“Travelin’ Thru” is the Dolly Parton song that can’t be forgotten

When Dolly Parton spoke, one could tell she always had her tongue planted firmly in her cheek — and I’m not just talking about the way she’d deliver her “S” sounds with a slight whistle, courtesy of her distinctly lovable Appalachian twang. Parton was a one-woman, two-boobed joke factory, arriving at every interview, stage performance and public appearance with at least 10 punchlines locked and loaded. Quips fell out of her like apples from a tree, ripening and landing at just the right time in any conversation. And as skilled as she was at this repartee, it never came off overly practiced. She could deliver the same line five different times, and it still wouldn’t grow dull, because Parton simply wasn’t a dull person. She was lively and in on the joke from the very beginning. When you’re a flaxen-haired woman in country music, and the very first song on your very first studio album is called “Dumb Blonde,” you’re working with a home-court advantage.

But Parton didn’t just use her bubbly humor to make people laugh. She implemented wry wit like a tactical defense, a trusty tool in her arsenal that could disarm an opponent and defuse tricky conversations. Parton also knew how to tailor her jokes to any moment. She did this countless times across her decades of unwavering support for the queer community, softening and sharpening her humor according to the severity of whatever topic she waded into. In a 2016 appearance on “CNN Money,” Parton commented on North Carolina’s now-infamous “Bathroom Bill,” one of the first major pieces of anti-trans legislation to become discourse in the hyper-digital era. As always, Parton led with a message of steadfast reverence for her fellow humans. “I think everybody should be treated with respect,” she began. “I don’t judge people. I try not to get caught up in all the controversy of things. I hope everybody gets a chance to be who and what they are.” With that cleared up, Parton readied her rhinestone mic-drop: “I just know if I have to pee, I’m gon’ pee. I don’t care where it’s going to be.”

For as blunt and no-bullsh*t a line as it was, it might as well have come straight from the mouth of Bree Osbourne, Felicity Huffman’s character in the controversial 2005 film, “Transamerica,” for which Parton wrote and recorded the Oscar-nominated song, “Travelin’ Thru.” The film — which follows Bree, a trans woman, on a cross-country road trip with her newfound biological son, Toby (Kevin Zegers) — predated the absurdly excessive trans panic.

When “Transamerica” premiered, the average American didn’t spend much time thinking about bathroom gender markers, much less trying to understand the intricacies of the trans experience. If trans people were brought up at all, either in politics or in the media, they were often treated as spectacle, made into subjects of a shocking plot twist, or the punchline in a sketch on “Saturday Night Live.” Yet, in a time when so many people refused to acknowledge the existence of trans people and their stories outside of pure mockery, Parton made the bold choice to write a song about trans acceptance, identity and perseverance. For someone for whom jokes were a constant, this was no laughing matter.

A co-sign from Parton meant that “Transamerica” could conceivably reach an audience as big as hers, which, for an artist as universally beloved as Parton, is a whole lot of people. Looking back at the film over two decades later, it is certainly a product of its time. The movie is written and directed by a cis man, and stars a cis woman. Pre-college admissions scandal, Huffman was enjoying a career boost on “Desperate Housewives,” and the movie marketing played with the dichotomy between her hyper-feminine public image and the film’s depiction of transfemininity. The “Transamerica” DVD even featured a lenticular cover that transformed Huffman from a standard blonde press shot into a still from the film featuring Bree’s brunette hair and wispy bangs.

But thrust “Transamerica” 21 years into the future, and watch as it shakes off “outdated” and “problematic” from either side of Bree’s pristine lavender shoulder pads. Despite some gratuity, including a leering but brief genital shot that absolutely could’ve hit the cutting room floor, the film remains a genuine, earnest portrayal of the quest to understand the differences between femininity and womanhood, existing and living. Huffman’s characterization of Bree is three-dimensional and completely straight-faced, brimming with compassion and curiosity — and, really, so very funny, but without ever making Bree the butt of the joke. 

Refuting the film on the basis of its casting alone would be a mistake, one that I get the sense Dolly Parton would warn against. “Transamerica” has so much love embedded within it. The film is fearless and fallible and fabulous all at once, designed to expand the consciousness and open the heart. Sure, we have better and more appropriately inclusive examples of transness now. But there can be all kinds of stories. Here, Bree experiences heartbreak, isolation, bewilderment, unconditional affection, joy, anger, frustration, regret and contentment. She smiles, laughs, cries, makes jokes, stomps her foot, flirts and gossips about other women with a girlfriend. Bree is conscious of her surroundings but won’t withstand anyone’s mistreatment. She’s a real person, sometimes rendered with an era-specific crudeness, but she’s never made to look goofy. And if the world has been able to move past straight factor in “Brokeback Mountain,” why doesn’t “Transamerica” deserve another unbiased look? 

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All of this emotion is baked into “Travelin’ Thru” with the love and care of a Dolly Parton berry pie. The song is replete with questions large and small about personhood as Parton wonders what it means to truly live. “I’m just a weary pilgrim trying to find what feels like home,” she sings. “Where that is, no one can tell me. Am I doomed to ever roam?” 

Writing from Bree’s perspective, Parton beautifully captures the isolation that is so often part of the trans experience. Discovering oneself is one thing, but understanding and embracing it are another entirely. The road is long and weary, filled with detours and extended stops. It’s a frightening thing to take a step toward the future, going so far that you can no longer see where your journey began, yet unable to identify where it might end. 

Late in the film, Bree tells Toby that she believes God made her in his image so that she could be reborn again like he was. The moment hits at the tenuous relationship between religion and queerness, one that often goes unexplored in mainstream queer media. In “Travelin’ Thru,” Parton raises her voice to the heavens and declares, “When I’m born again, you’re gonna see a change in me.” For those who struggle with the confluence of religion within their sexuality, it’s an evocative and important lyric. But it also nods to what both “Transamerica” and “Travelin’ Thru” do so well, suggesting that there are various interpretations for everything in life. 

Bree begins the film desperately wanting gender-affirming surgery, so much so that her urgency incites the film’s madcap mumblecore events. To her, the surgery is the final step toward becoming her real self, the person she’s always been but could never fully embrace. But everything she experiences in the days leading up to her scheduled operation brings her toward a new kind of clarity, a sense of self that she never anticipated or even knew was possible to have. She’s reborn as someone who lives for life, and not only for herself. And Parton conveys the magnitude of this realization, stating plainly, “Sometimes the road is rugged, and it’s hard to travel on, but holding onto each other, we don’t have to walk alone.” A little trite? Maybe. But that’s the beauty of it, too. Sometimes the most powerful messages come in the simplest packages. And Parton’s utmost sincerity keeps Bree’s story from ever feeling like a half-thought platitude.

In the days since Parton’s death, commenters have flocked to the “Travelin’ Thru” music video, a compilation of pixels rendered in 240p, uploaded to an archaic version of YouTube some 19 years ago. But, of course, not even poor video quality can dull Parton’s shine. “This song saved my life as a young trans man finding my way growing up in the deep South,” one person commented. Unsurprisingly, the replies tug at the heartstrings. “I’m so glad Dolly saved you; she was amazing, and you are too,” one person responded. Another replied, “Nice to see another Southern trans sibling. Gives me hope I can survive.”

In Parton’s absence, that hope is what we must continue to cling to — what she, no doubt, would want us to keep tight within our grasp, no matter how hard things get or how long the road stretches out before us. Her unyielding respect for the world and all who inhabit it still has many lessons to teach. And though it’s difficult to bid goodbye to someone who stood for nothing but good, who fought for acceptance and respect at every possible turn, who put her money and her art where her mouth was, Parton’s lifelong courage is a reminder that these principles don’t have to go with her. We owe it to Parton to carry on that indomitable spirit, even if, in the end, we’re all just travelin’ thru.