Out­siders have nev­er got­ten Appalachia—or else, they get the ver­sion they want: the one with the meth and Moun­tain Dew mouth, the incest, the painkillers, the wel­fare, all cap­tured by jour­nal­ists para­chut­ing in for their reg­u­lar dose of pover­ty porn. They find the tooth­less guy, the trail­ers with shot­guns racked up on the wall and the yard strewn with dia­pers and beer cans, and they film some dude say­ing weird shit in a back­coun­try accent that needs sub­ti­tles to com­pre­hend, they give it an omi­nous title like “A Hid­den Amer­i­ca: Chil­dren of the Moun­tains,” and they leave. You bet peo­ple here have a chip on their shoul­der. It’s not that stuff like that doesn’t exist—but if the world always insist­ed on zoom­ing in on your warts, you’d be resent­ful, too.