Barbie. You love her or you hate her; there seems to be no middle ground upon which to make camp. Her body, fashions, family and careers have undergone countless transformations throughout her fifty-four years of play and she’s been the focus of innumerable critiques ranging from the lack of ethnic diversity to perpetuating unrealistic beauty and body standards for women. But where are these voices of protest springing from and is it fair to leave Barbie holding all the cards?
A mother’s concern of society sexualizing and beauty stereotyping her pre-pubescent daughter is no laughing matter, especially given the degree of body image dissatisfaction in women throughout America and the modern world. I was intrigued one afternoon, after a feverish few days bidding on Barbie doll items on eBay, why it seems everyone blames the doll but no human element. I’d read articles shaming Mattel for producing such a wicked creation and how society must demand change in order to repair the damage. Thankfully, the emergence of the Brats and Monster High dolls, with even worse stereotypical bodies, lessoned the venom hurled at Barbie. (On a side note, I find the Brats line despicable and the Monster High not much better, but I digress)
Armed with my Masters of Psychology and some twenty-four odd years of loving Barbie, not stating when I got my first, the answer was both obvious and simple: presentation and attitude. First, allow me to provide background with Barbie, lest I appear one-sided. I was gifted, as most girls are, my first Barbie before I started kindergarten. My memories of that time, while hazy, show I wasn’t overly thrilled by her, my mother even less so, but I was fascinated in dressing/undressing her and prancing her along the back of the couch enacting my “stories”. STORIES: a key word.
I’m certain my mother encouraged my behavior in this regard and I thank her for it, because I NEVER identified with Barbie. I was NOT her, didn’t want to BE her, didn’t want to LOOK like her, and the late 80’s-early 90’s fashions were terrifying even then, so in no way did I want to DRESS like her. Still, Barbie and I have a long-lasting love relationship, and why; because I was encouraged to view Barbie as a vessel of my imagination. Barbie was anything I wanted her to be and I made her suit ME. Granted, I was fortunate to be a child when Disney experienced it’s Classic Movie hay-day and I own ALL the Disney dolls produced between 1989 and 1997ish, or at least the principal characters. These dolls received much more play-time than the basic blonde versions, since I had a story to relive and rewrite besides my own imaginings. (I’ll admit, this may be a deciding factor to why I don’t have large issues with Barbie but Mattel made them both regardless)
Now everyone knew or had a friend who was ‘that’ Barbie girl. You know the one: the girl whose Barbie spent countless hours being dressed and hair brushed, all so she could go on dates, or shopping, or out to eat. The one who played at Real Life scenarios primarily and mostly those adhering to typical gender roles they witnessed day-to-day. Don’t misunderstand, I had Doctor Barbie with the working stethoscope and Astronaut Barbie and more, and they didn’t enter my fantasy play sessions. My doll house was the coveted two-story, 3-sectioned 1990 Barbie Dream House, all my furniture was modern and of course, colored the standard Barbie Pink. When we went fantasy, that house went un-used; the two didn’t mesh.
Nonetheless, in all my years playing alone and with friends, I never once heard a parent question our play or enquire to our storyline besides my mother, and she’d try guiding us down a different path with questions if what we said bothered her. This happened infrequently but enough so it stood out. Maybe because I was the dominant player and I suggested the storylines more often than not, but I can’t be certain. Perhaps if I was into fashion more (I like my clothes flattering and comfortable) this might all be different, but even that avenue may be shaped into positive self-esteem play.
My daughter is only 16 months old at present yet I cannot wait to introduce her to Barbie and bestow upon her all my toys. (Yes, I still have almost every piece of Barbie I ever played with in very good condition and safely stored) I’m customizing my house and furniture to provide a more realistic tone, as well as hide the overwhelming pinkness. I even bought new furniture sets we can use to redecorate the house for fantasy/historical storylines. My point: I’m exposing her to Barbie as a tool of her imagination, instead of my daughter as Barbie’s tool. Will it work? Maybe. I’m nothing if not optimistic, and I’ll have several years to guide my daughter in what it means to be a woman in today’s world outside the play room.
For now, I can only feel pity for those young girls who want to be like Barbie and hope they have a friend of the other persuasion that will show them life isn’t all dressing sexy and dating Ken, or Ryan, or whoever he is nowadays. Perhaps after reading this article, YOU, as a parent may take a more active role in your child’s play, even if it eats into your free time. Who knows, with less Barbie bashing and more interacting, when our daughters are mothers, Barbie will have changed for the better and the world will be a more beautiful place for us both.
A mother’s concern of society sexualizing and beauty stereotyping her pre-pubescent daughter is no laughing matter, especially given the degree of body image dissatisfaction in women throughout America and the modern world. I was intrigued one afternoon, after a feverish few days bidding on Barbie doll items on eBay, why it seems everyone blames the doll but no human element. I’d read articles shaming Mattel for producing such a wicked creation and how society must demand change in order to repair the damage. Thankfully, the emergence of the Brats and Monster High dolls, with even worse stereotypical bodies, lessoned the venom hurled at Barbie. (On a side note, I find the Brats line despicable and the Monster High not much better, but I digress)
Armed with my Masters of Psychology and some twenty-four odd years of loving Barbie, not stating when I got my first, the answer was both obvious and simple: presentation and attitude. First, allow me to provide background with Barbie, lest I appear one-sided. I was gifted, as most girls are, my first Barbie before I started kindergarten. My memories of that time, while hazy, show I wasn’t overly thrilled by her, my mother even less so, but I was fascinated in dressing/undressing her and prancing her along the back of the couch enacting my “stories”. STORIES: a key word.
I’m certain my mother encouraged my behavior in this regard and I thank her for it, because I NEVER identified with Barbie. I was NOT her, didn’t want to BE her, didn’t want to LOOK like her, and the late 80’s-early 90’s fashions were terrifying even then, so in no way did I want to DRESS like her. Still, Barbie and I have a long-lasting love relationship, and why; because I was encouraged to view Barbie as a vessel of my imagination. Barbie was anything I wanted her to be and I made her suit ME. Granted, I was fortunate to be a child when Disney experienced it’s Classic Movie hay-day and I own ALL the Disney dolls produced between 1989 and 1997ish, or at least the principal characters. These dolls received much more play-time than the basic blonde versions, since I had a story to relive and rewrite besides my own imaginings. (I’ll admit, this may be a deciding factor to why I don’t have large issues with Barbie but Mattel made them both regardless)
Now everyone knew or had a friend who was ‘that’ Barbie girl. You know the one: the girl whose Barbie spent countless hours being dressed and hair brushed, all so she could go on dates, or shopping, or out to eat. The one who played at Real Life scenarios primarily and mostly those adhering to typical gender roles they witnessed day-to-day. Don’t misunderstand, I had Doctor Barbie with the working stethoscope and Astronaut Barbie and more, and they didn’t enter my fantasy play sessions. My doll house was the coveted two-story, 3-sectioned 1990 Barbie Dream House, all my furniture was modern and of course, colored the standard Barbie Pink. When we went fantasy, that house went un-used; the two didn’t mesh.
Nonetheless, in all my years playing alone and with friends, I never once heard a parent question our play or enquire to our storyline besides my mother, and she’d try guiding us down a different path with questions if what we said bothered her. This happened infrequently but enough so it stood out. Maybe because I was the dominant player and I suggested the storylines more often than not, but I can’t be certain. Perhaps if I was into fashion more (I like my clothes flattering and comfortable) this might all be different, but even that avenue may be shaped into positive self-esteem play.
My daughter is only 16 months old at present yet I cannot wait to introduce her to Barbie and bestow upon her all my toys. (Yes, I still have almost every piece of Barbie I ever played with in very good condition and safely stored) I’m customizing my house and furniture to provide a more realistic tone, as well as hide the overwhelming pinkness. I even bought new furniture sets we can use to redecorate the house for fantasy/historical storylines. My point: I’m exposing her to Barbie as a tool of her imagination, instead of my daughter as Barbie’s tool. Will it work? Maybe. I’m nothing if not optimistic, and I’ll have several years to guide my daughter in what it means to be a woman in today’s world outside the play room.
For now, I can only feel pity for those young girls who want to be like Barbie and hope they have a friend of the other persuasion that will show them life isn’t all dressing sexy and dating Ken, or Ryan, or whoever he is nowadays. Perhaps after reading this article, YOU, as a parent may take a more active role in your child’s play, even if it eats into your free time. Who knows, with less Barbie bashing and more interacting, when our daughters are mothers, Barbie will have changed for the better and the world will be a more beautiful place for us both.