I have lived through some big societal changes in my many years on this ever-heating planet. For example, I recently told younger friends that as a teen I had to buy CD-Roms that gave me a certain number of hours of internet access, and then it would stop. I saw in their baffled little eyes that they were now picturing me in black and white, waving goodbye to the CD-Rom-monger as I boarded my horse and buggy.
I’ve also lived through big changes in LGBTQ+ rights. I was closeted till age 21, whereas many more young people can now be their true selves from the jump – celebrated instead of tolerated.
Then there is the biggest change of all, one that I never thought I would see as long as I lived, and that is … country music is cool now.
I can’t believe it. As someone who has loved country music since I yeehaw’d out of my mother (sorry), I have been watching this vibe shift with feverish anticipation over recent years. There was Lil Nas X’s breakout moment in 2019, with his country-crossover hit Old Town Road. Years after doing the song Daddy Lessons with the Chicks, Beyoncé released her full country album Cowboy Carter in 2024 – putting a huge spotlight on country’s roots in black history, and its future black stars. Post Malone transitioned from rap to country with huge success. Hip-hop country singer Shaboozey also had a massive crossover hit last year with A Bar Song (Tipsy). All of these moments have had ripple effects on popular music. We are now seeing country calling, and even the pop girlies are leaning into it. I’ve finally been vindicated, I’m finally cool.
Last week one of the biggest pop stars on the planet right now, Chappell Roan, released a heavily country-vibed song called The Giver, which is about queer sex. It would probably have immediately killed 10-year-old me if she heard it. It’s a big change from the country music of my childhood.
My dad influenced my taste in musicians like Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash. At around age 10 I heard Patsy Cline for the first time, her plaintive and stunning voice blowing my mind. I listened to Loretta Lynn, Reba, Charley Pride. I got addicted to Garth Brooks (who was recently accused of sexual assault, extreme bummer – he denies the allegations). I found the Chicks when I was a bit older – perfect timing for someone starting to care about politics, and uncomfortable with the old-school conservative country ways behind the music.
Even though modern country has only recently started to include openly queer artists, I actually think it was my hidden queerness that drew me to it. The country music stereotype is often mocked (“I went to wash my truck and my wife left me and I’m gutted and my dog is also gone”), but I think it was that plainness that attracted me. I was closeted from the age of 10 (no, Patsy did not make me gay, but she helped) to about 21. The only way to survive was to completely shove down my feelings, disconnecting the wires that could cause emotions. I lived not being able to express myself, in the fear I wouldn’t be able to stop.
Country ballads, country love songs – these were always the ones that to me were full of the most emotion, most clearly expressed. Nobody was hiding anything, they weren’t shoving down their true selves. They were singing full-throated and plainly. They were doing exactly what I couldn’t do. Playing those songs and singing along loudly let me release a little bit of the pressure inside me. It was good for me, but kids at my various schools were not interested in singing Trisha Yearwood with me for some reason. The mainstream around me never really accepted country music.
But look at us now. I’m happily and loudly gay, and all the popular kids are coming over to my side. Beyoncé, Chappell. Sabrina Carpenter’s best song is Please Please Please, which has a country bent. Lana Del Rey has an upcoming country album. Orville Peck, a gay country singer who always wears a mask, is on the rise, having recently performed a song called Friends of Dorothy with the Wiggles. One of the most popular drag queens in the world, Trixie Mattel, makes beautiful folk-country music. Queer line dancing is taking over Sydney. Cowboy hats and flannels are no longer just the realm of country, or lesbians.
I’ve long endured terminal uncoolness, people groaning when my songs come on, mocking me for being a country bumpkin. There have been a few allies of course, other fans with whom I could watch Garth Brooks’s 1992 concert (RIP), or scream-sing Not Ready to Make Nice by the Chicks in a car. It’s been a long and winding road (Sheryl Crow), and it’s often been a lonely road, but I am finally getting my reward.
Now I can turn on the radio and hear the biggest stars in the world singing over a ukulele. I can blast a countrified song, look around and see people smiling instead of grimacing. I hope this means that many more people will discover other types of country and appreciate the scope of the genre.
But I’m greedy. While some country fans wring their hands and whine about the purity of the genre, I want more. I want Taylor Swift to go back to her roots and do a country album. I think Miley Cyrus would make an incredible country album. I want Doechii to collab with Kacey Musgraves. I want everyone I enjoy in every genre to make a countrified album. I deserve it, and every time a new country song is released by someone I love, my inner child yahoos and waves her cowboy hat around – this town ain’t big enough any more for country music haters.
Rebecca Shaw is a writer based in Sydney
