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Fiddles, Flatfooters, and Do Si Dos

A Creative Nonfiction Essay on Appalachian Tradition by Cameron Collins

A family heritage tied to the Hatfield’s (of the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s), born on a

tobacco farm deep in the Appalachian Mountains, my Appalachian roots are strong. My mother

is a child of country love and mountain people. My grandparents learned from the teacher down

the road in the one-room schoolhouse. My grandfather left school to help provide for his family

of six at the ripe age of twelve. He worked from dawn to dusk in those fields, to keep his loved

ones alive and well. He went on to work for the railroads, every day, from sunrise to sunset.

Everyone rested on Sundays and went to the chapel at the top of the hill. Southern

baptists, our love for God was strong, but even stronger was our connection to bluegrass and

gospel music. My grandfather played the piano, guitar, and sang gospel tunes for as long as I can

remember. He’s the one who fostered and cultivated my love for these things. Despite my lack of

musical talent, I encountered a strong love for flatfooting as I grew older. I may have not been

able to sing, or play the banjo, but I could not keep my feet still when I heard the deep thumping

of the bass or the joyful melody of the fiddle. As I grew older, my attachment to traditional

Appalachian dancing accelerated.

“Watching people dance, made me realize how important clogging is to Appalachian

culture and to many of its people; I had always connected clogging to a small town in West

Virginia, not something that spans the entire Appalachian region” (Propst).

When I was fourteen years old I finally began my journey through Appalachian folk

dance. I started with walking to the church down the street every Tuesday where I would imitate

every step Erin, my mentor, made. I worked day and night to get the perfect percussive sound
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from my clogs to match perfectly with the beat of the music. Bluegrass music and the sound of a

flat footer rang through my house day after day.

When I turned sixteen, after mastering the clogging basics, I would head down to the

senior center across the street every Friday night and square dance with my old friends. Despite

being the only one there under the age of 50, I loved every single second of it. The live bluegrass

music, the caller who was as old as my great-grandfather and the overwhelming sense of joy

hooked me instantly. Allemande Left, Roll Away to a Half Sashay, and Do Si-Do, I was in love.

Day after day I practiced away. Festival after festival, making new friends every time I

danced. Not just any friends, but friends like me. Friends who grew up in rural West Virginia, in

the Appalachian Mountains. I created bonds with so many, young and old, that no other

friendship could ever compare to. They helped further my love for my ‘redneck’ heritage and

reminded me of the pride within my roots. Appalachian was not, and is not, a bad word. It is a

word that conveys love, hard work, and family. When someone calls an Appalachian a redneck,

hillbilly, or country bumpkin, you look at them and smile. You do this because they are not bad

words. They are traditionally negative stereotypes that we must prove to those around us are

wrong. It is not shameful to be these things, they are simply another way to say ‘kind’, ‘caring’,

‘intelligent’ and ‘hardworking’. Every friend I have ever made in my Appalachian folk dance

journey has made this abundantly clear and we, as Appalachian natives, will continue to fight the

stigmatisms attached to our land, families, and heritage.

So, you may be asking, what exactly is clog dancing/flatfooting? Is it the same as tap

dancing? Do clog dancers wear wooden clogs? The answer to both of these is no. However,

clogging does slightly resemble tap dancing and its name came from those wooden clogs.
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In Northern England in the 18th century, girls working in the cotton mills wore wooden

clogs to work and, to pass time, would tap their heels throughout the day creating a symphonic,

rhythmic beat. Later, steelworkers in Lancashire evolved this simple sound into a new type of

folk step dance - clogging. This would eventually play a large role in the invention of

Appalachian clogging (Access).

Nearing the end of the 20th century, Irish, Scottish, English, and Dutch-Germans

immigrated to Appalachia, bringing with them various types of step dances and folk dances

(Driggs). Ray Access described Appalachian clogging as, “...truly a melting pot of diversity in

art,” and I feel he could not have worded it more perfectly (Access). These new settlers of

Appalachia would gather together to dance and soon developed a new, impromptu style of step

dancing, known today as Appalachian clog dancing, or flatfooting, always accompanied by a

fiddle and most often some bluegrass music. Jeff Driggs, editor of the Double Toe Times

Clogging Magazine, wrote, “...clogging was a means of personal expression in a land of

newfound freedoms” (Driggs).

Beginning as an individualistic form of self expression, clogging was soon implemented

in square dancing and the two became a staple combination for decades (Driggs). Today,

clogging has strayed from its simplistic, impromptu roots and has become much more intricate,

complicated, and competitive.

Traditional Appalachian clog dancing combines the use of toe and heel movements to

create a rhythmic beat alongside bluegrass music. The heel is used to keep the downbeat, while

the toe is used as the upbeat to add intermittent, or coinciding, sounds. Apace with, the dancer

will bend their knees when the heel is flat on the ground on the downbeat and straighten them out

on the upbeat - creating a rhythmic up-down motion as they step (Driggs). In an article from the
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Medium, Sarah Propst wrote, “One elderly West Virginia flatfooter once said, ‘ The music just

goes in your ear, down through your soul, and comes out through your feet.’” This flatfooter,

within this simple quote, ingeniously and impeccably expresses the way one, who truly loves

Appalachian clogging, feels as they dance; this is why I dance.

Reflecting on my life growing up in Appalachia, I find the following quote to exquisitely

summarize the intense connection I feel between clog dancing and my roots, “Of all the unusual

crafts, foods and practices that have become a part of the Appalachian way of life, none is truer

to the heritage of these mountains than clogging” (Access). My love for Appalachian folk dance

such as clogging and square dancing has played an immense role in my life and in forming who I

have become, and I would not change it for the world.

There are a multitude of aspects of my life and my heritage that tie my roots to

Appalachia, but clogging is much more prominent than any of the rest. Bluegrass music,

clogging, and square dancing have played a crucial part in learning who I am, who I want to be,

and where I want life to take me. These things have provided me a way to never forget my roots,

the place I call home, and those who were there for me from the beginning. No matter where life

takes me, I will never forget my Appalachian roots. I am an Appalachian ‘Hilberry’ (my

grandmother’s maiden name) and I will always be proud of that. Call me a hillbilly, redneck, or

country bumpkin, and I will look right back at you and thank you, because I am proud of where I

come from and I am proud of the life I have had growing up in Appalachia.
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Works Cited

Access, Ray. “Clogging, an Appalachian Tradition.” Simply Appalachian, 5 June 2015,

https://www.simplyappalachian.com/article/2015/05/clogging-appalachian-tradition.

Driggs, Jeff. “A Brief History of Clog Dancing.” Clogon!Com,

http://www.clogon.com/history-of-clogging/.

Propst, Sarah. “High Mountains, Flatfeet: The History of Clogging in Appalachia.”

Medium, Spring 2018 Introduction to Appalachian Studies Research, 9 May 2018,

https://medium.com/spring-2018-introduction-to-appalachian-studies/high-mountains-flatfe

et-the-history-of-clogging-in-appalachia-360c78ec4f5d.