redneck heartbreak

in defense of swift and the grand ole genre

One warm afternoon in the fall of 2008, my best friend Alex and I lay spread-eagle on the trampoline in her backyard and stared up at the cloudless Virginia sky. Taylor Swift’s “Hey Steven” played from the tinny speakers of my LG Chocolate Slide. We were two starry-eyed, self-involved preteen girls coming of age in…