The ugliness of Barbie
I was really lucky as a child. I owned over 100 Barbie Dolls. Every time my dad returned from his travels to a different part of the world, he would bring home a brand-new Barbie doll. A limited-edition piece, exclusive to that country. My favourites were the South African Barbie Doll, the Spanish Barbie doll, the Japanese Barbie doll, and of course, the traditional all-American Barbie Doll. Her tiny waist, luscious hair, sleek figure and smiling face all represented a vision I had for my own life, a dream I held for a future version of Sanya.
I spent many evenings with my Barbie Dolls. They were precious to me, and I used to display them on the shelves of my bedroom like they were my most prized possessions. There was something about how perfect they were (perhaps so different from actual reality) that I adored. And who can forget the beautiful outfits and accessories they came with?!
I grew up in Mumbai, but I travelled a lot as a child. I was exposed to many different cartoons, TV ads and magazines from an early age, mostly during my trips to the US. Naturally, I was drawn to Barbie Dolls. They represented beauty in a way I had never seen before. My impression of what constituted ‘beautiful’ was reinforced when I would switch on the TV to catch my favourite shows after school. The TV commercials portrayed beauty as being ‘fair and lovely’, and to me, Barbie was the epitome of fairness. In addition to that, it also felt like women who resembled Barbie were more lovable and acceptable.
Little did I realise that my obsession with this innocent plastic figure would plague my mind and convince me into believing that who I am, was not good enough. My interest in Barbies was subconsciously causing me more harm than good. Every time I picked up that Barbie doll, and wished to be in her shoes, I was saying no to myself. I was secretly hoping to look like her, with beautiful fair skin, a sleek figure and shining hair.
I remember looking at myself in the mirror as a child and feeling confused. I looked nothing like Barbie. I looked like the opposite of her. I had brown skin, oily hair and a round figure. Naturally, I was dissatisfied with what I saw, because at every stage of maturity, I was silently comparing myself to Barbie. I automatically associated myself with being ugly and formed a pretty unhealthy relationship with myself. I was living in a state of non-acceptance for who I was and what I looked like.
This continued in my teenage years. Secretly, I despised every female in high school who was tall and skinny. I felt they had an advantage over me. If they were white, blonde, tall and skinny, they had the ultimate advantage. They looked like Barbie, so their experience of life must be pretty darn amazing.
Ignoring the natural build of my body, I looked longingly at skinny girls, wishing I could look the same. My friends and family would often question my motive for this obsession. When they asked me why I wanted to be skinny, I would say, 'nothing feels as good as skinny feels'. As I got older, I questioned where I learnt this and realised how it all came down to childhood conditioning. We’re all prone to conditioning as children, however, I never realised how the simple act of owning and playing with our favourite dolls could create an internal atmosphere of self-loathing.
To this day, I still experience the impact of this conditioning: feeling surprised when a model from Victoria’s Secret, or a celebrity modelling for Prada, shares her struggles and expresses her humanness. I always thought that the prettiest girls were the happiest. Seriously, if you have a figure like Barbie, how can you not be happy?
After struggling with obesity for years, I learnt that thin girls have problems too. In New Zealand alone, as many as one in four teenage girls can suffer from the symptoms of an eating disorder. I realised that just because a woman is thin and pretty, it doesn’t mean that she’ll be safeguarded by life and all the challenges it throws at her.
Barbie conditioned me into believing that there was only one way to look in order to be seen as beautiful. The lack of representation of brown skin and curvaceous figures seen in Barbie Dolls, convinced this little 5-year-old girl that she was not beautiful. The impact of seeing herself as less than led to low self-esteem, resulting in bullying and an overall painful experience of being a woman.
Now, I’m not solely blaming Barbie dolls for this. They’re simply little plastic dolls made for kids, and I’m sure the intention behind these dolls was not to create a generation of young women who feel less than. But the way we see certain things plays a huge role too. There’s a reason that models aren’t a size 10, and that there’s a shit ton of photoshopping used on individuals on the fronts of magazines. There’s a huge gap between reality and fantasy.
Somehow, we’re convinced that if we don’t look like the Barbie doll or the woman on the front of the magazine that we’re not attractive. How can we possibly keep up with the standards of a doll and the photoshopped image of a woman, which doesn’t actually look like her?
These issues aren’t new in any shape or form. This isn’t the first time we’re experiencing this. This has been going on for years. By sharing my experience, I hope that I can inspire you to question the impact of what you consume, thinking back to the time when you were a child, and where it all started
We’re not born thinking that we’re not good enough or unattractive in any way. We learn this over time as the world reflects back to us what’s ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and what’s attractive and unattractive.
Barbie dolls are beautiful, but the way they made me feel was anything but. I now have the chance as an adult to question the intentions behind why movies, books, magazines, and toys are made to represent only ONE type of shape, figure, and skin colour.
I’m Indian. I have brown skin, black hair, and curves that exceed the tiny waist of any Barbie Doll. I want to see women like myself represented in mainstream media. But that’s not all. I want to look in the mirror and see my own unique beauty and be reassured that just because I don’t look like that person in a magazine, I am not any less beautiful. And I know that it’s partly my responsibility to un-learn those deeply embedded ideas and build a more loving and accepting relationship with myself.
Today, as I look at myself in the mirror, I see my beauty. I see my curves. I see those stretch marks that are my battle scars from putting on so much weight and losing so much weight. My body has been through so much, and I can't help but fall more and more in love with it every day. This realisation didn’t come overnight. But once I saw the truth, I knew I could no longer allow myself to be impacted by ideas about beauty that were clearly not even mine. I was simply moulded by society and influenced by my surroundings. Due to this, I feel extreme compassion and love towards the younger version of myself, and all the other young females that have experienced this internal wounding.
There’s nothing beautiful about the impact that Barbie dolls have on young girls. But if we’re prepared to do what it takes to build a healthy relationship with our bodies, and more importantly, with our thoughts and ideas about our bodies, we can all take this so-called ugliness that we’ve been influenced by and transform it into something beautiful.
Words — Sanya Minocha
Image — Barbie’s first commercial
