Confession: I am barely older than Barbie, so I did have one of the dolls when I was little because pretty much all little girls in the 1960s had at least one of the dolls. Mine was Skipper, Barbie’s little sister, but I never really got into the Barbie scene.
When I had daughters, I banned Barbies from the house because Barbie’s body shape is completely unnatural. True human beauty comes from what is natural, and I didn’t want my daughters’ minds warped in that way. They had to settle for Lammily, a Barbie-like doll built on the average measurements of American teen girls. But they just weren’t into dolls, so it didn’t matter anyway.
So when we learned there was to be a Barbie movie, we weren’t overly interested in seeing it. But the trailers looked cute enough that we thought, why not? A summer movie, popcorn and a reclining seat all sounded good.
Turns out, I am very glad we all saw it together. Yes, it is true, as many have pointed out, that the plot is a bit muddled, certain casting choices were a bit off, and if your eyes haven’t seen very much pink, watching this movie may give you a headache.
But the overall narrative arc is actually very moving, and, I’d argue, very on point for this historical stage of feminism. While we have no actual Barbies in our house, we’ll be getting this movie when it comes out on DVD.
Indeed, I’d like to assert that the “Barbie” movie is very much the beloved story of “The Velveteen Rabbit,” which has brought tears to the eyes of several generations now.
In the 1922 story by Margery Williams, the Velveteen Rabbit is a toy deeply loved by a young boy; the rabbit is what the boy holds onto while he is very ill. But the toy sees real rabbits playing outside the window and wants to be real, also.
Once the boy is well, the family discards the toy because it is now faded and no doubt harbors the pathogens that made the boy ill. But because the boy truly loved the toy, and because the rabbit was faithful to that love even in great affliction, the dearest desire of the rabbit’s heart is granted, and he becomes real.
Unfortunately, the “Barbie” movie is meeting a different reaction than mine. Much ire from the conservative side of the commentariat has been aimed at the “Barbie” movie’s supposed anti-patriarchy message, which is taken to be anti-male and “woke.” One pundit, Ben Shapiro, even burned Barbie for its “man-hating” because he believes the message of the film is that women must save society from men, and men and women don’t really belong together. His verdict: “Angry, feminist claptrap that alienates men from women, undermines basic human values, and promotes falsehood all at the same time.”
In my opinion, this assessment grossly misses the point of the film. The real story is that Barbie comes to the realization that Barbieland is completely sterile, and she feels a deep dissociation from all its games and the dramas — including the silly drama of the Kens versus the Barbies. It’s all just so trivial and stupid.
What would make her existence worth living, she finally comes to realize, is to become a real woman, with the possibility of being a real mother. She makes her fateful decision as she views images of the joys and challenges of mothers and daughters facing the world together. Barbie, like the Velveteen Rabbit, chooses to leave the silly games and dramas of being a pretty, sterile toy for being real, with cellulite, sexism and everything else that comes with reality.
And just as the Velveteen Rabbit story hints that the rabbit found love at the end after becoming real, so Barbie discovers she now has the capacity to be a lover, a wife and a mother. Barbie has chosen to fully step into her real, female body, challenges and all, which is the desire at the heart of all healthy forms of feminism.
Indeed, pace Ben Shapiro, this is an amazingly healthy turn for contemporary feminism, which has been fixated on trying to achieve equality between men and women by erasing all sexual difference. For several decades now, mainstream feminism has held the attitude that women could be equal — if only they could leave their female bodies behind (or become pretty, sterile dolls). There’s misery down that path, because a feminism that loathes the female body is a feminism that is, in the end, self-destructive.
Barbie’s path leads her back to a real, whole, fertile, natural female body. This female body is not a millstone around her neck; it is the key to her joy. Maybe one day Ken will make the same choice, and join her in the real world, away from all the silly games. Until then, Barbie is on the right path, the only path that will bring her true happiness.
May her journey be blessed.
Valerie M. Hudson is a university distinguished professor at the Bush School of Government and Public Service at Texas A&M University and a Deseret News contributor. Her views are her own.