I’ve written a few blog posts on this platform and shared a few posts on Facebook about being impacted by the deaths of celebrities.
And while it’s not often I feel moved enough to do it, a few years ago I penned a few words about my appreciation for Olivia Newton John (in this Facebook post) and Prince’s death ten years ago had me feeling extremely emotional (in this blog post).
And today I’m taking time to reflect on the life, art, and kindness of another celebrity. The recent death of Dolly Parton has sent seismic waves of grief around the planet and I have my own feelings I feel compelled to share.
Read more below.
There might not seem to be an obvious link between a country music superstar from the Great Smoky Mountains and my life of vegan activism in London, but Dolly Parton helped instil in me a deep sense of fairness and compassion ever since I was a small child.
She was a constant source of entertainment, as well as a guiding light who modelled compassion. I absorbed her public displays of kindness and calls for equitable justice, which I’ve been able to embed into my own ethical framework throughout my 50+ years of life.
My Dolly memories go back to as early as I have any memories. The singing superstar was on television and in magazines in Australia from as early as I can recall. As a young child I lived through Dolly morphing into a true megastar as she dominated the music charts. One fond memory I have is of being at a family party where there was a jukebox on which I kept selecting Islands in the Stream. I played it so many times in a row, other partygoers started to complain!
On TV I saw Dolly singing with Kermit, another childhood hero of mine. I saw her in interviews making irreverent yet kind jokes about drag queens before I even knew what that meant. These kind quips often framed her as the butt of the joke, but never in a malicious or negative fashion. Dolly had the perfect combination of self deprecation and self preservation, which was exactly what a young gay boy needed to survive the 1980s and 90s of Brisbane, Australia.
She was a huge part in the development of my personality and worldview.
As a gay teenager, my Dolly appreciation grew and grew. I reached the end of my teens with her autobiography being a pivotal text. My boyfriend at the time even got his hands on a life-sized cardboard cutout of Dolly and gifted it to me for my birthday. I went to the cinema to see Straight Talk. I revisited 9 to 5 and Best Little Whorehouse in Texas on VHS, deepening my appreciation for her songwriting and nuanced political influence.
The second half of the 90s saw Dolly branching into dance music and I often found myself on the gay club dance floors of Sydney throwing myself around to her Peace Train remix. By this time in my life, Dolly had crossed over into a full blown cultural icon with few equals.
As my life trundled along, I was inspired by Dolly’s response to political questioning especially about LGBT people. She spoke of having a close friend who was a trans man and also one of her employees. She stood up for minorities and told the world we should put our energy into loving, not judging.
Dolly was universal both in her love giving and the love she received.
She was a country music megastar who crossed over into almost immeasurable mainstream fame. Her appearance became a globally-recognised brand much like Mickey Mouse or McDonalds. If you saw a plaid shirt and a blond wig, you would instantly think of Dolly and it has been like that for half a century.
But she also possessed a quasi-spiritual or religious aura that inspired tens of millions of fans, fellow entertainers, politicians, and academics all over the planet. In the wake of Dolly’s death, social media has been swamped with heartfelt tributes and outpourings of grief. People are sharing tales of her charitable foundation responsible for sending hundreds of millions of free books to children, the seemingly-bottomless well of kind acts she performed, her love for her family, and her determination to be remembered as a truly decent person.
Of course I feel deeply sad about Dolly’s death, but I’m also grateful and weirdly happy.
I’m thankful that I have been fortunate enough to have been exposed the art and kindness of Dolly Parton. Her positive and shining examples of compassion have made me want to be a better person.
You can watch me and Josh share our thoughts on Dolly in the latest episode of our podcast.
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