DES MOINES, Iowa -- Cultural institutions in the U.S. are facing scrutiny to be more accessible and inclusive.

The organization in charge of Iowa's main history center is making another attempt to reach all parts of the state. This month, a mobile museum led by the State Historical Society of Iowa began visiting various counties, with more stops planned for August and September.

The pandemic forced the custom-built Winnebago carrying artifacts to stop traveling for more than a year.

Michael Morain, communications manager for the State Historical Society of Iowa, said the project began in 2017, amid calls to boost accessibility for those who are not in a position to visit historical sites.

"Sometimes, history can seem sort of dusty and a little bit distant if we just see an old black and white photograph, or if we just read about it in a magazine article," Morain noted. "But when you see the artifact, it's often easier to put yourselves in the shoes of the people who lived through that chapter of history."

The project works with hosts such as community centers and festivals so that people from all walks of life can be reached. The first tour made 175 stops across all 99 counties, attracting nearly 65,000 visitors.

In light of the racial reckoning, Morain emphasized the historical society is continuing efforts through exhibits at its main site in Des Moines to try to tell a more complete history of Iowa.

"So I think history can help us understand Iowa in a more complex and more interesting way than you can see in a textbook," Morain contended.

He added "Iowa's People and Places" exhibit, which allows some artifacts to go into the mobile museum, represents a more robust telling of the state's history.

By Andrew Kuder / Broadcast version by Mary Schuermann Reporting for the Kent State-Ohio News Connection Collaboration

According to data from the Ohio Film Office, film productions in Ohio have received more than $164 million in tax credits since 2010. Now, some film-industry leaders are calling for even more investment in the sector.

"We've had relative success for the limited resources that we have," said Bill Garvey, president of the Greater Cleveland Film Commission. "We've built a pretty robust business, but we could be so much more."

Over the past decade, Ohio has served as the location for various film projects. These range from commercials and short films to big-budget blockbusters like "The Avengers".

But according to Garvey, states like New Mexico and Louisiana have a tax incentive cap of at least $100 million, and Georgia has no cap at all. Ohio, on the other hand, has a cap of $40 million.

This means that, compared to other states, Ohio is not spending as much money on getting movie studios to film in the state.

"When you're talking $4 billion directly spent from production filming in Georgia, we want that," Garvey said.

Garvey has only been with the Cleveland Film Commission for six months, but before then, he already had plenty of experience working on movie sets. "In the last 13 years, I have worked exclusively in Ohio on movies, so I know how great we can be," he said. Now he's overseeing new projects in Cleveland, like a LeBron James biopic.

The state should invest more in film production, Garvey argued, because of the way it positively affects local businesses.

"The amount of work that it produces and the amount of revenue it produces to local businesses is unreal," said casting director Angela Boehm.

For almost a decade, Boehm has helped cast productions in Cleveland, from big-budget Marvel movies to short films and commercials. Along the way, she's seen how much businesses can benefit from film productions.

"[The producers and directors] take us to a local restaurant, or they get us Indians tickets, or they rent out the Rock Hall for a wrap party," she said. "Sometimes they get their clothes in from L.A. in costume trucks, but a lot of times they're shopping locally."

Cincinnati, Columbus and other parts of the state also see local film and TV productions.

John Daugherty,executive director of the Greater Columbus Film Commission, said that while Cleveland has the upper hand over Columbus when it comes to attracting movie studios, the whole state is learning from its success.

"The Cleveland Film Commission's been around a lot longer than we have, so they have a bigger crew base," he said. "The bigger the crew base, the more productions are going to go your way."

Cleveland's geography can also be more attractive to filmmakers. "It's easy for Cleveland to double for New York City sometimes, with some of their old bridges and old areas and things like that," Daugherty said.

Film commissions across the state try to work for the benefit of Ohio as a whole, though. "Bill [Garvey] and I have always talked about, the better we all do and the more we can work together, it's better for the whole state," Daugherty said.

In recent months, Ohio's Legislature has pursued anti-LGBT and anti-abortion laws. A similar situation happened in Georgia when that state put new restrictions on mail-in voting and vote counting in March 2021. In response, many filmmakers and actors called for boycotting film productions in the state. Daugherty is worried that the same could happen in Ohio.

"Some of these things could hurt business in the long run," he said, "not only in the film industry, but all business."

Despite these setbacks, Garvey and Daugherty still remain optimistic for the future of Ohio's film industry. Right now, they're working on getting House Bill 599 passed, which would expand Ohio's film tax program. The legislation would create new tax credits for constructing new film sets and hiring crew members and students. The state would be allowed to issue more of these tax credits every year, topping out at $20 million in 2028.

"I think if we were able to up that incentive, it would mean a world of difference for us in Cleveland," Boehm said. "Not just for those in the film industry, but for those who support the film industry."

If HB 599 passes, it could further demonstrate the potential of Ohio as a center of filmmaking. "There's a lot to like here, and a lot that Ohio can leverage to be successful in this business," Garvey said.


This collaboration is produced in association with Media in the Public Interest and funded in part by the George Gund Foundation.

By Rebecca Stern for The Daily Yonder.
Broadcast version by Nadia Ramlagan for West Virginia News Service for the Public News Service/Daily Yonder Collaboration

In the halls of Southeast Kentucky Community & Technical College during the day, and on the grounds of Cowan Community Center at night, the Cowan Creek Mountain Music School [CCMMS], referred to by staff and participants as "Cowan," did more than just celebrate Appalachian music.

After two years of Covid-19 prevented a safe in-person learning experience, Cowan returned, this time with a renewed commitment to diversity and inclusion. The overall structure of the program has not changed. It features morning classes, with students ranging from kids to older adults, that are taught in a call and response style, rather than with written music. Lyrics are not googled. For tunes like "Groundhog," the beginner class created their own lyrics or got them from another staff member. Every afternoon, there are masters concerts, jam sessions, and workshops like beginning flat foot dancing and Old Regular Baptist line singing. At night, there are outdoor faculty concerts and square dances.

A More Diverse, and Inclusive, Appalachian Music School

What made this year's iteration of the music school unique were the extra steps administration took to make the old time Appalachian music camp and community more inclusive of people not traditionally represented or talked about in Appalachian music.

Efforts included a workshop on breaking the silence around LGBTQ+ people in traditional Appalachian music; a faculty member - an immigrant to Kentucky from Ecuador - who taught Andean music and instrument-making; and a public recognition of all the tunes Cowan teaches from the Appalachian repertoire that have links to the African-American community. There were classes on the African origins of the banjo, and the school welcomed a primarily-female Latin Alternative group, LADAMA, whose ensemble included four women from four different countries.

"I absolutely think [Cowan] is where we get to build the Appalachia we want for everybody," said Larah Helayne, a 20-year-old queer, Appalachian musician and teacher's assistant for the beginner banjo class at CCMMS.

During a workshop on the lived experiences of some of the LGBTQ+ staff at Cowan, Helayne and two other panelists spoke and led the community in songs about being queer in Appalachia and queerness in Appalachian music. Panelists, including Helayne and Sue Massek, a member of Reel World String Band, which is sometimes called "Kentucky's feminist hillbilly band," opened-up conversation about feeling a need to hide queerness when performing, experiencing microaggressions, and the lack of public recognition for queer people in Appalachian music.

"You have to understand that marginalized people, Black people, queer people, Latinx people, and other people of color have always been in Appalachia," said Helayne. "We have always been here and we always will be, and we're not going anywhere."

The Importance of Community

Community is integral to Appalachian music. Several times throughout the camp, participants were reminded that this music was meant to be played together, in jams with other instruments, not solo. Helayne spoke about the joy of finding themselves at an all-queer jam at the Parkway Inn (a traditional night jam spot, given that the Parkway is where most participants and staff stay during the week).

LADAMA members also recognized the importance of community in Appalachian music, sharing translations for words like "jam" and "square dance" in their own languages.

Maria Fernanda Gonzalez, a member of LADAMA from Venezuela, explained that "for us, it's important to come here to find the connections and the bridge that we can build with music that's made around community."

Fernanda Gonzalez also addressed the lack of gender diversity in the music industry, an issue that exists across borders. "As a woman ensemble that creates music, as a collective...we are writing original music and that's still rare... It's important to talk about the diversity of the music industry," she said.

"No matter what country we're from, we're still facing challenges as women," added Daniela Serna, a member of LADAMA who is from Colombia.

Change Is a Process

Staff emphasized that there are other important steps Cowan must take for diversity, equity, and inclusion. Helayne named some things they would like to see, like more faculty of color and an endowed scholarship for students of color, as well as pronouns on name tags to avoid misgendering.

Executive director Carla Gover said that making these adjustments, and giving audiences and program participants a fuller picture of Appalachian music, is very important to Cowan. But these changes are not seamless and don't always come quickly in a community that puts so much emphasis on tradition.

"There were concerns expressed about how we should be a music school and not explore political issues, fears of attack from right wing groups that have made trouble for some other organizations in Eastern Kentucky of late, and a worry that some parents might not let their youth attend camp if we openly speak about LGBTQ+ issues," said Gover.

Ultimately, the CCMMS administration decided that because Appalachian music has always been political - from songs about coal mining unions, to tunes about environmental awareness by artists like Jean Ritchie - Cowan would continue to strive for more diversity, inclusivity, and cultural-historical context.

Gover added that this year's focus on diversity and inclusion doesn't supplant the school's original mission to center the living traditions of Kentucky artists and educators. Cowan is still committed to honoring this aim, especially because there is a long history of non-Appalachians teaching, explaining, and performing Appalachian music. At times this has led to misinformation, harmful stereotypes, and even cultural appropriation for financial gain, what Gover jokingly calls faking "holler cred."

"We want to make sure that 'Y'all are welcome' means 'All are welcome,' and that folks of all stripes and persuasions can feel that. Which sometimes means creating a space for tender or difficult conversations - bookended by songs, of course!" said Gover.

After all, at the end of the day, Cowan Creek Mountain Music School is really about the music.

Rebecca Stern wrote this article for The Daily Yonder.


get more stories like this via email

Many Indigenous languages face extinction, and in the U.S. efforts are popping up to preserve traditional Native American dialects and culture. That includes a new book produced by a North Dakota tribal college.

On Thursday, Cankdeska Cikana Community College celebrates the release of the book - Mniwakan, which is described as a tribute to the Spirit Lake Tribe's traditional language and oral history.

School president Cindy Lindquist said the book will be part of their curriculum and hopes the project can help to engage surrounding communities.

"Trying to help non-Natives understand Indigenous people and our respective cultures and languages," said Lindquist. "And then, as you get into understanding, there's such richness, there's such commonality among the values."

It's the third such book the school has issued, and leaders say it coincides with similar projects carried out by tribal colleges and universities across the country.

On Thursday, signed copies will be given away during the annual alumni gathering. That event is open to the public.

The school's Dakota Studies Instructor Louis Garcia co-authored the book. He likened it to the Dakota people reclaiming their land and history on paper.

"Place names, for the most part, here in North Dakota have been devoid of most Indian names," said Garcia, "even though the state is named after the Dakota nation."

He said part of that lost connection can be traced back to forced assimilation in American Indian boarding schools.

Meanwhile, Lindquist said without as many tribal elders around, it's hard to keep the language alive through younger generations. She said she hopes the project is viewed as a form of personal enrichment.

"We're trying to capture the knowledge," said Lindquist, "and then trying to encourage our people to become speakers and to be comfortable in being a conversational speaker - and not to be afraid of making mistakes, pronouncing things wrong."

She said there are many variations of the Dakota language, and that none of them take priority over the others.