Did you see the movie “Barbie”? I finally got around to watching it on our flight to Tanzania—I think we all did!—and I’m glad I saw it; it is definitely thought-provoking, and it is also quite entertaining. I read a review of it in The New Yorker when it first came out, and I agree with at least one point the reviewer made: the movie tries to do too much, careening from comedy [Ryan Gosling is absolutely hilarious] to serious social commentary to satire to silliness to self-importance. But, the performances are very good, and, as I said, there is certainly a lot to reflect on.
I think the one scene that I have been thinking most about was Gloria’s [America Ferrera’s character] “speech of liberation”—for lack of a better term. [And, I am admittedly late to the party on this–if you Google it, you will find LOTS of articles about it!]
This is the speech she spontaneously delivers after Margo Robbie’s Barbie has admitted to feeling like a failure, after they have returned to Barbieland and found all of the other Barbies in thrall to the Kens, whose horse-saturated patriarchy has taken over. The speech breaks the brainwashing of the patriarchy, and leads to the recapture of Barbieland by the Barbies. I have to admit that while watching the movie, I found the scene pretty heavy-handed and clunky, but upon later reflection, and after reading it in print, I have changed my mind. Now, I find it quite spot-on and extremely trenchant—it is terse, without a wasted word, and if you, female movie-goer, don’t find yourself viscerally relating to at least one of the contradictions she raises, well, I would be surprised.
Here is the text of her speech:
“It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don’t think you’re good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we’re always doing it wrong.
You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can’t ask for money because that’s crass. You have to be a boss, but you can’t be mean. You have to lead, but you can’t squash other people’s ideas. You’re supposed to love being a mother, but don’t talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman, but also always be looking out for other people. You have to answer for men’s bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you’re accused of complaining.
You’re supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you’re supposed to be a part of the sisterhood. But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful. You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.
I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know.”
What did you think, reading it on the page, instead of hearing it in the movie? At any point did you think: I have had that experience. I know what that feels like.
I think what struck me most strongly is how this litany of contradictions emphasizes exactly what the opening sentence declares: it is impossible for a woman to succeed in a world that is defined by a standard that only men get to set. As the last sentence of the penultimate paragraph so baldly states: no matter how hard you try, you can never get it quite right–there will always be something to criticize, and it will always be your fault. [And, let’s be honest–even the standard fluctuates. Just when you think you have figured out the rules of the game, someone calls an audible and you get penalized.]
So, for me, the upshot is simple: the standard itself must be changed, by all of us together, such that there is no one “perfect” way for women to dress, look, act, lead, parent [or not!], etc., etc. Instead, we can and should embrace many different ways for us to be extraordinary, many different ways for us to get it right, to succeed, to love, to challenge, to argue, to fail; and, we need to emphatically insist that it is OK if we are just “ordinary” sometimes, if we get it wrong, and if we are not universally liked. [We can’t give our best when we are exhausted simply from trying to make everyone like us; from trying to “read the room” and figure out how to make sure we don’t make anyone uncomfortable just by our presence.]
I have lots to be grateful for, to be sure; and indeed, I am grateful–but I want to be grateful on my own terms, not on someone else’s. And I want that for other women, too.
Happy Lutheran 