Barbie

What Barbie means to me.

Barbie was a masterclass in storytelling, visuals, thematic execution, and direction. The film acted as both a time capsule that contained neglected nuggets of moments we had has little girls, as well as an essential commentary of the issues we face now as grown women. Barbie was not made for kids.

Margot Robbie as Barbie, dancing with the other Barbies and Kens.
Credit: Warner Bros. Pictures

The demonisation and impossibility of the Feminine

Since I was a teenager, liking makeup, pink, fashion, taking aesthetic photos etc. was synonymous with being ‘ditzy’, ‘shallow’, ‘dumb’ and, my biggest pet peeve, ‘not like the other girls’, as if being like a fellow sister was the worst thing we could exist as. How strange, as liking these things is exactly what we were conditioned to do as young girls. It’s everywhere – in films, shows, marketing, consumerism, products. If perhaps you preferred blue or green and loved riding your bike a little too much, then boom, you’re deemed a ‘tomboy’. So, when does it switch? When do we cross the threshold between being encouraged and almost forced to like girly things, to being misjudged and demonised for it? At some point, we are sentenced to a monolithic, one-dimensional perception of ourselves, and become the butt of the joke. Never mind if we have degrees, impressive jobs, other hobbies, dreams, and aspirations. If you like pink a little too much, you’re just a Barbie. The worst part is, a lot of us start to believe it, even Barbie herself.

I have one friend who has enough makeup to stock an entire Sephora store. She has so much that she must insure it whenever she travels. She has also worked at a luxury fashion store for years, been to several Fashion Weeks, has just completed a five-year Law degree and is also working as a Paralegal. I have a friend who loves Tik Tok, creating aesthetic vlogs and videos, and always wants the latest Fenty product. She has also completed a bachelor’s degree in Pharmacy with Honours at one of Australia’s most prestigious universities, and now travels the country with her pharmaceutical job. Another is one of the sweetest people, a model and influencer who has pink hair and a toy shop’s worth of Jellycats. She is also a huge mental health advocate who integrates this messaging into her campaigns and has travelled the globe for work, getting paid more for one of these trips than most people earn in six months.

By demonising femininity, it inherently demonises Barbie, as she is symbolic of this notion. It is addressed in the film that Barbie herself is under the impression that the very invention of her was to empower girls to grow into self-assured, confident, and aspirational women. But due to centuries of misogyny and social conditioning that favours men and harms women, the idea of Barbie has been degraded and become almost laughable – Sasha, the young teenager in the film, speaks to this point. Barbie and her cohort of Barbies want to represent the entire spectrum of womanhood, but we women in the real world, have been persuaded to reject it.

Therefore, it was such a precious moment going to a sold-out cinema of girls and women from so many different walks of life, mostly dressed in pink. It was a re-embracing and re-claiming of the things that have reduced, mocked, misjudged and side-lined us. And it was heart-warming to see that we were all comfortable enough to do so.

Most importantly, Barbie did not bash or target girls who perhaps don’t like stereotypical girly things. The girls to which I’m referring may prefer darker or baggier clothes. They may have no interest in makeup. And that is equally as wonderful, because girls and women stand behind every picket of an unbelievably long fence of womanhood. We are everything.

America Ferrera’s character in the film so satisfyingly articulated the universal female experience. Don’t dress provocatively but don’t be too conservative. You must like pink and be girly, otherwise you’re a tomboy, but if you do like that stuff, you’re a bimbo. You must want to get married and be a good mother, but you also need to be career-driven because that’s what we’ve been fighting for for decades, but don’t be so keen to ask for what you want because you must always be humble and grateful. We’re told by our fathers and brothers to always distrust men as they will take advantage and drag us into their trouble, but don’t say “men are trash” because that’s reverse sexism and you’re tarring them all with the same brush, oh, and, that woman who has absolutely nothing to gain by naming her rapist? She made it up. You need to be thick and curvy, but not fat, and also have a slim waist, but don’t get plastic surgery to get this done. Make sure it’s all natural despite all these physical standards being so unnatural and unattainable. Show off this body in a nice, short, tight dress, but not too tight because then you’re clearly asking for it and they wouldn’t believe you even if you did report it. That little girl who was raped? Well, it’s unfortunate, but it’s not “all men” and if you say otherwise then you’re just a man-hating blue-haired liberal feminist because they don’t care that the feminist cause is actually fighting for outcomes that benefit everyone.

“It’s literally impossible to be a woman.”

The complexity of a mother and daughter’s relationship

The complexity of a mother and daughter’s relationship, while not the focus, was pivotal to this film and is very much canonical of Greta Gerwig (Lady Bird is one of my all-time favourites.) We are our mothers, grandmothers, and ancestors. We are also our daughters, their daughters, and the whole lineage of women that will come long after we’re gone. The memories we have of our mothers – playing Barbie, watching them do their makeup, getting dressed, baking in the kitchen, watching movies, discussing what we learned at school that day, crying to them about how they don’t understand us, crying into their shoulders because they’re the only ones who understand us – are just as much theirs. Ruth Handler, the inventor of Barbie, created Barbie as an homage to her daughter Barbara. Barbie also represents mothers and daughters, for mothers were once girls who needed Barbie just as much as we did. Barbie sees no age and therefore sees beauty beyond the physical. “You’re so beautiful”, Barbie says to the elderly lady sitting at the other end of the bench. “I know it!” she replies.

Watching this film inevitably made me think of my mother and how much I cherish the memories we share together. I so clearly remember her watching me play Barbie, and, when I could convince her, joining in with me. I also reminisced over going to Toys R Us, running to the vibrantly pink section where all the Barbies were stacked on the shelves, pleading to her I wanted one. My God, when I reflect, they were such beloved moments in my life for which I am now so appreciative.

“We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they have come.”

The sanctity of girlhood

However, the most meaningful thing I took away from this film was its incredibly special ode to girlhood. The visuals, set designs, costumes and dialogue conjured such precious and priceless memories, some of which I had forgotten about and was so delighted to visit again. I remember Barbie was the first doll that I did not have to nurse or pretend I was the mother of. I had baby dolls where the only function was to feed her milk, and I would carry her around so carefully as I thought she really was my daughter for which I was solely responsible. While those memories are special, having my Barbies where I could imagine whatever I wanted, are even more so. My Barbies had lives, identities, personalities, dramas, rivalries, and aspirations. They were extensions of myself and the possibilities were endless.

As we have grown older, the bounds of our imaginations have gradually diminished for a lot of us. While we may still quietly cling tightly to the ambitions and dreams we had as young girls, the obstacles in the real world and the attitudes we internalise make us self-limiting. This film, however, was a reminder to reinstate our untarnished young girl mentality of ‘we can do whatever we want’ – that does not necessarily mean we have to make a big declaration that we want to be the President. It can also mean that we want anything that’s not too out of the ordinary. Perhaps, some want a nine-to-five that pays enough to live comfortably and allows for a good work-social-home life balance. It can mean some do not want to work professionally, and instead stay at home and raise their children. It can mean some do not want to marry, and instead, focus on money and financial independence, which can take the form of anything we please. The normal and ‘mundane’ is just as important because women are important. Women and the innate capabilities of our imaginations are so desperately sacred. That’s what Barbie means to me.

“I want to do the imagining, not be the idea.”