Growing up in Louisiana, Joy Clark’s passion for music has always been central to her existence. Being deeply rooted in the church growing up, many of the melodies and spiritual songs she would sing would make her tear up, “like it was touching something deeper.” Her debut album, Tell It to the Wind, on Righteous Babe Records reflects her richly written songwriting and guitar playing.
How do you identify?
Joy Clark: A lot of times I say queer, a lot of times I say gay, and I say lesbian sometimes. That’s how. I remember when I came out, well, to my parents, I remember distinctly, you know, sort of strategizing. And I said it, I guess, in the most honest way that I could. I remember saying, “I’m in a relationship with somebody that’s not a man.” That’s how I classified it, just to get away from the straight-up labels.
You’ve described your music as a blend of folk, soul and storytelling, so what shaped your sound in the early years, and how has it evolved?
JC: It’s always a hard question, because I often say church, but that’s, like, not the only thing. I gravitated to people that did tell stories, of course. I gravitated to Tracy Chapman, multilayered, using her voice, music, and stories to connect with people. Also Sade, Anita Baker, I just love music.
Did you have support as a growing-up queer in New Orleans?
JC: I grew up just basically in a small town near New Orleans, and I played a lot of sports, so… I will come across a lot of people that were probably gay, and I could pick up on it, but it wasn’t spoken. Especially in my family, there was no support. If you had a gay person in your family, or if you had a gay in your school, or on your sports team, or a coach, or whatever, it was not talked about. It was sort of like this person is clearly a little bit different from other people that I see, or they present themselves a little differently. It wasn’t until I got older where I really dove into my music community. Then you start to find your people. I think the sad part is that you could have found your people, but your people were too afraid to speak out because of the stigma, the consequences of doing so. I think those people were absolutely out there. But they weren’t allowed to live their lives, they had to live it in secret, or it would cost them their jobs. That’s why I think it’s important for queer people of today to acknowledge our elders.
How has being a queer black woman influenced the way you write, perform, or approach your audience?
JC: I try to be as vulnerable as I can be on stage and whenever I have an opportunity, because I’m not only gay, but I am also a black woman. Depending on what the makeup of the audience is, I tend to think about what my audience is at that time. I do bring it upon myself to talk about civil rights, because a lot of times, especially in this time in our country, where we talk about fascism, and something always pings me when I think about fascism.
When I think about that word, I think about authoritarianism. And I think about the Civil Rights era — which we still are in the Civil Rights era — and all the things that I’ve learned about segregation. And just how this country was founded on racism and oppression. This country would not have the riches that it has without free labor — slavery. Not just slavery, but I think about segregation, or come back to that. I think there is a disconnection. When I feel it’s called for, I remind people what we’ve been taught about segregation in most classrooms, where it’s this person couldn’t use this fountain, and this person couldn’t go to school together, like, sure. But it was way deeper than that, that was fascism, you know?
And I think with these names where we think, “This was an issue,” I like to bring those things up because I feel like it’s my responsibility. I talk about my grandma quite a bit, and I think about when she was born, and what she had to deal with, those things that confronted her and how she lived her life and how she turned out. She went through policing of her body, of her space, of where she could be, where she couldn’t be. And that she went through fascism. She’s a very big inspiration to me, and it gives me comfort to know that I come from that stock.
Is your audience mostly crossover mixed or queer?
JC: I do have a lot of queers in my audiences, and it’s wonderful, because a lot of them are older, so I love when I get to connect with people who share a similar story, or they’re really young. They’re a queer baby, they’re an auntie age, or, like, a grandmother age, so I get a little bit of all of that, I think it’s sweet to experience that span of generations of queer people.
You don’t have to lead marches to keep somebody company who is lonely or to share a meal. I think that’s activism in and of itself.
Your music has a level of sophistication to it, too.
JC: Oh, damn. I appreciate that, definitely a more mature audience, yeah, those are the people that heed the call.
You often talk about love, healing and joy as central themes in your music, how do those values intersect with community or activism in your life?
JC: Music brings me so much joy. It really does. It comforts me, and there are times when I’m feeling a little disconnected, especially if I’ve been touring and I’m on the road. I’ve been making music, and I’ve been having high levels of connection with people on the road and then I find myself home, and the pace slows down, and I can feel really disconnected. Then I look up, and I get to talk to my neighbor, and I get to have lunch with people that I care about and talk to people who don’t have anybody else to talk to. I think activism starts from a very personal level. You don’t have to lead marches to keep somebody company who is lonely or to share a meal. I think that’s activism in and of itself. That type of thing brings me a lot of comfort.
Do you feel a sense of responsibility to hold space for healing or visibility through your performances?
JC: It’s just baked in, it’s just who I am, music continuously heals me. It’s what happens when I can immerse myself in it, and when I find myself on a stage, it just comes through. It’s not even something that I have to think about. I remember I did have a feeling of, I don’t know, maybe my songs are too self-centered or it’s not about the greater good of humanity. It’s just about a breakup or it’s about love. But even when I was singing about the breakup, or something people would still get the feeling of, it’s so calming… it calms me. It makes me feel this way; it brings me a lot of peace. There’s something about the music and what you are emoting, that it’s not always the content of the lyrics, it’s the delivery that brings people peace. I’m always happy that people feel free and welcomed.
Joy Clark along with special guest Sug Daniels will be performing at the Jersey Shore Arts Center in Ocean Grove, on Saturday, March 21, 2026, as part of the Split Level Concert Series.
Visit jerseyshoreartscenter.org for ticket information.
