The Dolly of it All

 In the novel We Sold Our Souls, there is a moment where two characters with very strong opinions about music spend a long time trying to find anything they can both listen to without one of them seething. The only musician they can agree on is Dolly Parton. They put her music on, and both of them become happy. That was how it worked with Dolly.

Dolly wrote in a way that was true, open, vulnerable, and raw. All of it was delivered with a remarkable emotional clarity. She wrote about love with a self-reflective honesty that examined flawed patterns without judgment and invited listeners to choose better for themselves. She wrote about poverty in a way that was frank and real without ever being exploitative. She did not romanticize hardship. She dignified the struggle, the resourcefulness, and the strength of those who lived through it.

At the same time, Dolly used what she had to create pathways for people who were struggling. Millions of children own their favorite book because of her Imagination Library. She believed that fortune meant making a difference in as many lives as possible.

Dolly had a body shaped in a way that was automatically sexualized by the culture around her. I cannot say how this affected her private thoughts. What I do know is that she transcended that labeling so completely that she reclaimed any image or branding that might have been used to diminish her. Whenever someone tried to reduce her to her very obvious bust size, her response was essentially, “Oh yeah, hon. Sure. Now that we have that out of the way, look at all this other amazing stuff I can do.”

And that amazing stuff included a voice that sounded like sunlight reflecting golden on a flowing stream. It included writing iconic songs. It included playing multiple instruments. It included collaborations with other musicians. It included acting in several beloved and culturally significant roles. It included writing a Tony-nominated musical. It included a wig line and various lifestyle brands. It included business ventures, including Dollywood, a theme park that people adore.

Dolly was not naturally blonde. In her private life, she did not dress like a music star. The big blonde hair and the elaborate costumes were for her public appearances. She did this so she could keep her private life private and her loved ones safer. This says a great deal about her thoughtfulness and her sense of personal responsibility.

And that public persona carried a very specific energy. Dolly exuded joy. Dolly exuded acceptance. Dolly exuded a sense that you were welcome and that she saw the good in you.

Now we live in a world without her. That reality is profoundly sad. She leaves behind a legacy of actions that made the world better. That is amazing and rare. It is especially remarkable considering she was once an eighteen-year-old poor kid stepping off a Greyhound bus in Nashville with no idea how things would turn out but with a great deal of faith in her own abilities. We are all fortunate that the young woman who arrived in Nashville believed in herself.

Goodbye, Dolly. You will be missed. I will always love you.