Today I want to talk a little bit about the Barbie film that was released last year. Well, I really want to talk about its effect on me, because it’s coming up in my mind. Some of you will have seen a picture from me a few weeks ago. I was wearing pink sparkling tights. I’m wearing them again today. Not everybody has the same relationship with pink that I do, but I am going to talk about Barbie, pink and me today.
My history with pink and femininity
I rejected anything pink related when I was a reasonably young child. I could see that the boys in my life had more freedom. The way they were able to do the things that I wasn’t. Most notably, and this has nothing to do with pink, but they got to play sports for the last hour on a Friday. Whereas I had to stay in and knit. I’m so not still bitter, not after 35 years. No, not at all.
However, it is important for me to remember. My relationship with pink and with Barbie was coloured by the environment and the society in which I grew up. Why do I care about this? Why would I be worried about a modern single colour that really is the combination of red and twice 2 colours? I have nothing against either. Well, technically I have an issue with white. But that’s only because I manage to dirty it so easily. And it’s not that pink is such an amazing colour that it suits me brilliantly. It’s more that I became aware that I was allowing people outside of myself to control how I engaged with colour.
I know this is not a radical thought. Yes, from the time I could choose what I wore. I was in trousers of some description with a top most of the time. In my teenage years, when I discovered grunge, that top was a black T-shirt. Usually a band t-shirt, blue jeans and black docs or black converse for the summer. Yeah, that was it, that was what I wore pretty much full time.
What I lost in my rejection of pink
Now there’s nothing wrong with black. I still wear quite a lot of black, but I didn’t realise the effect the colours I wore had on me. Pink was too girly. Far too girly and I didn’t want to be seen as girly. Black was safe, black kept me hidden, black let me fade into the background. I have shared before that I maintained I could outdrink, outshag and out-anything-else the boys (and men) around me. Which is fine, but it wasn’t me. It wasn’t who I really wanted to be. (I’ve also written before about the liminal space alcohol takes up in Ireland)
In my rejection of pink, in particular Barbie pink, I also rejected a major part of me. In the years since then, I have of course reclaimed some of those parts of myself. I have embraced my feminine side. Well, I kind of had to when we were going through all those fertility treatments. I started to look into what it meant to me to be a woman. I still don’t have a full answer. But I’m getting closer and I thought I was pretty happy. I’m comfortable in myself, at least.
I didn’t have too many Barbies growing up. In saying that, there weren’t too many Barbies readily available, never mind affordable, when I was growing up. I definitely had one at least. I had a Sindy as well (cheaper version of Barbie). And if you had asked me a year ago, I would have only mentioned Barbie in the context of the unrealistic body representations the doll imposed on young girls. I didn’t think of Barbie as anything other than that.
Barbie pink: the film
(Yes I know that’s not the title!)
When I heard there was a Barbie film coming out, I really couldn’t understand the excitement. Seriously. As far as I was concerned, Barbie hadn’t changed since I was child and my experience was all there was.
But then I started reading the reviews. The feminist critiques, both pro and con the film. And I started realising that maybe there was more to this that just an unrealistically shaped dolls. I mean, I didn’t realise the depth of the film at all – I thought it was a marketing campaign to start with, to be honest.
But I was wrong. Boy was I wrong.
I saw this film twice in the cinema. Both times, I ended up in tears, because it was such a powerful and moving experience. The first time I dragged my husband along with me and afterwards, we were both shocked at how much we enjoyed the film. I believe my husband might have enjoyed the multi-generational family behind us, more than the film itself. How excited they all were, from the toddler to what we were assuming was a grandmother. Possibly great-grandmother, for that matter. It was really nice to see and if nothing else, Barbie allowed families like that to come together.
Prior to Barbie, I had a few pink t-shirts in my wardrobe. And I would pull them out when I wasn’t leaving the house, or we were due to do the washing. You know, the days there are no other clean clothes around, that sort of thing. After the first time I saw the film though, I bought a pair of Barbie pink-coloured tights, specifically brought out for the film, as far as I can tell. Although, unfortunately not on sale anymore!
I wore them to the second time I went to see the film. And that was the start of the reclamation of pink for me.
But back to me, Barbie and pink
For me, this ties into my work with Brigid, in that she can and will insist I challenge my own biases and preconceptions. I mean, look, if you haven’t seen the film, go see it. But even if you don’t want to see it, you can read the multitude of articles about it. It’s well worth it.
I struggled to push myself to see this film. Even when I read all the coverage, by people I respect and admire. Getting my husband to come along was a feat I think I will never replicate. We were both shocked at how much we enjoyed the film, just as a film. Never mind the by-play in the seats behind us.
I had never explored just what Barbie meant to those who grew up with her. Throughout this article I’m sprinkling pics of just some of the Barbies I found that were named “engineer”. (There are two others I couldn’t find viewable pics of)
Barbie helped, and continues to help, girls see themselves as something other than wives and mothers. There’s nothing wrong with wives and mothers, mind. But there is something wrong when that’s all we allow a subset of the population to be.
The positive side
Barbie gave girls options to play as engineers, scientists, doctors.
And yes, pink does dominate still, as far as I can see. But why is pink so bad? Most of the reason I had such problems with pink, and especially that particular Barbie pink, was because of my own inbuilt sexism.
Pink = girly and girly = bad. Pink didn’t mean serious. It wasn’t professional, competent, modern. Pink meant someone who didn’t care very much and never want to grow up.
Obviously my view on pink has changed. I now wear pink sparkly tights to work!!
But there’s more than that. Barbie has been working hard on its representation in all areas (Google terms like “wheelchair + Barbie”. “crutches for Barbie”, “differently abled Barbie” and please forgive me if those terms are not correct. But these dolls exist.)
Reclaiming pink fitted another part of myself back to me. Pink is a great colour! And ok, with red hair, it’s not always the best colour to wear, but who says I have to adhere to that standard?
I can wear whatever colours I want!
All the time I was pushing Barbie pink, in particular, away, I was pushing part of myself away. Because, yes, there is a part of me that likes being silly. There is a part of me that likes to wear bright colours.
Finishing up now
I enjoy wearing things to work that make me feel happy. And sometimes – that’s pink.
Fertility attempts are mentioned above. This wasn’t my favourite time in my life. But it started me on the journey to reclaim the feminine part of me. Barbie pushed me that bit more. I tend to work in very serious and high pressure roles in work, so introducing that bit of silliness into my life is important.
I’m not going to say Barbie healed me or that Barbie pink is a regular colour I choose. I’m not in the habit of lying to ye! But I will say that employing things like colour gives me the chance to smile a bit during the day. It gives other people around me the chance to smile as well.
So, I’m going to thank Barbie, for giving me back another piece of myself that I had suppressed and rejected for so long.
