Last summer, during a trip to New York, the kids and I were killing time at Rockefeller Center (as one does) and decided to pop into FAO Schwarz. They’re teenagers now so it was more of a nostalgia visit than anything else, and we got separated as we went on our own wanderings through the store. When I texted them to see where they were, the reply was ominous: “We’re in the doll section.”
It may not surprise you to hear that my children did not play with a lot of dolls when they were young. I was a lazy mother in many areas, but subjugating prescribed gender roles was not one of them. One of them received a Barbie as a birthday present at some point - I think it was a ballerina Barbie - and I still remember my initial horror and subsequent relief when they lost interest in it.
Anyway, I’d been summoned to the doll section.
When I found them, they were buried deep in the Barbie aisles (there are A LOT of Barbies at FAO Schwarz). Like lions crouched in the savannah grass, my beautiful children waited for me, surrounded on all sides by plastic tits and vacuous eyes. They saw me and pounced.
“WHY didn’t you buy us any Barbies when we were little?”
They were legitimately mad. I felt attacked. “Are you joking? We’re really going to have this conversation here?”
Apparently yes we were. Staring at a row of “empowered” Barbies behind them - think Ruth Bader Ginsberg, god rest her soul - I stammered through a speech I’d uttered 1,000 times before. Barbie created unrealistic body image ideals for young girls and perpetuated the idea that our only real power lay in our looks and sexuality. The oration felt weirdly empty - and just plain weird - as I stood surrounded on all sides by this pop culture stalwart who had beaten me at my own game. I felt like I’d been dropped into an episode of Black Mirror.
My teenagers resorted to the time-honored response of “Whatever,” and stalked off. I’d lost a battle I didn’t even realize I was fighting anymore. I wanted to go home.
I subsequently bought them both Barbies for Christmas and they loved it. It was a joke, yes, but also a tacit acknowledgement that I had lost. Despite my best efforts, Barbie had triumphed in the end.
The last laugh is on me of course. Both kids saw the Barbie movie not once but twice last weekend—my 15 year old saw it twice in one day. I saw it a few days later. It’s hilarious and bittersweet and you will likely not have as much fun watching a movie this year.
You should also see Oppenheimer, which is a very different movie, but also kind of not. If Barbie tilts your gaze through a candy-colored kaleidoscope into a world dominated by women, full of joy and song and dance (and Beach), Oppenheimer wrenches you right back to reality, a world forever at the mercy of heedless men. After all these years, I guess I finally see the point of Barbie: escape.
P.S. Rest in Power, Sinead.
“She was a woman who was failed again and again and again, by men, by her own health, by religion, by the music industry. And she kept getting up and getting angry.”
I like that your kids had to grow up w/o Barbie before they could opt as more fully-formed human beings, Carla. I hated dolls. I did have a Barbie that I didn't play much with her except to one time give her, much as I did to myself, disastrously short bangs that stuck straight up. You did good – they'll thank you later!