Just Us: Barbie, feminism, and Not Kidding

This is the last topic I ever thought I would write about. I had a Barbie when I was a girl - it must have been a birthday present, and it was very unlike other birthday presents I had received. I was a bit of a tomboy - I got a gun, holster, bolero, and Deputy Sheriff badge when I turned five, and was terribly jealous of the boy next door, who also had chaps! (As you can see, our one channel of TV in the late 60s early 70s was dominated by US Westerns. lol) Most of my dolls, teddies etc seemed to be hand-me-downs, so a brand new Barbie was exciting and terribly glamorous. Until, just a short time after my birthday, my mother gave me a haircut. So my little sister decided to give Barbie one too. Her long glamorous blonde hair was gone - she had a raggedy pixie cut for the rest of her life. I was not impressed. And my sister is tired of being reminded of it!

Barbie was always unrealistic - I didn't really know any/many blondes, her figure was ridiculous, and when I knew enough to understand, infuriating. And I'm pretty sure I had her before the unrelenting pink phase (I abhor unrelenting pink for girls - even though I quite like the colour), and before the cars, houses, and all the other Barbies appeared on sale. The commercialism, the sexism, the impossible physical expectations of Barbie turned me against her.

So when I heard there was a Barbie movie, I didn't think it would be for me. But a fellow No Kidding friend and I decided to go. We'd heard good things, and we knew we couldn't drag our significant others along to see it. We went this morning. It made this old feminist happy. There were so many brilliant throw-away lines. And I especially loved the comment "if my feet were this shape all the time, I'd never wear high heels again!" Hear, hear!

I'd heard about America Ferrera's monologue about the contradictory expectations of a modern woman. What I loved about it was the inclusion of those who were not mothers, as well as those who were mothers. I had been enjoying the feminism of the film up to then, and realised I had been unconsciously bracing myself against the onslaught of expectations for mothers, and to feel ignored. But we were not ignored, not forgotten. The message was acceptance - of who we are, regardless of whether we have children or not, regardless of whether we are high achievers or not. I loved that latter point too, because so many of us without children feel that we have to do find the "Next Big Thing" to make up for not being a mother. But we don't. We can, of course, and that is wonderful. But equally wonderful is finding happiness in our lives being ordinary. Surviving. Thriving. By just being us. Ken and Barbie both learned that lesson in the movie. We all need to be reminded of it. Brava, Barbie!