Brandi Carlile at the NFL
Brandi Carlile stood there in the middle of the NFL spectacle in 2026 — not as a symbol, not as a controversy, not as a side note — but as part of the main story. A wife. A mother. A woman who loves women. Fully herself. And she began to sing: “America… America…” The song is older than any of us. The words were written in 1893 by Katharine Lee Bates, a poet and professor who climbed Pikes Peak and wrote about beauty, possibility, and a country that could grow into its goodness. But here is where the story deepens. Many historians now believe Katharine Lee Bates was likely a queer woman. She lived for decades with her longtime companion, Katharine Coman. In a time when women could not vote. When women’s intellect was dismissed. When queer women had no public language for their love.
Katharine Coman built a life with another woman. She relied on her mind in an era that tried to limit it. And she still chose to believe this country could become something better. Now pause there for a moment. A woman who likely loved a woman wrote one of the most enduring patriotic hymns in American history. More than a century later, an openly lesbian artist stood on the biggest stage in America and sang it. That is not small.
In an interview with Variety, Brandi gently pushed back at the idea that the halftime show was “divisive.” But Brandi went on to say, “It shouldn’t be.” She said, “It looks exactly like America. It looks like the people on the field and the people watching the game. And that’s how it should be — lots of different communities, lots of enthusiasm, all coming together on one unifying day.”
She wasn’t talking about perfection. She wasn’t talking about pretending everything is fine. She laughed at the word “greatness,” calling it a little patriarchal. What she believes in, she said, is goodness.
Goodness.
That word felt intentional.
Because when she sang “America the Beautiful,” it didn’t sound like blind patriotism. It sounded like hope with clear eyes. It sounded like someone who knows the flaws and still believes in possibility. For many lesbian and queer women, there has always been a quiet question humming underneath patriotic songs: Are we included in this? When the lyrics speak of brotherhood, does that make room for two women raising children together? When we sing about freedom, does that include the freedom to love openly?
That night, under the stadium lights, something felt different. Not because the lyrics changed. But because the voice did.
An openly lesbian woman sang words written by a woman who likely loved women — broadcast to millions without apology.
It felt like a long arc bending toward visibility. From the 1800s, where two women built a quiet life together…
to center field at the Super Bowl, where a lesbian artist stood in full light. We are not outside the American story. We have always been writing it. And maybe that is the deeper message — for our community, for Your Lesbian World Newsletter, for every book club, potluck, camping trip, and poetry night we create.
Belonging does not begin when someone gives it to us.
It begins when we embody it. Katharine Lee Bates believed this country could grow into something better. Brandi Carlile stood on that field and sang from that same frequency.
Not perfection.
And for a few beautiful minutes, with millions watching, America sounded a little more honest.
A little more like us.