Giddy up! Meet the Atlanta group building community for queer country dancing

If you stepped inside the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Dunwoody on the penultimate day of July, chances are you probably felt like you were entering a campy, misfit country night. Shades of pink, black and purple permeated the room. Attendees of all ages, sizes, races and sexual orientations trickled in. Cowboy boots abounded.

Before anyone could tap their heels on the floor and start the party, though, fire sprinklers went off unexpectedly in a nearby hotel room, forcing everyone to evacuate the building. Thirty minutes later, before the night’s festivities officially began, guests danced along to country music’s first lady Tammy Wynette and the budding Austin-based trio the Cowgays as if nothing happened at all.

Perhaps it’s because nothing could stifle the spirit and synergy of what the day signified.

It was the first night of Hoedown South, Atlanta’s first convention for queer country dancing. The four-day event was an extension of DanceOut Atlanta, a group that provides LGBTQIA community-centered dance classes.

“This is a space where two people from different groups, that you never think would ever crossover, meet,” said Terence Ng, a director of DanceOut Atlanta.

Raques McGill (left) celebrates after winning the golden hoe in the advance line dance contest during the Hoedown South convention held by DanceOut Atlanta, Aug. 1, 2026 in Atlanta. (Estela Muñoz/AJC)

Welcome to the hoedown

Hoedown South took place from July 30-Aug. 2. Over 500 attendees from across the country assembled in Atlanta for four days of dance workshops, socializing, contests and even a pageant. Ng, along with co-directors Brian Weathers and Joseph Winkler, began planning the event eight months ago at the request of line dancing enthusiasts yearning for such a convention in Atlanta (there are others, primarily in west coast cities like Seattle, Sacramento and Los Angeles).

Though dancing was the marquee activity, forging a lasting community became the broader goal.

“We wanted to create a space that no matter where they go, if they’re visiting Boston, if they’re visiting Michigan or Chicago or Seattle or L.A., that they have a bar where they can drop and they know the people there,” Ng, 39, said.

DanceOut Atlanta founders started the group in 2018, after seeing the popularity of a country dance night at the Heretic, a club on Cheshire Bridge Road. Since then, DanceOut has hosted free weekly dance lessons (Tuesdays-Thursdays) at the Heretic and the Eagle, a Midtown gay bar. Each night begins with a lesson (from two-stepping to line dancing and everything in between) and ends with social dancing. Roughly 200 people attend the classes between both venues each week.

Attendees wear Hoedown South merchandise on Aug. 1, 2026 in Atlanta. The Hoedown South is the city’s first queer country dance convention. (Estela Muñoz/AJC)

The subculture’s popularity matches the rich history that precedes it, especially in Atlanta. Queer country dancing isn’t at all a new phenomenon, with roots tracing back to the early 1970s. A decade later, the movement was cemented in Atlanta by way of Deana’s One Mo’ Time, a former gay country bar also on Cheshire Bridge Road. The bar rebranded as Hoedowns a decade later and as 3-Legged Cowboy a decade after that, before closing for good in 2011.

But the popular country dance night on Thursdays continued at the Heretic.

Ng and his team, who started as regular attendees of the event, felt that the scene needed more formal backing. Following the creation of DanceOut, they started a nonprofit arm, All Y’all Queer Dance Society, dedicated to uplifting LGBTQIA dance groups in Atlanta.

“A lot of younger people were showing up, and so us having that framework in place and that organization really helped kind of keep things stable and give people an idea of like when do lessons happen? What are the lessons going to be? All of that kind of stuff,” Ng said.

DanceOut Atlanta founders Terence Ng moderates dance competitions during the Hoedown South convention on Aug. 1, 2026 in Atlanta. (Estela Muñoz/AJC)

On the dance floor, the rhythms are just as vibrant as the people behind them. The moves are sweaty, sexy and sprightly — appealing to dancers at all levels. At the debut of Hoedown South, songs ranged from Ella Langley’s record-breaking No. 1 “Choosin’ Texas” to “Flex,” the recent line dance anthem from Cupid, best known for “Cupid Shuffle.” The playlist seamlessly meshed the worlds of Southern soul, country and queer culture.

Throughout the night, most attendees hit the dance floor multiple times. Some emulated the steps from their seats, and a few watched from afar.

“You should get out there,” 32-year-old dance instructor Kristina Hopkins told an attendee sitting down.

Hopkins, a regular at DanceOut Atlanta, discovered the community while searching for friends in the city after a move from the Washington DC area a few years ago.

What she found was much more: a greater sense of belonging.

“The second time I went back (to the Heretic), people were running to me and embracing me and so happy that I was there,” Hopkins said. “There’s just a sense of community and joy in being together that’s really contagious there and you can’t find anywhere else.”

Winkler said DanceOut puts effort into creating a safe and welcoming space.

“We’re really ensuring people that might not traditionally feel like they fit in that space know that they’re not just attending it, but they can actually be part of it,” Winkler, 43, said.

Making country queer

Attendees of the Hoedown South convention compete in the country two-step dance competition. (Estela Muñoz/AJC)

Country music has long been criticized for its lack of diversity, as white cisgender heterosexual men have overwhelmingly comprised its biggest stars.

But as more women and Black people dominate the genre (thanks, in part, to the chart-topping success of artists like Ella Langley, Shaboozey and Beyoncé), queer country dancing has gained greater appeal.

DanceOut Atlanta is keen on not selecting songs from artists who’ve espoused racist and homophobic beliefs.

“We try to be mindful about what artists we’re playing, what message is coming across those speakers,” Winkler said. “If there’s someone who does something that really shows their true colors and that doesn’t align with our values, then we do our best to make sure that music doesn’t get played.”

In turn, DanceOut’s embrace of country music is a subversive act, claiming a piece of the tradition for themselves and by themselves.

Joshua Howard, a doctoral student in religious studies at Emory, had preconceived notions about country music before attending DanceOut Atlanta in 2022.

“I thought it was odd because I did not think of queerness and country culture as going together,” said Howard, who’s from North Carolina.

But, after attending a few nights at the Heretic, he started to realize that “country night was perhaps a more genuine or honest representation of country culture than what we get from record labels.”

Howard, 26, was so fascinated with the queer country culture of DanceOut Atlanta that he wrote a research paper on the community and its history. In it, he theorized that Atlanta’s gay country dance scene is a direct descendant of the city’s version of the Stonewall riots in 1969, when police raided a movie screening of “Lonesome Cowboys,” an Andy Warhol film known for its showcase of queer desire.

Howard’s research also notes that scene wasn’t as diverse as it is now, as cisgender white men mainly led the way.

“When putting it into this broader history, the association between queer Atlanta and country dancing is not as surprising,” Howard said. “But it’s sometimes hard to get past the industry-crafted rural white heterosexual patriarchal male image of country music that we often are exposed to.”

Raques McGill competes in the advance line dance contest during the Hoedown South convention. (Estela Muñoz/AJC)

Shirley Adams, 80, remembers when Atlanta’s queer country dance culture wasn’t as welcoming. She began attending country night at Hoedowns in the 1990s and recalls the events being more segregated. But she said it wasn’t an issue for her, especially as the group’s diversity grew in the early aughts.

“This also was after the AIDS crisis, and gay men and lesbians really began to extend ourselves to one another because we realized that we kind of needed each other,” Adams said.

Adams now resides in Chicago, but every time she returns to Atlanta, she ensures she schedules a DanceOut trip. Adams attended the Hoedown South convention earlier this month.

“Having a group of people who get together to do something that involves essentially art and spirit and connection is a gift,” Adams said.

Given the success of the inaugural Hoedown South, Ng (who still has a full-time job while managing DanceOut Atlanta) plans to bring the convention back next year. He wants the event to become so impactful that rookies will eventually lead the class.

“Community is really tight here,” Ng said. “They find that the warmth of the community and how welcoming it is really kind of pulls them in, and then you develop the love for other dances over time.”