Barbie's Brilliance

Two words I've never used in the same sentence

Since its debut on July 21st, the Barbie movie has sparked a daily deluge of social commentary. My initial response was a dismissive eye-roll; I couldn’t imagine what all the hype was about. Then I tried to buy tickets and found out it was sold out puba week in advance. Last night, though, through an unexpected stroke of luck, our local Pierre's Playhouse secured access, and a friend snatched up 14 tickets just moments before they vanished into thin air (I haven’t been to a movie with 14 people since Rocky Horror Picture Show in the ‘80s). 

As our little tribe strolled down Main Street from the local pub, we convened at the door with 100 other people dressed in pink (except for me in baby blue and a few bemused dads). There was this strange buzz of wonder at seeing neighbors and acquaintances in their quirky pink finery. As we entered the theatre, a 15-year-old companion seeing Barbie for the second time in a week remarked, “I never thought I would think so much after watching this movie.” I had never seen a preview and don’t know what I imagined, but I was not expecting to be so blown away for $12 and a box of popcorn. 

As a girl born in the ’60s (Barbie first emerged in 1959), her influence was undeniable. But looking back, my association with Barbie was mostly a series of letdowns, disdain, and a dash of resistance. While I coveted Barbies, what I remember is that I never got the brand new one in the special box and never got to choose the career Barbie I wanted. They were always some hand-me-down from wealthier cousins or throwaways from my older sister. Her hair was always scraggly, a shoe was missing, her tank top didn’t match her miniskirt, and her Barbie house was dingy. Imperfect. And, like all good, young American consumers-in-the-making, I wanted perfect. 

As I grew up and “became” a full-fledged “tomboy,” I was conflicted about Barbies and, in retrospect, became a snob, embarrassed for those who still played with “girl things.” But by the time I graduated in 1981 and headed off to college, despite being crowned by my high school senior class “Most Liberated Woman,” I still woke up, caked my eyelashes thick with blue mascara, and curled my Farrah Fawcett hair before jumping on a bike and riding across campus for 6:30 am volleyball practice. 

So many thoughts are going through my brain this morning, so many themes to explore. But first, a nod of gratitude to the brilliance of the team who produced this incredible satirical, funny, sad, hopeful, and timely movie. I’ve spent my whole life coming to terms with Barbie, and you nailed it in two hours. Thank you for putting into words the daily overwhelm of motherhood, for bringing to light the toxicity of the patriarchy, stereotyping, and consumerism, and for showing us a way to transform our obsession with Barbie-land. 

I did feel a little bad, for a minute, for the two eight-year-olds in front of us dressed as princesses, expecting, I’m sure, an uplifting Frozen experience. Every time my girlfriends and I laughed uproariously, they would sneak a look at us with confused, questioning eyes. They left the theatre looking pretty nervous. One of my girlfriends said her 14-year-old son came home from watching the movie with other teens and said, “Help, Mom, I don’t understand.” The film is not made for kids, but I am giddy thinking about this generation nurtured by this very narrative, one that harbors unwavering clarity about the monumental task ahead of undoing what ages before them have created. 

Where I Think Barbie Nailed Dismantling the Patriarchy:

A couple of weeks ago, I was visiting with a friend’s dad, a 70-year-old lawyer from Bellingham, Washington, at a BBQ. While he was pretty proud of his and his wife’s decades of involvement in their Catholic Church, he said he was becoming increasingly disillusioned. He held up his hands in the shape of claws and said, “There are all these men in my church holding onto a cliff by their fingernails, trying to hold onto what little power they have left. What I wish they understood is that if they just let go,” and he added a little hop to emphasize his point, “they wouldn't fall very far before the rest of us caught them and helped them stand up again.” 

The Barbie Movie haters, the ones who call it too “woke” and anit-man, are scared. OH MY, if the Barbies realize their power, they will seek revenge because (in their worldview) revenge is the only option. But Barbie isn't out to get even with Ken; she's showing him a different way to live – a life that doesn't rely on others for happiness, respects others and doesn't trample on their dignity. This is what I'm hoping for the next generation. As our children dismantle the old patriarchal norms, I hope they cast aside the harmful expectations for both men and women and embrace the positive qualities of both, creating a space where everyone can rise together.

Where I Think Barbie Nailed Pink Psychology:

Confession beckons – my lifelong resistance to all things Barbie closed my eyes to her positive facets, an irony I now acknowledge. In retrospect, I, a woman, mother, sister, and friend, have a propensity for judgment and aren’t always inclined to grant others the latitude to embrace their individuality, particularly when it diverges from my cherished ideals. I’m working on this!

I have a really good girlfriend who, ten years ago, I would have brushed off as a Barbie – silly, a bimbo, unworthy of my time (in case you hadn’t noticed, other women can be worse enemies than “the patriarchy”). But I threw my judgment out the window, thanks to her open arms and heart, and we’ve since formed an unlikely bond. Some might say she exudes “toxic positivity,” but getting to know her, that’s not the case. I’ve found her to be one of the most mentally strong, balanced, and compassionate people I know. Her superpower is to wholly lean into the good, the bad, the sad, the mean, and the beautiful, and she’ll tell you straight out that what helps her embrace whatever comes her way is the little bit of pink she wears every day even if it’s just a tint on her lips. Just as we need to get out from under the thumb of Ken, we need to get out of the way of each other. 

Where I Think Barbie Nailed the Mental Health Crisis:

This week I listened to this Open to Debate: Is Social Media Bad for Kids’ Mental Health from this year’s Aspen Ideas Festival. As a mother of teens, I always think about this, and this program was enlightening. The main takeaway was 1) I am as hysterical as every generation before who was convinced that every new invention – be it the telephone, TV, or internet – was out to wreck our kids' minds;  2) validation that it’s not social media, but rather the cultural pressures on us that are responsible for the mental health crisis. 

Barbie further confirmed for me that our mental health crisis comes from living in a world where consumer culture is so pervasive that, from the moment you are born, flashy advertising and pop culture reminds you that you are lacking, that there’s something that someone else has that you need to be happy. It’s not only Barbie the person; it’s Barbie the toy that leaves you wanting. It’s not the smartphone that’s the problem; it’s the time spent on it that kids aren’t outside or playing sports or creating instead of consuming or just doing nothing instead of stressing about how to get or do or be more. It’s what social media amplifies that’s the problem; it’s what we’re being sold by the Mattels of the world and the people profiting off us.

This is why, again, I am giddy a generation has this brilliant piece of Barbie pop culture to temper 65 years (or more!) of wanting. Thanks, Barbie. We won’t let you down!