Dolly Parton is often painted in rhinestones and caricature, big hair, bigger personality, a walking embodiment of Southern charm. But beneath the sequins is one of the sharpest minds in music, a storyteller whose ability to distill life’s messiest emotions into melody is unmatched. The documentary Dolly Parton’s America peels back those layers, revealing an artist whose impact stretches far beyond country music, beyond genre, beyond time.

Dolly has always been ahead of her era. Her saddest songs, “Down from Dover,” “The Bridge,” “Me and Little Andy”, weave stories of loss, shame, and survival. She sang about abortion and suicide long before mainstream country radio and the country, in general, was ready to have those conversations. Yet, somehow, she did it without the world labeling her as controversial. She understood the power of storytelling, of wrapping raw reality in something beautiful enough for people to accept it.

Dolly never forgot where she came from. She grew up in a one-room cabin in the Smoky Mountains, one of twelve kids, dirt poor but rich in stories. She made it out, made it big, but never let go of her roots. That’s why her songs hit so deep. They’re about survival, about scraping by, about knowing what it’s like to have nothing but still dreaming anyway.

She sings for the ones who clock in before the sun’s up, who work with their hands, who make the world run but never get the credit. She sings for people like my parents, like my grandparents. People who don’t ask for much but feel everything. And maybe that’s why she lasts, because she’s one of us.

Dolly Parton is a rare kind of artist, the kind who can bring together people from entirely different backgrounds, different politics, different lives. There’s something in her music for everyone, something true, something American.

If you haven’t listened to Dolly Parton’s America, the podcast dives deep into all of this. Highly recommend. Available on Spotify.