Meet the woman who united East Nashville — against her
Gun shots and sirens are the music of the hood
Flashy rims, low riders, rollin’ slow, up to no good
Moved here from the suburbs, bought herself a little house
By the looks of it, she don’t fit in.
Nobody’s figured it out
With the video for this song, “Ghetto,” a relatively obscure singer/songwriter has unleashed a storm that East Nashville hasn’t seen since the 1998 tornadoes.
Critics say the artist, Ashlee K Thomas — who moved to East Nashville nine years ago from a nearly all-white town in Utah — promotes inner-city clichés and stereotypes in the song. Adding insult to injury for the offended, Thomas, a yoga instructor, strikes several yoga poses in the video.
Many angrily accused Thomas of racism, white privilege, ignorance and cultural (and musical) tone-deafness.
The YouTube posting for “Ghetto” drew more than 100,000 views in 20 days — and thousands of comments nearly universally lashing out at or ridiculing Thomas and the video.
“This is the most horrendous piece of white girl privileged bulls--- I've ever seen,” reads one top-voted comment. “You need to educate yourself on how offensive this is.”
Even more fuel for the fire: The “ghetto” of East Nashville is known for being one of the most rapidly gentrifying areas of the city, a magnet for hipsters, artists, musicians and yes, yoga enthusiasts. Some viewers first wondered if Thomas’ music video was actually satire.
Profuse apology for the word 'ghetto'
In her first interview since the video (and the ensuing controversy) came out late last month, Thomas insists she only wanted to shine a light on some problems in East Nashville.
She now says that she wants to "profusely apologize" for using the word "ghetto" because the connotations of the term are far more negative than she realized.
"I wasn't completely aware of the hurt behind it," Thomas said.
But there ends any apologies.
She flatly denies perpetuating stereotypes because, Thomas says, she personally saw or heard the drug dealing, gunshots and homelessness she refers to in the song.
“This is going on,” Thomas said in a 90-minute interview with The Tennessean.
“I’m here to perpetuate awareness and ask, ‘What can we do?’”
Thomas, 34, said she is upset and a little scared about the online furor and accusations of racism her song has sparked.
“It breaks my heart to be labeled some of these things. It couldn’t be further from the truth of who I am.”
So who is this singer/songwriter-yogi-hair stylist-Utah native in the heart of this storm?
She’s good and living in the ghetto
Give a little smile, flashing a peace sign
She’s good and living in the ghetto
Not too nice, not stepping too high
She’s good, living down in the ghetto
Thomas grew up the middle child of five siblings in Cottonwood Heights, a picturesque, affluent suburb of 27,000 just outside Salt Lake City.
Her parents — a successful businessman and a stay-at-home mom — insisted all their children start taking lessons to learn a musical instrument before the kids turned 5. Thomas chose the violin.
Mom and brother get deadly diagnoses
She enjoyed an idyllic childhood, until Thomas turned 10 and her mother was diagnosed with a brain tumor.
Nine months later, Thomas’ little brother was diagnosed with a rare genetic disorder, adrenoleukodystrophy, or ALD, which attacks the brain.
Thomas went from happy-go-lucky kid to caretaker who got more and more sad as her loved ones deteriorated.
“I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop,” she said. “Is my brother gonna die? Is my mom gonna die?”
At 17, Thomas found her mom’s guitar, learned how to play it and started writing songs. That helped her process her intense and often confusing feelings.
“For me, it was cathartic. It’s a way of putting things into words that maybe you can’t say to people.”
Thomas went to college on a partial music scholarship before dropping out and going to cosmetology school full time.
She started doing hair and working for a medical records company in Utah, all the while helping take care of her mom and her brother.
Her mother died first, in 2005, after first telling her daughter, “Sing and be happy.” Thomas heeded her mother’s advice and started touring around the region with a rock band, opening shows for them in bars and clubs.
Her brother died nine months after that.
Got her whole life in a shopping cart rolling down the road,
Over on the corner at the murder mart (the Shell station on Shelby)
Where the holders and the seekers go
They ask her for a dollar, sometimes they hoot and holler
For the most part, they don’t bother her
Somehow she just blends in
After a period of grieving, Thomas felt the pull to go somewhere where she could hone her songwriting skills. She ended up in East Nashville in 2008 after finding a roommate from Craigslist, a woman who turned out to be African American.
Lonely at first, Thomas struck out to songwriters nights at 3rd & Lindsley, The Bluebird, wherever she could listen, learn and network.
Yoga in bars
Thomas went back to Utah to visit, but those trips often were painful reminders of loss. “It made me cry every time I went home.”
Soon, her roommate got her into yoga, and Thomas tried combining her two loves, even holding yoga sessions in bars before her shows. (Thomas laughs, adding quickly, “They weren’t that well attended.”)
She kept writing and writing and writing, posting dozens of songs and videos online, playing occasional shows at Mercy Lounge, the Five Spot and other local clubs. “I can’t say anything in Nashville ever caught fire,” Thomas said.
To make money, Thomas toured and did hair, toured and did hair. Rinse. Repeat. Until she saved enough money to buy a house off Shelby Avenue in East Nashville in 2009.
And that’s where she had the front porch swing on which she wrote “Ghetto.”
Mama’s gotta feed her babies
Standing in the welfare line
Praying to the Lord, please save me
Help us make it another night
Smoke filled rooms and street lights
Bottles on the ground
A fight breaks out at midnight
Nobody hears a sound
Thomas said she observed everything that appears in the song.
“I see the injustice and inequity of what’s going on,” she said. “It’s my job to bring light.”
She released the song online months ago, but the controversy didn’t erupt until she made the video (in Memphis) and posted it on the East Nashville Facebook page in late April.
'Squalid, black-and-brown-people fantasyland'
After about 24 hours, the negative avalanche began.
“This is just racist. Plain and simple.”
“Your medal for living in a ‘rough’ neighborhood is in the mail.”
“Such an embarrassment to Nashville.”
It moved from Facebook to YouTube, and soon to online articles.
Michael Harriot at The Root, a news and opinion site focused on issues important to African Americans, said “Ghetto” painted a “… fictional picture of the squalid, black-and-brown-people fantasyland that resides in the heads of the privileged people who would never step foot on the other side of the tracks.”
At first, Thomas took the criticism in stride.
“In the beginning, I was like, people are pissed about this song. Well, it can provoke something, and that’s an artist’s job.”
Eventually, she became overwhelmed at the onslaught.
“It’s super painful. It’s painful to know something I did with love and with awareness has been taken this way, received this way, interpreted this way,” she said.
This isn’t the first time East Nashville residents have banded together against a video they found “tone-deaf.”
In 2015, Aerial Development Group advertised homes in the “Shelby Hills” neighborhood with sanitized scenes of rooftop wine parties and morning yoga sessions in the park. A similar, if smaller, backlash ensued.
Friends urged Thomas to take her video off the Web immediately.
But she started to feel that, while the outrage felt personal, maybe it wasn’t.
“It opened my eyes to a lot of feelings. While they’re directed at me, these feelings are long-time rooted issues and pain and hurt that people have,” she said.
Besides, Thomas said, “Ghetto” at least has people talking more about issues in East Nashville.
“The negative reaction, although not what I wanted and not what I intended, it started a conversation that’s very important.”
Reach Brad Schmitt at brad@tennessean.com or 615-259-8383 or on Twitter @bradschmitt.