rivers better than any outsider ever could. We don’t need handouts, and we certainly don’t need the government telling us what we can and can’t do with our land.
The Appalachian way of life is something they can’t control, and that’s what scares them. Our self-sufficiency threatens the very system they’ve built—one designed to make us dependent on them. But we won’t play their game. We’ve seen how they operate. From Hawaii to Palestine, Ohio, to the hills of our own homeland, they’ve shown us time and again that they care only for profit.
The Lithium Rush: Was It Worth It?
In the end, you have to wonder—was it worth it? Was the lithium worth the destruction of our homes, our families, and our way of life? The government may think they’ve won this round, but they’ve underestimated us. The people of Appalachia are not so easily defeated. We’ve survived wars, famines, and government betrayal. We will survive this too.
This time, they messed with the wrong group of people. We know our woods. We know our land. And we know how to fight back.
Conclusion: A Legacy of Resistance
As I look back on my grandmother’s lessons around the campfire, I understand now more than ever why she never trusted the government. The stories she told weren’t just tales of the past—they were warnings for the future. And now, as we face new threats in the form of corporate greed and government corruption, her words resonate even louder.
We are the descendants of those who fought back, who survived against all odds. And we will continue to fight, not just for ourselves, but for the generations to come. The lithium wasn’t worth it. The land wasn’t worth it. And when the dust settles, they’ll learn that you don’t mess with Appalachia.
The government may have its plans, but we have something they’ll never understand—an unbreakable bond with the land and with each other. And that is something no amount of money or power can ever take away.
Written by A.L. Childers, an Appalachian native and advocate for the resilience and independence of the people of Appalachia.
