First, there were the drafts of tweets that were not sent. Then there were swearing text messages to trusted friends. Finally, there were unnerving cooking videos on YouTube. It took time to understand the sadness and confusion I felt after Morgan Wallen’s video. The disappointing revelation that the country’s hottest new star was filmed with racist slander was quickly followed by the cheerful departure of the Osborne Brothers’ lead singer, TJ Osborne, arousing even more emotions. As a country music fan from a small Alabama town who is also gay, I found elements of both news that resonated with me.
Hometown pride is a recurring theme in country music in general and specifically in Wallen’s music. It is the cornerstone of one of his greatest hits, “More Than My Hometown”, in which the music narrator says goodbye to a girl with a “savage” in the eyes that he “just wasn’t born” with as she heads for new life in the big city. He will stay put, thank you very much, because he “is not the type to run away”. In addition to the sadness at the separation, there is also an underlying anxiety about what the departure may mean: the hometown is comfortable and familiar; the big city contains a multitude of unknown things that can change a person.
This certainly accompanies my own experience. My hometown is not much different from Wallen’s origins in Sneedville, Tennessee. Both are located in predominantly rural areas and, like many others across the country, are predominantly white, heterosexual and resistant to change.
The correct part is important because when the news of TJ Osborne was released on the same day that everything was imploding for Wallen, she connected a few points to me about the way we act when there is no one to challenge us – as well as how we behave to survive when we don’t fit. As different as these two events appear on the surface, they are related to that anxiety I hear in “More Than My Hometown”.
I spent most of my professional life in Nashville, but I remember very well the feeling of having to disguise myself to be accepted in my hometown. I was, in a sense, a type of TJ Osborne surrounded by many people who spoke casually like Morgan Wallen in the video. Confederate flags were (and still are to some extent) a popular backyard decor, sanctuaries from an imaginary heroic past to accompany their Crimson Tide or Auburn Tigers logos. My high school fight music was “Dixie” until 2018. I don’t know what happened to me at the time, because my history classes were heavy on Cause Lost mythology and I was still terribly ignorant about race in this country, but I try to imagine what it would have been like to be a visiting athlete at a more diverse school in Decatur or Huntsville, and I feel ashamed.
“I was, in a sense, a type of TJ Osborne surrounded by many people who spoke casually like Morgan Wallen in the video.”
As much as we like to imagine ourselves as heroes in our own stories, speaking is not the easiest or advisable thing to do when your own safety is in danger. I had heard gay slanders like the F word cast enough in corridors and changing rooms to know that I was probably not in a position to change hearts and minds. I learned from my Southern Baptist church that it was not right to explore my own feelings. I learned that the loudest fanatics would never have to answer for the things they said, so it was better to stay under the radar. I learned that I had to act and look certain, or there would be problems, possibly violence and probably a big setback for Jesus. And I say all this with full awareness of the complicated privilege that this entails, of being a middle class white man who could “pass” straight (for a while). Black people in this country do not have that option and, more than 20 years later, I am still sorry for not having said anything at that time.
As a teenager in the 90s, I gravitated mainly to rap and what I perceived as the strangeness of punk rock, rather than the big country stars of the decade, who didn’t seem to be making music with me in mind. I really liked my grandfather’s Johnny Cash and Jim Reeves albums, but they almost looked like people from another universe. As an adult, I returned to contemporary things with a new appreciation for adult stories and the unmistakable joy of Dolly, Reba and Tammy.
I see these same narratives happening with LGBTQ country stars from the past. That fear forced ridiculously talented singers like Ty Herndon and Chely Wright to hide until well after the commercial peak. So, TJ Osborne’s choice to leave while signing with a major label and enjoying modesty, but – let’s be clear – not Morgan Wallen’s level of success is remarkable. That choice would have meant a lot to me back then and it will certainly do the same for dozens of queer children across the country now. It has the potential to save lives.
My story is not unique. There are thousands of children in this country who have had to disguise themselves, who may still be disguising themselves, because casual intolerance is the norm where they live. Because very few people are challenging it and any change is happening at a glacial pace. I am not suggesting that everyone in these spaces is violent racist, but make no mistake, the casual use of the word n by a white person is an act of violence.
In a way, these two events taking place in a single day are a good encapsulation of both America and the country music industry in 2021: one side is turned to the past and casually prejudiced; the other, progressive and cautiously optimistic. Racism has been embedded in the experience from the beginning. We currently have a series of civil liberties that always look like a Supreme Court judge to be revoked. Multiple chances are reserved exclusively for heterosexual white men, and anyone classified as “other” often has to grab and fight for the first chance.
The Wallen / Osborne news came the same week that Mickey Guyton, the most prominent black woman who worked in country music, debuted on television late at night. The song she sang on Late show with Stephen Colbert it was “Black Like Me”, an ardent and honest look at the experiences of being black in an industry – and country – where whiteness is at the forefront. It has not yet reached the country charts, but has received a Grammy nomination.
That’s why I get a little irritated when I hear country artists seriously singing about unity or how to overcome a big divide. These sides are not equivalent. It is impossible to reconcile the vague support of civil rights to racism, homophobia, misogyny, transphobia, Islamophobia and any other attitudes and behaviors that reduce and promote violence against marginalized groups. There is no way to bridge this specific chasm.
As many have already pointed out, Morgan Wallen is just a symptom of a major systemic problem – both in country music and in the United States. Hopefully, he is on the right path to a deeper understanding of why his actions were unacceptable. What remains to be seen is whether someone in country music – artist or fan – will follow him as he leaves the comfort of his hometown for any changes to come. What we should no longer accept is that these behaviors can be ignored while looking the other way.