No World Without Dolly

I do not know a world without Dolly Parton in it. She was already a rising star a decade before I was born, and I cannot remember a time in my life when she wasn’t a larger-than-life figure. We didn’t worship her in my home, but her voice was an ever-present soundtrack to the best of my childhood memories.

Life was simpler then. I loved my parents and my sisters. My parents loved my sisters and me. We all loved country music.

I felt safe and free in my 1980s upbringing in Bethel Acres, a community in the heart of rural Oklahoma. Dolly and Kenny singing “Islands in the Stream” was one of the songs that played in my mind as I rode Smokey, my Shetland pony, in junior rodeos, parades and pastures and down the dirt roads that surrounded my home.

I also remember my mom, who had stayed home with me for my first few years of life, making her way back into the workforce when I was 4 years old—workin’ 9 to 5—in a county office staffed entirely by women, all making far less than their fair share. She continued working there until I was in college.

When I started a part-time job as a church youth director while in college, I learned that my salary was basically equivalent to what my mom was making in her full-time county position. This was two decades after the movie 9 to 5 was released.

I remember watching Christmas specials in which Dolly sang “Coat of Many Colors” and learning about her simple upbringing. I recall being in awe that a country girl who came from nothing could become such a wild global success—not by leaving her roots behind, but by authentically living into the values she carried with her from a difficult but love-filled childhood.

I was 13 years old when Dolly handed “I Will Always Love You” over to Whitney Houston. I loved Whitney. But I did not love her version at first. That was Dolly’s song.

But once I learned of Dolly’s response, I came to love Whitney’s version—and Dolly—even more. Dolly was deeply moved by Whitney’s version while also perfectly happy to receive the royalties. They added up to around $10 million, which she then invested back into the Black community in Nashville through the purchase of her office complex there.

Dolly has gifted the world a unique legacy as an unwavering feminist, a savvy businesswoman, a savant of a singer-songwriter, an actress and comedian, a fierce defender of Black, queer and trans rights, a queen among drag queens and an incomparable advocate for children’s literacy. And, as many have noted, she is an angelic figure who somehow managed to pack the simplest and sincerest Christian values into the most glammed-up and glitzy persona anyone could ever create.

Her sincerity shone through in her songs, her philanthropy and her sweet Southern charm. But for me, she represents something more.

Dolly represents a time before political divides drove wedges between families—between my family. She represents the sweetness of a mother living on a tight budget but doing whatever she could to take care of her girls. That included caring for a daughter who might not turn out to be exactly who she had envisioned in a world that certainly looks quite different from the days when her little girl rode her pony in parades and rodeos.

Dolly is in the memories of my dad joyfully exclaiming, “Dolly!” when one of her Christmas specials aired on network TV or one of her songs came on the radio while he was driving his old blue Chevy truck down the dirt roads. She’s in the background singing “I Will Always Love You” when I reminisce about saddling up horses with sisters who have since become estranged.

The last time I watched Dolly perform live was when she headlined the 2023 Dallas Cowboys Thanksgiving Day halftime show—dressed in a custom-fitted Cowboys cheerleader costume at 77 years old. I jumped up from my dining table in Colorado to stand in front of the TV in awe. And I knew that, at that same moment, my dad was watching from his living room in Kerrville, Texas, exclaiming, “Dolly!” in that same excited pitch I’d heard so many times growing up.

I doubt my parents and I will ever see eye to eye on politics or, quite frankly, most of what happens in the world today. And if I’m being honest, that often pains me deeply. Not because I need them to subscribe to the same political party or ideology I do, but because being on different sides of the aisle these days so often means standing at opposite ends of an impossibly deep and insurmountable chasm.

But when I stand in my living room watching a 77-year-old, glammed-up angel sing and dance in an outfit designed for 20-year-olds, I am somehow instantly transported across that chasm. That is the gift Dolly will always be to me. That is the world Dolly dreamed and lived into being—not just for my family and me, but for countless fans of all races, genders, economic circumstances, faiths and ideologies throughout this deeply divided nation.

I hope we hold on to Dolly’s world for as long as it takes to close the chasm. May her spirit and memory continue to remind us of the simplest Christian value: “Just love everybody.”

Rest in peace and power, sweet glitzy angel. We could never thank you enough. But we will always love you.