Beyond Boot-licking and Bigotry: Reclaiming Country Music's Progressive Roots

Country music is often viewed as inherently rightwing. It wasn't always that way.

by Macey Wolfer

“We’ll put a boot in your ass, it’s the American way.” Those words became ingrained in my mind at a young age, guiding my perspective on issues I didn’t understand at all.

I was six years old when I first heard those lyrics, straight from Toby Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue (The Angry American).” It was less than a year after 9/11, and while I didn’t understand the gravity of the event, I picked up on the energy the adults in my life had towards it. The chart-topping, ultra-patriotic song about vengeance made sense to me, a child living in a small, semi-rural purple town about 40 miles from Seattle.

Later, when Natalie Maines, lead singer of The Chicks (Dixie Chicks, at the time) told the crowd at a 2003 London concert, “Just so you know, we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence. And we’re ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas,” my seven-year-old self agreed with the backlash that followed.

Previously I had loved their music, but young-me thought it was only fair that radio stations across the country pulled their chart-topping song “Travelin’ Soldier” from the air. I laughed when I saw news about events where former fans destroyed their merchandise and concert tickets. I thought they deserved it for disrespecting our president.

Somewhere over the next few years, my family began reprogramming the presets on our car radios, replacing the local country stations with classic rock and pop. The complete Shania Twain collection and piles of Garth Brooks and Martina McBride CDs collected their final piles of dust as CDs themselves became obsolete.

This was around the time I began to develop a real sense of the world and politics. The more history I took in, the more I wanted to distance myself from the days of enjoying country music — a genre teenage-me decided was rooted in racism and bigotry.

By college, my political beliefs had only solidified. Country music felt like a small and somewhat silly part of my past. I DJed multiple shows on 89.3 KUGS FM, the campus radio station at Western Washington University, mostly playing indie rock and slowcore music to a small population of people driving around town (and my parents, streaming my voice on their computer back at home).

Another radio show host asked me to cover their classic country show while they were out of town for the weekend. Hosting the show didn’t change my past notions about the genre, but it was the first time I looked closely at so many old country albums, flipping through Marty Robbins — pistol or guitar in hand, glamorous shots of Dolly Parton’s hair, and intimate portraits of Johnny Cash. They looked cool, and I had briefly wondered if my vision of country music was misguided before I clocked out of the shift and forgot all about it.

Years later, I decided to give the TV show Nashville a shot. I had long avoided it for the subject matter, but I was in the mood for a melodramatic watch. I eventually found myself Googling the episode titles, many of which were old country songs, and discovered my knowledge gap between the country music I knew and the foundation the genre was built on. The tension between today’s pop country and sticking to the roots of the classics was at the core of the show, and by a few seasons in, I found myself researching more and more.

That’s when I landed on the Outlaw Country movement — a name I had heard of before, but somehow conflated with my negative associations of the genre. Most notably made up of outlaws like Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, and Waylon Jennings, the outlaw subgenre was marked by an intentional departure from the Nashville sound of the time. Outlaws grew long hair and dropped the studded suits in favor of leather and denim as they pursued whatever the hell they wanted outside of the confines of record labels and best-selling sounds.

Photo by Macey Wolfer

Steve Earle is another example – a protege of Jennings and Nelson, his biggest hit “Copperhead Road” is an all-time Outlaw Country anthem about folks operating “outside of the law” — running moonshine, growing marijuana, and trying to outrun the police in a souped-up Dodge. Earle and Dwight Yoakam were the lynchpins of the “New Wave Outlaw Country” in the 1980s.

While the movement is far more than simply songs about breaking the law, determining who is officially classified as an “outlaw” likely goes against the very core of the movement. But if I had to define it, I’d say it’s about an attitude: one where you mind your own business and let other people decide how they live their lives, too.

It’s an attitude that I once believed partially described American conservatism — one marked by a skepticism of the government’s power and a strong belief in individual liberty and freedom. Given our conservative agenda-ruled country now has 13 states with total abortion bans, lawmakers are in disagreement over the surveillance of American citizens’ communications without warrants, and more than 30 pieces of anti-transgender legislation have passed in 2026 alone, I was clearly wrong.

After years of outlaw activities — including cocaine, marijuana, motorcycles, and a refusal to conform to industry norms — in 1985 Johnny, Willie, Kris, and Waylon went on to create the country music supergroup, The Highwaymen. Watching their 1991 interview with New Zealand talk show host Paul Holmes solidified my newfound understanding that country music can be powerfully progressive.

After Holmes introduced the four as country giants, saying “some might argue they are country music,” they began to talk about what’s ailing America. Willie Nelson led with “there’s a lot of things wrong with this country. I think the spirit is still here, the spirit just needs to scream a little bit.”

Kris followed with a far more biting remark. “Other than the fact that it reminds me a lot of the flag-waving and choreographed patriotism that we had back in Nazi Germany half a century ago … the fact that we’ve got a one-party system which is in control of all three branches of our government … a lapdog media that’s cranking out propaganda for the administration that would make a Nazi blush … other than that, we’re doing pretty good.”

Johnny Cash added “If you ask me, one of the illnesses is that there’s too much money being spent on military and there should be more spent on education, welfare, the children, and the elderly … There’s always been a lot of things wrong with the country but it’s always been our obligation and opportunity to help straighten those things out. I love America.”

Waylon didn’t answer, which lines up with his general view of mixing politics and performance. As his widow (and fellow artist, notably the only woman featured on the landmark Wanted: The Outlaws compilation album) told Rolling Stone, “Kris was very much into politics. Waylon never believed that you should use that platform of entertainment [for that].”

Though Waylon generally abstained from talking politics, his music wasn’t apolitical. From his cynical call to identify the “yoyos, bozos, bimbos, and heroes” in politics to “America”, where he sings a call for unity and celebrates diversity (albeit, a bit poorly aged), it’s hard to imagine a song with the following lyrics could ever reach #6 on a Billboard chart:

“And the men who could not fight
In a war that didn’t seem right
You let them come home, America

And my brothers are all black and white, yellow too
And the red man is right, to expect a little from you
Promise and then follow through, America…”

Across his career, Kris Kristofferson was more overtly political than his fellow Highwaymen. He played at a benefit in support of Leonard Peltier, the Native American activist controversially convicted of murdering two FBI agents. Kristofferson has admitted that he lost work because of his pro-Palestinian views and alliances. He stood beside and comforted Sinead O’Connor as she faced fierce backlash over her protest of abuse at the hands of the Catholic Church (most memorably, ripping apart a photo of Pope John Paul II on Saturday Night Live).

In his song “The Law Is for Protection of the People” off his debut album, Kristofferson sings:

“Oh, so thank your lucky stars you’ve got protection

Walk the line and never mind the cost

No wonder who them lawmen was protecting

When they nailed the Savior to the cross”

Kristofferson’s sarcastic highlight of police brutality and hypocritical systems that only protect a certain class of people hits on the core of what country music can and should be. But when songs like Jason Aldean’s 2023 “Try That In a Small Town” reach #1 on the charts, it’s easy to see why country music is sometimes reduced to a genre drenched in bigotry and bootlicking. Just look at Aldean’s lyrics:

“Try that in a small town

See how far you make it down the road

Around here, we take care of our own

You cross that line, it won’t take long

For you to find out, I recommend you don’t

Try that in a small town”

I’m not arguing that country music is wholly rooted in one idea or attitude. Nor am I suggesting they invented the concept of speaking out through country-style music. Their path was paved earlier by folk and protest singers of decades before, with Woody Guthrie’s “This Machine Kills Fascists”-stickered guitar and scathing political commentary at the forefront of radical songwriting and performance.

But today, most of the characterizations I hear about this genre are attached to conservative values and a reverence for the American way; a sort of “if you don’t like how we do things here, leave” attitude that feels so far away from Johnny Cash’s version of loving America so much that you can call out the flaws, and work for a better version.

It’s not just the outlaw side of country that exemplifies my preferred version of country music, either. Throughout the genre’s history, there are plenty of examples of progressive attitudes that feel far away from the racist, good ol’ boy perceptions many have. Tom T. Hall comes to mind. Just look at his 1968 song, “The World The Way I Want It”.

“I’d pay the debts of all the poor and let them start anew

I’d find each man who wants to work a decent job to do

I’d give hope to the hopeless and I’d give the sick their health

I’d give the high and mighty heart to share the nation’s wealth

If I could have the world the way I want it

What a day tomorrow could be”

I was in Missouri for a work conference during the 2024 presidential election. But I was sure Harris would win and banked on St. Louis’ role as a blue dot in a red city to keep me sane. I sat around a table of marijuana industry executives at the sports bar down the street from the venue while the number below Donald Trump’s face continued to grow higher than Kamala Harris’. As someone used to the comfortable blue bubble around Washington State, I bounced between shock at Trump’s growing number and shock that only one other person in this obnoxiously large group of people appeared at all upset. Worse, most of my tablemates were actively cheering.

I recognized the combination of fear and disgust brewing inside me, though this time it was both suppressed and amplified by my need to appear professional for our clients. That same queasiness came over me when Roe v. Wade was overturned in 2022, reminding myself and all the women I know that our rights aren’t really rights at all.

I thought back to the sickness I felt when Roe v. Wade was overturned during my deep dive into country music’s past. Loretta Lynn died just four months after the Supreme Court stripped us of our constitutional right to an abortion. In 1972, the same year birth control became legal for single people, she recorded her controversial, pro-birth control song, “The Pill.”

The song was so controversial that her label refused to release it until 1975, two years after abortion became a constitutionally protected right. Even then, most radio stations refused to ever play the song. I often think about this song when I hear conservatives discuss women’s rights these days.

Loretta Lynn was a devout Christian woman and her support of the pill and abortion didn’t detract from this. In her 1976 memoir, she even said:

“Personally, I think you should prevent unwanted pregnancy rather than get an abortion. I don’t think I could have an abortion. It would be wrong for me … But I’m thinking of all the poor girls who get pregnant when they don’t want to be, and how they should have a choice instead of leaving it up to some politician or doctor who don’t have to raise the baby. I believe they should be able to have an abortion.”

While this country continues down its path of self-destruction, I continue to fall more in love with country music’s past. It’s impossible to not think of those same girls Loretta worried about over 50 years ago. And every time I read a new horrifying headline, I wonder if we’re too far gone to return to the Highwaymen’s vision of loving America — one that criticizes and aims to to fix its many, many problems; one where the spirit screams and is actually met with reform, and a focus on the wellbeing of all.