Black Country Culture
What it is and isn’t to me in light of Cowboy Carter
For years, no, all my life, I’ve tried to express my identity as accurately and confidently as possible to others. There’s no firefighter team that can extinguish the forest fire that burns ruthlessly inside me when I feel rejected. Hearing critiques about Beyoncé’s new album Cowboy Carter it’s triggering that feeling of rejection. I’m instantly irritated when people can’t embrace that Black people can be country too. I believe that this lack of understanding is because we have a narrow scope of what we understand to be “country”, if it’s something positive to acknowledge and to even accept in America. With that in mind, I’m compelled to share my experiences and definition of Black Country Culture in hopes to expand our minds and hearts that this subculture is worth paying attention to.
Past
I was born and raised in Danville, Virginia. Historically, it was the last confederate capital to surrender during the Civil War. The main sources of income there were tobacco, textiles and railroads which of course have been phased out of popularity in the late 20th century. Racism and segregation was so intense that when Martin Luther King Jr. came to speak on police brutality, he said it was the worst he’d ever seen in the South. My paternal grandparents have shared with me that they didn’t even realize the schools were segregated until they tried to integrate them.
Speaking of my grandparents, they are the embodiment of BCC to me. They still reside in the house they bought after getting married. Rose bushes consuming the front yard as the years go on, replacing the small garden I once knew to have perennials and a concrete bird bath. The backyard sloped and covered in hollow shells the squirrels leave behind. My grandfather used to take his rifle and shoot those squirrels for “eating his pecans”. My younger brother and I used to collect the nuts for us all to snack on together while watching “Texas Ranger”. Looking back, I’m grateful I never had a tree nut allergy.
They always cooked a full breakfast together every morning. Oatmeal, bacon, boiled eggs, biscuits and sausage. They never wanted to waste anything so my grandpa would pour us basically a “swallow’s worth” of orange juice. That juice would be acidic because he’d keep it as long as possible. He grew up poor so these were just longstanding habits despite them having more wealth now. So on one hand I’d wish for more juice but on the other was content with only a swallow.
Often I’d try to help set the table. In the fridge I’d search for butter and think the tub of Country Crock would be it only to discover last night’s string beans stored inside. When you grow up without easy access to resources, you get creative. I believe that’s where I learned how to be more sustainable. You know the whole reduce, reuse, recycle agenda? Country folk do it best in my opinion. Anything and everything can be repurposed. And if not, it’ll be sold in a yard sale.
We’d ride in my grandpa’s blue Ford pickup truck and listen to the radio when he’d take us to get ice cream mostly. But on Sunday’s, we take my grandma’s car to church. My grandparents loved to get dressed up for church. They wore uniforms during the week so on Sundays is when they got to look their best. I recall always having to wear a slip under my dress and socks with dolly edges. We attended Trinity Baptist Church where my grandma was the head chef and my grandfather had the best singing voice in the choir. You can imagine we spent a lot of time there every weekend, somehow, some way.
My mother had us only listen to gospel and country music when we were little kids because she thought that was most appropriate for us. Til this day, my favorite songs are those that really amazing era of country music. I remember wishing I could meet The (Dixie) Chicks and sing with them “Cowboy Take Me Away” or “Wide Open Spaces”. Okay, I still wish I could… When my mother took me to horseback riding lessons, those are the songs that played in my head.
She’s actually from Tidewater area, the 757. As a true water baby, she made sure we enjoyed it to the fullest. We were enrolled in swimming lessons back home in Danville that came in handy when boogie boarding at Virginia Beach. I recall catching the biggest fish of the day on the pier with my Barbie fishing rod. In May, we’d journey to Pongo Beach for the annual strawberry festival. My love for food, especially seafood, was cultivated at every family gathering. My favorite house to visit was my Uncle Bunny’s because he’d give us frozen mini Snicker’s and my Aunt Shirley could speak in tongues when praying. My brother and I would always sit on the plastic covered couch and listen to grown folks conversation there too.
We had a vibrant and happy childhood without limitations thanks to my mother. I was obsessed with horses so I rode them and had the movie “Spirit” on rewind. I routinely would have grass stains in my jeans from playing outside with friends and collecting bugs to identify later. My brother got to be a Boy Scout with real immersive nature experiences. We both were fortunate enough to attend private school that gave us a quality education even with it being 45 minutes away tucked inside a valley. I remember in 5th grade, my favorite grade arguably, our class project was raising trout from eggs and then releasing them into the river to repopulate them. In 10th grade, this small town girl was able to do an exchange program in Italy for two weeks! Although we were the only black students in our grade most years, we never felt inferior actually. We were always reassured that we were deserving of being there and to be ourselves.
Growing up, all I knew was that there were all kinds of country folk. You could be living humbly in a small home in the mountains or could come from old money and live in renovated plantain houses. You could play rec league baseball or do classical ballet. You could prefer fried fish over boiled chitlins at the cookout. You could be a doctor or a mechanic and both seen as good jobs. Anyone could be country! I never even knew of a monolithic view of country folk until I went to college.
I never thought my accent and lifestyle to be THAT Southern. I was constantly teased for the things I’d say and how I’d say them. Ie. I’d say “cut the lights off” and I’d receive a look of confusion. I felt othered by other black students that came from cities who made little to no space for people like me at events. That pretty much began my first experience of being misunderstood as a Southerner. What was I to expect from attending a university founded by Thomas Jefferson that only started allowing Black students in the 1970s?
Present
I try to not sway or buckle in my knees when people try to dismiss my origins or interests. I’d be betraying myself if allowed people’s narrow understanding of me to define who I am. Attracting people like me and who like all of me has been especially uplifting during my adulthood. I’m so lucky to have college best friends of 10 years that are also Black country girls. I’m even luckier to have found my husband who grew similarly in the neighboring city of Lynchburg with a big family. And thrifting my baby the perfect pair of cowboy boots made my heart soar far beyond the moon. I know I’m not alone or weird or not “Black enough”. I get to be an unapologetic country girl just like Beyonce.
I like an immersive experience when indulging in any art form. Listening to this album in my noise cancellation headphones transcended me back to home, back to my core self. I love storytelling in music. It allows me to live out my wildest daydreams. It affirms deeper thoughts and emotions I hold that I rarely want others to know. This album woke up out every creaky floorboard, worn pair of boots and dusty book of hymns resting inside me.
At this point, I’m convinced I need a “Blackbiird” tattoo. This country version of such an iconic song permeates into my bone marrow with its vulnerable vocals. “16 Carriages” reminded me of the raw, incontestable talent that Beyonce has had as a strong songstress. “Protector” resonates with me as a new mother. I’m even more ready for the rodeo after “Texas Hold Em”, “Ya Ya” and “Riiverdance”. “II Most Wanted” and “Just For Fun” are my favorite duets. “Alligator Tears”, ugh, the line “You say move a mountain and I’ll throw on my boots” is so me ready to do anything for my lover. I could go on an on about each song but we’re short on attention span.
What makes a song country, to me, is the energy in it. I didn’t study music but what I think distinguishes country songs from others is the way topics are described, the cadence and musical instruments used. I do understand some people’s exposure to country music is only singers like Carrie Underwood, Tim McGraw and Rascal Flatts. But I encourage you to explore artists like Darius Rucker and Chapel Hart. The artists featured on the album have great hits as well. Art is meant to evolve and this album is evolving country music whether you like it or not.
We often forget that humans are dynamic and multifaceted creatures. No one can possibly fit into a nice, neat box with a label slapped on it. We have to let artists try new art forms and grow on their own terms and timelines. Sticking to one thing can mean you can become a master in it, yes. But it can become restrictive or even boring. It can become oppressive. Everyone deserves to express themselves fully at every stage of their life. So long as it’s not causing harm, is that really so hard to stand behind? Moreover, who are we to tell someone who they are and aren’t?
Future
I implore you to dissect your own understanding of country culture. It’s not just farmers, racists, and uneducated folk. Consider watching the documentary “High on the Hog” or if you like action “The Harder They Fall”. Look into the Bill Pickett Invitational Rodeo. There’s plenty of books to check out from your local library. Maybe try talking to someone from the South??? I promise you, it’s a rich, abundant and influential culture. I hope my experiences have maybe or sparked some interest or at the least has diversified your notions about what it means to be Black and Country.
My dream is to one day own a ranch. Where I can nurture rescued animals, grow food to share with the community and savor the peaceful countryside. I’d love to forage in the woods, refill bird feeders and bask underneath the glow of the Milky Way. My husband would capture our slow and steady pace of life through his film photography. My son would become spoiled by the boundless freedom he’d have to laugh and play as much as he desires. I want to design vegan country clothing made from natural ingredients, host wellness retreats and even pay tax to the indigenous people whose land we live on.
The biggest part of this dream is my hope that our son will become a country music star. When we found out we were having a baby, I told everyone this. There were giggles but lots of support once he arrived. I ordered a name sign for his nursery and thought “yeah he will be hosting the CMAs in 20 years, I see the headlines now.” We have faith in him!!! He loves dancing to country songs (and 70s hits and R&B). I can sing “All I Can Say” and he immediately calms down. We can’t wait to see what instruments he’s drawn to and to get him on horseback next year.
Ultimately, I pray for a future where Black Country Culture is better understood. I don’t have a true definition of what it is, I really only have my lived experiences. Country culture isn’t for everybody and that’s okay. But anybody can be country, not just White people. We all deserve to have our lifestyles, cultures and interests respected. I’d add so long as it causes the least amount of harm possible. So take what you like, leave what you don’t from her new album. Maybe it’s just not for you. It’s at the very least for me.
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Q&A
What did you think about her album? Favorite song?
Do you consider yourself country or city? Or something else entirely?
Have you ever touched a horse or cow?
What’s the most yeehaw thing you’ve ever experienced?
Favorite Southern food?
My list of favorites include Mac n cheese, potato salad, collard greens, sweet potato pie, fried mushrooms (like chicken but I’m vegan so chickn)
Email me your answers to withcarrington@gmail.com or comment on substack :)
Beautifully written story and well-said about our right to invent and reinvent ourselves even if society tries to squeeze us into neat boxes that are easier to grasp and sell. While reading your piece I was reminded that Lil Nas X put out Old Town Road a few years back and I could be wrong but I remember the reaction being “wow, this is creative and cool.” Maybe because Lil Nas X’s approach to country was more playful or maybe (probably) because Beyoncé is a Black woman, but all of a sudden people want to make a problem 🙄 I’m admittedly not a country fan but Beyoncé is helping me see the genre in a different light.
Anyway, thank you for sharing this and thank you also for mentioning my newsletter. I’m so grateful that you enjoy my writing enough to share it with others. Looking forward to reading more of yours!
I could visualize this all. I could hear the country crock tub lid crackling open and taste the acidic orange juice. So beautiful and rich with life. I also love getting to know more about you.
Loved her album. I can sometimes feel overcome with how incredible it all is. Like the brilliance and every little moment considered. It’s breathtaking.
I grew up in the country. At the time there were 4K people in the town. I look back now and feel how spacious it felt. It was really special. I often have to do a lot of explaining (and re-educating) to my city boy husband.
I also grew up ON country and while I took a break in my early adulthood, if one of those songs are playing in a store I will break out into song and dance to my aforementioned husband’s horror. You don’t wanna be around me when Shania Twain’s Any Man comes on unless you’re ready to get after it.