"Rednecks, Queers & Country Music" — oh my!

Whether because the book is written in academic style (and is more expensive than most selections on our reading list), or just because some of you were still away, we had lower-than-usual attendance for our Sept. 4 discussion of Nadine Hubbs' Rednecks, Queers and Country Music.  So I assume that means that most of you didn't buy it.

That being the case, I thought it might be useful to share a few thoughts about the book—not to entice any of you to buy it (for reasons I'll explain below) but because I believe, despite flaws in the author's framing, that her provocative thesis deserves consideration. (I won't presume to speak for anyone else present at our discussion, but I hope they'll comment if they disagree with any of the following observations.)

First, Hubbs' title reminds me of the old "Sesame Street" bit, "One of These Things Doesn't Belong." (No prizes for guessing which one in this case!) Still, I give her credit for an ambitious attempt to prove that queers do belong in a discussion of country music. Or, as the summary on the back cover puts it, "She summons the redneck and the queer to challenge the conventional wisdom that frames white working folks as a perpetual bigot class and renders their queer alliances invisible."

However, I'm sorry to say she falls far short of success on both counts.  In fact, she documents just how closely Nashville (to use shorthand for the industry) polices its performers to ensure that they don't challenge conventional thinking. Case in point: She mentions the Dixie Chicks only in passing, without acknowledging that they were blacklisted for daring to oppose the Iraq War. And as for "queer alliances," she only cites one "out" lesbian country singer (Chely Wright) and no openly gay male performers (as of 2014).

Are things better now for LGBTQ musicians than when this book came out? Undoubtedly. The crossover success of Lil Nas X's "Old Town Road" is an unmistakable sign that C&W is still evolving.

Then again, when nationally syndicated country radio host Blair Garner interviewed Pete Buttigieg back in July, Cumulus Radio spiked the broadcast—presumably because it didn't want its listeners to get the dangerous idea that gay people are actually smart and nice and moderate and relatable.

Bottom line: If you were tempted to buy this book to get dirt on secretly gay country performers, you can save your money!

Second, for what it's worth, Hubbs never explicitly says she is a lesbian. But at a minimum, she identifies strongly with the LGBTQ community. She does tell us that she comes from a white working-class family in Michigan, and grew up listening to country—but learned the hard way that if you want to fit in with urban peers, you better answer questions about your listening preferences with "anything but country" (the title of her first chapter).

I come from a similar background, though I hail from Shreveport, Louisiana. But unlike Hubbs, I am a proud member of the ABC club. However, my primary objection to the genre is not that I think it's low-class (or regard myself as too good for it). It's because as a classical musician, I find most (not all) country songs boring and predictable. (Which is also how I feel about most pop, rock, etc.)

In other words, I am a snob—just not in the sense Hubbs means.

Third, if Hubbs ever updates this book (I checked and she hasn't yet), I'm sure she'll devote at least one chapter to "deplorables"—aka Donald Trump supporters. I say that because the first half of Rednecks, Queers and Country Music makes the case that the white middle class and the intelligentsia (the demographic that used to be known as city slickers) unfairly ascribe all sorts of odious characteristics to fans of Country-and-Western music—bigotry, ignorance, homophobia, xenophobia, misogyny—to signal their (our?) moral superiority.

And that brings me to the main reason I am posting this commentary. As Democrats debate whether to court Trump supporters or write them off next year, we would do well to ponder the issues Hubbs analyzes here. While I believe she overstates the case that middle-class Americans scapegoat the less affluent, we should be careful not to assume that "rednecks" (whose tribe I may very well have joined if I were straight) are a monolithic bunch of bigots.

If anyone is still curious about this book—either because of my brilliant commentary or despite it—I'd be happy to lend it to you. Let me know.