Dolly Parton has maintained her modesty throughout her extraordinary career as a performer, businesswoman, and philanthropist, while accumulating enormous recognition and wealth. Success has unsurprisingly followed her throughout her journey.
Parton knows the hardships of poverty having grown up in a large family. Despite her success as a hugely important Hollywood actress today, she has never forgotten her lowly roots.
In Nashville, Tennessee, in 1955, Dolly Parton posed for a picture. | Source: Getty Images
The genuine Dolly Rebecca Parton, the music icon, was welcomed home by her parents on January 19, 1946, at their home on Locust Ridge in Sevierville, Tennessee. She has eleven siblings and was born in a one-bedroom cottage.
Her father, sharecropper Robert Lee Parton, worked in construction to augment his income because he was unable to attend school and was hence illiterate.
The legendary country singer grew up surrounded by music because of her family’s strong musical heritage. Despite their challenging living conditions, singing brought them together and brought them joy.
In 1965, in Nashville, Tennessee, Dolly Parton posed for a picture. | Source: Getty Images
Parton learned to sing from her mother, the entertainer Avie Lee Owens. She played her a variety of melodies, including Elizabethan ballads and church hymns that had been passed down through the years in her family.
Parton’s grandfather, Jake Robert Owens, composed the hymn “Singing His Praise” while serving as a priest. A number of Parton’s siblings developed a passion for music, and a few of them participated in her family band.
Sam Owens, a musician and singer-songwriter in his own right, was another uncle of Parton. When she was a little child, her uncle—who loved music—was the first to see that she had the ability to become a well-known musician.
Stella Mae, Cassie Nan, the twins Freida Estelle and Rachel Ann, Willadeene, David Wilburn, Coy Denver, Bobby Lee, Robert, and Larry are among Parton’s siblings. After a fight with cancer, Robert passed away in 2021, while Larry passed away at birth.
Parton often assisted her parents in taking care of the younger children because she was the fourth of her twelve siblings. She shared a little roof with her family.
Their log cottage had no running water or electricity at the time, and it only had a living room and one bedroom. The building is still standing today.
Parton has never shied away from talking about her modest upbringing or how it shaped the way she saw the world. She knows what it’s like to be poor; she grew up in a huge household with little money.
In a promotional picture for her 1984 movie “Rhinestone,” Dolly Parton beams. | Source: Getty Images
Parton talked back to The Guardian in 2016 on her early years spent in the remote Tennessee highlands, emphasizing the happy memories from that time in her life. She stated:
“Obviously, there were problems, but I would rather look back on the good times.”
She recalled the times she had spent with her siblings, singing in church, and doing household chores that she didn’t really enjoy. She also remembered all of the laughs she had with her family in the past.
Parton talked about how her siblings would always sing and how she would always attempt to get them to back her up when she pretended to be the lead vocalist on stage, but they would never show any interest.
Parton remembered that her brothers would frequently cram themselves into their small home, which resulted in a lot of mocking and fighting. But they remained a family through all of the turmoil.
The cottage was too small for them to comfortably hang out in, she said, so they spent most of their time outside. The courtyard functioned as an addition for socializing over meals, entertainment, and games.
Parton stated that her family was constantly appreciative of their access to food and a roof. Her parents consistently stressed that other families suffered more than their own, even though it was not exactly what they desired. She remembered:
“I never felt poor, even though we were.”
Parton’s enthusiasm and musical ability would ultimately enable her to become one of the most popular and successful country music artists of all time, despite her family’s humble beginnings.
Growing Up in Poverty
Parton said that although she had happy childhood memories, being poor meant having to endure difficult living circumstances. She and her 14-member family essentially lived in a shanty and had little access to needs.
She revealed that she was just eight years old when she first saw a toilet and bathroom in her aunt’s house and was attracted by them in a March 1978 Playboy magazine interview with journalist Lawrence Grobel.
Parton revealed that she and her siblings were terrified to use the restroom because they believed it would swallow them up, while laughing at how naive and innocent they were at the time. “It was just very strange,” she remembered.
For Parton and her family, taking a daily shower was not an extravagance. Frequently, they would produce their own soap, and occasionally, they would cram themselves into the truck and head to the river to have a bath.
Although there was a brook close by, they all chose to bathe in the river since it served as their “big bath.” As their homemade soap cascaded down the river, they would swim together and give each other’s hair a bath.
Parton compared their river bath to a “bathtub,” jokeing about how filthy they were back then and how it would have left a ring around the Little Pigeon River. For them, taking a river bath was a midsummer rite.
Every member of the household would have a pan of water to wash as much as possible in the winter. Parton answered Grobel’s question about how frequently she and her family took winter baths by saying:
“Well, as the saying goes, we bathed once a week whether we needed to or not.”
Parton started to value bathing more after she started high school. She would bathe every night because her younger siblings would not wash their hands before bed. She disclosed:
The children urinated on me each night. In the bed, we slept three and four. Every night, I would wash. The kids would also wet on me as soon as I went to bed, so I would have to get up in the morning and repeat the entire process.”
On November 5, 2019, in New York City, Dolly Parton is present at the We Are Family Foundation event held at Hammerstein Ballroom. | Found via Getty Images
Parton was not hesitant to express her opinions, explaining that while getting peed on would seem unhygienic to some, the urine actually provided some warmth during the winter.
She remembered how cold it would get at home because she lived in the mountains, and she even mentioned that it was almost enjoyable to get pissed on because the room was just as cold as the outside. They would all curl up in bed, she claimed.
distributing millions
Parton has said that her family is wealthy and content in other ways, despite their lack of material wealth. She became humble as she grew older, and even after becoming wealthy, she never stopped helping those in need, just like her family had done when she was younger. She said:
“My greatest love will always be my family.” Although it might occasionally get lost in the shuffle, family is a part of all I do.
Parton claimed that her family was the inspiration behind her music and that her theme park, Dollywood, and one of its acts, Dixie Stampede, are meant to be places where families can enjoy themselves and spend quality time together.
Parton is a self-made millionaire, with a projected net worth of $375 million in 2022 according to Forbes. Her theme park and ownership rights to music publishing were the main sources of her financial success.
In the 1970s, she refused to share the critically praised song “I Will Always Love You” with Elvis Presley, one of the nearly 3,000 songs that she is in ownership of. When Whitney Houston performed the song in the 1990s, this choice paid off.
In addition, Parton is paid a publishing fee for songs that are sold, aired, or featured in motion pictures. According to Forbes, her songs are valued at $150 million, while her royalties have brought in between $6 and $8 million.
But the source of the music icon’s enormous wealth is her well-known theme park, Dollywood, which is one of Tennessee’s most popular travel destinations. According to reports, it earns $3 million annually.
When the theme park was still known as Pigeon Forge in 1968, the country music artist made an investment in it. Later, she gave it a new name, “Dollywood,” a pun on the word “Hollywood.” There is a water park and a hotel in the park.
In addition, Parton just unveiled Doggy Parton, a pun on her well-known name, as a new business. The business, which makes apparel and toys for dogs, was founded because of her passion for animals.
Parton learned the value of sharing her accomplishment with others from her early experiences. She is a businessman and singer in addition to being involved in a number of social and humanitarian organizations and having given millions of dollars to people in need.
In order to collect $13 million for the survivors of the East Tennessee wildfires that devastated Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg in 2016, Parton teamed together with a group of musicians.
At “Smoky Mountains Rise: A Benefit for the My People Fund,” other well-known performers included Chris Stapelton, Kenny Rogers, Lauren Alaina, Alison Krauss, Reba McEntire, Cyndi Lauper, and Chris Young.
Following her niece’s leukemia treatment at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, Parton donated $1 million to the Monroe Carell Jr. Children’s Hospital in 2017.
Apart from extending monetary support to individuals impacted by natural calamities, Parton made a noteworthy impact on the healthcare industry through her magnanimous financial contributions.
When she gave $1 million to vaccine research in 2020 amid the global COVID-19 pandemic, which affected people all over the world, she made headlines. Her input was useful in developing the Moderna vaccine.
Parton’s unwavering commitment to advancing early childhood literacy is another well-known quality. Each month, she provides over a million youngsters with free books through her nonprofit initiative, Imagination Library.
In order to assist kids in learning to read and write, Parton and Robert Lee established a non-profit organization in 1995, drawing inspiration from her father’s personal experience with illiteracy. Although it began in eastern Tennessee, it has expanded to assist children in all 50 states as well as the District of Columbia.
Other nations, like Australia, Canada, and the United Kingdom, have also been affected by the literacy initiative. Parton announced at the Library of Congress in 2018 that the initiative has distributed its 100 millionth book.
When the campaign first began, Parton just wanted to support her father and her hometown; she had no idea it would become so popular. She said with joy, “But then it just took its own wings, and I guess it was meant to be.”
Parton was also pleased that her father was quite proud of having contributed something valuable. Before he died in 2000, he had the opportunity to witness the results of their labor.
Her goals for the Imagination Library are also very lofty. She acknowledged having lofty goals and wishing to donate one billion books in her lifetime.
Despite having a difficult upbringing, Parton never lost sight of the value of community and family. She made the most of her riches by giving millions of dollars a year to a range of humanitarian causes, such as health, education, and disaster relief.
Her lowly beginnings instilled in her the virtues of perseverance, hard effort, and the unifying power of music. She also recalls the love, laughter, and happiness that characterized her childhood home and the family who stood by her side no matter what as she reflects on her life.
My 12-Year-Old Son Came Home Crying After a Rich Classmate’s Party – When I Found Out Why, I Couldn’t Stay Silent
I’m a widow and I work as a cleaner to keep my son safe, fed, and proud of who we are. But one party invitation reminded me that not everyone sees us the same way. When he came home in tears from a rich classmate’s party, I knew something was very wrong… and I wasn’t going to stay quiet.
The alarm clock’s shrill cry pierced the quiet of our small apartment, and another day threatened to break my spirit before it even began. My name is Paula and survival isn’t just a word — it’s the breath that fills my lungs and the blood that pumps through my veins.
An alarm clock near a sleeping woman | Source: Pexels
Seven years passed since I lost my husband, Mike, in a motorcycle accident that shattered my world into a million razor-sharp pieces. Now, at 38, I’m nothing more than a single mother with calloused hands and a heart that refused to give up.
Adam, my 12-year-old son, is my entire universe. Every morning, I would watch him meticulously prepare for school, his uniform pressed and his backpack neatly packed like a miniature promise of hope.
“I’ll take care of you when I become a big man, Mom!” he would say, his eyes bright with determination. Those words were the only currency that kept me going.
A delighted boy | Source: Midjourney
My job as a cleaner was more than just work… it was my lifeline.
Mr. Clinton, the company owner, probably never knew how each paycheck was a carefully constructed bridge between survival and desperation.
I scrubbed floors, wiped windows, and made sure everything was spotless, knowing that my diligence was the only safety net my son and I had.
A woman cleaning an office window | Source: Pexels
When Adam burst into the kitchen one evening, his face animated with excitement, I knew something was different.
“Mom,” he chirped, his voice trembling with hope and nervousness, “My classmate Simon invited me to his birthday party next week.”
Simon was the son of my boss. He lived in a world so different from ours that it might as well have been another planet where money could buy anything other than love.
A boy holding a gaming console | Source: Pexels
I hesitated because rich kids and fancy parties were landscapes where we didn’t belong. But the hope in my son’s eyes was a treasure more precious than any paycheck.
“Are you sure you want to go, sweetie?” I asked, my voice soft, carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken fears.
“Yes!”
***
The week leading up to Simon’s party was a delicate dance of preparation and worry. Our budget was tight. It had always been tight. But I was determined Adam would look presentable. The next afternoon, we made our way to the local thrift store, our ritual of finding dignity in secondhand treasures.
A thrift store featuring an assortment of secondhand items | Source: Pexels
“This shirt looks nice,” Adam said, holding up a blue button-down that was slightly too big but clean and well-maintained.
I ran my fingers over the fabric, calculating. Every dollar mattered. “It’ll do,” I smiled, hoping he couldn’t see the uncertainty in my eyes. “We’ll fold the sleeves, and it’ll look perfect.”
That evening, I ironed the shirt with precision, each crease a testament to my love. Adam watched me, his excitement bubbling. “The other kids will have new clothes,” he said quietly, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual confidence.
I cupped his face. “You’ll be the most adorable person there because of who you are, not what you wear.”
“Promise?”
“Promise, honey,” I whispered, knowing the world was rarely that kind.
A desperate woman looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
As I helped him dress on the day of the party, my heart raced with a mother’s protective instinct. Something felt off like a premonition dancing at the edges of my consciousness. But Adam looked so handsome and hopeful.
He couldn’t stop talking about the party all morning. His eyes sparkled with an excitement I hadn’t seen in days.
“Simon’s dad owns the biggest company in town and I can’t believe you actually work there!” he explained, his voice brimming with awe and hope. “They have a swimming pool, and he said there’ll be video games, and a magician, and…” His words tumbled out like a waterfall of anticipation.
A stunning house with a swimming pool | Source: Pexels
I dropped him off, watching him walk up to the massive house. It looked like a world so different from our modest cottage. His shoulders were straight, his secondhand shirt pressed carefully, and hope radiated from every step.
“Have fun, sweetie!” I said, straightening his collar. “And remember, you are worthy. Always.”
“Bye, mom!”
“Bye, sweetie,” I called back, watching him climb the steps and disappear behind the big double doors.
***
At five o’clock, I arrived to pick him up. The moment Adam slid into the car, something was wrong. Terribly wrong. His eyes were red, and his body was compressed into itself like a wounded animal. Silence hung between us like a heavy, suffocating blanket as I drove us home.
A sad boy sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
“Baby?” I touched his shoulder. “What happened?”
He remained silent.
“Adam, talk to me,” I pressed, my voice breaking as we reached our gate. Every mother knows that silence… the kind that screams of hurt too deep for words.
Finally, he turned to face me as tears streamed down his cheeks. “They made fun of me, Mom,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “They said… they said I was just like you. A cleaner.”
My world stopped.
A startled woman | Source: Midjourney
“They gave me a mop,” he continued, his small hands trembling. “Simon’s dad laughed. He said I should practice cleaning… that one day I would replace you at his company.”
He swallowed hard. “And then Simon said… ‘See? Told you poor kids come with built-in job training.’“
His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked down at his shoes like saying it out loud made it hurt all over again. I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white. The mother’s rage and a worker’s dignity inside me rose.
“Tell me everything,” I pressed. And he did.
A woman shaken to her core | Source: Midjourney
“They had these party games,” he confessed, staring out the window. “One of them was ‘Dress the Worker.’ They handed me a janitor’s vest and said I had to wear it because I was the only one who knew how to clean.”
He paused, then added, “They all laughed when I put it on. I thought it was just part of the game, but then one of the girls whispered, ‘Bet he’s done this before!'”
My chest tightened as Adam kept going.
“Later, they served cake on these fancy plates, but they gave me a plastic one… and no fork. Said that’s how poor folks like us eat. Then Simon told everyone not to let me touch the furniture because I’d leave dirty stains on it.”
A heartbroken boy holding a plate of cake | Source: Midjourney
He looked up at me, eyes glassy and red. “I didn’t even want the cake after that, Mom. I just wanted to leave. You were right… about them. So right.”
I stared straight ahead, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. They didn’t just mock my son. They tried to humiliate him into believing he didn’t belong.
I didn’t even think. I raced back to Simon’s house. Adam begged me to stop, but I was too furious to listen. Upon arriving, I flung the door open, my heart pounding and anger boiling under my skin like it had a heartbeat of its own.
Adam reached for me, his fingers curling around my arm. “Mom, please don’t…”
But I was beyond listening.
A deadset woman standing outside her car | Source: Midjourney
The massive oak door seemed to mock me like a symbol of privilege and cruelty. I rang the doorbell, my hand steady despite the storm brewing inside me.
Mr. Clinton answered but before he could speak, I unleashed everything.
“How dare you humiliate my son?”
His condescending smile froze me. “Paula, I think it’s best you leave.”
“Leave?? You think you can humiliate my son and still speak to me like I work for you even after hours?”
A frustrated man | Source: Midjourney
I jabbed a finger toward the house. “You stood there and laughed while a bunch of spoiled brats treated him like dirt. You let them hand him a mop like it was some joke. Like my work is a punchline.”
His smile dropped.
“Let me be clear, Sir,” I snapped. “You may sign my paychecks, but you don’t get to teach your kid that he’s better than mine only because he’s rich. You don’t get to raise a bully and act surprised when someone calls it out. So no, Mr. Clinton… I won’t leave.”
I took a deep, shaky breath. “You should be the one ashamed to be standing here, you know?”
An extremely furious woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Consider yourself fired,” Mr. Clinton snapped. “We can’t have employees who can’t control themselves from causing scenes.”
I stood there, stunned. My job — the one that kept our lights on, paid for Adam’s school fees, and kept gas in our beat-up car — was gone. Just like that… like it meant nothing.
Adam stood behind me, tears dried but eyes wide with fear and confusion. As the door closed in my face, I realized this was far from over.
***
The next morning, I didn’t set an alarm. Adam stayed home from school. We ate cereal and sat in silence. By noon, I scanned job boards online, updated my half-dead résumé, and pretended like I didn’t feel like someone had ripped the floor from under me.
A sad woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
The apartment was dead quiet like it held its breath with me. I stared at the wall, the weight of everything pressing down. I had no job, no backup plan, and no idea how I was gonna keep us afloat.
I was trying to be strong for Adam, but inside, I felt like I was falling apart. What now? What was I supposed to do… when everything we depended on just disappeared overnight?
I sat at our small kitchen table, laptop open, scrolling through job listings with trembling fingers. Each click felt like another nail in our financial coffin.
Then, the phone rang. I expected debt collectors and bill reminders… just another punch from a world that seemed determined to knock us down.
Instead, it was my boss.
A phone on the table | Source: Pexels
“Paula,” he said, his voice softer and uncertain. “Come to the office.”
I almost laughed. “I’m fired, remember?”
“Just… come, please.”
“Why? Why, Mr. Clinton? Did someone forget to flush the toilet? Or did someone drop tea on your pristine floor?”
“I… listen, I owe you an apology. A real one.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why the change of heart?”
He sighed. “The staff… they found out. Someone’s kid goes to the same school. Word about the party got around fast. They threatened to walk out. Every last one. Said they won’t come back until you do.”
I blinked. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. They’re calling it a strike. Even the accounting team’s in on it.”
An anxious man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I held the phone to my chest for a second. My heart ached, but this time, in a good way.
“Paula, I’m asking… please come back.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re asking… but are you listening?”
Silence hung between us.
I continued, “You think being rich makes you above decency. But money doesn’t raise the character, Mr. Clinton. It just amplifies what’s already there.”
He was quiet.
“I’ll come back,” I said, “but don’t expect silence next time.”
“You have my word,” he said softly as I hung up.
A determined woman holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
When I walked back into the office, something felt… different. The entire staff stood like a wall of quiet solidarity. Maria from accounting, Jack from sales… everyone was there, waiting. They all rose in unison for me… a cleaner.
“We heard what happened,” Maria said, stepping forward. “What they did to you and Adam was unacceptable.”
“The entire team,” Jack added, “refused to work until you’re reinstated and an apology is made.”
Tears welled up. Not from defeat but from an unexpected kindness that cut through all the cruelty we’d experienced. Sometimes, humanity arrives when you least expect it.
A group of people in an office | Source: Pexels
Mr. Clinton cleared his throat, stepping forward in front of the entire staff. His face was ashen, the confidence from before completely stripped away.
“Paula,” he began, “I want to apologize. Not just to you, but to your son. What happened at my son’s party was unacceptable. I failed as a father, as an employer, and as a human being.”
He turned to face the room. “I allowed my son to believe that a person’s worth is determined by their job or their bank account. I watched him humiliate a child and I did nothing.”
I stood silent, my eyes piercing through him.
A guilty man with his eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “Truly sorry, Paula.”
I stepped forward, my voice calm but razor-sharp. “Money doesn’t make a man, Mr. Clinton. Character does. And character isn’t bought… it’s built, one decision at a time.”
The room fell silent. Every employee watched, holding their breath.
A small smile played on my lips as I grabbed my cleaning supplies and got back to work. Justice has a beautiful way of evening the score. Sometimes, the universe has a sense of humor far more poetic than any paycheck could buy… and this was one of them.
An emotional woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
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