I have never been Dolly Parton. Let’s just get that out of the way.

I can’t sing. I don’t own Dollywood. I haven’t written “Jolene.” And nobody has ever accused me of having Dolly’s hair. Although, for the record, I fully support a woman having as much hair as she wants.

But I have spent a lot of time thinking about Dolly lately, especially after her death. Not just because she was talented, famous, or one of the most recognizable women to ever come out of these mountains. I’ve been thinking about her because Dolly understood something many of us spend decades figuring out:

Your life is not just about what you accomplish. It’s about what you leave in people.

That’s legacy. And you don’t have to be a billionaire celebrity to build one.

Dolly Didn’t Apologize for Who She Was

One of the things I have always admired about Dolly is that she never seemed particularly interested in making herself smaller so other people could be more comfortable.

• The big hair (and other things).
• The rhinestones.
• The eyelashes.
• The accent.
• The humor.
• The ambition.
• The faith.
• The businesswoman.
• The philanthropist.

She didn’t pick one; she brought the whole woman to the table. And honestly, I think women get taught to do the opposite.

We learn to tone it down: 

• Don’t be too loud.
• Don’t be too ambitious.
• Don’t dress too young.
• Don’t talk too much about your accomplishments.
• Don’t change careers at 50.
• Don’t admit that you still have big dreams.

At some point, we are supposed to become appropriately beige. No thank you.

Getting older has taught me that authenticity isn’t about becoming some perfectly polished version of yourself. It’s about becoming less interested in performing for everybody else.

Dolly knew who she was. And she stayed that way.

She Turned Her Story Into Someone Else’s Opportunity

Dolly grew up poor in the Smoky Mountains. Her father couldn’t read or write, and that experience stayed with her. So she did something remarkable. She didn’t just talk about where she came from. She built something from it.

The Dollywood Foundation began in 1988, and in 1995 she launched the Imagination Library. What started as a program providing books to children in her home county grew into an international literacy program sending millions of books to children every month.

That’s one of the biggest lessons I see in her life:

Your hardest chapters don’t have to be wasted chapters.

You can take something that hurt you and use it to help someone else. You can take what you didn’t have and make sure somebody else has it. You can take the wisdom you earned the hard way and hand it to the next person. That takes the bad and gives it somewhere useful to go.

She Made Helping People Practical

This is another Dolly lesson I love – she didn’t make generosity complicated.

Books showed up in mailboxes.

Scholarships helped kids go to college.

When wildfires devastated Sevier County in 2016, her foundation created the My People Fund, ultimately raising more than $12 million for families who had lost their homes.

She saw a need and asked a very simple question: What can I actually do about it?

That’s a pretty good question for all of us. Now, maybe your legacy isn’t going to involve millions of dollars, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still make an impact. Mentor the young woman at work. Pay for somebody’s groceries when they’re having a terrible month. Volunteer! Make sure your childrenand grandchildren know where they came from.

Maybe it’s finally using your experience to help somebody who is standing where you once stood. Don’t underestimate small acts because they don’t look impressive on Instagram. Legacy is built in ordinary places.

She Stayed Ambitious

I think this one matters especially for women. Dolly didn’t decide that being successful meant she had to stop wanting more. She continued creating, building, investing and dreaming. She was a songwriter, performer, actress, author, entrepreneur and philanthropist. She didn’t retire her ambition because she got older. And neither should we.

I hear women say things like, “Well, I’m too old for that now.”

Sometimes they’re talking about starting a business, traveling, dating, going back to school or simply wearing the damn outfit.

I’m going to suggest we stop confusing aging with surrender. You can be grateful for what you’ve accomplished and still want something new. Both things can be true.

And Yes, Faith Mattered

Dolly was very open about her faith. For her, it wasn’t a performance. It was part of how she understood the world and her responsibility to other people. She talked about growing up in a faith-based family where they were taught to love others and give more than they received.

I love that because faith, at its best, should make us more loving, more generous and more willing to serve; not more judgmental, self-righteous or interested in being right.

Faith should make us more human and Dolly seemed to understand that. Maybe that’s part of why people who had very little else in common could still find something to love about her. She made room for people. That’s a legacy worth pursuing.

So What Will Your Legacy Be?

Here’s the uncomfortable part.

Most of us won’t know exactly what our legacy is while we’re building it. It’s hard to see the full picture while you’re still drawing it. We don’t know which conversation mattered, which kindness somebody remembered, which decision changed the trajectory of a child’s life or which person felt less alone because we showed up.

That’s why I don’t think legacy should be treated like some giant monument we’re supposed to construct before we die. I think legacy is much smaller and much more personal. It’s the accumulation of what we repeatedly choose.

Who do you love?

Who do you help?

What do you stand for?

What do you teach?

What do you create?

What do you refuse to compromise?

And are you actually living like the person you hope people remember?

That’s the question I keep coming back to. I don’t need to be Dolly Parton. Neither do you. But I wouldn’t mind leaving a little Dolly-sized goodness behind me: more laughter, courage, generosity, faith, fun. And maybe a few more women who decided they weren’t done yet.

That’s a legacy I can get behind.

Three Ways to Start Building Your Legacy Now

1. Write down what you want to be remembered for.

Not your job title, net worth or accomplishments.

Finish this sentence:

“I hope people remember me as someone who…”

Then look at your life and ask whether your choices actually support that answer.

2. Turn one thing you’ve learned into something useful for someone else.

Your experience has value.

Mentor somebody. Share your story. Teach a skill. Make an introduction. Pay for the meal. Give somebody the advice you desperately needed ten years ago.

Don’t keep all that wisdom locked in your head.

3. Stop waiting to become the “right” age to live like yourself.

Wear the bright dress.

Start the business.

Take the trip.

Write the book.

Go back to school.

Change your mind.

Laugh loudly.

Love your people.

Try something you’ve never tried.

You don’t get extra points for waiting until you’re “ready.”

Sometimes the most meaningful chapter of your life starts after you thought the story was already written. Dolly knew that. Maybe it’s time we did, too.