By Anna Saab
On June 19, 1865, the Emancipation Proclamation was finally recognized in Texas. Decades later, we celebrate Juneteenth and the freedom it brought.
White West Virginians should not only uplift and celebrate our Black neighbors, but reflect on the darker history of our region. Coal country’s history has always had a complicated tinge, but a closer look reveals a particularly dark history for our BIPOC brothers and sisters.
A multigenerational family spends time together in a bedroom in McDowell County, West Virginia in 1946. Russell Lee, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Free McDowell & Coal Country Promises
More than a century ago, Black families fled the Jim Crow South for promises of “free McDowell” — a part of the Appalachian coalfields rumored to be a haven for financial opportunities in the mines. In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, the county offered greater financial, political, and educational freedom than many other parts of the country.
One of the largest movements of people in US history, the Great Migration saw roughly six million African Americans fleeing the South in pursuit of safer cities in the Northern, Midwestern, and Western regions of the country. Although there were better opportunities, racism and discrimination were still rife among the mountains.
Black miners were often assigned some of the most dangerous coal mining positions, leaving the slightly safer positions for white miners. By 1909, Black miners composed a quarter of West Virginia’s mining workforce.
A coal miner and his family are pictured in Bertha Hill, West Virginia in 1938. Marion Post Wolcott, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Not only were Black miners expected to work under more dangerous conditions, but they did so with lower wages and higher barriers to medical access as compared to their white neighbors. To this day, Black and Indigenous miners face unique barriers to care, impacted by geographical, occupational, and financial factors.
Hawks Nest Tunnel Disaster
Blue collar jobs like mining often come with increased health hazards, and too often, mass tragedy. Countless lives have been lost to create the industrial backbone of our country, hundreds just in the Hawks Nest Tunnel Disaster which caused the deaths of nearly 800 men from silicosis.
Thousands of men, at least two-thirds of which were Black, blasted and drilled through Gauley Mountain to build the 32-36 foot tunnel that would be used to divert water to power the Union Carbide plant in Alloy, West Virginia. The drilling caused fine silica dust to fill the cavern, causing workers to become covered in and inhale massive amounts of the substance. Hundreds of miners—the majority Black—died from silicosis. Black deaths were treated differently, with many being buried in unmarked graves.
While there are more protections for workers in these environments today, blue collar jobs still come with greater risks.
Environmental Justice By and For BIPOC
Public health data has shown the consequences of racial disparities on BIPOC communities in the US. These communities are often thought of after damage has occurred. BIPOC communities have always borne the brunt of environmental harms and climate change.
John Hoskin of Rhodell, West Virginia sits next to a pile of fire wood. Hoskin struggled with black lung after 15 years of working in the mines. Jack Corn, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
One example is the impact of pulmonary fibrosis, including black lung which is a specific type of pulmonary fibrosis caused by the repeated inhalation of silica and coal dust. The lung disease impacts Black and Indigenous populations disproportionately.
Bias in medicine results in worse outcomes for Black patients. Oxometers often misread oxygen saturation for Black patients due to pigmentation differences, and this leads to higher rates of occult hypoxemia in BIPOC patients. Black patients are three times as likely to experience occult hypoxemia compared to white patients, often producing a delay in care with serious consequences.
As data centers develop all over the country, we can’t ignore the disproportionate impact on Black rural communities. Data center development is often happening nearby low-income, rural, and BIPOC communities, groups that already face serious resource challenges.
These data centers impact air and water quality, and without governmental regulations and protections, these communities will experience serious consequences. There are no adequate justifications for the health and environmental damages that will result. Jobs won’t matter if our neighbors don’t have safe water access or healthy air quality.
As communities organize to fight back against data center development, it’s more important than ever to take an intersectional approach. Black rural communities are at stake, and it’s their voices, stories, and demands that should not only be centered but uplifted. As with every disenfranchised and disadvantaged group, nothing about them, without them.
The NAACP has great resources for folks interested in learning more about standing up to dirty data centers. See their resources at https://naacp.org/campaigns/stop-dirty-data-centers. To learn more about how you can use your power to fight for racial and economic justice, visit Showing Up for Racial Justice.
Editor’s note: While the majority of this article will focus on the region’s story post-emancipation, it feels important to mention that prior to emancipation, African Americans were forced to mine in dangerous conditions in coal country, particularly in Virginia.
