Generational talent, philanthropist, and cultural icon, Dolly will be sorely missed—but her legacy lives on.
Dolly Parton in memoriam season has begun and it’s only fitting to consider a few brief lessons from her long, public life.
1. Dolly’s music cut across lines of difference. Quick question: how many artists from the Appalachian region can you name? There’s Loretta Lynn and the Carter family (June, not Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter). Can you get to five? Now try to find five adults in America who don’t know Dolly Parton.
She was known to audiences from down in the holler to deep in the streets. She graced BET’s daily rap roundup, 106 & Park. Her music was covered by Jack White and Beyoncé alike. She was as likely to collaborate with Maren Morris as she was Kenny Rogers.
Yes, Dolly’s singing talent and songwriting prowess rightly saw her inducted into the Country Music, Rock & Roll, Songwriters, Gospel Music, and Musicians Halls of Fame, but her example reminds us of the crosscutting nature of music. Once music is released and shared, it takes on a life of its own. Music doesn’t respect socioeconomic boundaries. Nor is it confined to the original intent of its authors. Songs are the goods on a sonic Silk Road, traversing time and geography, inspiring and being influenced by listeners.
When I first considered growing the Come Together Music Project podcast due to my belief that music helps us deepen relationships and bridge divides, I dreamed of having guests who embodied this mission and spirit. I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have guests who include artists and astronauts, mayors and musicians. But my very first target, when the idea was on the back-of-the-napkin—was Dolly.
Her music and presence were a testament to the unifying power of music.
2. Service over self. Unlike the power brokers who often courted her, Dolly placed service over self. A few years ago, there was a major debate in Tennessee about a bust that sat in the state capitol building. This was not merely a matter of aesthetics; the bust was of Nathan Bedford Forrest, famed Tennessean and an early leader of the Ku Klux Klan.
I won’t opine on the rationale for those who favored keeping the bust in place, but the debate raised another interesting question: what should replace it?
At least one lawmaker suggested replacing the Klansman’s likeness with a bust of Dolly Parton. Let’s assume this idea was something other than a clout-seeking attention grab. The swap would honor an icon of the Volunteer State, paying homage to a woman whose life work supported children instead of a man more accustomed to selling them.
In typical, yet refreshing fashion, Dolly made it clear that she was not interested in being inserted in the middle of this monumental circus. “Given all that’s going on in the world, I don’t think putting me on a pedestal is appropriate at this time,” she said.
“All that was going on” at the time included the spread of the coronavirus, the care and containment of which she supported with a $1 million gift to Vanderbilt University Medical Center. She wasn’t outright dismissive of the gesture, but, then aged seventy-five, she noted that she still had work to do. I think we’d all have more of Dolly’s optimism if the halls of power in our country were permeated by the impulse to serve without recognition.
3. Philanthropy can invest where government can’t. It is well known that Dolly Parton was raised in East Tennessee with her eleven brothers and sisters. Perhaps because her father lacked formal education, he worked the land as a sharecropper. Motivated by his illiteracy, Dolly launched the Imagination Library in Sevier County, TN, in 1995. Initially, the program provided monthly free, age-appropriate books to children born within the county from birth until age five, when most children begin kindergarten. Books were sent directly to families who often registered before leaving the hospital with their newborn. The first publishing run delivered 1,760 books.
Today, in conjunction with local nonprofits and government agencies, over three million books are mailed to children around the world each month! That’s up to sixty books in every child’s home library.
There’s much that I don’t remember clearly about the hours following my daughters’ births. I definitely don’t remember signing up for the Imagination Library. But I have the fondest memories of reading to my girls from books that arrived in the mail like literary manna. And with all due respect to the many local, state, and federal education chiefs I know, Dolly’s Imagination Library has probably done more for early childhood literacy than any program whose origin was the department of education.
The best philanthropy is mission-driven, opportunistic, and optimistic—traits Dolly embraced throughout her long life of supporting underserved communities.
4. Her authenticity was magnetic. During the run-up to the 2024 presidential election (which seemed to last a full four years), I was sitting around with Civil Society Fellowship classmates. This was roughly the time when the Democratic candidate was unknown, and all sorts of names were flying around. Michelle Obama’s name was in the atmosphere, as was Oprah’s. The idea was that the country seemed more interested in celebrity than deep policy chops. The problem (but is it?) is that most celebrities have tons of baggage that would make them unelectable. A deeper problem is that many celebrities are too interested in being, well, famous. A friend suggested Dolly Parton. Somehow, despite being famous for more than half a century, Dolly’s authenticity immediately put people at ease. Though she was a consummate performer, you felt that Dolly was comfortable in her own skin. “Authenticity” is overused and hard to define, but Dolly had it in spades.
5. You attract more flies with honey than vinegar. Everyone knows about Dolly’s effervescent charm. In recent years, it’s become fashionable to say something inflammatory to signal tribal allegiance. Not Dolly. When pressed in interviews for a hot take about a topic du jour, she didn’t feel the need to offend. Time and time again, she invited the audience to welcome others into the tent so that all voices could at least be heard. That’s not an easy position to hold, especially in country music, where songs are replete with insider-only allusions.
This is not to say everyone agreed with her, but we all listened. That act alone is absent in contemporary public forums. Her greatest act may have been showing us how to simultaneously make our religious orientation known (Dolly was raised in the Pentecostal tradition and often spoke of her trust in Jesus Christ) and engage genuinely with folks who might otherwise feel ostracized by the same view. And, as when she reached out to rapper Eminem, she did it without of a hint of reproach, instead finding ways to praise what she saw as beautiful.
Like the rhinestone accoutrements on her jumpsuits, Dolly amassed elements of art and style from genres and cultures around the country, and in doing so became a cultural icon in her own right. But in contrast to many of today’s influencers who are famous for being famous, she was a bona fide talent. A generational phenomenon who will be sorely missed.
