Tradition looms large in country music. And artists who want to be welcomed into one of country’s many communities — from the centralized Nashville establishment to the scenes challenging its status quo — are expected to demonstrate their connection to its musical lineages, practices and institutions.
But not every artist has the luxury of simply following the old, familiar paths to acceptance and success.
Take Denitia, a Texas-born, Nashville-based singer-songwriter who sings with gentle clarity, releasing her phrases with a feathery lilt, and brings fresh wisdom to nostalgic gestures. She’s the embodiment of a host of country ideals, and someone who also happens to be a Black woman and a member of the queer community — the type of person that country music’s institutions historically excluded.
Denitia’s nothing if not self-directed in how she’s going about building her career. She’s decided for herself which of country music’s rites of passage hold meaning for her, and making her debut on the Grand Ole Opry — the week after she played the played the main stage at Nashville Pride (introduced by drag queen Naya Queztal) — was high on the list.
I jumped in her passenger seat as she drove toward the security gate for the backstage of the Grand Ole Opry House. She rolled down the window and casually announced, “My name is Denitia, and I’m here to play.”
The guard checked her off the list and waved her into the parking lot, where she pulled into a spot temporarily designated for her use only. “Reserved for Denitia,” she read aloud. “Grand Ole Opry debut, June 29th, 2024.”
“This day has come,” she added. “I’ve been looking forward to this day for so long.”
Stepping out of her car, she spotted her mom DeNita, who’d made the 10-hour drive up from Louisiana. They embraced, and Denitia introduced her mom to the rest of the small entourage of supporters who’ve made her feel less alone in her striving. That included friends she’s hired to help her with her social media strategy and the album rollout; people from Equal Access, an industry mentoring program that she completed last year; and Holly G, who started the Black Opry to spotlight marginalized country voices.
The summer sun was unforgiving, but they lingered in the parking lot, awaiting the film crew that produces mini-documentaries when performers debut on the Opry. Everyone else took care to stay out of the shot as the videographers got a few different takes, capturing mother and daughter strolling through the artist entrance to the Opry House, past the metal detectors and right up to the concierge desk backstage.
“You’re going to be in dressing room number four,” Denitia was informed enthusiastically by the host. “Number four is the first dressing room on the left. And if there’s anything you need, we’ll be here all evening. Come and see us.”
Opry first-timers always get number four, a cozy room with a sofa, chairs and mirror where artists and their guests can wait.
Then Denitia was summoned to the stage for sound check. She’d brought her own electric guitarist, but was otherwise backed by the seasoned pros in the Opry house band.
DeNita, who watched from the front row, out-cheering everyone, had seen her daughter perform plenty of times over the years. And they’d been to the Opry together before, during a family trip to Nashville when Denitia was a kid. But DeNita told me that watching her daughter play this stage — a stage that historically welcomed very few Black women — is different: “It’s the reward for all of this hard work and dedication for all this time. And it’s like the icing on the cake, like, ‘You have arrived.’”
She paused for a moment: “This is the legendary stage.”
Denitia disappeared to change into her stage clothes, then returned for the big reveal of her western suit. The shirt and pants were black with red rose appliques rimmed in rhinestones, her take on country stage wear dating back more than half a century. DeNita’s dress was a near-perfect match for the color scheme, and that wasn’t a coincidence; a friend of Denitia’s sent a photo of the outfit in advance.
Looking the part of an Opry star, Denitia caught the attention of a group taking the backstage tour, who jovially invited her to join. “Y’all go on, and I’ll stay here and chill,” she smiled easily.
She wanted some quiet before the show, and needed to call her grandma, so she told her friends that it was time for her to “take the dressing room for herself.”
Ahead of Denitia in the night’s lineup was veteran Opry member Jeannie Seely — who’s made more appearances on the show than any other performer, upward of 5,300 times — sang a couple of signature numbers.
Then it was the newbie’s turn. The announcer, Charlie Mattos, reeled off a few of Denitia’s recent career highlights, and she coolly and confidently addressed the audience, mentioning her Texas roots. That, she guessed rightly, would elicit cheers.
She played a pair of songs from her upcoming album, Sunset Drive, one a brisk, hooky honky-tonk number about being impatient to finally see the fruits of her labor and the other a wistful, loping meditation on the powerful pull of settled intimacy.
The Opry announcer asked her the traditional question: What was it like stepping into the circle?
He was talking about the literal floorboards, which were transported from the Opry’s previous home, the Ryman Auditorium, to this stage. But she knew that entering that circle also symbolized her desire for inclusion in a musical lineage.
“I want to be a part of the legacy of country music,” she said, “and today was a major step in that direction.”
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