Barbie (almost) smashes the patriarchy
and Charles Ingalls (kind of) visits me
AUDIO VERSION IN MY OWN SULTRY VOICE RIGHT HERE
A recent medical procedure gave me access to some serious pain meds, which I didn’t really need but the doctor insisted I take home ‘just in case.’ On the third night after surgery, I was feeling some discomfort and was a little worried about sleeping, so I popped a pill.
I dreamed I was trying to sleep in a haunted house where Michael Landon (aka Charles Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie) was also staying, although not with me, although I wouldn’t have been opposed to sleeping with Pa.
Anyway, in my dream, I got scared and left my bedroom but couldn’t walk because I found myself being FLUNG across the house like a frisbee by an evil poltergeist and being struck by all kinds of objects that were also being flung about. I woke up in a cold sweat, flailing my arms and screaming MR. MICHAEL! MR. MICHAEL! while three (real) dogs stared at me with no small degree of concern.
In this way, I think I’ve confirmed that I’ll never get addicted to oxy, so whew.
Still, the dream shook me. Firstly, I momentarily thought my house was haunted and felt compelled to fix myself a piece of toast to regain my grounding. Also, I didn’t like how I was looking for Michael Landon to save me in the haunted house. I mean, Pa was good with an ax and all, but he had no experience with phantom forces. I’m more of a witch than he is. Was. RIP.
Two days later, I saw the Barbie movie. Yeah, I did. You should see it, too. It is the most entertaining, sardonic, clever, pink take on feminism I’ve encountered in a while. How the director, Greta Gerwig, convinced Mattel to back a project that patently mocks Mattel is astonishing. Also, there is not a single redeeming male character in the movie.
Basic plot: Barbie lives in Barbieland with all of the other Barbies ever created, where life is perfect and the Barbies are adored by all the Kens ever made. Following a medical emergency (her feet go flat and she can’t wear her high heels), Barbie and Ken are thrust into The Real World, where Barbie learns, much to her extreme consternation, that her mere existence has not, after all, led to justice and equality for women worldwide. Ken learns about swagger and the patriarchy.
Chaos ensues.
There is lots to love about this movie. The dialogue, the campiness, Ryan Gosling’s total commitment to being the douchiest douchebag ever - but I think what I love most is Barbie’s stark incredulity at the notion that now, in 2023, women still have to fight for what they deserve in terms of health care, financial equity, justice, and even government representation - because ME! I’m incredulous, too!
Yesterday, I came across a perfect Barbie meme. A talented snarky social influencer man who goes by @TechnicallyRon read some of the actual negative reviews of the movie written by irate men and used them to create fake mock-up poster advertisements for the movie, and now @TechnicallyRon is my hero even though’s he’s a him. The comments are a perfect setup for why this movie works as an iconic feminist statement:
The feminist agenda will kill us all. How? Is it because women have started the vast majority of war and destruction on earth? Or because twice as many women as men own guns? Wait, that’s not right. It must be Opposite Day.
They won’t be happy until we are all gay. This is silly. We need straight men, of course. At least for a little while. Then they can turn gay. I mean, we can turn gay. We women. Fine, we’d like more gay people, okay?
An alienating, dangerous and perverse film. Well, there is a scene in which the Barbies conspire to use men’s general narcissistic tendencies to regain control of their own belongings and fight the burgeoning patriarchy. So this one’s true.
A pink acid trip that feels like being slapped by lots of confusing attractive people. This one sounds oddly specific. How hard were the slaps, sir?
The Barbie movie will certainly spur yet another irritating debate about what feminism means, resulting in scores of women coming forward to declare that they aren’t feminists. Also irritating. Because being a feminist means advocating for equal rights for women. This doesn’t mean women should be like men. It means women should have the same rights as men. A feminist doesn’t have to wear Birkenstocks and Smash the Patriarchy t-shirts (note to self: unless she wants to). She can wear foot-deforming heels and have dinner on the table every night at 6 p.m. for her manly man. But that should be her choice.
Like the Barbies in Barbieland, I am master of my own domain, queen of my estate, beholden to no man, and dependent on myself for my own happiness and well-being. My house isn’t haunted, although I can burn sage easily enough, and I can say with confidence that I will never wear heels again. This, my lifestyle, is part-strength, part-privilege. Not everyone lives with such freedoms.
So many straight men will see this movie - or even not see the movie - and judge it as hate-mongering, when what they should do is see it and think about how hard most women have to work in order just to reach the starting block of men.
In one of my favorite Little House on the Prairie episodes, Charles and the girls go on a camping trip and leave Caroline home to bake pies alone (her choice!). Caroline cuts her leg and it gets infected, and she saves her own life by sterilizing a knife in the fire and cutting open her leg so the infection doesn’t leach into her bloodstream and kill her.
When she doesn’t show up to the picnic as scheduled, Charles rushes home in his wagon going four horses an hour to save the day only to find that Caroline HAS STABBED HER OWN LEG AND SAVED HERSELF because she’s a badass prairie woman.
Charles Ingalls/Michael Landon was a good guy to have around, and I wouldn’t kick him out of my house, okay? But here’s the truth: Caroline didn’t need him. And neither do I.
PS The oxy is gone from my house so don’t AT me.
I WANT that chicken farmer Barbie. I fall down when I wear heels. And I don't need no man!
Now I HAFTA go see that movie!
What an excellently constructed piece - esp. the end- brava!