Come on Barbie, dismantle patriarchy
Come on Barbie, dismantle patriarchy
Patriarchy is bad for everyone, including boys and men, so why the "anti-men" talk?
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In an ideal world, I would have seen Barbie with a bunch of women that I love—young and old—dressed in fuschia and toting a life-size Ryan Gosling Ken cut-out (which my sister and her friends actually did).
But Barbie had the audacity of setting her release date in late July, in the middle of the summer childcare desert, and I’m a mom living in Real World, not Barbieland. So I went with my partner, Chris, because we had a blessed afternoon off work while day camp was still going and we literally ran to meet each other at a matinee. I was a little sweaty and still wearing my monochrome work clothes (I basically went as America Ferrera’s character without meaning to, which seems right.)
I didn’t love playing with Barbies as a kid—and I grew up with most of the anti-Barbie sentiment that sees her as a vehicle of female body dysmorphia. But dammit if I didn’t choke up a tiny bit when I saw the movie trailer where Barbie steps out of her heels—and ding!—her feet remain perfectly frozen on tip-toes. It’s a clever inside joke, but also, here was a signal that something that girls like and recognize—that only girls are supposed to like and recognize—is being winked at and celebrated on a big screen and, for once, not being mocked.
It said: this is about us, this is for us. It’s coded for those of us who played with dolls, and it’s not apologizing for it. And yet, one of the things that struck me most about the film is how quickly it segues from dolls and girlish childhood nostalgia right into a direct critique of patriarchy.
It was bizarrely refreshing and powerful to hear the word “patriarchy” dropped so candidly and so often in a blockbuster film. Like somehow this was something that we needed, and now that it’s out there it just feels so—freeing? Why were we being so subtle before with feminist themes when we could have just gotten “patriarchy” off our chests so much sooner?
As I watched, suddenly it felt like the critique of capitalist patriarchy that was never available to me until I read icons like bell hooks in grad school were just…entering the collective lexicon in real time. Tween girls and young women were absorbing it while they were just munching popcorn and wearing pink scrunchies. (It's not a little kid’s movie, IMO, by the way, despite some people insisting that it should be just because it’s about a girl’s toy—an argument that no one seems compelled to make about Transformers.)
It’s not a perfect movie—but I loved it. And, if nothing else making “patriarchy” a household word in one pink fell swoop is a gift of its own. What I do wish is that the film could do the same thing for boys and young men, who are much less likely to see it.
My partner, who saw Barbie with me, said, “I think every man should watch this movie,” and it took a while for him to process it. There was a lot of cheering in the theater during America Ferrera’s now-famous monologue about how impossible it is to be a woman and live up to contradicting expectations and double standards (even an “ideal” woman like Margot Robbie—I mean Barbie).
My partner felt compelled to squeeze my hand in solidarity during the monologue scene. And although I thought it was great, the content of the speech is well-worn territory for me at this point; it’s the content of half the memes that I see in my 40’s-lady-feminist life.
But you know what felt fresher to me, and most poignant to my husband? The message about how much patriarchy also negatively impacts Ken/men.
Every woman that I talk to about Barbie loves it and also wishes the writers/director had done something slightly different, or pushed something further. Here’s mine: I wish it had been even more explicit about how patriarchy is damaging for men, too.
I have been thinking about this because I have been reading sociologist Michael Kimmel’s work on this subject. Kimmel*, who specializes in gender studies, points out that that though we tend to think of masculinity as innate, it’s not.
Masculinity is not something that one is born with, it’s not biological—it’s a construct created by culture. The current American construction of masculinity is one that is impossible for the vast majority of men to live up to: “We have constructed the rules of manhood so that only the tiniest fraction of men can meet them,” he writes, and the result is that men feel constantly insecure and miserable.
American masculinity is constituted not so much by what it is, but what it is not. It’s a construct that is defined by excluding “others,” Kimmel says, the “other” being foremost women, and also nonwhite men, nonnative born men, homosexual men, and even men who are not wealthy. “It’s a tragic tale of striving to live up to impossible ideals of success, leading to chronic terrors of emasculation and emotional emptiness.”
Kimmel continues:
“We are under the constant careful scrutiny of other men. Other men watch us, rank us, grant our acceptance into the realm of manood. Manhood is demonstrated for other men’s approval…our real fear is of being ashamed or humiliated in front of other men, or being dominated by stronger men. We are afraid of other men.
Failure to embody the rules [of manhood] is a source of men’s confusion and pain..it is unrealizable for any man. But we keep trying, vainly, to measure up. American masculinity is a relentless test.”
The cost of failing the relentless test? Kimmel quotes Erving Goffman: “Any male who fails to qualify in any one of these ways is likely to view himself as…unworthy, incomplete, and inferior.”
You can imagine the previous as a Ken speech, right? A foil to America Ferrera’s much-loved monologue about impossible double standards for women, but the Ken/men version (“Never fall down, never fail, never show fear…” )
I can imagine a heartbroken Ken-ologue railing against the impossible expectations of masculinity under American patriarchy:
Have a family but spend all your time away from them.
Devote yourself to work, a male-dominated place where you constantly pit yourself against other men.
Devalue women—as the embodiments of traits you have learned to despise in yourself (tenderness, nurturing)—even as you desperately crave their love.
Live in constant fear of shame and violence so that you remain silent when women, gays, minorities, are being harassed or bashed, even if you betray yourself and loved ones to do it.
Maintain a manly front at all times. Be vigilant about how you dress. How you talk. How you hold your hands. How you fold your legs.
Don’t be a bully, but whatever you do don’t be a “sissy.”
Seek attention from women to burnish your image, not for real affection or connection. Those are not things that real men need.
This is the paradox of patriarchy: Although as a group men hold nearly all the power in our culture, often they do not feel powerful themselves.
Men hold 71% of the seats in Congress and 75% of the Senate.
Men run 90.5% of Fortune 500 companies. Men hold just under 70% of wealth in the U.S.
Men comprise 83% of the leadership of the largest international media corporations.
Of the 116 U.S. Supreme Court justices, 110 (94.8 percent) have been men.
All Supreme Court justices were males until 1981 when Reagan appointed Sandra Day O’Connor. 1981!!
Men hold 100% of the Executive Branch power in this country to this day and since always.
And this is to say nothing of state legislatures, lower courts, partners of law firms, boards of directors, church leadership, heads of school boards and hospital administrators and university presidents and on and on—which tend to look a lot like Will Ferrell’s all-male (overwhelmingly white) board of directors at Mattel.
And yet, men’s feelings are not the feelings of the powerful. American men are struggling with high rates of depression and feelings of isolation—in the U.S. men die of suicide 3 to 4 times more frequently than women. Clearly the conditions of American masculinity are not great for them, either.
“Men are in power as a group and do not feel powerful as individuals,” writes Kimmel. “Men were raised to believe themselves entitled to feel that power, but do not feel it. No wonder men are frustrated and angry.”
(Light Barbie spoilers follow)
We get a glimpse of the confusion and disempowerment Kimmel describes in “I’m Just Ken,” Ryan Gosling’s adorable song/dance lament (that I have watched approx. 1,000 times online):
Cause I'm just Ken
Anywhere else, I'd be a ten
Where I see love, she sees a friend
What will it take for her to see the man behind the tan and fight for me?
[Verse 2]
I wanna know what it’s like to love
To be the real thing
Is it a crime? Am I not hot when I'm in my feelings?
Does Ken really care for Barbie, or does he just seek her attention for his own validation and to burnish his image with the other Kens?
Does he love her, or merely feel entitled to her devotion because he believes himself to be attractive (enough) and inherently superior?
Does he know the difference? Is he allowed, under the strictures of American masculinity, to find out?
(Lines like “All my life been so polite/but I’ll sleep alone tonight” have strong incel vibes.)
The film teases out some of these points about the harm patriarchy does to men—for example, patriarchal Kendom fails not just because the Barbies outsmart the guys, but because the guys are busy dance-fighting each other (the “Ken War” is not Kens vs. Barbies, but strictly Kens vs. Kens).
These scenes are probably too subtle for a lot of us to catch. Especially when we have all been breathing patriarchy and it’s hard to see it as anything but normalized, even as Barbie satirizes it in ways that make it painfully obvious. Or maybe it’s hard to catch because Ryan Gosling is just too hot and funny and adorable even when he’s cripplingly insecure, dammit.
Certain right-wing male commentators and alleged grown men apparently didn’t pick up these clues in the film, as one hate-watched the film and burned Barbie dolls in a 45-minute rant against the film—and several complained that it was “anti-men.”
Let’s pause for a minute to appreciate that the men in the film—including Ken and “bad guy” Will Ferrell—are portrayed in a way that is much more generous than these real life man-children. Apparently “Ken Shapiro” and his ilk didn’t absorb the message that they are Kenough.
When my husband and I talked about “missed opportunities” in the film to drive home points about how damaging patriarchy is boys and men, he thought I was overthinking it. “It’s not about Ken,” he said. “That’s the point.” And he’s right—the power of the film is that it de-centers men.
Still, I hope that all of us, including the Kens out there, get the message that patriarchy sucks for everyone. “Relief [for men] will come only from a politics of inclusion, from standing up for equality and justice, not by running away,” writes Kimmel.
Here’s hoping that Ken doesn’t run away because there are not easy answers that anyone else can give him—much less the Barbies who he, uh, tried to turn into servants while stealing their dreamhouses.
Ken, get thyself free.
*Fun fact: Years after writing this piece, “Masculinity as Homophobia,” Michael Kimmel retired from academia suddenly when he was accused of sexual harassment by his grad students. Toxic masculinity is hard to kick, y’all!
MATRIARCHY REPORT is written by Lane Anderson and Allison Lichter.
Lane Anderson is a writer, journalist, and Clinical Associate Professor at NYU who has won several awards for her writing on inequality and family social issues. She has an MFA from Columbia University. She was raised in Utah and is based in New York City with her partner and young daughter.
Allison Lichter is a journalism professor at The New School and worked for many years at New York Public Radio and at the Wall Street Journal as a producer and editor. She was born and raised in Queens, and lives in Brooklyn with her partner and daughter.
Your description of the "Ken-ologue" describing how men suffer at the hands of the patriarchy is just brilliant. ("Devalue women—as the embodiments of traits you have learned to despise in yourself (tenderness, nurturing)—even as you desperately crave their love.") And I LOVE that your students were annoyed that Ken feels entitled to Barbie's affection! It's not our job to figure out how to help men out of the patriarchy, but it's all of our work to dismantle it.
Loved this! I think my favorite moment in the film that nods to how patriarchy hurts men is when Ken flounders at the end as he’s faced with the idea that he will have to figure out a way to define himself as something other than Barbie’s mate. He’s sort of delighted and relieved but also terrified.