Friday, September 11, 2026

Dolly's Part In My Life



Meeting an icon


My constricting throat betrays any hope that I can get through the next few minutes without a gasping sob. How am I this upset? I'm 12 years old and have no way to relate to what's happening. But I know it's so sad. This is the first time I've felt this level of emotions over someone else's tragedy. Is it wrong that I'm also filled with an odd sense of joy? I'm exhilarated by these intense emotions after knowing these women for 90 minutes. I mean, I love them enough to have tears fall silently down my cheeks. And then just as I am about to give in to a full out boo-hoo... there's laughter. I'm laughing. We're all laughing. The despair from two seconds ago drains from my body like dirt hosed off a driveway. This can't be appropriate, right? But then her sweet voice says the wisest words...

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." ~Truvy Jones

~~~~~~~~~~~

Steel Magnolias is such a formidable part of my childhood I'm almost embarrassed to admit it. I have seen that movie so many times I often mentally recite scenes when I can't sleep or my anxiety is too strong. Who knew a little brown tween could be lured so strongly by the stories of 6 southern women?

Dolly Parton plays Truvy Jones, the romance-starved hair salon owner with a staunch belief that there's "no such thing as natural beauty." The film wasn't my introduction to Dolly by any means, but at age 12, watching her performance at least 50 times thanks to my VCR in the summer of 1990, I can safely say it is why I fell in love with her. Every Truvy moment is perfect because of Dolly Parton.

As a proud member of the Generation of X, Dolly has been a massive star my entire life. Whether it was seeing her on the Muppet Show alongside my childhood idol, Miss Piggy, or in a segment of Entertainment Tonight all sparkles and smiles, Dolly gave me a warm feeling all over. 

Dolly Parton also had quite the impact on a newly arrived woman fresh from India in 1974 - my mother. Bharati Desai loved Dolly Parton. If you ask her why, her answer is simply a love for "her personality and music." But I don't think my mom would disagree with my analysis that to someone from a foreign land, Dolly represented that quintessential, and probably idealistic, picture of an American woman - bright, blond and bubbly. Also, that angelic, almost child-like singing voice likely reminded her of the female crooners of Bollywood since they also belted out tunes in a similar register. When my Dad would get lost in some of his favorite Indian music, he'd tell me what they were saying in the song. He was a sucker for poetic lyrics that told a story, which is pretty much the basis of country music. Not only did my mom love Dolly, but she was attracted to the songs of Reba McEntire and Loretta Lynn as well. Storytelling music is a universal language... no matter which language in which it is sung. As children, we notice what brings your parents joy and to my mother, Dolly was pure joy. 

It was mostly Dolly's songs that I was familiar with until Steel Magnolias. I'm pretty sure it was chosen from Blockbuster because of Julia Roberts, who had blown up after the release of Pretty Woman a few months earlier. Even though I wasn't allowed to see Pretty Woman (lots of fights in the Desai household over that), I didn't want to miss all that Julia Roberts hype! I wanted to see Julia, and my mom was excited about Dolly. My instant love for the ladies of Chinquapin Parish came during a very tough time in my young life. After a horrific start to junior high, I was hoping for a reprieve in the summer after 7th grade. Unfortunately, the bullies decided to extend their abuse with incessant prank phone calls. Every day I would live in fear of hearing our telephone ring. It was a dark time, but escaping to the idyllic streets of suburban Louisiana and spending 2 hours with Shelby, M'Lynn, Annelle, Ouiser, Clairee and Truvy brightened my world. Seeing those ladies, most of which were double or triple my age, have such deep friendships was an aspirational peek into something that seemed possible in my life.   

That's why meeting Dolly in 2009 was so special for me. Sure she was an icon, but her performance as Truvy Jones helped me during a time where I felt so worthless and unlikable. How did I get to meet Dolly? Well, I have my husband to thank for that. His company, A2M Records, worked with Dolly to put out her record, Backwoods Barbie. During her tour to support that record, I got to tell her in person how much I loved her - and she couldn't have been more gracious. A few months later, Dolly invited my mother and I to attend another show on the tour, where Bharati Desai also got to tell her about the role Dolly played in helping a young immigrant woman start her new life in the United States - and Dolly, once again, was perfect and lovely.

Dolly Parton in concert was thrilling in expected and unexpected ways. The sheer talent in that little woman was so powerful it's hard to believe it didn't knock her over. Everything about the musical performance was flawless, but what I remember at each show was how she'd shout out the Dolly Parton drag queens in the audience. I'm not sure if this was pre-planned or not, but there was a dedicated moment where she'd joke that her love of big hair and makeup ran so deep, that if she had been born a man, she'd have become a drag queen. Then she'd point out the drag performers, however many there were in the audience, invite them to the front and have some fun banter with each of them. Her love and acceptance of them was pure, and she literally made them feel seen. Dolly celebrated these gay men openly and without hesitation. Most importantly, she showed folks in her audience that they should embrace them as well. Years later, when the narrative against drag queens had a resurgence after the election of evil, Dolly made a special appearance on Rupaul's Drag Race, giving words of encouragement to the contestants. She may not have spoken out on politics with impassioned speeches or social media posts, but her actions spoke volumes. 

In watching so many clips of her in the last couple of weeks, my favorites are where she addresses her looks. Seeing that "trashy" woman in town when she was a little girl solidified the now-famous appearance of Dolly Parton. Especially in my generation, we almost have to be apologetic about our desires to be attractive but Dolly just said it plainly, "I wanted to be pretty!" An interview with Barbara Walters in 1978 shows a soft-spoken Dolly defending how she looked. Barbara Walter bluntly says, "You don't have to look like this," intimating it's too extra, since she's already beautiful and talented. Perhaps Walters wanted an awkward moment stumping Dolly, but instead she got such wise words from a staunchly secure woman that it left her speechless. Dolly's message was simple - she's very real where it counts. 

And that is one of my favorite things about Dolly Parton; a sense of humor about herself. I believe one of the most heartbreaking tragedies of the past decade is the collective loss of self-levity. Given Dolly's talent, wealth, fame and power, she could have taken herself very seriously and no one would have blamed her for it. But her ninja-like prowess with humor disarmed anyone who dared to attempt a joke at her expense. She made all the jokes before they could even conjure a set up. 

A decade after meeting her, I discovered a podcast called Dolly Parton's America.  That show turned me into a bonafide Dolly Parton Fan with a capital F. Learning about her life and all the barriers she overcame, while still maintaining her core beliefs and values, inspires me tremendously. From such a young age, she bounded through life with unapologetic ambition coated in disarming magnetism. I've always admired fearless women, but Dolly hadn't been a headliner in that category for me - until 2019, when she rose to the top of the roster as I immersed myself in this podcast. There are countless things that impressed me while listening to that pod, but the thing that struck me the most was something so simple: Beyond the thousands of songs written, the countless records broken, the many successes in music and film, what struck and stuck with me most was her seemingly endless humanity and humility, her authenticity and grace. That's it. She never denied her dream, and she trusted herself implicitly, no matter how inexperienced she may have been in the worlds she was entering. Dolly Parton knew what she deserved and nothing could stop her, especially herself.

So here it is. My contribution to the countless tributes to Dolly Parton since her death. Ugh, it really stings to write the word 'death' in reference to Dolly. When I saw the text come through from my husband that day, I said out loud, "Noooo noooo noooo, please NOOOOO!" I was in the middle of drying my hair and it was in that poofy stage, the poofiest it would be before I tame it with a straightener. Kind of apropos when you think about it, watching the death announcement video with hair so big Dolly would be proud. A couple of days later I felt compelled to write about her. It was the first time I was inspired to write in a long time and it's all thanks to Dolly Parton, one of the greatest song writers who ever lived. Sure, I'm not writing songs, but I'm writing just the same. 

As Dolly said, "Find out who you are and do it on purpose." 




 

Monday, March 9, 2026

Escape From the Rage Cage

Can you hear this?

~~~~~

I had two road rage incidents this week. My middle finger was aggressively raised at both offenders; the first in response to the other driver's middle finger and the other I displayed as the asshole sped by after tailgating me through my neighborhood.

The first happened when I was driving solo, but the second was next to my 12-year-old son. When he saw me flip the bird, he let out a surprised snicker. It snapped me out of my rage and felt I needed to explain. 

"THERE IS NO REASON TO BE TAILING ME SO HARD WHEN I'M GOING 30 IN A 25 AND WE ARE IN A GODDAMN NEIGHBORHOOD! LIKE, WHAT THE HELL???"

Hmm, not much better. 

As we continued the drive, a wave of shame coated my skin. It isn't uncommon for parents to forget our kids are always watching, but I guess I've fancied myself a bit more savvy than the average mom. Being an observational person has been one of my lifelong strengths, so I know when my kids' are absorbing my behavior. But, not that time. My son saw me, my son heard me, and I was caught in a moment of which I'm less than proud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm angry a lot nowadays. More than I'd like to be. And I'm so FURIOUS about being angry.

Last year, I experienced a few sudden health challenges. Nothing serious, but enough to feel uneasy and concerned for my wellbeing. When I went to multiple doctors to address what I was going through, one question kept coming up:

Are you experiencing any increased stress or anxiety?

Um, fuck yes. Aren't we all??

IF YOU AREN'T ANGRY, YOU AREN'T PAYING ATTENTION!!

Yup. Well, I've paid attention and now I hate who I am becoming. 

I used to be an optimist. My mind would seek how things could get better or why an event or experience wasn't the worst thing in the world. Sinking into a really dark place was a destination I just refused. My penchant for positivity has severely dwindled in the last 10 years and, more than anything, the feeling of not knowing who I am anymore is the darkest place I've ever been. 

Without getting into the details of all the reasons I hate this timeline, I know for a fact that I need to change my own way of existing within this nightmare era.

First, I'm writing again. And yes, I'm writing about how angry I am, but I had to start somewhere. Writing has always helped my soul. From my childhood journals to this blog, sporadic poetry entries in various cute notebooks I impulsively bought from Barnes & Noble, comedy sketches, short novels, scripts - they all take my blood pressure down a few points. And as tough as it is to get my ass to sit and write, I need to do it.

Also, I must stop getting swallowed by the algorithm. It's rather pathetic how I've let myself get addicted to social media. Now, I do allow myself some grace in the knowledge that the tech fuckers have designed these platforms for addiction. Hell, I even got cast in (and cut from) a movie about it (see: The Social Dilemma). In the last decade, I can attribute 99% (conservative estimate) of my dark moods and shitty outlooks directly to something I saw in my feed. Time to starve.

Another area that needs my attention is health. I've suffered from health anxiety for decades and I'm thrilled to report I've already taken some huge strides in that department. From squishing my boobs to a camera up my pooper, I've checked off some major fears off my list. Conquering those screenings has launched my motivation to keep going into overdrive. Being a woman in my late 40s, scary and confounding symptoms seem to pop up on a daily basis. Add in my tendency to catastrophize something as small as an eye twitch (I HAVE EYELID CANCER!!), this phase of my life has the potential to be mentally debilitating. Nope. I'm planning to be the Self-Advocating Queen! Women's health is grossly ignored in all facets of our health system, but thanks to so many fierce friends in my life, I know how to make sure I get the help I need. 

That's as far as I've gotten in my quest to stop my plunge into a full rage monster. Okay, that's not totally true, I've considered a lot of other, more drastic, options (anyone want to build a commune off the grid??), but I'm content with my current plan. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I apologized to my son a couple of days after the middle finger incident. He shrugged, reached for my hand and said, "I know you're stressed, Mom." Guilt immediately filled my heart. Not that we shouldn't show our kids our emotions, but I couldn't help but feel like I was failing my kids by losing myself.

Women have a great capacity to feel many things at once. This isn't a time to let go of all my rage, because it is absolutely necessary to keep up a very necessary fight for decency in this world. I'm scared about so many things that are happening, but I must channel a healthy rage and keep the essence of who I am and who I want my kids to see. Just by writing this, I can feel my old positive persona emerging from the dark sludge it fell into. She looks a bit older and worn out, but she's there. 

Seriously though... don't tail me. It's so rude.