In an era where public figures tend to fall to one side or the other, Dolly Parton seemed to belong to all of us, or at least many.
A few weeks ago, at Jack Johnson’s concert at the Santa Barbara Bowl, something unexpected happened. I witnessed a vivid illustration of her reach. As Johnson started to play Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5”, the crowd lit up; everyone jumped up onto their feet with such enthusiasm. At that moment, it was clear to me that she, and her legacy, holds meaning for people across social and cultural divides. Right then, the crowd came together as one, as if they all belonged. The excitement for her songs, or rather, anthems, stands as a testament to her songwriting. The deep connection people have to her lyrics also speaks to her ability to share openly about vulnerable topics.
A song we could all sing
Dolly Parton was, and still is, an unmistakable American icon, known for so much more than her music. She embodied philanthropic commitment, the American dream, advocacy for LGBTQ rights, feminism, patriotism, and was an icon of the working South. Dolly Parton was truly one of the greats. Her recent death, in August 2026, prompted overwhelming grief. National figures from Donald Trump to Joe Biden spoke out, while people close to her, like Reba McEntire and goddaughter Miley Cyrus, shared personal anecdotes that highlighted her memory. Few public figures seem capable of evoking this kind of response. She was unusually capable of cultivating affection across differences.
Her death sparked conversation in my own home. She was more than a household name; her songs inspired something more. I remember being young and my mom playing her song, “9 to 5”, and deeply understanding the significance of it for office workers, especially women who often faced discrimination in the workplace. We were reflecting on her enduring and pervasive legacy when my dad brought up her standing as a national treasure. She was loved so uniquely by such varying types of people, all from different backgrounds, political affiliations, status groups, genders, and ages. Her appeal was uniquely broad; she was a true national treasure.
What Makes a national treasure?
To call someone a national treasure is to say that they belong to multiple generations, regions, and more than one type of person. They are considered to be respected public figures who honestly embody the cultural spirit of their country, popularly recognized as having extraordinary value. There are few people today who seem capable of becoming a national treasure in the way Dolly Parton did, someone whose influence and affection extend across generations. To me, it almost feels impossible in this day and age to have someone, especially a musician, who is able to cultivate that type of audience that spreads so vast.
Her case brings up so many questions for me. Like, how was it possible for her to be seen in this light while being such an advocate and pillar for such polarizing topics? She embodied seemingly paradoxical ideas. Her songs touched on topics like suicide, addiction, and incarceration. She acted as a voice for women who couldn’t speak for themselves without fear of harm. I almost believe that she was able to have the type of audience she did because of the specific way she communicated her beliefs. She treated songwriting as more of an outlet for her, rather than a vehicle for pushing one idea or belief on others. It seems as though she would rather bring people together than call them out.
She appealed to different things in different people; some saw her feminism, others her deeply patriotic country roots, while many were simply drawn to her humor, looks, or personality. It really wasn’t that she represented all of us, but rather that she made room for us all. She was a businesswoman, philanthropist, musician, and advocate for women, all without fitting neatly into one category. There was something contradictory about her idyllic looks that cast a certain image of her. Her appearance was something reminiscent of an exaggerated femininity that almost seemed to reinforce traditional expectations, while she simultaneously built an extraordinary career on her own merit and terms.
How did she do it?
I wonder if that is what made her so widely loved. She knew how to use an image that people could have dismissed. There may have been things that made her easy to underestimate, but they also may have allowed her to reach a broader audience of people who may not have listened if she were conveying her ideas in a more confrontational way. Rather than presenting herself as a traditional political activist, she communicated her values through her actions, songwriting, humor, and philanthropy. Perhaps she was expressing her beliefs in a way she thought people who would be quick to disagree would hear, or maybe it had less to do with strategy and more with who she genuinely was.
Parton’s death was so significant because of the community she fostered. She brought out a sense of unity and oneness I haven’t felt in years. Today, public figures get criticized for everything: being quiet, speaking out, taking sides, even staying impartial. We have become so passionate about holding people accountable and staying strong in our beliefs that we’ve allowed ourselves to push each other away. Our country has become polarized in a way that feels exceptionally isolating.
The cost of our divisions
Have we become so accustomed to evaluating public figures on their political beliefs that we are less capable of loving and appreciating the things that connect us? While Parton didn’t necessarily make people agree with one another, she gave them something they could all agree to love. Despite everything going on in our world, we have more in common than we think. It brings me back to the concert. We didn’t have to align on everything to sing along to Dolly Parton. I wonder when that became such a difficult thing to do.