Dolly Parton never needed to call herself a feminist for one of the movement’s most influential voices to recognize one when she saw her.
In 1987, Gloria Steinem put Parton on the cover of Ms. magazine alongside the publication’s 12 Women of the Year, a group that included a U.S. senator, a celebrated novelist and a former nun who helped Central American refugees.
Parton, the country superstar whose career had already made her a cultural force, was among them. For Steinem, Parton’s inclusion wasn’t a contradiction—it was the point.
“People who haven’t listened to Dolly Parton or to feminism may be surprised to learn that they go together,” Steinem wrote in the magazine via ABC News.
Parton, who died on Aug. 25 at 80, had long been careful about embracing political labels, including the word “feminist.” But Steinem argued that a woman didn’t necessarily have to claim the label to embody its ideals, and Parton had been doing exactly that through her music, business career and unapologetically individual approach to her life.
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“She has used her business sense to bring other women and poor people along with her,” Steinem wrote. “And her flamboyant style has turned all the devalued symbols of women to her own ends.”
That distinction became central to Parton’s appeal. The rhinestones, towering blonde hair, revealing outfits and exaggerated femininity could easily have been used to dismiss her. Instead, Parton made them part of her power.
“If feminism means each of us finding our unique power, and helping other women to do the same,” Steinem penned, “Dolly Parton certainly has done both.”
Nearly four decades later, Steinem’s assessment offers a striking way to understand Parton’s legacy—but also a reflection of Steinem’s. Steinem, who died at 92 on Sept. 2, only about a week after Parton, was a powerful force in the feminist movement precisely because she spent her career expanding the definition of what a woman’s power could look like.
In Parton, she recognized something that remains just as striking today: feminism didn’t have to look a certain way, sound a certain way, or even call itself feminism.
Parton may have resisted the label, but she built a life and career on her own terms, used her success to lift others, and turned an image that could have made her easy to underestimate into one of her greatest sources of power.
Steinem saw that in Parton nearly 40 years ago. And with both women now gone, her words about the country music icon feel less like an argument than a lasting tribute.
