Recently, a captivating black-and-white photograph of Dolly Parton from the Sixties appeared on my social media timeline, prompting the question: “What did Jolene really look like?” This iconic image serves as a reminder of the timeless allure of ‘Jolene,’ a musical masterpiece deeply ingrained in Americana culture.
Indeed, ‘Jolene’ holds a special place in the hearts of music enthusiasts. It’s the go-to karaoke number for both amateurs seeking to impress and professionals looking for a cover that resonates. However, what truly captivates about this song is not just its intricate melody but its underlying message. The narrator acknowledges her inability to compete with Jolene and instead appeals to her rival’s sense of decency and perhaps even vanity.
In the lyrics, Dolly Parton poignantly sings, “You could have your choice of men, but I could never love again. He’s the only one for me, Jolene.” The implication that the object of affection isn’t exactly desirable is subtly woven into the narrative, especially evident in the portrayal of a man who reveals his infidelities even in his sleep.
Therefore, there was considerable anticipation when Beyoncé included a cover of ‘Jolene’ on her latest album, ‘Cowboy Carter.’ However, excitement turned to controversy when it was revealed that Beyoncé had altered the lyrics, fundamentally changing the character and essence of the song.
‘Jolene’ stands as a monumental piece of Americana, cherished by amateur show-offs as the ultimate karaoke selection and beloved by professional artists seeking a captivating cover option.
Therefore, the anticipation peaked this month with the release of a cover of the song on Beyoncé’s latest album, ‘Cowboy Carter’ – and the ensuing commotion when it became apparent that Beyoncé had modified the lyrics, thereby altering the essence of the song.
Beyoncé isn’t pleading for anyone to refrain from taking her man, thank you very much. What she’s conveying is a clear warning: if you attempt it, there will be consequences, possibly even confrontation. “I’m warning you, don’t come for my man,” she sings.
These alterations shouldn’t come as a shock. Beyoncé’s rendition of ‘Jolene’ opens with a spoken-word introduction by none other than Dolly Parton herself, now 78 years old: “Hey, miss Honey B, it’s Dolly P. You know that hussy with the good hair you sing about? Reminding me of someone I knew back when.”
The mentioned “hussy” is none other than ‘Becky with the good hair’, an unnamed woman associated with the much-discussed extramarital affair of Beyoncé’s husband, Jay-Z. Though the celebrity couple has remained cryptic about the specifics of Jay-Z’s infidelity, Beyoncé intermittently references it in her artistic endeavors.
It remains ambiguous whether Beyoncé’s rendition of ‘Jolene’ is another jab aimed at this particular woman or simply a cautionary tale for anyone contemplating a similar path.
However, its underlying message is crystal clear — albeit clichéd and expected. As noted by The Atlantic’s critic, “Beyoncé replaced the vulnerability that made ‘Jolene’ one of the best tunes of all time with a bunch of bad-bitch clichés.”
What’s intriguing about these clichés is their frequent use in the guise of feminism, which in practice seems contradictory.
Threatening Jolene with violence rather than pleading for mercy may align with the ethos of empowerment often associated with modern feminism — but what kind of feminism places all the blame on the woman pursuing a married man while absolving the man of responsibility?
Furthermore, Beyoncé’s display of assertive, masculine “if you try to touch him, I’ll kick your ass” stance paradoxically exposes her vulnerability and insecurity. If she truly embodies the regal status implied in the song and is unwavering in her belief in her man’s loyalty, why resort to threatening physical altercation with any woman who dares to glance his way?
Additionally, Beyoncé’s flaunting of a masculinized “if you try to touch him, I’ll kick your ass” posture serves as a display of bravado that paradoxically exposes her underlying feelings of disempowerment and insecurity.
However, this particular brand of photogenic yet ultimately superficial feminism has been a consistent theme in Beyoncé’s career, dating back at least a decade to her 2014 VMAs performance, where she positioned herself in front of a screen bearing the word ‘FEMINIST’ in bold letters.
At the time, all attention was drawn to the ‘FEMINIST’ signage. Yet, upon revisiting footage of that performance, what strikes me most is the faceless silhouette of Beyoncé’s body against it: standing tall in high heels, legs spread wide, resembling the generic imagery seen on flyers for certain establishments in Las Vegas or Atlantic City.
Of course, when such places utilize such imagery, it’s deemed objectification and sexism. But somehow, it’s perceived differently with Beyoncé, for reasons that are not entirely clear.
It’s not that being sexy and feminist are mutually exclusive. However, there has always been something peculiar about the circa-2014 notion that feminism itself is inherently sexy, as if that is its primary appeal.
This mindset has contributed to a culture where diverse representations of female resilience have been overshadowed by the emergence of the ‘badass’ archetype: a woman devoid of emotions and flaws, who views others merely as either casual sexual partners or targets for aggression.
Ironically, in a world where women have the freedom to pursue various paths to fulfillment, the portrayal of female strength in art has become increasingly narrow, one-dimensional, and masculinized.
The self-rescuing princess; the emotionally detached action heroine; the invulnerable, workaholic, commitment-phobic seductress — many so-called ‘strong female characters’ today are essentially men with female anatomy.
This characterization arguably extends to the unnamed protagonist of Beyoncé’s rendition of ‘Jolene,’ making the song a curious example of how a purportedly feminist reinterpretation can be less enlightened than the original piece of art.
Parton’s song is subtly subversive, despite not passing the Bechdel test: while the women discuss a man, he serves more as a prop than a person.
Noticeably, the singer doesn’t plead for him not to leave; he isn’t consulted or even present because he isn’t in control. Instead, his destiny is shaped by two women: one who loves him despite herself and another who could claim him but hopefully won’t.
The original narrator of ‘Jolene’ is far from a badass — but that’s precisely the point, and she doesn’t shy away from it.
She’s devastated at the thought of losing her man but isn’t naive; she understands that her best chance at happiness involves appealing to Jolene’s decency, woman to woman — or perhaps preempting any intentions Jolene might have of stealing him by gracefully flattering her into submission.
I must confess, after listening to the song repeatedly for hours, Parton’s lyrics started to evoke memories of the scene from ‘The Hobbit’ where Bilbo Baggins tries to placate the dragon Smaug with an increasingly elaborate series of compliments: Smaug the Magnificent. Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities. Smaug the Unassessably Wealthy! Yet, even as such, Smaug surely has more pressing matters than to bother with a seemingly insignificant hobbit.
The song serves as a fascinating illustration of how a purportedly feminist reinterpretation can paradoxically fall short of the enlightenment found in the original piece of art.
Perhaps the narrator of ‘Jolene’ truly embodies the pathetic, submissive persona she portrays.
Or perhaps she has astutely realized that the most effective approach to obtaining what one desires from a more influential individual is to evoke a sense of benevolence in them.
While the revamped ‘Jolene’ confidently struts its stuff, emitting superficially feminist rhetoric (and consequently captivating Beyoncé’s fanbase), it is Parton’s rendition that depicts women in their entirety, acknowledging female authority beyond the narrow confines of the tough, fearless archetype.
There exists the subtle influence of the enchantress, whose allure is irresistible to all. And then there’s the even gentler influence of the petitioner who, as another song suggests, is unashamed to plead.
