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Pride 2023

Country Music Has Never Been More Gay

For decades, Nashville has been hostile to LGBTQ artists. Now, a handful of musicians and songwriters are leading the way to acceptance
JUSTIN J WEE/"The New York Times"/Redux

W hen Brandy Clark launched a country-music recording career in 2013, there wasn’t any template to follow for an openly gay artist in Nashville. Despite co-writing hits like Kacey Musgraves’ “Follow Your Arrow,” Clark heard loud and clear the industry’s subtle messages that she wouldn’t be supported as an out performer. Even Chely Wright, who had big radio hits in the Nineties, had been forced to wait years and change stylistic directions before she came out publicly.  

“One of the things that was hard for me to grasp was [the idea that] you can be a successful songwriter and be out of the closet, but you won’t be able to have a successful career as an artist,” Clark says. “So I let that dream go.” 

Brandy Clark Victoria Stevens*

Since then, country music’s traditional barriers to entry have begun to erode. Clark is now signed out of Warner’s L.A. office and has found a growing audience. Even more LGBTQ talent is appearing on major and indie rosters — including Grammy favorite Brandi Carlile, TJ Osborne of the CMA-winning duo Brothers Osborne, and relative newcomers like Lily Rose and Brooke Eden — and numerous artists are making headway working outside that system. Just 20 years ago, the industry refused to put any support behind its out performers, but now, with more queer voices in the mix than ever, country is slowly becoming a more welcoming space for all.

Clark has been at the forefront of that shift and credits her friendship with Shane McAnally — one of Nashville’s most successful songwriters, who is also gay — with giving her the confidence to pursue a solo career. “When I met him, I was definitely out, but I didn’t lead with it. And I remember thinking, ‘Wow, he kinda leads with it,’” Clark says, noting that McAnally could walk into a room with a bunch of camo-wearing, arrow-straight men and emerge with a great country song. “I always thought it was brave of him, so it made me braver.”  

Over the course of a few albums and writing songs with McAnally for the new Broadway musical Shucked, Clark has become adamant about the importance of being visible.  

“With the climate of the world, it feels really important now for me to be more out and open,” she says. “Who knows who’s going to be listening to me in the flyover states that’s going to draw strength from ‘Oh, she’s gay too? Man, if she’s gay and doing that, maybe I could do that.’”

Chris Housman is one of a newer generation of young country songwriters who takes inspiration from Clark’s and McAnally’s work. The Kansas native’s best-known song, 2021’s “Blueneck,” has been at the nexus of topical and viral: It came loaded with an irresistible hook and endlessly clever lines about being progressive in a red state. “George Strait or George Gay, there’s no difference,” sings Housman, who now lives in Nashville. He also tackled his religious upbringing in “Bible Belt” and, in response to Tennessee’s anti-drag legislation, in March penned a pop-country banger called “Drag Queen” (“Every now and then,” he sings, “Michael becomes Michelle”).

Like a lot of queer performers in country and folk music, Housman is working mainly on his own, without the help of major firms or even indie labels. “Though a lot of people that work in the industry support me from a distance, there’s a difference between that and actually taking some steps to push that further and sign some [gay artists],” Housman says. 

Independent labels have generally been more welcoming to LGBTQ artists. Fantasy Records released Outside Child, the groundbreaking 2021 roots album by Allison Russell, who identifies as queer, while trans singer Mya Byrne signed to the Nashville wing of legendary punk label Kill Rock Stars to drop her album Rhinestone Tomboy. Knoxville, Tennessee-based Adeem the Artist, who is nonbinary, released their 2022 album White Trash Revelry via indie stalwart Thirty Tigers, a feat that defied their expectations. 

Chris Housman Ford Fairchild*

“When I ruminated on coming out and then came out, especially when I changed my pronouns, I remember thinking, ‘There’s no way I’m going to get any press whatsoever now. I think I just tanked my career,’” they say. “And then I experienced this wealth of support, perhaps at the risk of some tokenization, that catapulted me forward.” 

In June, Adeem, who has toured with Josh Ritter and American Aquarium, will make their Grand Ole Opry debut, evidence that while the industry tends to move slowly on these matters, it’s not sitting static. Still, Music Row has remained mostly silent in the wake of numerous bills targeting the LGBTQ community in Tennessee. It all leaves Adeem worrying about raising their young child in the state. 

“I can’t put my kid in school here,” they say. “I would be worried that my kid would give their chosen pronouns and illustrate that we have an expansive view of gender that might threaten the social conventions of the state and therefore subject us to a visit from DCS and maybe even the removal of our child from our household.” 

CMT, the cable-TV network with a country audience, is one industry institution that’s thrown unambiguous support behind the LGBTQ community. At the 2023 CMT Music Awards in April, co-host Kelsea Ballerini performed her song “If You Go Down (I’m Going Down Too)” surrounded by a group of drag queens, a defiant stand against laws targeting queens and trans people in Texas (where the show took place), Tennessee, and beyond. The company has also co-created several initiatives designed to level the playing field in country music, like the Equal Access Development Program, which offers training, funding, and industry access for country artists from marginalized communities.

“Our CMT Equal Play and Equal Access initiatives have opened the door for many artists,” says Leslie Fram, CMT’s senior vice president of music and talent. “This is so important to show that today’s country music is for everyone. This is real action that also provides a pipeline for those that want to work in country music and actionable support for artists.”  

Last year, CMT presented an anniversary party for the Black Opry Revue, a collective that seeks to elevate Black artists working in country and Americana music. Audiences at the party watched queer-identifying artists like Jett Holden, Autumn Nicholas, and the Kentucky Gentlemen perform.  

Holly G, the Black Opry’s founder and co-director, formed the organization as a way to create a safe outlet for diverse country artists and fans. To that end, maintaining an affirming space for LGBTQ people is vital to Black Opry’s mission. “When we started Black Opry, it was very important to me to make sure it took care of both of those intersections,” Holly G says. “I’m queer myself, so I feel like it’s baked into the way we operate.” 

Adeem the Artist Catherine Powell for Rolling Stone

As LGBTQ civil rights have come under attack, some have asked the Black Opry to become more involved in political activism — making statements and even organizing performances at rallies. Holly G has been trying to recalibrate her thinking, since that wasn’t her original goal with Black Opry. “From the onset of this, it was never my intention at all to be any type of activist,” she says. “I was literally just trying to find a safe space for myself to exist in the music industry. I just wanted to be able to go to concerts.”

It’s a far-too-common story:  the marginalized having to do the hard labor to be recognized while tossed into activist roles on top of it. Their straight counterparts typically don’t have to do the same. As Adeem the Artist puts it, “I’m a reluctant activist. I want to make really good country music. That’s at the heart of what I do.” 

Still, with a vibrant community that’s commanding the industry to pay attention, country music’s queer entertainers are moving things forward, together. “Those are my people. I love them to death,” Adeem says. “We have a really inclusive and welcoming space, especially for all being on the fringes and competing for limited platforming. We’ve got a really supportive group of folks.”

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