Thoughts About Barbie

Last night I went out with my kids to see Barbie. It's very good, I highly recommend it.

I have a lot of thoughts about Barbie in general, and some about the movie that contain spoilers, so if you plan to see it, I don't want to ruin any of the fun. Maybe read the first few paragraphs that are about me and not the movie, and come back and read this once you've seen the film and share your thoughts. If you don't plan to see Barbie, that's fine. Just don't jump to conclusions about what you think it is if you haven't watched the movie, because it's probably not what you would expect. I'm frankly stunned that this movie exists.

Many women like myself have had a complicated relationship with Barbie. That sounds silly on its surface since we're talking about a doll, but it isn't. And I've only in recent years come to terms with what my aversion to her might mean, namely internalized misogyny.

I did not have Barbies growing up. I preferred stuffed animals. I was never a girly girl, but I was never a Tom-boy either. I was just me, and I seldom felt like I fit in anywhere. I tended to avoid pink.

When I had kids, I didn't get them Barbies. I felt she presented an unrealistic body image for girls, and all the cutesy pink irritated me. I wanted my girls to be interesting and strong, and Barbie struck me as neither. I resented the gendered aisles of toys, and avoided the sea of pink that was all things Barbie and what someone thought my girls were supposed to like and be. I remember feeling a small crisis when I learned a relative who loved Barbies was planning on gifting some to my girls. I don't remember exactly how that played out, if I let my disapproval be known through family channels to avoid the issue or if we actually got the dolls. All I know is at some point we acquired at least one Barbie, which my kids mostly liked because she had a dog with puppies, and a horse. I wasn't happy about it, but I left it alone. I'm not the kind of parent who forbids things, but I tried to steer us clear of the pink aisle.

I did, at least, until I had my third child, who was assigned male at birth. I knew very early that she was at odds with the role she was expected to play by the world around us. She asked to go by a more feminine name when she was about two or three. She was smart and gentle. She liked pink.

There weren't any resources readily available for trans youth a dozen years ago. I tried to seek them out just in case that was the direction my child was eventually going to inform us we were going. All I could find were programs for teens and adults, and a society telling me my kid was going through a phase.

Now, honestly, when she eventually came out as trans as a teen, I was relieved for several reasons, not the least of which was that I figured she'd have less trouble in the world as a woman than as a gender non-conforming man. She's commonly been assumed to be a girl in public for most of her life, but in those moments where society forced her into the end of the binary where she wasn't comfortable, it was really painful.

Because boys are not supposed to like pink, and the world lets you know that.

And this got me rethinking Barbie, since pink and Barbie are deeply intertwined.

When I had girls that wanted pink, I tried to suggest lots of options. I certainly wouldn't deny them pink, and no one batted an eye if they were in pink. But when we had a "boy" who wanted pink? Well, suddenly defending pink became important. Because I realized that girls crossing over into boy things was acceptable or even praiseworthy, but for boys crossing into pink, that was questionable. I realized pink was viewed as contaminated. It was something boys were taught to have an aversion to.

Like I did.

So I asked myself what that was about, and I came face to face with Barbie.

Why did I roll my eyes at Barbie? What was so wrong with her? I had always told myself it was because she reduced women down to what they looked like, and I resented it.

And that's when I realized that's what I had been doing to Barbie. 

I was the one dismissing all the other things she was, from an astronaut to a doctor to an ice skater, etc. Because she was exaggeratedly pretty. If we're not supposed to judge people by their looks, that goes both ways. If she was pretty she couldn't also be a veterinarian? Or a reporter? What sort of misogynistic garbage was that?

There is a funny scene in the movie where Barbie in the real world spots a billboard for a beauty pageant that is an image of pretty women in row, and she assumes it's a picture of the Supreme Court. It's very funny, but why is it funny? What if we lived in a world where we didn't assume such women can't be the Supreme Court? Wouldn't that be a better world?

I see that billboard and think about how I have never worn a bikini. I don't have a body I'd be comfortable showing in that way, and I probably never will. But I wouldn't deny someone who looked like me the fun of wearing a bikini if they liked. There are people out there who would applaud an older and/or heavier woman being so bold, but then also a lot of those same people might resent younger more conventionally beautiful women for doing the same.

In the movie, Barbie doesn't even have a word for "self-conscious." What a concept.

So, the Barbie movie itself is visually amazing. The costume and set designers deserve award nominations. There are tons of movie references, including the opening tribute to 2001 A Space Odyssey which we enjoyed. The acting is great, the music is spot on.

Essentially, the movie shows Barbieland as a real place where a representation of each type of doll exists, living sort of like beings in Plato's perfect plane. The Barbies do everything and the Kens are accessories (who do "beach"). There is also Ken's buddy Allan, who doesn't really seem to fit in anywhere. (I love Allan.) When stereotypical Barbie starts to have thoughts of death and develops cellulite, she goes on a journey to the real world to find the person playing with her doll that is causing the problems. The Ken who loves her stows away in her car to join her on the trip, and winds up learning about the patriarchy, and takes it back with him to Barbieland before Barbie returns herself with the mother/daughter pair that had been playing with her doll. The Barbies have to outsmart the Kens in order to revert Kendom back to Barbieland. Barbie acknowledges that it was unfair for her to take Ken for granted, and suggests he find his own identity outside of his interest in her. And in the final scenes, the stereotypical Barbie decides to become real and return to the real world.

I don't have any nostalgia for these dolls, so I was surprised by how quickly the movie was able to establish a connection with me. The society they portrayed in Barbieland was innocent and appealing. My oldest daughter commented on how open and safe it was there in the beginning. It would be nice as a woman to be able to walk any streets that way without fear.

The only vaguely dark moment in this movie was when Barbie returns home to discover it's been taken over by Kens and she's not allowed in. There is never any doubt that Ken loves Barbie and would never harm her, so there is no real danger, but when he faces off with her in the doorway, it's an uncomfortable reminder of the implied threat that exists in encounters with men that most of us have to navigate on some level in our daily lives. The unfairness of it as Barbie stands there, kicked out of her home, realizing there is nothing she can do in that moment, is painful and a little frightening. That's not something I was expecting to feel at this movie.

The most surprising element of the Barbie movie to me was the depiction of the Mattel company. It was the most surreal aspect of the whole story, and I'm still puzzling parts of it out. Particularly toward the end where Will Ferrell as the head of the company, which is represented in the boardroom entirely by men, is genuinely unhappy about the commercial success of the Mojo Dojo Casa House (created by Ken and now flying off the shelves in the real world), because it's not about Barbie first. I suppose it's a glimpse of men who are on the side of women but are somewhat clueless on how to go about doing it right.

There's an unexpected scene where Barbie in the real world is sitting by an older lady, and Barbie says to her sincerely, "You're beautiful." I know in that moment my head immediately went to all the reactions I would have had if that had been said to me. I would have been surprised, maybe a little suspicious, pleased but dismissive, flattered but doubtful. Self-conscious would be in there. But no, the lady on the bench (who I believe is a renowned costume designer) responds that she knows! And Barbie looks genuinely pleased, because that's all she wants in the real world is for other women to be proud of who they are, and to know they are beautiful.

Some of the ways the Barbies related to one another in Barbieland reminded me of how we treat each other in my Women In Lutherie group. We have rules in our Zoom meetings about not apologizing, and not being self-deprecating. Those were awkward adjustments at first, because women are in such a habit of making ourselves smaller on every level. We're not supposed to take up space or be openly proud of our accomplishments because we're encouraged to believe being liked is more important than anything else. It's been really empowering to take those habits from the Zoom meetings and use them in the world, where we are allowed to have authority without apology, and to have the courage to share what we do. I recognized the same sense of self-worth reflected in the Barbies. It felt good, and as welcome as it was unexpected.

I found the end of Barbie moving. The idea of becoming "real" reminded me of one of my favorite books from childhood: The Velveteen Rabbit. In both stories, the idea of being real involves surviving and accepting pain, and being convinced that the sacrifice is worthwhile to experience deeper meaning to existence. The last line of the Barbie movie where she's ready to be seen by a gynecologist is laugh out loud funny, but also highlights that by becoming real she's signing up for pain on a monthly cycle as part of her transformation.

Many people have already written about America Ferrera's speech about the impossible standards women are held to by themselves and others, and it's definitely a highlight of the film. I teared up. But the line that hit me the hardest was about how our experience and perception of women is problematic, even with just a representation of one. 

That clarified for me the issue with Barbie that I've been wrestling with over the past decade. Barbie can be whatever you want her to be. I apparently wanted her to be a problem. I'm over that.

Barbie is unabashedly feminine. In a world where feminine is conflated with weaker, lesser, frivolous, and secondary to masculine needs, tastes and desires, that makes Barbie easy to disdain. Unless you don't buy into any of that, then Barbie looks fearless.

I've made peace with Barbie, because I'm finally making peace with myself. That's a lot to get from a very pink movie about a doll. I'm glad I saw it.

Rethinking Pink (the Misogynist Within) (Babble)

Pink.  Pink is the current most identifiable symbol for what is girlie.  Pink is nothing in and of itself, but it is the tip of an iceberg.   I have been, on some level, struggling with the color pink in different ways for most of my life, and I may have finally come to terms with it.  Maybe.  But it’s taken accepting some hard truths about myself to get there.

Anyone with any proximity to someone raising little girls in our culture knows that pink dominates the girlie girl landscape.  For those who love pink this is wildly convenient.  For those buying clothes or toys for girls who do not care for pink it can be problematic.  Then there are parents like myself who personally have tried to push back against the avalanche of pink based on our own tastes and preferences, regardless of what our particular girls want.

My girls have both been through fluffy looking princess phases, and they both like pink, but they like other things too.  We’ve never had a problem with them insisting on any particular color, so I never felt as if they had been brainwashed by society to choose one.  But I resisted the onslaught of Disney princess related movies and merchandise as much as I could, and I was thrown into a mini crisis in my mind one Christmas when a relative gave my girls Barbies and I debated whether I should let them keep them.

I have never thought of myself as particularly feminine.  I’m always surprised when other people see me that way, since I don’t wear makeup, I live in clothes that could double as sleepwear half the time, and I don’t have pierced ears or interesting shoes or a cute purse.  (Actually, I own one cute vintage purse I found in an antique store, but I’ve never found a time to use it and I likely never will.)  Many of my interests have put me in environments dominated by men.  When I gave a lecture about violin making to the local Woodworkers’ Guild a man actually came up to me afterward just to say how jarring it was at first to listen to a woman talk about tools, but that the longer I talked the more he got over it.  So I’m used to moving in circles where I don’t feel I’m being judged by particularly feminine standards.


I fretted a little for my girls because I don’t want them to feel limited in this world.  I want them to tackle whatever interests them and not be held back.  The princess stories bothered me because they struck me as promoting images of women that were passive and weak and dependent on men for happiness.  Barbies seemed overly focused on physical beauty as a woman’s greatest attribute.  Everything wrapped in pink hit me as mildly distasteful and unhealthy for these reasons.

Then I had a boy.  And you know what?  He’s a boy who adores his older sisters and when he was two his favorite shirt was a hand-me-down that made him feel included.  And it was pink.  I had to stop and reassess for bit.  Because it started to dawn on me that there was bigger issue with pink that I hadn’t considered before.  The bigger issue was misogyny, and I was guilty of it.

That may sound extreme, but when I started to look around at the larger society for cues about how my son would be treated walking out into the world in a pink shirt I did not like what I saw.  Among my family and friends there was no problem, but once you are attuned to stories about boys in pink you start hearing some very scary things.  The intolerance in some cases is frightening.

And that’s when I began to come to the defense of pink.  Because what I see all too often now is that girls and the things they like are considered inferior.  If a girl aspires to partake in things more stereotypically associated with boys–anything to do with weapons, or sports, or tools–she is viewed by many as taking a step up.  Conversely, if a boy wants to pursue something regarded as feminine–like sewing, ballet, or organizing a tea party–this can still be controversial.  It’s okay and often encouraged if a girl wants to play with boys’ toys.  We think it’s cool if a girl can throw a football or fire a gun.  If a boy wants to play with girlie things–with pink things–the reaction can be incredibly negative.  It might be tolerated, but seldom encouraged.

I became offended by the idea that somehow the toys my girls liked were contaminated.  Pink was lesser.  I was guilty of having thought that too.  I had avoided pink for myself because it lumped me in with girls.  I wanted to be better than girls.  That’s misogyny.
I began to really look at things differently.  I started with Cinderella.  I had remembered the Disney movie as a sad example of a woman waiting to be rescued by a prince and not much more.  But I sat and watched it with my kids and that’s not what I saw at all.  I saw a variety of different female characters, from the scary step-mom to the silly step-sisters, to some industrious mice, to Cinderella herself who was strong and decent.  She was in an impossible situation without real options and she worked hard and looked for the good in life despite her circumstances.  Yes, she’s eventually rescued by a prince, but he’s more a symbol of the ultimate prize of love and wish fulfillment.  The prince is part of her reward of the better life she deserves.  (I still can’t stand the Little Mermaid, though.  You don’t relinquish your voice.)

Next I looked at Barbie.  I never liked Barbies and my kids aren’t particularly interested in them either, preferring snuggly stuffed animals as I did, but when I took a look at the Bratz dolls suddenly Barbie was looking pretty good.  Barbie at least seemed to have an education and could hold a variety of jobs.  The Bratz dolls just looked trashy.  I tried to pinpoint what bothered me about Barbie, and I realized it was unfair to essentially dislike her because she was many people’s idea of pretty.  Yes, I know the problems associated with unrealistic body image and emphasizing looks over substance, but isn’t it wrong to discount people because of their looks either direction?  If I dismiss Barbie the veterinarian because she’s blond and wears heels, how am I likely to treat a real woman vet who is pretty and wearing heels?  If all I had against Barbie was her looks, well then I’m being shallow.  (I’m still trying to figure out how I came to feel I need to stick up for Barbie, but there we are.)

When I started looking at any number of female figures from past and present with the perspective that feminine did not equal less valid I learned something.  What looks like passivity is sometimes really patience.  Being polite and gentle is not the same as weakness.  To blame a woman for being judged by her beauty is to blame the victim.

But where does this sense of the feminine as lesser come from?  I think it’s a power imbalance.  The worst insults you can throw at a man are all some way of calling him a girl.  At its core, I believe it comes down to the fact that typically during sex the woman is the person who is ‘done to.’  I’m not saying I don’t understand about all the different varieties of intimate behavior possible between people, but at a basic level it’s understood that women are at the receiving end of the sex act, and there is a sense that that is lower.  It’s not considered a position of strength.  For the same reason I think for many men the underlying root of homophobia is really misogyny.  The idea of a man accepting a feminine role is intolerable to some, because it flies in the face of accepting the masculine role as superior.  I don’t think it is.

But the masculine role can be more threatening.  And women are so disproportionally the victims of violence that I think a lot of misogyny is not wanting to be vulnerable out of a sense of self-preservation.  When you witness abuse you see two sides–the abuser with the power, and the victim who suffers.  Many people don’t want to identify with victims because it’s an unsafe place to be.  When you choose masculine pursuits you are choosing power.  You are choosing safety.  Choosing pink means needing protection.  We don’t respect the vulnerable as equals.

I want all children to have the freedom to choose what interests them.  I don’t believe in girl toys and boy toys.  There are just toys.  I don’t think my son’s toys are inherently better than his sisters’.  And I don’t think pink is a sign of something weak simply because girls like it.  I’m not saying it’s wrong to think a tea party game is more boring than a wrestling match–everyone is entitled to his or her personal preferences–but it is wrong to use your personal preferences to judge something as negative.  The tea party is different but not less valid.  I may still have no interest in Barbie, but I no longer harbor any sense of disgust about her either.

Freedom to choose does not make my less-traditional choices better, it just makes them truly mine.  I want my kids to have choices and sometimes they choose pink.  Pink is fine.  For anyone.  Even me, finally.