What Dolly Parton taught a middle-class Malay boy

Photo: Reuters

SHOCKING, though not entirely unexpected, Dolly Parton’s death marks the end of an extraordinary life that touched millions far beyond the world of country music.

I first noticed Parton during the 1990s when entertainment magazines highlighted her as the composer of Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You. With tabloids aggressively publishing pictures of her as a voluptuous siren with an over-the-top image, I thought she was simply another seasoned Hollywood star with a ridiculous look.

I did not pay much attention to her until I came across a precious quote from an interview with Barbara Walters in 1977. Walters had bluntly questioned and mocked Parton’s persona during that intense interview.

Parton responded: “Once they got past the shock of the ridiculous way I looked and all that, then they would see there was (sic) parts of me to be appreciated. I’m very real where it counts, and that’s inside.”

I was taken aback by the calm and honest answer she gave.

From then on, I began searching for more information about her background and artistic repertoire. Her humble upbringing in the Great Smoky Mountains, growing up in a one-room cabin with 11 siblings and her parents, clearly served as a foundation for the life she subsequently led as a global superstar.

In the world of glitz and glamour, she never hid her Appalachian roots. Instead, she cleverly deflected interviewers’ occasional condescending remarks by making fun of herself and using humour to lighten the atmosphere.

I really connected with this idea of having a sturdy sense of self-identity.

As a middle-class Malay whose first job was as a banker, and who later had the experience of mingling with the university community while pursuing my PhD, I have encountered many sarcastic remarks from countless naysayers.

I vividly recall someone nonchalantly labelling me as “backwood and kampung-minded” for not liking Western desserts; being told I was “terlalu Melayu” (too Malay) for unabashedly displaying my fascination with traditional Malay songs; and being subtly mocked by a peer who suggested I should stop emphasising my humble, middle-class origin because I was “already a doctoral degree holder”.

Looking at how Parton carried herself, I refused to kowtow to this superficial derision and continued to be proud of who I am and where I came from.

The second lesson I learned from Parton was to be introspective when making decisions. I Will Always Love You, written by Parton in 1973, became a global phenomenon when Houston recorded it in 1992. Elvis Presley had expressed an interest in recording the song, but his manager, Colonel Tom Parker, wanted half of the publishing rights as part of the deal. Parton refused.

It was reportedly a devastating decision for her at the time, but history has proven she made the right choice.

I recalled my own experience when an article I submitted as part of a planned academic book was accepted, but I was required to waive my right to claim royalties. Like Parton, I was initially excited by the academic prospect. But in the end, I made the difficult decision not to succumb to a one-sided offer.

Always appearing perky and full of enthusiasm, Parton emphasised self-belief, kindness and the importance of remaining true to oneself. She always shared her wise quotes on Instagram, which she affectionately called “Dollyisms”.

Her positive energy emanated through her social media posts and, for me, became a source of motivation during rough days. Perhaps that is the real connection between Parton and a middle-class Malay boy from Malaysia.

It is not the music alone. It is not the fame, glamour or success. It is the courage to remain authentic when people tell you that you are not enough – not sophisticated enough, not fashionable enough or not successful enough.

She showed that you can rise from a humble background without becoming ashamed of it. You can enter the world of fame without losing yourself. And you can laugh at yourself without allowing others to define your worth.

The world will certainly be different with one less kind soul in it.

Dear Dolly, you will always be loved.

DR SHAHRILL RAMLI

Hulu Selangor