Country music, Black voters and American amnesia

JUNIOR MWEMBA: Walker, Texas Ranger was my show as a kid. Growing up, I drove my mother crazy with my unrelenting commitment to the show, becoming almost hysterical if a competing program forced me to give up the remote. I’ll be real, the show’s intro doubled as my personal hype video. Chuck Norris, aka Sergeant Cordell Walker, was the man, and I didn’t have the time, or the interest to deal with opposing opinions. The show, after all, was ahead of its time. Sergeant Walker’s partner, an equally cool cowboy, was Black.

 In America, we tend to equate “urban” to mean Black and “rural” to mean white. But these perceptions, as ostensible as some may think, are far from true. This became especially clear to me during the fall of 2019.

 Weeks after I’d arrived in DC and somehow survived the MBA program’s grueling four-week Opening Term, I’d finally relented to a haircut, driving to nearby Shirlington, VA, to what appeared to be just another Black barber shop. As I walked in, I was immediately taken aback by my barber donning a cowboy hat, the entire shop an amalgamation of Black culture and country culture. An old Obama campaign poster was still tacked on a wall. Mentally, I patted myself on the back for finding the place.

 Still, I was surprised. I sat gawking at my Black barber’s cowboy boots, listening to his country drawl, scanning photos of horses scattered around the shop. All summer, I’d been obsessed with Lil Nas X’s “Old Town Road,” yet here he was, a real-life Black cowboy. Truthfully, I felt strangely guilty and embarrassed by my bewilderment. 

 After all, the American public associates country culture with Caucasian. I know this, not because of any empirical evidence I’ve critically reviewed, studies I’ve read, or literature I’ve absorbed. I know this because, frankly, I tend to enjoy telling people I like country music just a little too much. Invariably, my candor is met with an eyebrow raise, no matter how subtle the gesture. Later, when I launch into a soliloquy about my love for the group formerly known as “The Dixie Chicks,” folks just can’t contain themselves. It’s odd, that some can equate a fondness for country music to mean that a Black person just isn’t... “Black enough.”

It’s as if the United States one day decided that melanin should preclude an individual from enjoying a particular type of music. As though, somehow, it was agreed upon that an entire genre of music should be reserved exclusively for the Dale’s and Karen’s of the world. This is exactly what happened, but even so, Black country artists refused to be snuffed out, subdued and silenced.

 The meteoric rise of Black country artists has been nothing short of extraordinary. Darius Rucker, Kane Brown, Jimmie Allen and Mickey Guyton, among others, have ushered in a new era of country that places Black artists continually at or near the top of the country music charts. In 2018, Jimmie Allen became just the second Black country artist to ever land a No.1 single with his smash hit “Best Shot.” Meanwhile, Kane Brown’s Experiment debuted at No.1 on the Billboard 200 charts in November of the same year. 

 All of this wasn’t supposed to happen, at least not from the perspective of country’s old guard. Country music, from its beginning, sought to downplay any connections it had to the Black community. The late Charley Pride, sometimes referred to as the Jackie Robinson of country music, not only had his first singles sent to DJ’s without publicity shots, but even had some radio stations refuse to play his records. Rhiannon Giddens, a Black woman, Grammy-winning instrumentalist and vocalist, had the following to say during a 2020 interview with Rolling Stone: “The idea of what country music is has been carefully constructed to seem like it was always white... folk festivals were thinly veiled attempts to recast the music as white mountain music, as part of a project to create a white ethnicity.”

 I’m never more aware of my Blackness than when I’m attending country music festivals. Growing up in a small town in the middle of Michigan, I’ve grown accustomed to operating in predominantly white spaces. In recent years though, the country festival environment has become more prominently connected to the MAGA movement, in both style and rhetoric alike. Nevertheless, without fail, a DJ will play Kendrick Lamar’s “DNA” in between sets, edging the crowd into euphoria. It’s as if to say that country music is our music, and by the way Junior, your music? Yeah, that’s ours too.

 Fittingly, the emergence of Black country artists has occurred during a time in which country-pop artists have increasingly borrowed from the Black-dominated hip-hop and R&B spaces. Florida Georgia Line. Thomas Rhett. Sam Hunt. Dylan Scott. The list of examples is extensive.

 Nonetheless, it was no surprise when Chase Rice, a heavy borrower in his own right, tweeted “Yea, rioting helps.” during the Black Lives Matter protests that engulfed much of last summer. Mickey Guyton, during an interview with NPR, had this to say in response to Chase's comments: “But when I saw Chase Rice say what he had to say, this man has benefitted from Black culture... If you’re going to mention anything about rioting, you have got to mention and at least acknowledge the deaths of innocent Black people.”

Importantly, on the heels of the ascension of the Black Lives Matter movement, country music has begun to experience its own racial reckoning in early 2021. Morgan Wallen, the artist best known for the hit single “Whiskey Glasses,” was recently caught on video yelling expletives, including the N-word. Luke Combs, the two-time Grammy and five-time CMA award winner, has recently come under fire for photos that show him with a Confederate flag sticker on his guitar and for a 2015 music video in which the Confederate flag appears repeatedly. Megastar Maren Morris, during a segment on "CBS This Morning," had the following to say in response to country music’s recent racially charged controversies: “I think the only way that we can really move forward is by deconstructing our view of what the genre is built on, and acknowledging the fact that at its roots is racism and cultural appropriation - and completely destroying that mentality going forward,” Morris said.

Of course, Morris’ comments don’t represent a panacea when it comes to country music’s racial issues. But they’re a start. And they’re yet another example in a string of racial realizations that began in the summer of 2020. As America has slowly begun to recognize its dark past, Black contributions to society, across a multitude of domains, have begun to be acknowledged. Yet, as we continue to recognize Black Americans’ impact and influence, both past and present, a particular demographic continues to elude the press: Back rural voters.

It’s not difficult to see just how many similarities exist between Black country artists and Black rural voters. Both did and continue to exist in mostly white environments. Both were historically oppressed and largely rejected. Yet, both have swiftly become highly influential in their respective spheres.

 The Brookings Institution, the prominent DC think tank, stated that "rural America is not all white, and spreading this falsity caters to white supremacy." Even further, Brookings noted that “the portrayal of rural America as a white monolith erases the 21% of rural residents who are people of color, and who are critical to the economic future of rural and small towns and to the health of the nation overall.”

 What hasn’t received much attention, but what’s truly remarkable, is the consistency in which a cadre of rural Black voters in the South have supported Democratic candidates for president. These individuals and families, some the descendants of slaves, continue to vote blue amidst a sea of red. Even still, when the topic of Black voters is discussed by political pundits, cities like Cleveland and Philadelphia are continually brought up instead.

 Arguably no one understands the importance of Black rural voters better than Stacey Abrams. The Georgia candidate-for-Governor-turned-voting-activist not only played a leading role in turning her state blue for President Biden, but she was also the catalyst behind the improbable election of two Georgia Senate Democrats. The significance of both feats cannot be overstated. 

 After the Georgia Senate special election winners were declared, Rev. James Woodall, president of the Georgia NAACP, spoke to Georgia Public Broadcasting and had this to say: “I don’t underestimate the necessity of getting the suburbs, but this win would not have been possible without the record turnout in these rural communities. I can’t stress that enough. Without the Black rural vote, no victory in Georgia is possible.”

Certainly, it’s unfair to assume that all Black rural voters, or even all Black voters for that matter, support Democratic candidates. Similarly, not all white voters support Republican candidates. But the majority of white voters, after a tumultuous four years, still voted to re-elect Donald Trump. To restate: the majority of white voters, after reviewing nearly four years of vitriol aimed at marginalized communities, willingly signed-up for another four years. To be exact, 57% of white voters voted to re-elect Donald Trump. In contrast, just 12% of Black voters did the same. 

Clearly, President Biden owes a significant portion of his victory to Black voters. But the thing is, Black voters don’t just live in the inner cities. As we saw during the 2020 Presidential election, the margin of victory is now so slim, in so many key states, that progressive policies cannot continue to rely solely on cities like Atlanta, Detroit and Philadelphia.

Insert Jaime Harrison. One of the Democratic Party’s newest darlings, the 2020 Senate hopeful now sits at the helm of the Democratic National Committee. Via Twitter, Mr. Harrison announced he is reviving Howard Dean’s 50-state strategy. According to Harrison, there will be “no more ignoring the red on the map to focus on the purple. We will go into every community, every zip code and organize to build back better.” Aptly, Mr. Harrison’s first meetings were with rural and Black Democrats.

 I’m hopeful for the Democratic Party under Chairman Harrison’s leadership, but still, when I think about my first experience heading into my now beloved barbershop, I’m conflicted. On one hand, I’m thankful to have found the place. But on the other, it’s unsettling to reflect on just how surprised I was to see another Black man with an affection for country culture. It was refreshing yet saddening all at the same time. 

This piece is an acknowledgement to the countless Black folks in America who feel unseen and underappreciated. Even though it’s no longer Black history month, Black history is made 365 days a year, and 366 on a leap year, as far as I’m concerned. Whether you’re an up-and-coming country artist, rural resident, scientific researcher, hockey player, or horseback rider: You are seen, you are loved and you are appreciated.

Junior Mwemba grew up in Midland, MI and is a second-year MBA student in the McDonough School of Business.