“I’m a Barbie Girl”
Authors: McManaman Daisy 
Published: June 2024

“We girls can do anything, right, Barbie?” — Barbie advertising slogan, 1985

Introduction
Barbie, throughout her sixty-five year history, has both influenced and reflected western ideas of femininity. To quote M.G. Lord: “Barbie has both shaped and responded to the marketplace, it’s possible to study her as a reflection of American popular cultural values and notions of femininity. Her houses, and friends and clothes provide a window onto the often contradictory demands that the culture has placed upon women” (Lord, 7). Not only does Barbie reflect the contradictory demands and ideals placed on women, as Lord points out, but Barbie has also generated contradictory ideas and analyses. This article considers Barbie and her construction of hyper-femininity in relation to feminist debates, utilising Critical Femininities and queer theory to seek out new meanings for Barbie. It is worth noting that this article discusses Barbie as a figure and cultural construct, both in relation to the Barbie doll line as well as the 2023 film Barbie.
I’m a Barbie Girl
In the throes of 2020’s COVID lockdown I found joy in an unexpected source: Barbie.
Like many, Barbie had a pink-tinted presence in my childhood, with her shiny blonde hair, permanently arched feet, and in place of genitals, flesh coloured plastic underwear embossed with tiny raised letter Bs which I would rub my fingers over. I would dress my Barbies up in whatever tiny clothes I could get my hands on, my tape of Aqua’s Barbie Girl on repeat. My mum once bought me a Bratz doll, whose oversized lips and Y2K fashions couldn’t eclipse Barbie. Bratz dolls felt like the girls in school who would bully me, whilst Barbie felt like a woman I could aspire to be, with her dream house, multitude of careers, and parade of pets. In my heart, Barbie was supreme. However, as my childhood Barbies eventually scattered to various charity shops and storage bins in the attic, my adult life became devoid of tiny plastic heels and hairbrushes.
That is, until 2020. Stuck indoors, on furlough from a retail job I despised, and considering applying for PhD programs but struggling to string together my proposal, I saw her. Celebrating Barbie’s 60th Birthday: Proudly Pink Barbie™. She appears drenched in pink, her pink hair styled into a high ponytail permanently gelled into a satisfying swoop at the end; attached to her pink peplum top sits a rhinestone broach which reads “Barbie”. The Barbie monogram also appears printed on her hot pink pencil skirt and matching pink quilted bag, which sits in the crook of her pink gloved arms. Whilst modern Barbies’ gaze looks straight forward to look kindly upon their owners, Proudly Pink Barbie™ is based on the sculpt of the original 1959 Barbie. As such, her blue eye-shadowed cat-eyed gaze is cast permanently downwards and to the side, her glossed pink lips pouting instead of smiling. Proudly Pink Barbie™ does not perform happiness for the viewer, instead her sidewards glance reads as ennui. It’s as if she knew that in my lockdown solitude I had grown accustomed to wearing Juicy Couture sweatpants and no make up, and she judged me heavily for it. Proudly Pink Barbie™ will always be a better hyper-femme than me, and I’m at peace with that.
Proudly Pink Barbie™ sits perfectly on my living room shelf with her Barbie pals who have joined her over recent years, a cluster of ballgowns, tiny lingerie, striped swimsuits, and a once winking cowgirl whose broken eyes have been fixed. A reminder of the possibilities of hyper-femininity in all its fun, performative, camp, joyous, and powerful forms. My most recent Barbie stands out of her box on the shelf with her new peers, she is Margot Robbie Barbie in her pink cowgirl outfit.
The Multiplicities of Barbie and Her Complicated Relationship to Feminism
Barbie’s (2023) opening monologue reflects on Barbie’s history and the multiplicity of Barbie:

yes, Barbie changed everything. Then, she changed it all again. All of these women are Barbie, and Barbie is all of these women. She might have started out as just a lady in a bathing suit, but she became so much more. She has her own money, her own house, her own car, her own career. Because Barbie can be anything, women can be anything. And this has been reflected back onto the little girls of today in the real world. Girls have grown into women who can achieve everything and anything they set their mind to. Thanks to Barbie all problems of feminism and equal rights have been solved, at least that’s what the Barbies think. (Gerwig)

Whilst ironic in tone, it does consider how Barbie can act as a conduit for empowerment. The multiplicity of Barbie, with her endless careers and multiple houses, friends, and methods of transport, leads to a cacophony of opportunities for play. However, the boundless opportunities and room for creativity within Barbie’s world do not often extend to Barbie’s idea of femininity. Barbie can be everything, but she is very rarely seen without her plastic heels and pink branding. Barbie’s careers are often in flux, but her gendered identity seemingly fits perfectly within her pink box. Whilst it could be, and has been, argued that Barbie’s construction of femininity is limiting, it could also be simultaneously true that Barbie’s hyper-femininity is in itself a feminist statement.
The first Barbie doll debuted a few years before Betty Friedan published The Feminine Mystique, calling attention to “the problem that has no name” (Friedan, 5): the widespread unhappiness of women forced into hegemonic feminine roles with limited opportunities for women in the workforce. Whilst feminine in her appearance, Barbie defied patriarchal roles with her actions. Barbie in her early years allowed young girls and children to dream that they could work any career they wished, even in what was seen as more masculine positions such as astronauts and doctors, could own their own homes without needing to be married, and did not need to sacrifice their femininity in order to succeed. To Barbie, femininity knows no bounds.
To many, however, Barbie’s construction of femininity is perceived as limiting and disempowering. Barbie has been a site for feminist discourse since she made her debut. In 1972, NOW (The National Organisation for Women) staged a protest outside a toy fair in New York, handing out leaflets which stated that “'fashion' dolls such as Barbie, Dawn and Chrissy perpetuated sexual stereotypes by encouraging little girls to see themselves solely as mannequins, sex objects or housekeepers” (New York Times).
Meanwhile, Natasha Walter links the pink-ification of girls' toys such as Barbie to what she sees as the auto-objectification of women, claiming that women are modelling themselves on the dolls they were brought up with. Walter argues that the limiting ideals of femininity as portrayed in dolls such as Barbie both echo and endorse the western feminine beauty standard of cis-gendered, white, skinny, able-bodied, and blonde. Barbie’s caricature of femininity has had an impact on women, as many strive to attain her almost impossible standard of beauty; according to Walter this should not be viewed as an act of empowerment, but rather as giving in to patriarchal ideals.
Whilst many, such as Walter, have argued that Barbie’s construction of femininity has both historically and in recent years been limited in its beauty standards, the notion of Barbie as white, blonde, able-bodied, and thin is not entirely representative of the true diversity of Barbie. Throughout Barbie’s history, Mattel has attempted to diversify both Barbie herself and her line-up of friends; however, these attempts have made a complicated impact, with Mattel at times arguably falling short of truly instilling inclusivity into Barbie. In 1967, Mattel launched Coloured Francie, a darker-complexioned version of their Francie doll. Coloured Francie was Mattel’s first none-white doll in their Barbie line; however, Mattel faced criticism for utilising the same face mold as her caucasian counterpart. A year later Mattel released Christie, their first doll with a face mold based on African American features, whilst in 1980 Mattel released African American and Hispanic Barbie dolls, officially expanding Barbie from being solely white. Since then Barbie has been an array of multiple ethnicities and races. In recent years, Mattel has also expanded her once limiting beauty standard further by introducing dolls such as a ‘curvy’ Barbie in 2016, Barbies with prosthetic limbs and hearing aids in 2018, and a Barbie with Down syndrome in 2023. However, Mattel's forays into introducing dolls of different body types and disabilities have not always succeeded. Seven years after the introduction of the 1990 Americans with Disabilities Act, Mattel realised “Share a Smile Becky”, a friend of Barbie's who came in a hot pink wheelchair. However, Mattel’s first disabled doll was quickly discontinued after consumers realised that Becky was unable to access Barbie’s dream house and accessories.
Despite Mattel’s at times arguably apathetic attempts to diversify Barbie, the cultural notion of Barbie has remained that of white, thin, blonde, and able-bodied. We can see this reflected in the casting of the film Barbie itself: despite a diverse cast of Barbies, our protagonist “stereotypical” Barbie is played by white, thin, blonde, and able-bodied actress Margot Robbie, who describes herself to Kate McKinnon’s Weird Barbie: "I’m Stereotypical Barbie. I’m like the Barbie you think of when someone says, ‘Think of a Barbie.’ That’s me” (Gerwig). As Stereotypical Barbie herself states, despite there now being a cacophony of Barbies available, to many our cultural idea of Barbie remains blonde, white, thin, and able-bodied.
If we are to view Barbie as a pink-tinted reflection of western ideas of femininity, it is no surprise then that Barbie’s beauty standards and our cultural idea of Barbie’s standard of feminine beauty mirrors western beauty standards. However, through reanalysing Barbie’s construction of unbridled hyper-femininity through a lens of Critical Femininities perhaps we can also allow space for readings of Barbie as a site for empowerment, subversion, and joy. Hoskin and Blair describe Critical Femininities as “moving beyond femininity as a patriarchal tool” (Hoskin and Blair, 1): challenging assumptions that femininity is inherently subordinate and a source of disempowerment, they argue instead for “alternative readings of femininity that are both intersectional and liberating” (Hoskin and Blair, 5). Viewing Barbie through a lens of Critical Femininities allows us to see her pink-hued hyper-feminine aesthetics as a representation of high-femme joy, in all her tiny plastic high-heeled, exaggeratedly vibrant make-up, and frilly costumed glory. Whilst many feminist critiques of Barbie raise valid concerns, I would argue that simultaneously if we are to view Barbie’s hyper-femininity as a site for joyous gender expression, instead of as a purely patriarchal tool, we can see the true strength in Barbie’s pink-saturated femininity. By acknowledging the complications and multiplicities of Barbie and allowing space for her to be seen outside of the binary of bad/good feminist, for multiple meanings to coexist perhaps we can seek out new possibilities for Barbie.
“The Epitome of Stupidity and Glamour”: Queer Co-option of Barbie
Another key notion we can utilise in seeking out new possibilities for Barbie is to seek to liberate her from Mattel’s enforced heteronormativity. What is overtly lacking from the Barbie movie as well as many feminist texts on Barbie is her radical ability to act as a conduit for joyous and subversive queer readings. Whilst Barbie as a product manufactured by Mattel has both historically and recently been limited in her construction of femininity, with her largely depicted as skinny, white, and blonde, Barbie as an idea, as a shorthand for the endless possibilities of hyper-femininity and gender play, is so much more.
Erica Rand argues that Mattel’s branding and creation of Barbie perpetuates hegemonic ideas of femininity and heterosexuality, and enforces western beauty standards; however, consumers of Barbie can deviate from Mattel’s demands. Rand highlights how Barbie can be used as a tool to subvert the very values and beauty standards she represents, with consumers creating their own queer, butch, cross-dressing, and dyke Barbies who break the hegemonic and heterosexual mold enforced by Mattel. Rand states that

consumers often took out much of what Mattel put in. But, equally as often, they took out less and added more themselves than common wisdom would suggest. They gave Barbie queer accessories, and they acted as Barbie’s queer accessories to the crime of abetting her escape from the straight context of meaning that Mattel spent millions of dollars to give her. (Rand, 194)

A recent example of the queer co-option of Barbie is drag queen Trixie Mattel. Adopting Mattel as her performance surname, Mattel has utilised Barbie as inspiration for much of her drag persona. Mattel’s exaggerated make up and usage of Barbie fashions as a site of inspiration for her drag looks, such as Golden Dreams Barbie, Winking Western Barbie, and Workin’ Out Barbie, form a queer parody of Barbie which reclaims and subverts Mattel’s (the brand’s) intentions. As well as utilising Barbie as a conduit for drag parody, Mattel is also an avid collector of Barbie and creates YouTube content to present her collection and discuss Barbie history with her audience. Her YouTube series Trixie’s Decades of Dolls sees Mattel discuss key Barbies from the 1960s to 1990s, where Mattel revels in the ridiculous, groundbreaking and consistently high-femme eras of Barbie. Mattel draws attention to moments where Barbie reflects and influences women’s history, as well as calling attention to the impractical, camp, and ridiculous nature of the designs of Barbie over the years. She describes 1990’s Holiday Barbie this way: “I mean nothing is more ridiculous than this gown, and there’s this big floating bang, with blue eye makeup plastered in circles on an orange base. The epitome of stupidity and glamour” (Mattel).
It is clear that Mattel utilises Barbie as a site of personal joy. Mattel serves as a – to quote Rand – “queer accessory to Barbie”, utilising drag to parody and reclaim Barbie as well as utilising her YouTube content to publish her queer readings of Barbie. Mattel’s exaggerated performance of Barbie-inspired hyper-femininity both celebrates Barbie’s legacy and destabilises aspects of Barbie that fall more within patriarchal, normative, and heteronormative spheres. Mattel stands as an example for how Barbie and her complicated representations of femininity can be utilised as a source of empowerment and joy.
Over the course of my research, I have been thinking about my own relationship to Barbie as a queer femme woman, and the legacy that each Barbie that I once held in my chubby childhood fingers, or now place on my living room shelf, has had. Rediscovering Barbie at the age of 26 reaffirmed and set ablaze a core and unwavering belief of mine: that femininity can be fun. I look at my Barbies lined up on my shelf: a parade of hyper-femininities, they call out to me to be as fun as them, as pink, as bright, as bold, as ridiculous. My Barbies show me that femininity can be subversive. That I can express my gender identity through dress-up. That I can love and embrace the colour pink and saturate my life and myself with pink, as an act of joy and gender expression, not as a sign that I’ve given in to patriarchal demands. Barbie means to me the power of hyper-femininity and the endless room for possibilities and multitudes it holds.

Fig. 1: Self-portrait with Barbies, 2023.
Conclusion
Whilst Barbie may be seen as an unrealistic ideal, her construction of exaggerated hyper-femininity has for many served as a conduit for femme self-expression. In her biography Doll Parts, transgender model and performer Amanda Lepore describes how her childhood Barbie dolls were “everything I wanted to be, before I even knew what I wanted” (Lepore, 4). For generations of women, queer people, and femmes alike, Barbie has been a friend, a confidant, a muse: a plastic sculpted figure who sparked within us a desire to explore and play with our own relationships with gender and femininity.
Through we are arguably yet to see an out queer Barbie on our shelves and our screens – although Mattel has released in recent years a series of Inspiring Women Barbie dolls, some of which depict LGBTQ+ women, including actress Laverne Cox – I would like to end by briefly focussing on the queer subtext in Barbie’s ending. We see Barbie leave Barbieland with her creator, Ruth Handler – played by Rhea Perlman – and decide that she wants to no longer be an idea, but instead to be a human: “ I want to do the imagining, I don’t wanna be the idea” (Gerwig). Barbie’s journey through the conflicting push and pull of patriarchy and feminism has led to her longing for subjecthood. Ultimately, Barbie realises that she does not need permission from her creator to be human, she can simply “discover I am”. Barbie’s self-discovery and leap into humanity, transforming from a thing that is made to a woman, reflects many queer people’s journeys in realising that they do not need permission to live their authentic lives. Barbie’s ending serves as an ode to those who stepped into the unknown and embraced the multitude of possibilities available to them. “Take my hands. Now, close your eyes. Now feel.”
References
Friedan, Betty. The Feminine Mystique. London: Penguin Classics, 1963.
Gerwig, Greta, dir. Barbie. Warner Bros Pictures, 2023.
Hoskin, Rhea Ashley, and Karen L. Blair. “Critical Femininities: A ‘New’ Approach to Gender Theory.” Psychology & Sexuality 13.1 (2022): 1-8. <https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/19419899.2021.1905052>.
Lepore, Amanda. Doll Parts. New York: Regan Arts, 2017.
Lord, M.G. Forever Barbie: The Unauthorised Biography of a Real Doll. New York: William Morrow, 1994.
Mattel, Trixie. Trixie’s Decades of Dolls: The 90s. 2020. 11 Apr. 2024 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrJh4fF4RE>.
Rand, Erica. Barbie’s Queer Accessories. Duke UP, 1995.
New York Times. "Feminists Protest 'Sexist' Toys in Fair." 29 Feb. 1972. 11 Apr. 2023 <https://www.nytimes.com/1972/02/29/archives/feminists-protest-sexist-toys-in-fair.html>.
Walter, Natasha. Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism. London: Virago, 2010.