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I was never a Barbie girl, but I definitely understand what it means to live in a Barbie world.
Growing up in the '80s in a feminist household, I didn't have a Barbie, but I knew what they were and what they represented. My friends had Barbies and I would play with their dolls and their Barbie-pink Dreamhouses. The impossibly proportioned 11.5" plastic embodiment of unattainable female beauty standards loomed over my childhood, along with the thin, white actors and supermodels of the era.
Barbie serving as an aspirational ideal for girls was in sharp contrast to our household, where my sister and I wore our boy cousins' hand-me-down jeans and shirts, and were encouraged to use tools, dig for geoducks, play in the dirt and build things.
But dominant society was ever present. Diet culture reigned in the media and unlike today, there was no social media and no countermovement of body positivity, racial and size inclusive casting or queer visibility to disrupt the mainstream narrative.
So it was against that backdrop that when I heard there was going to be a live-action Barbie movie, I shrugged. But as the buzz started to grow and I learned Greta Gerwig was directing, I became more curious. How could a staunchly feminist director like Gerwig tackle the contradictions of a doll that represents so much of retrograde sexism?
After watching the film last week, I realized she did it by addressing it head on.