Why Did We Start This Podcast?

Every family has a lore, a collection of stories that have been polished and embellished over time, perfected for dramatic or comedic timing. Among my earliest contributions to our family lore, this “Sarah Story” came from my dad’s mom. From the time I was three years old, she picked me up from school, took me to dance lessons, church, shopping, out to eat - we were a regular duo all over town in her maroon minivan. On the way to or from one of our many engagements, she had the car stereo tuned to a gospel station. When I asked her about the music, she said, “They’re singing hymns, you know, like we do in church?” According to legend, without skipping a beat, I looked at her and said, “At MY church we sing hers.”

Country and gospel music, radio, singing, performing, and feminism have surrounded me all my life. I don’t remember my first encounter with any of them because they were just in the air I breathed, put there by the people I love most. At gatherings with my dad’s brothers and sisters, it’s only a matter of time before guitars, pianos, and make-shift drum kits materialize and facilitate a family sing-along. Some of my first specific memories are of head-banging to Buddy Holly in my mom’s little Toyota truck and jamming out to Tim McGraw’s “I Like It, I Love It” in my aunt Holly’s cinnamon-gum scented car.

In college, the feminism I brought with me fit like a glove. Questioning the status quo - especially the wisdom and authority of old, white dudes - was expected and encouraged. But, as my already liberal views continued to slant further to the Left, it became harder and harder to justify my country radio habit. Lyrics like “Country girl, shake it for me” put me off my quinoa. This was further complicated by the fact that I still enjoyed singing and dancing along to these songs, even as I disagreed with their sentiments.

To reconcile the growing rift between my head and my heart, I began to enjoy country music “ironically.” If pointed out all its flaws and scoffed as I listened, I wasn’t a hypocrite. Right? RIGHT?

I did this for years - to graduation and beyond. And then, in 2016, I discovered Witch Please, a podcast hosted by two lady scholars who reread the Harry Potter series through a feminist lens. Listening to Hannah and Marcelle, I finally began to see that art, pop culture, and the humans that make it are all flawed. No one is perfect. Everyone has limitations and privileges and blind spots. They taught me that anything worthy of a fandom can handle being wrestled with. And the act of talking back to what we love and having conversations with others who share that love, makes being a fan a richer and more satisfying experience. 

All of a sudden, my world opened up. I found other podcasts with anti-racist, intersectional feminist hosts who loved a lot of the same things that I loved. Except country music. I couldn’t seem to find a podcast that examined country music the way I wanted to hear it examined. So I started to draft episodes in my head. I’d talk out loud to an invisible audience as I listened to the radio. I bought a microphone and tried several ill-fated experiments in an attempt to start recording a podcast. I had no idea what I was doing and it all seemed too big, so the microphone went on a shelf and began to gather dust…UNTIL this past year. 

I didn’t figure out how to record and produce a podcast by my bootstraps - through grit and research. I did what anyone who wants to acquire a skill has to do in order to learn: I asked for help. My partner, our producer Karim, knows how to do computer and technology stuff. He took the lead on that end, and I started writing episodes. But I was nervous to share my thoughts with the world. Plus, we knew we’d need something to add variety and interest to my soap-box monologues. Maybe some sassy sprinkles of humor? And perhaps a few (mostly) even-tempered insights. So, I called my mom. Thankfully, she graciously agreed to come aboard! 

So, that’s what got us here: a desire to engage critically with the music we love; the support of a community of countless friends, podcast hosts, and family members; and (most crucially) Karim’s ability to turn my theatre-kid antics into coherent episodes. 

We hope you’ll come along the ride. We’d love to have ya.