Oh God, Do I like Country?

I never thought I'd say this. But here goes... 

I think I like country music. *cue the gasp*

I suppose I should explain why I never thought I'd like country music. Country music is inaccessible to me for two, diametrically opposed, reasons. First, because country is for white people, and second because country music is so Kikuyu it hurts. 

Let me address the former, first. In my mind, country music is for white people. In fact, it is perhaps the whitest of all the genres because of its propensity to learn and borrow from traditionally black (African-American) mediums, while refusing to credit African Americans for this ingenuity. In this sense, it is Americana put to rhythm. Compare what happened to Lil Nas X and Old Town Road and songs by Sam Hunt or Florida Georgia Line. When Lil Nas X fused Hip Hop and Country, he was rejected by the entire country community. Despite the fact that his song hit many of the hallmarks of country music; from his use of the banjo to the country theme of his lyrics. Yet when white country artists explore similar fusions in their music, they are praised for evolving the genre. Their works are recognised and celebrated. As The Washington Post asked after Billboard removed Old Town Road from the Country Charts: 

"Why is a white artist permitted to stay on the country charts with a rap-based single, while a black artist is removed for 'not [embracing] enough elements of today’s country music'?"

Altogether, country music made it clear that it did not want people like me. So why should I patronise them? Why should I listen to Old Country? Folk and Americana? Or Bluegrass? 

This takes me to the second reason why I have side-eyed country music my whole life. Despite the country establishment making their disdain for black people known, country music has found a home amongst my people; the Kikuyus. And I've never understood why. 

• Almost every Kikuyu-owned establishment (aka bars and clubs) I've been to not only plays country music but also emulates the country aesthetic. In fact, if you walk into a Kikuyu club, you are likely to walk in, to country music - either John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads" or Don Williams' "It Must Be Love." 
• Rumour has it that the premier Kikuyu-language TV Station has programming dedicated to country music. No other genre of music enjoys this exclusivity, just country. 
• Furthermore, "mugitihi" (our music) is heavily inspired by country music; from the more serious tenor of its' lyrics to the style of play to the dress of the artists. In fact, the word "mugithi" itself refers to a dancing style that's very similar to line dancing. 

That is how popular country music is to my people. In fact, the entire country aesthetic is so Kikuyu it hurts. From the cowboy hats, boots and leather jackets, to our love, and capacity, for agriculture, to the, almost, uncritical pride we take in our homes. 

So as a person who never felt she had a right to claim ownership of her Kikuyu identity – by virtue of my upbringing and my, then, inability to speak the language – I did not relate to my people's love for country. Nor did I want to. 

Thus, my life continued uninterrupted. Until Chris Stapleton and Tennesse Whiskey sucked me into country music. And now, I'm about one "yee-haw" away from being a convert. 

Now, is it possible that I am overreacting? It takes more than one song to spark an undying appreciation for an entire genre of music I dedicated a lot of energy to actively ignoring. Yet, I can't deny that it opened the floodgates for the appreciation of a different kind of music. And the kind of experience it engenders in the listener. One that was more contemplative, and expressive in ways I hadn't realised was missing from the genre of music I typically consume. And I use the word "consume" here quite deliberately. 

I consume music, the way people consume products. Almost unthinkingly, in a way that enables me to do something else. In this way, music is a mere good. But I also consume music the way people consume food; as a source of sustenance and nourishment. But country music, for me, doesn't allow itself to be consumed. It coaxes me into relating with it; its' message, its rhythm and its overall vibe. 

Country music forced me to stop doing what I am doing, and truly listen to what the artist has to say. To the hope in the timbre of their voice. The pain in the complexity of their vocal runs. The joy in their vibratos. The strength in their projection. While most music helps me direct my attention, country music arrests it. Demanding nothing less but complete focus. And as I lost myself in country music,  I surrendered my tenuous, and conscious grasp of time. I recognise that this is, probably, a byproduct of its' novelty. Because country music is new to me, my mind is enraptured by the exploration of its elements. Yet, I also sense something deeper here...

Country music allowed me to connect with and respond to my inner rhythm; rather than giving me the tools to survive the structure I had imposed on myself. This is to say that, right now, country music is what I need. It resonates with my attempts to deconstruct and understand my behaviour and with my desire to embrace my emotions (rather than evade them, as I have done). 

So, yeah. I like Country Music. 

And I did not see that coming.