Influence: the many faces of andi marie tillman
Andi is telling me the story of rediscovering a childhood notebook, and by that point in the call, my cheeks hurt from smiling for an hour straight. Between her unapologetic voice colored by a childhood in Scott County, Tennessee, and an unexpected punchline peppering her every phrase, when Andi speaks, you can’t help but smile. She made the notebook as a Christmas gift for her dad, a full-fledged Mel Brooks parody with rapping shepherds visiting baby Jesus in the nativity. At the end of the book she wrote an artist bio: “Andi Marie is nine years old. She enjoys making people laugh and writing emotional poetry.” For Andi, she says nothing has changed. “I don’t remember a time before believing that I was supposed to act and sing. I don't remember a time in my life, ever. So if you have no prior memories, you just feel like it's destiny calling you,” she said. “I know that sounds so ‘pie in the sky,’ but I really feel like there's something in me calling me to do that.” These days Andi is living out her calling and continuing to make people laugh by the millions with the power of social media. The self-proclaimed “Hillbilly Pygmalion” multihyphenate “actor, songwriter, humorist, papaw and general shitass” has earned millions of views across her social media channels and an avid fan base of supporters, amassing over 13 million likes on her TikTok alone. What started as Andi using social media to promote her acting projects quickly meteored into hundreds of thousands of folks backing Andi’s music, her spot-on impressions, her clever commentary and most of all, her laugh-out-loud skits that feature a cast of familiar characters. Her digital family tree started with Pawpaw, an old man adorning overalls and a toothless scowl loosely inspired by Andi’s real grandfather. A video skit in 2022 of Pawpaw visiting his buddy at Hardee’s jumpstarted her viral career, racking up over 2 million views and thousands of comments with some variation of “This is literally my Grandpa!” Then there are the aunts. There’s Aunt Pam, a church gossip in a Liza Minnelli wig; Bethany, the “Woo Woo Aunt” who peddles crystals and essential oil remedies; and the unnamed Heavily Medicated Aunt who is — you guessed it — on enough muscle relaxers for the whole family. And this only scratches the surface of Andi’s online character reel. There’s Claudia, Merlee, Charlene and then Nashveratu, the displaced vampire trying to make it big as a singer-songwriter in Nashville. Watching, mockumentary style, with Andi masked beneath a full face of theatrical makeup, a bald cap, fangs and a perfected Transylvanian accent, it’s hard to believe this is the same actor. All of her characters are an amalgamation of the folks Andi grew up with in Scott County. Pawpaw has the look of her grandpa and the mishmash personality of other old men that were in her life as a child. Aunt Pam is based so closely to Andi’s own Aunt Carletta that the parishioners at Carletta’s church lovingly rebranded her as “Pam” at Sunday service. Even Heavily Medicated Aunt has a real-life muse who shall remain anonymous. The short-form video style and Andi’s innate comedic timing makes her work seem deceptively simple. But as you scroll through her Instagram or TikTok profiles, the honesty, complexity and intellect behind the comic couldn’t be more clear. She deftly morphs her voice and mannerisms between characters, each richly designed with their own comedic point of view. She’s conceived a living, online portfolio that showcases her knack for character work and has molded her own memories into these Appalachia-meets-Commedia dell’arte archetypes, achieving something so few who make jokes about the region can muster. Andi crafts comedy about Appalachia devoid of stereotypes yet still relatable. She manages to be genuinely funny, always poking fun, but never making the region and her people the butt of the joke. “I know people. This is my background. These are people that I saw every single day, and so they're a part of me,” she said. “They live inside of me. As an actor, I feel I've been given a gift to communicate these people's essence through character work.” It’s no surprise some of Andi’s greatest inspirations are masterclasses of comedy and chameleonic characters like Tim Curry and Carol Burnett. All of her influences (she said there’s some Audrey Hepburn empathy and Joni Mitchell songwriting folded in there too) are stitched with a similar thread, untethered by others’ expectations and steadfast in their own individuality. For her, that’s the secret sauce. “I love anyone who's singular,” she said, “anyone who it feels like when you watch them, you're seeing the essence of them, and it goes beyond craft.” I told Andi it must feel absurdly cool to be pounded with daily comments comparing her to these idols. There’s dozens of comments on each video crowning her “TikTok's Carol Burnett,” “hillbilly Tim Curry” or star of “yeehaw Saturday Night Live.” But according to the social media starlet, it doesn’t feel she’s earned that level of praise just yet. “Y’know, I'm 33 years old. I remember a time before the internet,” she said, “The internet feels less real to me than a show. I'm just trying to prove something bigger to myself, you know? There's only so much that a 30-second video can really impact you.” She’s far from ungrateful. It takes a miracle blend of luck, talent and persistence to make it online, and that isn’t lost on Andi. Still, she knows she wants the medium to build into bigger and bolder ideas. Andi never tried to become an “influencer.” That much is clear when you watch her videos. She isn’t touting tummy tuck tea or fast fashion discounts like many an influencer online. Andi is selling Andi. “I ain’t trying to influence people to do jack shit! Except for maybe laugh, or listen to good music. And the only thing I am trying to sell you is merch with my face,” she said. Even so, Andi’s authenticity paid off as this digital persona has swiftly transformed into a lucrative, full-time nine-to-five. Before her online career catapulted, Andi said she was every bit a “starving artist,” cleaning houses full-time between the sporadic acting gig. Now, her day-to-days are full of writing or filming sessions to create fresh video content for her social media. She updates her Patreon with exclusive subscribers-only bonus videos, and her Cameo with personalized video shoutouts from Pam or Papaw. Her success on social media got her signed with a talent agency and booked for new projects. She onboarded a management team to oversee her larger projects, and she really does sell merch with her face on it (well, Nashveratu’s most often). Accelerated by the pandemic’s surge in screen time, Andi’s career has completely transitioned in just the last few years — a switch that she said is still often surreal. “I have a poverty mindset. I always feel like I'm gonna run out of money, no matter what,” Andi said. “I'm like, oh, in two months, people’ll stop watching this, and then I'm gonna have to figure something else out. I'm just gonna have to hit the acting classes like crazy. But the short answer is, I have felt very grateful.” The newfound success she’s found from her fictional family shouldn’t come as a surprise to her actual kin because performing is in their blood. Andi was born into a family of traveling gospel singers who toured the US in the late 60s and early 70s, even headlining the Opry’s Grand Ole Gospel show at their peak. So when a young Andi started reenacting Passion Plays in her living room, playing Jesus, Simon Peter, Mary Magdalene AND the Romans at the Crucifixion, her folks only encouraged the budding actress’s interest in the performing arts. That’s another one of Andi’s smile-inducing stories: her first big audition. At age 12, her parents drove her the hour to Knoxville to try out for her first regional theater production. “I didn't realize that all the other kids were being groomed to be performers. They all had theater moms and theater dads that were bringing them to these auditions. They knew what a monologue was. They knew what 16 bars of a song was. They knew how to affect their neutral accents,” Andi said. “These are children — I shouldn’t characterize them as so snooty — but in my mind at the time, I was a country bumpkin! And, I thought, I'm going to make a fool out of myself.” Shaking scared and between sobs, Andi belted out the best rendition of “Happy Birthday” she could muster, and ended up landing a role in a youth production of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Auditioning, or really starting anything new, has never been easy for Andi. “I always feel like I'm having to prove to somebody that I'm worthy,” she said. “I'm like, ‘I promise you, I deserve to be here.’ Just let me get past these nerves. They're debilitating for me.” This deep-seated fear washes over her until she really settles into it, until she’s been cast or she’s comfortable with a script. The terror subsides, and as she performs, the feeling morphs into something new entirely, something divine. “The feeling that I get when performing, the feeling that I get when I'm creating art, is the feeling that I thought I was supposed to get when I was in church or when I was supposed to be talking to God,” Andi said. “And I begged him to answer me, and he didn't. But I felt what other people described feeling when I was on stage.” As a “recovering Pentecostal,” Andi has talked candidly online and on-stage about her complicated relationship with God. “When I was writing music, when I was creating anything artistic, I thought if there is a God, he's pleased with this. He's pleased with me now because I can feel it. And I do have a lot of conflicting feelings regarding what God is, but there is something that feels so central to being, almost like there's a life force in performing great works of art and creating your small works of art, you know?” It’s a theme she can’t help explore — whether it be bite-sized skits of Aunt Pam digging out gum in the middle of mass or in the iconography Andi interlaces with her songwriting. You can see it clearest in her latest EP, Cherub on Brimstone. The cover art alone is a story of the struggle. Backdropped by a church, we see fluorescent flames engulfing Andi, one arm outstretched leaning across a hulking wooden cross. The record is full of raw and autobiographical vignettes — stories of redemption and a childhood fear of hell she still can’t seem to shake, underscored by a folksy, ‘80s power ballad production. Each song, Andi said, is trying to make sense of hurt, an oftentimes jumbled mainframe of crisscrossing emotions. “I think a lot of art is untangling those wires,” Andi said. “Especially songwriting for me, it’s always music first. It’s chords first, then melody, then the story. And when I start writing the lyrics, that's it’s own thing. I really try to start making something beautiful out of, oftentimes, what's very painful. They're feelings that I can't make sense of, and they feel lodged in there.” Her music career couldn’t be more different from her social media personality. She’s tapping into the “emotional poetry” side of Andi Marie Tillman that’s been there since childhood, walking hand-in-hand with the side of her that loves making people laugh. In her music, the silliness is stripped away. What’s left is the same intentional, razor-sharp performing artist deftly molding her message through a new medium. Not everyone is going to get this full picture of Andi the singer, writer, actor and influencer. Some will only love the clown, some the songbird, and she’s okay with that. “I don’t mind too much. I don’t know all the facets of every creator that I love,” Andi explained. “Like, I don’t give a shit about Jim Carrey’s paintings!” (She hit the nail on the head with this point. Prior to our chat, I had no idea Jim Carrey embarked on a painting career, nor do I really give a shit about it. But I still love him! And that’s exactly the point.) Andi is content only being known for her online presence, or only for her music, or not being known at all. Maybe it's the constant instability of being an influencer, or something else inherited in her performing arts career, but Andi really doesn’t want to turn her viral popularity into mega-stardom. “I’m getting too old to have that many people watch me!” she said with a grin, “I want to have a cult following.” According to Andi, she’d much rather be known by a ravenously loyal band of misfits and y’all-ternatives that support her — fans much like the toilet-paper-throwing, gender non-conforming cult followers of Andi’s favorite film, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. It’s the same film that is a driving inspiration behind Andi’s largest project to date. She couldn’t tell me too much, just that she’s in the midst of developing her first feature film, a campy bluegrass musical of flamboyant aliens landing in Appalachia. Because, of course she is. The film is an obvious next step in her career, using her social media skyrocket as a foothold. She just got cast in a top secret Nashville indie film set to start shooting in April. And there’s talk of a one-woman variety show in the not-too-distant future, a woven dramedy featuring her family of characters and her original music sure to gut-bust and tear-jerk her ever-growing “small but rabid” cult fans. It feels clear to me from talking to Andi that she hasn’t let a few viral videos change her. She still makes the three hour trek back to Scott County at least once a month to visit her aging parents, a drive so rife with nostalgia it inspired her EP opener, a song titled HWY 63. “There's always something new about the landscape. There's mist rising, or it's dusk, and you can see over the mountain. You know, I really miss that,” she said. These days she lives in Nashville, technically just outside of the imagined map boundaries of Appalachia. “Now is not the time,” Andi said on moving back home. “Because I'm trying to get things done, acting classes, all that kind of stuff, and this is where people are making things happen. But, man, I don't want to be a woman in my 50s living here. I don't want to live here.” But don’t suggest she move outside her magical slice of home either, like when she quickly had to shut down a management company trying to convince her to move to LA. “I just love Tennessee so much. I believe in the indie spirit here, and there are people here that are so passionate about getting things done,” she said. “And that's what I really want. I really want to see this community's dreams come true.” From the outside it seems Andi’s dreams might just be the ones coming true. Having umpteen eyes on her social media has unlocked opportunities for her she could have never predicted and allowed her passion projects and oddities to come to life. She’s making the content she wants to make, telling the stories of her people, and it’s paying off. That has to feel good. “I will say this, millions of people watch these things.” Andi smiled, “all I’ve ever wanted to do, anyway, is make people laugh and put great things out into the world.”
Letter from the editor (Issue 02)
Hi friends! Thank you for grabbing a copy of YNST (You’re Not Seeing Things) Magazine Issue 02. Y’all radiated the warmest of welcomes to our little grassroots publication, and we can’t thank you enough for the kind words towards our inaugural issue. As our creative cohort hopped in the minivan for our magazine drop-off pilgrimage across Appalachia, we met dozens of neighbors with the same question: “How do you start a magazine?” While really our answer should be: ‘we’re still figuring that one out too!’ — my team and I have to keep reminding ourselves that this isn’t our first rodeo, and we aren’t doing it alone. Flashback to my freshman year of undergrad at West Virginia University. Trying my hand at as many clubs as possible, I joined Ed on Campus, a student journalism organization for college kids interested in magazines. It was their second semester trying out something new — rather than just talking about the industry, they were creating their own student-run publication, overseeing the entire creative process from start to finish. It didn’t take me long to fall in love with Mirage Magazine. Enlivened by the creative freedom and novelty of starting something new, I quickly joined the editorial team to get as involved as possible. In just a few years, and a potpourri of issues, fundraisers, pandemic protocols, launch parties, New York networking trips and fashion shows, our team had never been closer and love for the artform never stronger. We clinked espresso martinis in Little Italy and decided after graduation we would keep going. The same editorial squad I had spent the last four years with, now as young professionals, spent months relearning the process. Dozens of logo drafts, bad brand names and lofty mood boards later and we were off! Throughout the spring and summer we competed in four pitch competitions to secure a pool of start-up funding for YNST — namely, the West Virginia Business Plan Competition (now rebranding as Ignite WV), the Arts Entrepreneur Pitch Competition, the Duquesne New Venture Challenge and the Wheeling Heritage Show of Hands. Without the preparation and support of our pitch, life and business gurus Staci Offutt, Carrie White and Anne Jones, I literally don’t think we would have made it to the printer, let alone to nearly sixty retailers and hundreds of mailboxes! (Thanks again, by the way). Of course the transition from passion project to business is marked with hurdles. Oftentimes I think entering the “business” world as a creative can feel wildly intimidating. But I have to say, overall, the journey ‘til now has been nothing short of wonderful. I hope you enjoy Issue 02. Our fall/ winter special is jam-packed with colorful comforts, food and music just in time for the holiday season. Cheers, Adam Payne
YOUNG CHANGE MAKERs: Rania zuri
Rania Zuri has helped usher in more good for her community and effectively gained more national recognition than many earn in a lifetime. But, she hasn’t graduated from high school yet. From an early age the self-proclaimed “bibliophile” saw that this love of books could extend into actionable change. “I've always been very fortunate,” Rania said, “I've grown up with books in my life, and I had all types of books. But, I know that's not the case for millions of children in the United States.” The Morgantown High senior first identified that book deserts were an unresolved issue back in middle school when she helped organize a free community library for migrant girls. Book deserts, similar to food deserts, are geographic regions (usually low-income or rural) where access to reading materials is greatly limited. Rania set out to eliminate these deserts, hoping to instill that same passion for reading in other children in West Virginia and across the country, by founding the nonprofit organization the LiTEArary Society. What started as a casual book club for discussing literature and drinking tea (Her favorite combo being Guy de Maupassant while sipping Bengal Spice) quickly grew. Rania molded the “society” into an official 501(c)(3), allowing her to spearhead the organization’s first Barnes and Noble book drive in 2021. After organizing with dozens of other high schoolers and families around town, the team successfully raked in thousands of donations. This first event enabled the organization to donate a book to every child in Head Start programs in Monongalia, Mingo and McDowell counties, as well as every child in foster care in the West Virginia Children’s Home Society Region 1 for the holidays. But Rania wanted to do more. Head Start is a federal school readiness program for children from birth to age five who come from low-income families. The children enrolled in this program — especially in the more rural areas of West Virginia — quickly became the LiTEArary Society’s main target, and this initial book drive a launchpad for their next project. The following March, Rania expanded efforts to the entire state and embarked on a statewide road trip. By April 1, she had successfully delivered a brand new book to every child enrolled in Head Start across the entirety of West Virginia. Rania explained that for some of these students, this donation would become the child’s first book at home. “I found that a lot during the West Virginia Head Start road tour,” Rania said, “Parents, teachers and Head Start directors were all saying [these children] weren’t eligible for certain reading programs and don’t have any books at home. And, some places I visited were so rural — a population of less than 200 — that there was very limited access to libraries as well.” With this feat of nearly 7,000 books donated in a month, recognition was sure to follow. Rania and the organization started garnering national attention from media giants, with features rolling in from Today, Fox News, PBS, NBC Nightly News, NPR and Forbes, to name a few. While other teens might struggle to manage SAT prep with calculus homework, Rania began balancing life as a student, an activist, a CEO and a full-on spokesperson for eliminating book deserts. She penned an op-ed for Teen Vogue, delivered an impactful TEDx Talk, and even had an entire segment on Good Morning America. That appearance on the morning talk show ended with a surprise sizable donation to the LiTEArary Society with the help of Scholastic. “I never thought that it would become this big of a movement,” Rania said. “It’s been a whirlwind.” While that attention was great for expanding her mission, at times it was also overwhelming. “After Good Morning America especially,” Rania explained, “that's when I started getting just so many emails from people all around the country saying, ‘I never knew what a book desert was before I saw your segment,’ and ‘I want to help, how can I donate?’ And, that’s only grown.” This newfound attention and influx of donations emboldened the organization to mobilize on a national scale. Rania’s organization embarked on what she called the “Fifty Nifty Head Start Road Tour.” Their travels spanned nationwide, allowing the LiTEArary Society to donate brand new books to thousands of children enrolled in Head Start across all fifty states of America. After wrapping that country-wide campaign, in January Rania made her most recent national media appearance on The Kelly Clarkson Show. The charismatic musician-turned-host ended the interview with yet another donation (courtesy of Pilot Pens) which has since allowed Rania to provide further advocacy back home in Appalachia. In total, at the time of writing, Rania Zuri’s organization reports that it has impacted over 18,000 preschool-aged children by providing funding for nearly 200,000 new books. She said her seemingly unending motivation to achieve these impressive feats (all before her eighteenth birthday) stems from one source. “The children 100 percent,” Rania gushed. “When I get to go and do preschool read-aloud circles, and I see the joy that the children get from getting their brand new book,” she continued “It truly just inspires me and motivates me to keep expanding and get books into the hands of more children throughout the nation. It's truly been the greatest delight of my life.” It’s not often you see youth like Rania and her peers driven to help other, more vulnerable youth. That, perhaps, is the nonprofit’s secret recipe: by youth and for youth. Despite going off to college soon, she explained that keeping the organization youth-led is a critical component of the organization. “Since this is my lifelong passion project, I’ll always be at the head,” she said, “but now we have a new generation that is taking over every year.” “All of our board members — like our COO, our CMO, our CFO — they're all in high school,” Rania explained. “Then, we also now have a smaller division of the LiTEArary Society called the Lemonade Society. They are all 12-and-under, doing amazing work in the DC metro area.” The Lemonade Society ‘mini-CEOs’ Charlotte and Hendrik, despite being only seven and nine, have played a hand in inspiring dozens of other children to carry out the organization’s mission. While meetings are fully supervised and coordinated by adults, the children take an active role in leadership. Since this extension, as Rania describes, the Lemonade Society has collected and hand-gift-wrapped books for Head Start programs, Indigenous Cree children and Afghan refugees. Plus, by creating this younger division, she hopes to ensure the transition from Lemonade to LiTEArary leadership is fluid. If all of that wasn’t enough, Rania just finished her second original children’s book titled, “The Bunnyfields and the McFluffs: Billy Bob's Tale of Feuding, Families, and Friendship.” This kid-friendly and rabbit-led retelling of West Virginia’s famous Hatfields and McCoys feud comes after releasing, “It's Mountain Music To My Ears!,” Rania’s first children’s story. Both follow Appalachian hare Billy Bob as he hops through the region’s hollers, harmonies and histories. Of course, these books aren’t just ‘fluff’ pieces, and 100% of profits go towards the LiTEArary Society’s One Book at a Time initiative. This initiative is no small side project either. In fact, it is Rania’s most recent undertaking drafting a U.S. Senate resolution to create a national One Book at a Time commemorative day for Head Start. “The purpose is really twofold,” she explained. “One is to promote awareness to book deserts, and also provide a method of how individuals can actually make a tangible impact in ending book deserts.” While partnering with national Head Start leaders, her vision is to rally major book retailers like Barnes and Noble and Amazon to offer discounted pricing during the national holiday to ensure donations flood in. Additionally, Rania said she hopes to bridge the vast network of Head Start centers nationwide with individuals, streamlining the donation process. “I hope to get thousands of books,” Rania beamed, “Maybe even millions. Because Head Start serves millions of children.” Securing that many books and a federally recognized celebration is far from easy. But given Rania and the LiTEArary Society’s track record, national attention and seemingly ceaseless motivation, there is no doubt this will be yet another successful chapter in the nonprofit’s story.
YOUNG CHANGE MAKERS:
the saga initiative
The Saga Initiative is a rising nonprofit created by MorgaNTOWN HIGH School SeniorS Lonnie Medley, Aaron Reedy and Colin Street. SAGA, which stands for Sexuality and Gender Acceptance, started as the school’s updated version of a Gay-Straight Alliance — Aaron serving as the organization’s president, Lonnie its vice president and Colin the treasurer. Early into the school year, the three were planning to have a routine officer’s meeting during homeroom when everything changed. “Suddenly that meeting was canceled,” Aaron recalled. “Our two teacher sponsors, along with some other teachers, had been called to the principal’s office and were ordered to take down the pride flags or they would lose their jobs.” Returning to his classroom, Aaron said he saw an empty space where a pride flag used to be — and Morgantown High School wasn’t alone. Superintendent Eddie Campbell told principals across all Monongalia County schools to remove the flags, citing a county policy that bans political activity in the classroom. But according to the SAGA squad, pride flags aren’t political, they’re a safety net. Lonnie explained that as student leaders, the underclassmen immediately went to SAGA looking for next steps. After rallying in a community-wide protest at the board of education, the team hatched a response plan to bring that same spirit to their own school by organizing a walk-out. With the support of several faculty members behind them, and the word quickly spreading with one day’s notice, a sea of rainbow-clad students flooded out of the school, bellowing echoes of support. After initial speeches from SAGA and surprise-guest community members, the two hour spectacle turned into a chance to connect. “We let the microphone go to anyone who wanted to share their experience or stories,” Colin said. “ The sheer number of students who had something to say... was insanely impactful. Some of these students are people I had never seen before, at a school that I’ve gone to for four years.” Now over six months later, in spite of hundreds of supporters, pride flags are still banned in Monongalia County schools. They said that teachers still find creative ways to show their support, but this moment was a turning point for SAGA. The three realized the school wasn’t going to give them the support they needed — especially post-walk-out — and it was a clear opportunity to continue their advocacy work outside of school. “This was a good opportunity to turn this into an activist group,” Lonnie explained. “Before it was mainly a safe space to just talk, and we wanted to do a little bit more than that... we created the organization, separating from the club a little bit.” Colin said the transformation began when they contacted Mollie Kennedy, Community Outreach Director of the West Virginia ACLU, who they had met when her organization hosted its Queer Youth Summit. The SAGA Club quickly morphed into the SAGA Initiative, expanding the organization’s mission with newfound support, funding and partnerships with the ACLU and West Virginia activists like Ash Orr. As Aaron explained, their major mission was creating GAC Packs, or gender affirming care packages. With these bundles, SAGA is providing customizable care items and expressive accessories free of charge to LGBTQ+ youth. Cutting out the search and the high costs, SAGA is aiming to provide these resources statewide. Riding this momentum, the SAGA Initiative began hosting fundraising events, like trivia nights and an all-ages drag show; as well as, advocated for their program to legislators at the Capitol. The three tabled together at Fairness For All Lobby Day in Charleston (notably, as the youngest representatives in the room) and got the chance to promote their service and connect with other LGBTQ+ organizations across West Virginia. At a time when transgender and queer youth was and is at the forefront of debate in the West Virginia legislature, the SAGA leaders said having young people like themselves advocating is imperative for other young people to witness. “Students got to come and see us students, just a little bit older or the same age as them, and realize they can do this,” Aaron said. “They can get out here, make a change and do something that’s going to be huge and have a massive, positive impact on their lives.” Lonnie said, “the fact that we can bring joy to people that need help,” is an easy motivator to keep the group aligned with their mission as they graduate high school and head out on different paths. “This is my home,” Colin agreed. “The people in this state are family to me... when I came out, I didn’t have that level of acceptance, so I just wish to be that acceptance for other people.” Having young people with the tenacity to stay committed to helping other young people is rare. But, according to Aaron, it’s actually quite simple: “We’re going to be inheriting the state, eventually. and, you know, the kids really are alright.”
YOUNG CHANGE MAKERs: ANDREW O’NEAL
Andrew O’Neal — sorry, Governor Andrew O’Neal is a senior at Charleston Catholic High School, and despite only just turning old enough to vote, he couldn’t be more politically involved. Andrew really is the governor, well youth governor, of West Virginia. He scored the title after applying, interviewing, and earning his spot in the national YMCA Youth & Government program. But, this is not your average extracurricular activity. Thousands of teens across the country each year make up these model-governments, get immersive civic experience, debate social issues and propose actual legislation to the state. The only major difference for Andrew is that he’s doing it all for the first time. “It's certainly different in this state than it is in the other states' programs because West Virginia doesn't really have a program right now,” he said. “But, my role is certainly not limited like some of the other youth governors in the country.” While states like California are going steady with their 75th cabinet, Andrew undertakes being West Virginia’s first ever youth governor. “I'm here on the ground advocating at the capitol for the program, getting our name out there, getting my name out there,” Andrew explained, “talking with legislators about getting state funding for our program, speaking with senators, and getting federal grants earmarked for the program.” Now while the novelty of the state’s program could be a challenge, he said there is also a sense of freedom. Andrew was able to hand-select his cabinet of other high schoolers, ensuring the team’s Treasurer or Secretary of State reflect voices from all across West Virginia. As he spreads the message of the program around the state, and works as an intern in Joe Manchin’s office, he said he is getting the chance to really connect and collaborate with legislators like Morgantown’s Evan Hansen and former delegate Danielle Walker. But Andrew isn’t just a teen mouthpiece for the state’s current administration; in fact, his opinions couldn’t be more different than Governor Jim Justice and the vast majority of lawmakers in West Virginia. “The biggest [political focus] for me is energy, specifically, green energy,” Andrew explained. “I think our state's been one of the top energy producers in our country for a long time, and I don't see any reason for that to change. I think we can still be that — just with renewable energy.” For a state with coal attached to its identity, this is just one of many progressive swings Andrew and the youth cabinet are taking. But Andrew says many of these ‘radical’ views reflect the opinions of most young people growing up in West Virginia. The LGBTQ+ community was another one of the hottest talking points in the state’s most recent legislative session, but once more the youth cabinet was on the opposite side of the voting majority. “Many of the anti-LGBTQ bills that they have introduced, and will definitely continue to reintroduce in the future, totally disregard so many West Virginians,” Andrew said. “Especially young people. There's almost no support among young people for bills like this.” Another piece of legislation from this session that Andrew was vehemently opposed to, Senate Bill 10, allows people with concealed carry permits to take firearms on public colleges and university campuses. Before it was signed into law on March 1, Andrew joined dozens of other students and gave a passionate testimony in opposition. “The people that came to the hearing and spoke, like myself, were the people that actually are being impacted by this bill,” Andrew said. “The fact that legislators choose to ignore that is the most frustrating part. The lives that they impact, they don't care.” As he is about to graduate high school and head to West Virginia University, Andrew joins thousands of other students whose college experience will be altered by this legislation. But graduation day isn’t going to keep him from staying in politics. “I am hopefully going to be pursuing Student Government, and I'll continue to try to stay involved in my community after college too,” he said. “I'm hopefully going to attend law school.” Andrew said it is never too early to get civically engaged. “Help out with campaigns and candidates that you feel passionate about and do your research about candidates,” he said. “Even if you can't vote for them, you can still advocate for them and their policies. Eighteen is just a number. Advocacy can start at any age.” The youth governor might even try his hand at adult governor one day. But, it might not be in West Virginia. “Certainly, I do want to run for office one day. I'm still struggling with whether that be in this state.” Andrew explained. “I certainly want to help out the state as much as I can, but it's hard for people, especially with my political views, to make change in the state when you have such a big wave to go against.” Andrew said that, as a young person, living in the state can constantly feel like going up against that wave. “It's often said that West Virginia’s biggest export is our children and teens,” he said. From talking with Andrew, and hearing just how passionate some of these young politicians are, keeping those exports from leaving requires one thing: start listening to the youth.
WVU Students reimagine transgender healthcare in West Virginia
For freshmen Kennedy Hawkins, between Army ROTC training and business classes, his first year at West Virginia University is all about finding his routine. And on the other side of campus, as junior Koen Korstanje balances a passion for fashion design and sculpture, his schedule is becoming busier than ever. Although the men appear to have drastically different days on their dockets, their schedules share one thing in common. Testosterone shots. For Hawkins once a week and Korstanje every other, a shot of ‘T’ is part of their regular hormonal replacement therapy. These men are two of the many individuals living in West Virginia who are transgender and choosing to undergo gender confirmation treatment. Yet though they have this in common, their experiences couldn’t be more different. Both go to WVU, but Korstanje was born in Huntington, while Hawkins is from just outside of Philadelphia. While Hawkins gets his “T” shipped in bulk for self-administered doses each week, Korstanje has to drive to Pennsylvania to meet with an endocrinologist twice a month. “It’s completely covered there.” Korstanje said. “Not even through insurance, they just take care of it. It’s really great. But there’s nothing like that near me in West Virginia.” Like Hawkins, Korstanje’s transition is medically based, but for him, that means he has to travel to the Central Outreach Wellness Center in Washington, Pennsylvania to receive what he describes as “really wonderful” care, care that is completely free-of-charge besides blood work. He falls into the demographic of trans West Virginians who get their care from a state that isn’t West Virginia. According to a 2019 health survey of transgender West Virginians conducted by Fairness WV, 36 percent traveled out of state to seek care, and nearly half had to travel over an hour to do so. The first transgender elected official in the state, Wheeling City Council Member, Rosemary Ketchum, grew up in East Liverpool, Ohio before moving to Wheeling. But she said her experience in rural America was the same. “LGBTQ resources both in mental health and physical health were just not available,” Ketchum said, “And, for my parents, we would have had to travel to Pittsburgh or Cleveland to get trans-specific healthcare.” Although Ketchum’s transition is not medical, her family sought out a counselor when she was a child beginning to have questions about her identity. Even then, Ketchum said her therapist had only given care to an LGBTQ patient once in his practice prior to her visit. Ketchum’s experience reflects the larger issue many rural trans people have to face. Professionals in places like West Virginia may have little to no experience with someone who is transgender. Which means that therapy for youth experiencing gender dysphoria and gender-affirming surgical procedures and, hormonal therapy, can be difficult for trans people to find readily in the Mountain State. Yet in Preston County, a Federally Qualified Health Center, FQHC family physician, Dr. Mary Gainer is one of the health practitioners in the state who defies that expectation. She currently has over a dozen transgender patients in her care. “Transgender healthcare is just primary care.” She said, “It’s not that complicated… most family doctors could easily sprinkle gender care into their practice, so that a person doesn’t have to go 300 miles to the one gender clinic.” Partnered with a therapist, Dr. Gainer took the initiative to enroll in a year-long fellowship to thoroughly train herself to meet transgender-specific needs. She said she did this to meet the needs of her community. “It’s really about exposure, “ Dr. Gainer said, “I think some doctors feel like this is outside their scope of practice, when really after you do it for a little bit you realize it’s much more complicated to manage an uncontrolled diabetic. But that’s just something we’re used to.” Dr. Gainer is just one example of the growing options trans West Virginians are gaining for care. And she is currently putting that new wealth of experience working with the trans community towards advising Hawkins in his pursuit to reimagine the hormonal therapy process entirely. In his short time at WVU, Hawkins has teamed up with fellow freshmen, Aidan Priest and Dylan Cunningham, to invent a new way to administer hormones. Under the guidance of the WVU Launchlab, the “Shark Tank”-esque innovation center on campus, the team is developing T.H.E. POD, an insulin-pump-inspired device that could make hormonal therapy both simpler and more efficient. “If you have a system where it is attached to you and is just like insulin,” Hawkins said, “it becomes the same thing as somebody who’s in the military with diabetes. Plus, It’s 100% less painful.” Hawkins said he thinks the team’s invention has potential to move mountains of inaccessibility to hormonal replacement therapy as their streamlined alternative makes long-term usage easy. He said it could have eliminated the debate of cost and time sparked by the (now reversed) Trump-era transgender military ban. For West Virginians like Korstanje, this invention could make those growing travel expenses for driving out-of-state disappear. What’s more, transgender youth and hormone therapy have been at the forefront of many West Virginians’ minds after the state passed the controversial HB 3293 to ban transgender student-athletes from playing on sports teams that match their gender identity. Governor Jim Justice’s claimed to MSNBC on April 30, that West Virginia only has twelve kids “that are transgender type kids,” who would be impacted by this legislation. But a 2017 Williams Institute study estimated that West Virginia actually has the highest percentage of trans youth in the country. Ash Orr (they/them) is Morgantown’s chair of the Human Rights Commission and outreach coordinator for Morgantown Pride and they have been on the frontline of this debate in Charleston. “West Virginia has the highest amount of trans youth per capita,” Orr said, “So it’s mind-blowing to present this data to these delegates and senators and have them say, ‘you don’t exist,’ or ‘you’re mentally ill.’” At the NCAA and Olympic level of sports, there are rules that regulate the participation of trans athletes based on hormone levels. But there are fewer regulations at the middle and high school levels. In West Virginia, there were no rules regulating transgender participation in secondary school sports, but instead of adding a regulation, HB 3293 bans trans athletes from participating on teams other than the gender on their birth certificate. “They have been presented with scientific data, with factual stories, with first-hand accounts on how this is going to impact students across the state, and they just tossed it all out,” Orr said. Since West Virginia passed its legislation, a number of other states have considered or passed similar out-right bans on trans athlete participation, while states like Connecticut allow student participation based on gender identity without any limit whatsoever. A proposed solution, that still has its fair share of debate, is having states like West Virginia adopt a degree of NCAA standards in hormone regulation for secondary sports, rather than banning trans athletes from competing in sports according to their gender identities. The option to undergo hormonal therapy for trans youth that seek medical transition, according to Dr. Gainer, is to help them live their “fullest, best lives.” “Look at Kennedy,” Dr. Gainer said, “Look at someone who has been able to live his exact life. And come up with this brilliant idea.” The next steps for Hawkins and his team are to meet with additional industry professionals, pitch the idea competitively, acquire funding and get T.H.E. POD patented. Soon they hope to have the idea available for the transgender community across the state and country. And for those early in their transition like Korstanje, that could mean making that change all the more easily.
a love letter
to lorde
pop culture
essay
Written in Fall 2020
Published in Mirage Magazine, the Harmony Zine November 23, 2020
As the previous track’s soft lull of violin fades, a triumphant, sure voice bellows: “In my head…” A quiet, twinkle of piano kicks up, and the voice reverberates: “I play a supercut of us.” Softly, the keys repeat their sparkle melody as the voice hauntingly remembers: “All the magic we gave off All the love we had and lost And in my head...” The bass’s heartbeat pulses into focus. The synth sparks. The piano bubbles. And we’re off. For the next minute and a half, New Zealand pop musician Lorde with her song “Supercut” uses a powerful blend of spilling, overlapping voices and harmonies; clusters of pulsating melodies of piano and rising synths; and a poetically profound, repetitive drive of non-stop lyrics. The build is insistent and swirling until the 2:20 mark where all of that is stripped away. The listener is left with a nearly a cappella voice echoing the song’s core lyric “In my head I do everything right” through “Wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart.” She then rejoices, crashes, dives, explodes into a swell of cathartic cacophony that is softly folded into almost an entire minute of atmospheric, pulsing synths that I can only describe as floating through outer space. In just a few minutes, Lorde captures a fusion between intricate storytelling and modern pop music to create a rare shared emotion. An insistent longing towards something nostalgic, something tangible, that evokes the feeling in a way no other artist can. Thus is the magic interwoven into the core of songs like “Supercut,” and drifting like memories into her debut and sophomore albums, Pure Heroine and Melodrama. Lorde has the ability and tenacity to create shared experiences of so many, yet remains inherently emotional and personal ro herself. And it is in her poetic lyricism and dark, "indie pop" soundscape that she paints these memories. What is perhaps most substantial about Lorde’s impact on pop culture to my generation is that, well, she is a part of it. As she is set to release her next work, Lorde is only 24, but at the time of the composition for her first smash album, she was just meeting her mid-teens. (Making her one of the youngest Grammy-award winning artists of all time amongst a number of other broken records and awards, notably). Part of Lorde’s success stems from the fact that she writes from the same perspective of the audience who is listening, serving as an undoubtable testament to her appeal with our generation. Lorde possesses the unique experience as a songwriter having grown up with her listeners. In Pure Heroine, fans listened, firsthand, as a teen grappled with growing up and moving on and with conformity and popularity. While simultaneously critiquing the world of fame that she was about to unknowingly step into with hits like "Royals", Lorde discovers her own identity, her own voice, as she melts from childhood into adulthood. In Melodrama, we listen as a now young adult experiences her first relationship, her first love, her first heartbreak and her first resurgence. Her lyrics are intimate and poetic at times, at others straightforward and simplistic, teeter-tottering her adolescence against her maturity as she traipses through the late teens and early twenties. All the while, Lorde’s listeners (in my generation at least) are getting into their first relationships or leaving home for the first time or dancing alone right alongside her, with a new memory to be found in each new stanza or melody. In a song like “Perfect Places,” Lorde writes, “I hate the headlines and the weather/ I’m nineteen and I’m on fire.” In so few words she effectively captures the trials of teenage angst, speaking directly to millions of teens listening with eager ears, fraught with their own fires politically, environmentally and internally. In 2017 when Melodrama was released, in the span of that year I graduated high school, moved to a foreign city to start college, and experienced the spectrum of catharsis and loneliness that accompany such a change. The search for romance, for purpose and for identity began, and what I found was that Lorde’s words transformed from catchy pop into a very personal, very poignant soundtrack for thr coming-of-age film uniquely mine and richly everyone else’s. It is in that magic, to speak directly to both a memory so intimate to her listeners’ individual experience and to the ubiquity of shared experiences that thread us all together, where Lorde truly shines. Within her small but growing discography, it is clear that Lorde demonstrates a definitive dexterity in her poetic writing and sonic fabrication, and it is through that mastery she is able to decipher one of the most challenging patches of life and put it into words. Not many people can tread this tightrope of familiar and universal as effectively as Lorde does, but it gives way to a space where simplisitic lyrics like “The heating come on. You buy me orange juice,” and profound ones like “We might be hollow, but we’re brave,” (“400 Lux”) can exist with within the same song and it doesn’t seem strange. In short, Lorde speaks directly to the young generation, because she is writing through it. She is one of us. She just so happens to also be a gifted singer-songwriter and fervent observer of life’s idiosyncrasies. It is through these observations that Lorde offers our generation a ‘supercut’ into swelling feelings, dynamic emotions and visceral memories that arrive exactly when we need it most, and to continue to serve as a diary, a love letter, a time capsule and a soundtrack to our growth for years and years to come. And for that, I am grateful.
art meets
innovation at
the wvu
launchLab
Journalism
Written in Spring 2022
Originally published in Launch Magazine.
Republished in Black By God, The West Virginian June 16, 2022
“Have you ever heard of the WVU LaunchLab?” “Yeah, uhm, aren't you that place where engineering students go to 3D print?” This routine interaction with interested West Virginia University students remained too commonplace for too long at the Morris L. Hayhurst LaunchLab. All too often, potential student clients are misinformed that the applied innovation center is reserved solely for business students or engineers. But that narrative is quickly changing with a little help from artists. The April Arts Festival and Pitch Competition shattered the preconceptions of who the space is designed for as dozens of writers, choreographers, fashion designers, filmmakers, directors, creators, and makers submitted their ideas. In doing so and since, a number of emerging artists have solidified their place at the table as innovators. These creative pioneers are doing the heavy lifting in redefining what “qualifies” as innovation by showcasing that a new work or experimental project holds equal merit against traditional products or businesses. The difference is, for artists, oftentimes silicone molds are swapped for a swatch of fabric or smatters of ink, and nuts & bolts for bodies & voices. And it is for that reason, many artists hadn’t considered themselves or weren’t considered by the majority to be at the forefront of innovation. Sarah Beth Ealy is one of those artist-meets-innovators. She started her innovation journey with her business venture Big Stories for Little MountainEars, a collective of actors that travel around the state’s schools or host events portraying famous Appalachian figures. Ealy took special attention in selecting characters that represented diverse perspectives for the Mountain State. One example of such is “Hidden Figure,” Katherine Johnson portrayed by actress Sydnee Miller. With the goal of casting a more holistic and stereotype-defying light on her home state’s reputation, she pitched her idea in three different pitch competitions to bring those Big Stories to life. But, the experience wasn’t always easy. “It's a lot easier if your product is like a tool to show the tool and show how the tool is impactful when you have it in your hands.” Ealy said, “But with art, it's a lot more abstract how art is impactful. So I think what I tried to do was to show that impact through the pitch.” In her pitching experience, Ealy was able to take her arts background, utilize the LaunchLab team to learn the business side of things, and become an innovator without realizing it. “I still don't really consider myself to be an innovator because that word is kind of daunting,” Ealy said. “But what the projects did encourage me to do was to learn how to delegate tasks and to organize a team.”After conceptualizing her business, Ealy quickly developed a secondary project to showcase in the April Arts Festival called Chasm. Now nearing the end of filming, this performance art short film explores themes of mental illness, identity and loss. By scoring funding through that festival, Ealy was able to not only assemble a team, but pay other artists for their work. If not for the event, Ealy said Chasm might not have even been feasible to create. Now, as Ealy scored another top prize in the Women Innovate Pitch Competition, she has undeniably left her mark as an innovator and continues to blur the lines between artist and entrepreneur with each endeavor. “Business is similar to art in that you have an idea that you make into something that's tangible, right?” Ealy said. Morgan Widmer is another one of these entrepreneurial artist case studies. After watching a documentary in one of her classes on the wasteful and abusive nature of the fashion industry, Widmer decided to use her fashion design major for a common good. In crafting her final collection at WVU, Widmer strove to confront these malpractices directly. “I did mine with all deadstock fabric, which is fabric that would otherwise go in landfills from designers throughout the fashion industry.” Widmer said. “So my collection was sustainable and made of scraps and then I just continued, and I just want to keep doing it.” Rapidly, Widmer transformed this collection into her ever-growing brand Mogania. As she discovered the resource network available at the LaunchLab, the transition from artist to entrepreneur just made sense. Widmer said, “I've always been very into entrepreneurship. Even when I was little, I was like, ‘I want to have my own business.’” With fearless determination, Widmer entered the sustainability brand into her first competition. “This is my idea. I'm going to come in and say what I say.” Widmer said, “I didn't really know who was going to be there, so I didn't have a lot of thoughts to scare me.” And it is through that determination Widmer went on to succeed in a number of pitches while continually cementing the value art can add to innovation. So with dozens of business meetings, hours spent perfecting her pitch, video editing, and even an editorial photoshoot provided by the LaunchLab, Widmer is well on her way to runways around the world. “I don't think I'd be even close to where I am right now, trying to do it full time, had I not come to the LaunchLab. So I'm really thankful for all the opportunities that it gave me,” Widmer said. Finally, Maxwell Shavers, a native of Charleston, West Virginia and a former LaunchLab photographer who captured those artists’ visions, is of course an artistic innovator. As a photographer and designer, Shavers’s time at the LaunchLab and in his freelance career has proven his dedication to uplifting other voices and other creatives. Shavers specializes in portraiture and visual storytelling while being no stranger to a wide variety of creative art forms. Whether it be working a wedding or crafting an unconventional editorial, Shavers continues to defy expectations and build compelling visual narratives. He is now based in Tulsa, OK and is open to “making something meaningful together.” Visit his website maxwellshavers.com for booking and more information.
Stained
glass
tonight we break bread and I thank God I’m one of the lucky ones. a gay kid in West Virginia who was raised in church pews and is still celebrated at Sunday dinners. because god knows not every kid gets a seat at that table. tonight I dance for my 11-year-old self. when “Alejandro” comes on at the bar I am me a decade prior. drowned in a football field of preteens laughing at my gay ringtone. but they didn’t know I studied the music video like scripture. how I swapped first kisses for fictitious award show speeches and dreams of grand stages. how I went to mass the next morning a nomad in my own skin. an apostle of playing pretend. a kaleidoscope of color crafting a stained glass soul. but I know tonight not every kid is dancing. some still face the uphill climb against downturned gazes and a backwards state. molding mountains of memories with a chosen family of disciples. meeting milestones in secret, forever praying that question won’t be asked. one day they will learn that aging unabashedly in spite of the ache and learning to love in search of the aim is nothing short of a miracle. and so we search and so we do cocooning shame into prisms in our shared identity forging our own paths, defying expectations, changing perspectives we butterfly into beacons for the next generation of kids in our state. it is our job now to ease the climb, save a seat at every table, sewing together our patchwork faith little by little by little and so every time his lips fall on mine, or we dance till we bleed, we are walking on oceans and turning water to wine.
CUTTING THE STRINGS FROM WVU PUPPETRY PROGRAM’S REPUTATION
Blog post
Written in Spring 2019
Published for Arts in Appalachia
April 9, 2019
Last November, one WVU student was brandished his economics class and professor with insults and a “Heil Trump.” Luckily for us, his string of beratement was captured on Twitter by intuitive journalism student Douglas Soule. In the slew of hate this oh, so eloquent student spewed you can also catch a simple, “I can learn more in puppetry than this shit.” However, what he completely failed to realize is that he probably could. In the fall of 2018 for WVU, over 880 undergraduates were majoring in general business and around 3,325 were majoring in a form of engineering. This makes sense considering WVU has built up its reputation for a robust engineering program and a business degree that allows for career flexibility. Yet the major that is quietly excelling at this university, and is too often the butt of tired jokes, has only 5 students. And yes, it's puppetry. But, for those 5 puppetry students enrolled, and the handfuls of working artists before them, their career-path is no joke. It is hours of design, manipulation, storytelling, vocal training, and creation that can rival any other major’s workload. But, before we get too ahead of ourselves, let’s see why this major is not only valid but flourishing at WVU as only one of two schools in the nation to offer a BFA (Bachelor of Fine Arts) in puppetry. The puppetry program, to my and probably your surprise, has been at WVU for over four decades, and it is currently headed by professor Mary McClung. This professor just may be why puppetry of West Virginia hasn’t vanished. She herself is a product of the puppetry program and is one of the large reasons this potentially dying art remains vibrant throughout Appalachia. And, by puppetry and costuming standards, McClung has so many credits to her name she may even be overqualified to teach here. (The women has worked on Spanish Sesame Street por el amor del Cristo!). Without McClung, there would simply be no program. Her expertise is just another misconception this major receives: not only is it easy but it is taught by someone equally as unserious. Another reason the jokes continue is that people don’t realize just how versatile a program like puppetry can be! While it can be entertainment based and Muppet-esque, it also can be used as a means of doing much more. "Math makes me want to change my major to puppetry, good thing that's a real thing at WVU." - @thtkid_sid via Twitter What @thtkid_sid doesn’t realize is that math is constantly used in puppetry in everything from wiring animatronics, scaling shadow puppets, measuring fabric and dimensions, or designing theatrical puppets to the actor. It even can be used to teach math concepts! "YOU CAN MAJOR IN PUPPETRY AT WVU 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂" - @hannnnahhh14 via Twitter. While @hannnnahhh14 was laughing, one of the puppetry graduates was probably touring the world with a Broadway national tour and a current student is writing a 10-page paper on how puppetry can help teach literature to underprivileged children. That’s right! WVU’s puppetry students hop into the “puppet-mobile” and ventures to rural West Virginia schools to introduce art to young underrepresented voices. Their new tour season just started last month! "i still cant believe u can major in fucking puppetry at wvu" - @triggerhxppy via Twitter And, I hope what @triggerhxppy can’t bleep-ing believe is the fact that puppetry goes beyond Miss Piggy and Pinocchio- it can be an integral part of art therapy! This is perhaps one of the most neglected aspects of puppetry that these puppet-doubters never consider: just how impactful puppetry can be in therapeutic work A current junior in the major, Alexandra Ashworth, said it best herself, “I chose puppetry because I want to serve others.” Ashworth along with a number of working healthcare professionals are hoping to use fuzzy, furry and feathery friends as a vessel to heal, comfort and teach. “Many people can see themselves in a puppet,” Ashworth continued, “whether that be a child who is wheelchair bound or who is ill in the hospital, to a 96-year-old who is in a nursing home. I believe that puppets have the ability to transcend lines, labels and boxes.” With many puppetry artists, like with other small majors at the university, it is important to realize that although only 0.003% of the country is pursuing that profession- it doesn’t make it any less work. And, while on the surface, being only one of two puppetry BFA programs in existence may seem like the interest is small, the fact is that for the niche groups hoping to pursue puppetry, they have a 50% chance of coming to WVU. So, as long as students continue to have an interest in puppetry, this program’s legacy will most definitely carry on.