So, here I am, coming out once more—not just as bisexual, which my mom wholeheartedly supported, but as a fan of stomp and clap music. It's a genre that's often laughed at, yet I find it irresistible. My mom always preached authenticity, provided it came with good taste, so my love for this music might just be a bigger shock to her than my sexuality ever was.

Let me paint you a picture of this genre. Sometimes called stomp and holler or indie folk, it saw its heyday in the 2000s with bands like the Lumineers, Of Monsters and Men, and Mumford & Sons. Imagine a blend of guitars, banjos, and fiddles, with spirited stomping and clapping, and the occasional enthusiastic "hey!" It's a sound often linked to hipsters—think twirly mustaches and Henley shirts. While the aesthetic might not be my cup of tea, the music is undeniably catchy.

How did a black queer woman, raised on jazz and soul, fall in love with this music? It all started during many late nights spent on Tumblr, a haven for teenagers like me trying to find themselves in the 2010s. I was hooked on the Norwegian teen drama Skam, and Tumblr was filled with fan edits set to the soundtrack of stomp and clap, like the Lumineers' "Ophelia" or "King and Lionheart" by Of Monsters and Men.

Despite my uncool music taste, my small circle of queer friends at Catholic school didn't mind—live and let live, right? Sure, I didn't play it at group hangouts, except for maybe Ed Sheeran's "Nancy Mulligan," which everyone agreed was decent "straight white" music.

Now at 23, I may have moved on from that phase, but back then, the music was my comfort as I navigated coming out. The cheerful banjo tunes contrasted with my inner turmoil. There was sadness, longing, and hope, wrapped in melodies that mirrored my own experiences. Songs like "Cleopatra" by the Lumineers spoke of regret and fear, while "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron captured the raw heartache of first love. At 16, after my first kiss with a girl, music became my refuge when I couldn't yet find the words to talk about it.

This music, excluding Mumford & Sons (for reasons we don’t need to delve into), was as much about my journey of self-discovery as it was about the tunes themselves. Growing up, my friends introduced me to emo indie bands, and jazz and soul were family staples. My violin lessons mixed Beethoven with Cowboy Carter on my playlists. But indie folk was my discovery, found in an online community that contrasted with the Catholic guilt I was untangling.

For me, stomp and clap was the soundtrack to coming out, and I'm all for its spot on every Pride playlist this year. Seriously, imagine fiddles at Pride!