Barbie: An Ode to Girlhood
What Was I Made For?
Many say that Disneyland is the happiest place on earth, but at the age of seven, I believed that title belonged to Dubbo. I haven’t returned to Dubbo as an adult, but I already know it isn’t the magical place I remember it to be. I know this because it is near impossible to recapture the idealistic view of the world you had as a kid once you’re an adult. Believe me, I have tried, and all I was left with was an embarrassing Spotify Wrapped and blisters on my feet from adult sized jelly shoes. I visited Dubbo in the 90s with my family, and stayed at a location called The Whale Farm (a place that does not exist on Google and only in my memory). During our time there, we took care of baby chickens, had picnics on the balcony of the farmhouse, and ran around in the summer heat with mosquito bites all over our arms. I remember patting a white horse, which I may have thought was a unicorn, and hearing my Mum calling my name to take a picture. I was wearing baggy cargo pants and slides, paired with a genuine smile, one that screamed best day ever. While I appreciated this experience, my Farm Girl era was merely childhood experimentation. When Jack in Titanic said “Sorry, you just seem like, you know, more of an indoor girl” to Rose, I really felt that. I was far more in my element dancing in front of my mirror pretending to be Rachel from S Club 7 and flipping through an edition of Sabrina’s Secrets. I would scream and hide if we visited someone’s home and their dog jumped on me upon walking through their door. I preferred listening to my Mum and her friends chat over hanging out with other children. I never watched a film or listened to an album just once, everything I consumed was deeply analysed and appreciated like I was some sort of professional critic. I loved to sing and dance, and would drive my siblings mad practising the vocal warmups I learned at singing lessons, tongue-trilling around the house like I was preparing for my world tour. I loved to read all kinds of books and magazines, which allowed me to create a home within myself that I was able to retreat to when life became overwhelming for me. I wasn’t consciously shifting myself to fit a mould. I was following my bliss, and learning about myself along the way.
Having two younger sisters meant my Barbies were always naked, with teased hair and faces coloured in with Textas. I would mouth dialogue between the dolls as they interacted with one another until one of my siblings noticed and made fun of me. I would even chew the feet of my Barbie’s, leaving teeth marks that looked like toenails. One Christmas, I was gifted a doll, which wasn’t officially a Barbie, but I didn’t know the difference. Kayla was printed on the plastic box in white cursive font, and inside beheld a doll with auburn hair and accessories to make potions and cast spells. I cherished it so much that I never took it out of the box. I sat it on a set of drawers in my bedroom, and would stare through the plastic box at this doll that shared my name, who was so beautiful, but was also maybe a witch. Talk about representation!
With the release of the Barbie film, Barbie herself has had a massive rebrand and is finally being recognised as the feminist icon she has always been. I’m here for it. It wasn’t so long ago that there was much discussion around Barbie enabling unrealistic beauty standards. Now, I don’t think we can blame a doll, that humans created, for all of our self-esteem issues. The issue is bigger than Barbie, and I will not sit back and allow Barbie to be your scapegoat! Prior to Barbie being released, I was asked by a friend if I was seeing the film, and I replied “Of course I am” as if by simply asking me they had offended me. I always knew the film would have depth given it was written and directed by Greta Gerwig.
The hype leading up to Barbie was unparalleled. Was it a bottle of Pepto Bismol or was it Barbie promo? Is it Breast Cancer awareness month or a Barbie hair ribbon? Who knows! It has been said that every woman should carry herself with the confidence of a mediocre man. I beg to differ. How about carrying yourself and promoting your work like Margot Robbie did for the Barbie press tour? Of course, the film gathered the inevitable backlash from people who totally missed the point. Ugh. Why can’t we just enjoy this one, guys? Are we capable of having nice things? Let’s be honest, there’s nothing controversial or offensive about the Barbie movie. We live in an unjust, patriarchal society. It is simply the reality of the world we live in. To deny that reality is to deny the sky is blue, or that Margot Robbie is hot. And I’m sorry, but if you’re offended by the film, you’re a part of the problem. Humble brag: My boyfriend wasn’t offended by the film, which makes him hotter than your boyfriend.
Now, let’s talk about the movie. Margot Robbie is Stereotypical Barbie, and she lives in Barbieland, which is a matriarchal society where all the Barbies are confident, successful and fulfilled. Ken (Ryan Gosling) is just Ken, and he does Beach for a living. His happiness is dependent on Barbie, and will do anything to get her attention. Barbieland is free of all the things that make the real world challenging for women, most notably, it is free of cellulite. Barbie begins to worry about her own mortality, and her feet begin to flatten, which she learns is due to her taking on the fears and sadness of the child playing with her doll in the real world. She travels to the real world with Ken so she can help the child playing with her doll, and restore her identity as Stereotypical Barbie. When they arrive in the real world, they discover that it is drastically different from Barbieland. Barbie is shocked and saddened by this discovery, whereas Ken loves this new thing called the patriarchy. Ken is inspired to take what he has learned back to Barbieland and convinces the other Kens to take over Barbieland. I don’t want to spoil the whole movie, (but like, why haven’t you seen it already!?) so what follows is a killer monologue by Gloria (America Ferrera), which made me cry in the movie theatre. I felt a sense of relief watching the film, knowing that I wasn’t alone in feeling overwhelmed by societal expectations, and how it is impossible to be everything to everyone. Barbie ultimately decides to enter the real world and live a human experience. While the world is inherently flawed, it is beautiful and worth fighting for. I was surprised some people had negative feelings about the film, and were offended by its feminist messaging, when the heart of the film is a commentary on what it’s like to be a person in our current society. It wasn’t hating on men, but merely demonstrating the negative ways in which a patriarchal society hurts us all.
I think there was a missed opportunity in the film by not having them all scream-sing “Fuck the patriarchy” in honour of All Too Well (Barbie’s Version), but maybe that is why Greta Gerwig was in charge and not me.
Before I go on, I have to acknowledge the elephant in the room. I know my image was used in the film without my permission. You may have noticed I was credited as Depression Barbie. The film even featured unapproved pictures of my apartment full of dirty dishes and unfolded laundry. Look, I’m not happy about it and my lawyers are on the case.
Anyway, I’m not sure if I’m alone in this, but I sometimes feel empty after watching films that were meant to empower me. I think about the logistics of the character being able to afford their New York apartment on their salary. I envy the characters ability to overcome their self doubt in one makeover scene. I wonder if cutting bangs would in fact solve all of my problems. Barbie didn’t feel like that. It was the perfect balance of Barbie Dreamland core and relatability. Barbie brought up feelings for me around growing up and dismantling my childlike views of the world. When I was a kid, I was unaware of all the structural constraints that would make it rather difficult for me to navigate the world exactly how I had wished to. I longed for adulthood thinking it would free me from sadness and hurt. I thought that if I could just get to where I was going, everything would be wonderful, and I would be happy forever. As a child, I internalised a lot of people’s emotions. I was very concerned with being seen as good, particularly by grown ups. I wanted parents to like me. I wanted to be approved of. I would be completely shaken if a teacher got mad at me. I now know that these adults didn’t know how to regulate their emotions, but younger me carried the weight of their displaced anger. I was bad, unworthy, not good enough. Slowly but surely, my confidence wavered and I kept more of myself hidden. I think an imaginary future, much like Barbieland, helped me to process my feelings when I was unable to make sense of them on my own. I’m a very sensitive person, not erratic or unreasonable, but I feel things very deeply. I process life differently to many people I know. This has been weaponised against me before, but I have recently come to appreciate my ability to acknowledge my feelings. Barbie reminded me that to feel things deeply, to experience all emotions, to allow yourself to be open and vulnerable, means that you’re living a human experience, and that you’re living it bravely. The goal should never be dissociation or navigating life with apathy. If you’re afraid, you still have skin in the game. And if you continue to push forward despite your fear, you’re doing it right. I also think feeling joy in its purest form is something many people are subconsciously afraid of. It’s almost like, if you don’t allow yourself to truly lean into happiness or gratitude, you can’t be hurt or disappointed. Life is so weird, and I’m forever being humbled by it, but I’m doing my best to embrace whatever comes because I would still rather feel something deeply than not at all. During the repetitive sequence, where we see Barbie’s morning routine a few times over, I couldn’t help but feel an undertone of sadness in the repetitiveness of the perfection. It felt tired, empty and predictable. It made me appreciate the beauty of the human experience.
Now, I can’t speak for every woman because I’m not Whitney Houston, but I realised after watching the film, how much of the criticism I’ve received throughout my life has been deeply rooted in misogyny. It has weighed me down for decades, and began when I was far too young to understand it. I’ve been the subject of sexual harassment and bullying in the workplace. I’ve been mocked for my appearance and areas of interest. Dismissed and excluded from conversations because it is assumed I haven’t had any hardship. My vulnerability and sensitivity has been weaponised against me. These things aren’t uncommon and I will not be given a trophy for overcoming these hardships. I have found healing in knowing that this treatment isn’t personal, and is because of our deeply wounded society. Unfortunately, in my experience, internalised misogyny is also very common amongst women. I’ve learned that people will reject in you what they reject in themselves. Perhaps because our society shames women so much, many women want to dissociate themselves from any ounce of femininity within them, hence the ‘Pick Me’ phenomenon. I’m just grateful to have people in my life who love and support me wholeheartedly, and I’m glad to do the same for them.
As I walked out of the movie theatre, I couldn’t help but think about my 9 year old self, and how I’m taking really good care of her these days. I’ve been thinking about how the film is an ode to girlhood, the fragility and beauty of those formative years, and how we must protect that part of ourselves in a world determined to change us. We owe it to our younger selves to live authentically and have a little fun once in a while. Whether it is dressing up to see the Barbie movie, or blaring Push by Matchbox Twenty through your speakers and pretending it is 1996. I often think about that Simpsons episode where Homer tapes photos of Maggie over a sign above his work desk, leaving it to read Do it for her. I remind myself of that every time I see a picture of my younger self.
Now listen to this Billie Eilish song and cry like I did…
Thank you for reading. I’m so happy you’re here. Consider subscribing to my newsletter if you enjoyed reading this.
Loved this! From one Depression Barbie to another 🫶