Endowed as she was with the voice of an angel and a physicality she so adroitly applied for comedic purposes, Dolly Parton’s legacy will never be silenced. Dolly was not criticized for not having children. Instead, she’s heralded as a beacon of balance, generosity, and good humor.

With no children of her own, Dolly’s Imagination Library benefits over three million youth aged five and younger around the world. Each month they receive books at no cost, planting seeds for future literacy and love of reading. “The seeds of dreams are often found in books,” she said, “and the seeds you help plant in your community can grow across the world.”

Giving is often without show, and efforts are often woven into our very character. Like Dolly, many of us who are without children equivocate when grilled about why we don’t have children. Part of the reason we don’t often tell our stories is that most involve the complexity and evolution included in living outside the mainstream of parenthood. Being non-parents is an element of our being, not a statement of our value.

Our crucial role in philanthropy and giving cannot be understated, though. Whether supporting lives on our family tree or giving to charities, many childless and childfree people contribute our time and treasures to support those in need. We make a mark that is not insignificant.

For example, those of us without children are much more likely to include a charity in our estate plans than parents. According to a study by Russell James, Professor of Charitable Financial Planning at Texas Tech from 1992 to 2012, 50 percent of childless decedents left money to philanthropic organizations versus 17.1 percent of those with children.

As childless and childfree adults, what we lack is a way to combine our giving to create lasting change. I’ve long thought if such a mechanism existed, together we could band together to balance disparities in intergenerational transfer of wealth, combat climate change, or nourish the hungry. But routes for unification of our demographic are few.

Before COVID-19, I was involved in planning my local community foundation’s event for women donors who don’t have kids. The event was packed, and participants clamored for future events tailored to our interests. Although the organization agreed, years later, another event has yet to come to fruition. No one can tell me why.

I can guarantee, though, that as a result of that first event, several new donor advised funds were established, and numerous liaisons and friendships were instigated. I have a small donor advised fund that will, upon my demise, support early childhood literacy.

After I cut back on my professional work life, I donated years of service to the primary grades, supporting children who struggled with reading and writing. Recalling the choruses of their greetings each time I entered the classroom nourishes me to this day; so do the drawings they put in a memory book when I moved away.

Those of us who are still star-struck may fail to see the the power of Dolly’s role in making the world a better place, not only for children but also by serving as a model for how we can better get along with one another. She offers inspiration for how to be thriving members of our communities who don’t happen to have kids. What more could one want as their life’s legacy?