When Icons Fade: The Twin Losses of Gloria Steinem and Dolly Parton

It feels almost cinematic, the way the news broke: first Dolly Parton, the glitter‑glazed songstress who never called herself a feminist, slipped away on Aug. 25. A week later, on Sept. 2, the firebrand journalist and activist Gloria Steinem was gone. Both women had spent a lifetime demanding that women know themselves enough to make their own choices, but they did it in worlds that could not have been more different.

Steinem’s playbook was unmistakable. She went undercover as a Playboy bunny to expose the objectification of women, co‑founded Ms. Magazine, and spent decades marching, speaking, and writing about the need for women to lift each other up. Her voice was political, her tactics overt, and her name became synonymous with the second‑wave feminist movement.

Parton, by contrast, turned the stage into a kind of feminist laboratory of her own making. She sang about teenage pregnancy in “Down from Dover,” championed equal pay with the anthem “9 to 5,” and even titled a song “Just Because I’m a Woman.” Yet when asked directly if she was a feminist, she replied flatly, “No, I do not.” She explained that the label had become tangled with extremism and that she preferred to let her music do the talking.

Even with that denial, Steinem saw a clear line connecting the two. In a 1987 essay for Ms. Magazine, she wrote, “If feminism means each of us finding our unique power and helping other women do the same, Dolly Parton certainly has done both.” The sentiment rang true for many fans, who felt both women embodied the same core idea: a woman can decide to be whatever she wants, regardless of the roles society hands her.

The week between the two deaths became a mirror for the feminist movement itself. As Ms. Magazine republished Steinem’s 1987 piece with a fresh editor’s note, it reminded readers that Parton was not just a catchy songwriter but a shrewd businesswoman who turned femininity into a source of humor, power, and charity for working‑class women, Appalachian communities, and the poor.

Parton’s refusal to align with any political party was deliberate. In a 2019 interview on the “Dolly Parton’s America” episode of Radiolab, she said, “I don’t do politics. I have too many fans on both sides of the fence.” When pressed about her stance on feminism, she warned that the word had been weaponized, likening it to “‘I hate all men.’” Still, she never shied away from spotlighting women’s struggles, whether through lyrics or public comments about equal pay.

The public mourning itself split along partisan lines. Former President Trump ordered flags at half‑staff for Parton—a gesture that many saw as a nod to her universal appeal. By contrast, the conservative media’s response to Steinem’s death was markedly muted, even as liberal leaders like Hillary Clinton flooded social media with tributes.

Today, in 2026, the feminist movement is wrestling with new challenges: the Supreme Court’s reversal of Roe v. Wade, the still‑unratified Equal Rights Amendment, and the rise of identity politics that often pit one group of women against another. Steinem’s later years showed her aligning more with the Democratic Party, while Parton kept her distance, preferring humor over headlines.

So who steps into the breach? No single person can fill both shoes. What remains, as Steinem insisted until the end, is not the label but the ability for each woman to know herself, claim her agency, and support the next generation. In the wake of these twin losses, that lesson feels louder than ever.