Many women as bloggers, journalists, or critics have recently been labelling actress and musician Zooey Deschanel as "too girly", behaving and dressing as if she is still a little girl and complying to the idea of a perfect woman by being flirty and pretty and a human connotation of cupcakes and rainbows. However, I am in complete disagreement with this rather unfair judgement of a talented and intelligent young woman who is no way deserving of the type of criticism she's beginning to receive from fellow females. Women writing for feminist publications have argued that she simply isn't helping with the fight for equality, that she just plays the same sweet and innocent characters in every movie and continues to like sparkles and unicorns even in her early 30s. Zooey is often criticised for being 'type cast' into roles that closely resemble the archetypical 1950s woman. They must have been watching different films to me because I certainly haven't ever noticed this.
I admit Deschanel often plays a quirky part, especially in new sitcom New Girl, but I don't believe this is any reflection of her acting ability and in fact I view it in quite the opposite way. I believe she has acted incredibly well in a lot of her work and, whilst many of her characters tend to be quirky and adorable, I find it hard to find comparisons between each one. I don't watch '500 Days of Summer' and recognise Summer as being irritatingly similar to Jess Day in New Girl because they're not, and I think this is almost solely down to Zooey's acting talent.
I find it odd that so many women dislike her for being cooky and cute and judge her quite unjustly for being apparently different to them. Why do they care if she's seen wearing floaty skirts and girly dresses quite often? I could wear floaty skirts all day and just float around all over the place, I often do, it doesn't make me "less feminist" it just makes me me. Because feminism is all about choice, and if women who slag off Zooey claim they believe this then why are they condemning her choices? They don't know her. I don't know her but at least I don't judge her for being, well, for being who she decides to portray herself as.
I don't think she's even close to this "girly and flirty and pathetic" persona she's been labelled with. I believe from interviews and from her own work that she's as talented and as intelligent and as aware of feminism as these women are and still chooses to look "adorable" too. She's never struck me as being arrogant with the fame she has risen to from her work, or that she promotes herself purely on her looks. Are we now attacking women who are beautiful because being that way is antifeminist? Who is anyone to judge a woman who is clearly very smart and talented for her image? In fact, Zooey recently told Glamour magazine something that has become a quote doing the rounds of the Internet as an inspirational message. She said, "I want to be a fucking feminist and wear a fucking Peter Pan collar. So fucking what?" which I think beautifully sums up my point. She proves that she's not the woman everyone thought they could mess with, that she doesn't care how she dresses and that she knows it doesn't somehow effect her beliefs of feminism and equality. Why should it?
Zooey co-founded an entertainment website/blog for women to share creative, funny and independent pieces where they weren't going to be pushed behind blokey men who laugh when the word 'boobies' is said like on LadBible. The website is http://hellogiggles.com/, would you judge a woman's mental capacity and involvement in feminism for that?
I don't understand why feminism has actually started to take on a new stereotype, a group of elitists who create this image for themselves that makes them look kind of obnoxious. They appear to have this snobbery about how other women who call themselves feminists behave when it's not the same as their middle class fashion adorned group. Going back to a previous blog post of mine about playing with Barbies and baby dolls didn't effect who I am today, why should women who cut of Barbie's head and flushed it down the toilet be considered more feminist than me? Just like wearing a Peter Pan collar doesn't make Zooey Deschanel any less of a feminist than the women who are criticising her.
If feminism is defined by being about choice, then we should try to refrain from condemning any man or woman's choices for how their image is portrayed by the public. I think arguing against Zooey Deschanel is a very poor and weak argument to make, and it isn't going to get us anywhere. There are far more important and real issues to be dealing with than to be slagging off another woman's dress sense. I don't see Zooey Deschanel as stupid and ignorant and just a silly little woman who doesn't know any better, I see her as a very talented, very clever, unbelievably beautiful woman who I wouldn't be exaggerating when I said she was one of my idols. Because I do believe that she is. She's badass and ridiculously adorable, why shouldn't I look up to her for being completely who she wants to be? Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?
Thursday, 31 January 2013
Thursday, 24 January 2013
Poem: To cease to write.
Should I ever cease to put my pen on paper
and write
then I will have come down with the flu
or have lost my sight.
For when words cannot flow like water
in streams
then I must have amnesia and have forgotten
my dreams.
Because, I only dream of words
and of writing
and it would be an awful shame to stop
like a bird unable to sing.
If I ever cease to put my pen on paper
and write
then I must have fallen to eternal sleep
and lost life's fight.
and write
then I will have come down with the flu
or have lost my sight.
For when words cannot flow like water
in streams
then I must have amnesia and have forgotten
my dreams.
Because, I only dream of words
and of writing
and it would be an awful shame to stop
like a bird unable to sing.
If I ever cease to put my pen on paper
and write
then I must have fallen to eternal sleep
and lost life's fight.
Thursday, 17 January 2013
Guns. And why I hate them.
When I think of guns I don't think of safety or of reassurance, I think of the violence and the misery they bring to so many of us. I've only ever held a gun once, at an adventure holiday aiming at paper targets, and even then I felt a little uneasy about holding the potential weapon. I felt so uncomfortable knowing that in my hands I held the potential power to kill or seriously injure another being. Granted I knew nothing about aiming and shooting but the power it possessed was an uneasy and nasty one. I didn't understand why people would use these for fun, why having such a head start with the weapon and aiming it at helpless animals was considered a sport. I knew for certain that if I kept a gun in my house I wouldn't feel safe, I would feel restless that such a violent object lay somewhere near me, that I owned such a thing. What a horrible thought, that with this thing you could easily, heartlessly and quickly end someone's life. That by owning a gun, you have the potential to play God. How utterly terrifying.
Which is why, and I say this with unfaltering confidence, I am in full support of Obama's attempt at changing the laws of owning guns in the USA. The Connecticut school shooting was just tip of the iceberg in convincing almost the rest of the world that such casual ownership and sale of weaponry was a terrible and fatal mistake. The fact that in America it is easier to buy a gun than to have health insurance is surely a twisted statistic and an ironic view of priorities in the USA. Conservative Americans claim it to be the land of the free, but how free would you feel if anyone had the right to possess a dangerous weapon and you couldn't afford to be treated if you got shot? To me, that sounds extremely condemning.
I would feel safer in the knowledge that those who decided to own a gun had been checked and licensed and were more unlikely to go on a killing spree of innocent people than to know that I could buy the weapon if I so wished. I think that the 'right' to own a gun is quite frankly a very foolish right, you are essentially giving people the go ahead to play around with life, choose who may die. I simply find it a frightening thought, that people even feel they need this access to killing machines to feel secure. I personally feel that if I was in a situation when someone had broken into the house or put me in some kind of danger I wouldn't hesitate about killing them or not, because I just wouldn't do it. I would find another way around it because ending someone's life, no matter who they were, would be an unbearable thing to do. It is in no way my right to cause somebody's death, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did.
What kind of a person doesn't question killing a human being? Independent of whether you are in a life or death situation yourself I think you'd be more likely to do damage to your mental wellbeing if you made the decision to take another's life than you would be physically hurt in not doing so. So why would one fight for the right to have this horrible decision and to carry on the higher potential for more ghastly events like the school shooting? I do not normally condemn another person's right to make their own opinion known and to have that opinion but in this situation I believe that those clinging onto the Second Amendment are quite simply wrong. The people such as those trying to get Piers Morgan deported are to me exactly the type of person you wouldn't trust in anyway shape or form with a gun in any situation. To be frank, they appear in interviews to often have a screw loose, to be one sandwich short of a picnic, which is not giving me total reassurance that they are making the right decision in fighting for this right.
I am supporting President Obama in his decision to reevaluate the laws about the possession of guns because I believe them to be a great threat in the wrong hands, or quite often in any hands at all. I am not American, and I do not live in the USA but I believe that for the welfare of the citizens there this conservative view of such weaponry must be reviewed. So you can stick your Second Amendment, dear traditionalist, right up where the sun don't shine. Because it would be a safer world for everyone if we had a gun free nation to follow by.
Which is why, and I say this with unfaltering confidence, I am in full support of Obama's attempt at changing the laws of owning guns in the USA. The Connecticut school shooting was just tip of the iceberg in convincing almost the rest of the world that such casual ownership and sale of weaponry was a terrible and fatal mistake. The fact that in America it is easier to buy a gun than to have health insurance is surely a twisted statistic and an ironic view of priorities in the USA. Conservative Americans claim it to be the land of the free, but how free would you feel if anyone had the right to possess a dangerous weapon and you couldn't afford to be treated if you got shot? To me, that sounds extremely condemning.
I would feel safer in the knowledge that those who decided to own a gun had been checked and licensed and were more unlikely to go on a killing spree of innocent people than to know that I could buy the weapon if I so wished. I think that the 'right' to own a gun is quite frankly a very foolish right, you are essentially giving people the go ahead to play around with life, choose who may die. I simply find it a frightening thought, that people even feel they need this access to killing machines to feel secure. I personally feel that if I was in a situation when someone had broken into the house or put me in some kind of danger I wouldn't hesitate about killing them or not, because I just wouldn't do it. I would find another way around it because ending someone's life, no matter who they were, would be an unbearable thing to do. It is in no way my right to cause somebody's death, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did.
What kind of a person doesn't question killing a human being? Independent of whether you are in a life or death situation yourself I think you'd be more likely to do damage to your mental wellbeing if you made the decision to take another's life than you would be physically hurt in not doing so. So why would one fight for the right to have this horrible decision and to carry on the higher potential for more ghastly events like the school shooting? I do not normally condemn another person's right to make their own opinion known and to have that opinion but in this situation I believe that those clinging onto the Second Amendment are quite simply wrong. The people such as those trying to get Piers Morgan deported are to me exactly the type of person you wouldn't trust in anyway shape or form with a gun in any situation. To be frank, they appear in interviews to often have a screw loose, to be one sandwich short of a picnic, which is not giving me total reassurance that they are making the right decision in fighting for this right.
I am supporting President Obama in his decision to reevaluate the laws about the possession of guns because I believe them to be a great threat in the wrong hands, or quite often in any hands at all. I am not American, and I do not live in the USA but I believe that for the welfare of the citizens there this conservative view of such weaponry must be reviewed. So you can stick your Second Amendment, dear traditionalist, right up where the sun don't shine. Because it would be a safer world for everyone if we had a gun free nation to follow by.
Thursday, 10 January 2013
A letter to my future self.
Dear Mollie,
I am writing to remind you of your teenage years and to hope, oh so desperately hope, that life has become a little bit easier. Because although your life is happy and fun at this time there are many, many things to be worrying about. And worry you do well.
I don't know if you remember, but at this time in your life the future seems a very long and very unlikely place to imagine. There is still a multitude of public examinations to get through before even thinking of university or anything remotely interesting and cool. Seeing past these exams and into a life where everyday is not plagued with homework or revision or the tense feeling of knowing that hard work is ahead is extremely difficult. Therefore, at this moment any life that involves any of my wildest hopes and dreams is a far, far away idea that I can only wish very hard for. I feel as if, at this point, the best job I could ever have is working in Waitrose. Not even a super indie and cool job as a waitress in Harris & Hoole down the road is an option right now, because not only are you not old enough but you are certain that with your luck they will not deem you hipster enough to work there. Not hipster enough. Imagine that. I don't know what is scarier, that you actually day dream about wearing indie clothing and serving fabulous coffees to customers with leather messenger bags and MacBooks and brown, expensive brogues, or the knowledge that no one will even employ you to babysit.
I sincerely hope, therefore, that you are not still waiting for mothers to call and ask you to look after their children but are working with some brilliantly cool people writing excellently quirky and intelligent things. Any things.
On a more trivial note, I also want to remind you that as a fifteen year old girl most boys seem to be irritatingly uninterested. Fortunately, however, you have no interest in these male peers either because the overwhelming majority of them are lanky, spotty, awkward, immature, and hopelessly tragic. Please, future self, do tell me that by the time these boys grow up they improve at least slightly. And please say that you eventually get past the stage of only being able to be the token girl holding hands with a boy who still watches Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and relates every part of his life to COD. It would be disastrous if in the future you still settled under the category of singletons because of your uneventful teen years.
Oh, future Mollie, I just desperately wish that your life is a little simpler now you've become a fully grown, fully functioning adult. That you do not cry at everything remotely happy or sad because of your fragile hormonal state. That you have your own income and finally understand what a mortgage is. That you have seen a lot of the world, all of the cities you've always longed to go to. That you adore whatever career you have, and you achieved what you wished for now. That you speak fluent French, and maybe even live in Paris. That you wear devastatingly cool clothes and navigate around London with such ease like all those beautiful women you saw as a girl. That you have friends who make your stomach ache with laughter.
That you are happy, that you are safe, that you are peaceful. And most importantly, that you have found love. First love, hopeless love, and love everywhere you go.
So, Mollie, I can only hope that how ever bad you feel now or lost or helpless or scared your life in the future is 100 times better. I can only hope that you've worked, at least some things, out and life has begun to make a bit more sense. I can just only hope, for now.
Yours lovingly,
Mollie, aged 15, 1 month and 16 days.
I am writing to remind you of your teenage years and to hope, oh so desperately hope, that life has become a little bit easier. Because although your life is happy and fun at this time there are many, many things to be worrying about. And worry you do well.
I don't know if you remember, but at this time in your life the future seems a very long and very unlikely place to imagine. There is still a multitude of public examinations to get through before even thinking of university or anything remotely interesting and cool. Seeing past these exams and into a life where everyday is not plagued with homework or revision or the tense feeling of knowing that hard work is ahead is extremely difficult. Therefore, at this moment any life that involves any of my wildest hopes and dreams is a far, far away idea that I can only wish very hard for. I feel as if, at this point, the best job I could ever have is working in Waitrose. Not even a super indie and cool job as a waitress in Harris & Hoole down the road is an option right now, because not only are you not old enough but you are certain that with your luck they will not deem you hipster enough to work there. Not hipster enough. Imagine that. I don't know what is scarier, that you actually day dream about wearing indie clothing and serving fabulous coffees to customers with leather messenger bags and MacBooks and brown, expensive brogues, or the knowledge that no one will even employ you to babysit.
I sincerely hope, therefore, that you are not still waiting for mothers to call and ask you to look after their children but are working with some brilliantly cool people writing excellently quirky and intelligent things. Any things.
On a more trivial note, I also want to remind you that as a fifteen year old girl most boys seem to be irritatingly uninterested. Fortunately, however, you have no interest in these male peers either because the overwhelming majority of them are lanky, spotty, awkward, immature, and hopelessly tragic. Please, future self, do tell me that by the time these boys grow up they improve at least slightly. And please say that you eventually get past the stage of only being able to be the token girl holding hands with a boy who still watches Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and relates every part of his life to COD. It would be disastrous if in the future you still settled under the category of singletons because of your uneventful teen years.
Oh, future Mollie, I just desperately wish that your life is a little simpler now you've become a fully grown, fully functioning adult. That you do not cry at everything remotely happy or sad because of your fragile hormonal state. That you have your own income and finally understand what a mortgage is. That you have seen a lot of the world, all of the cities you've always longed to go to. That you adore whatever career you have, and you achieved what you wished for now. That you speak fluent French, and maybe even live in Paris. That you wear devastatingly cool clothes and navigate around London with such ease like all those beautiful women you saw as a girl. That you have friends who make your stomach ache with laughter.
That you are happy, that you are safe, that you are peaceful. And most importantly, that you have found love. First love, hopeless love, and love everywhere you go.
So, Mollie, I can only hope that how ever bad you feel now or lost or helpless or scared your life in the future is 100 times better. I can only hope that you've worked, at least some things, out and life has begun to make a bit more sense. I can just only hope, for now.
Yours lovingly,
Mollie, aged 15, 1 month and 16 days.
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Materialism.
There shall be a point in the future where no doubt I will write a longer piece on this matter, but for now I give you my opinion in a rather condensed manner. Materialism is to me a particularly odd thing, to care that much about things must be desperately tiring. However, I often find myself in positions where in fact I am inclined to be materialist without really meaning it. For example, Christmas day comes along and I do love dearly the food and the music and the friends and family, but I also care about what I receive. And I am ever grateful for all my gifts this year and was not in the least disappointed, enjoying and thankful for each one. I did not receive presents that would cost my parents an arm and a leg nor would I ever ask to receive such things, I believe it to be greedy to want something so expensive that would not be shared or you would not input financially to get it. So does this mean that I am, if not intentionally, a materialist or that I am not? Does expecting to receive gifts on a festival that is somewhat related to the giving of presents and festival that society expects one to give make me a materialist? Or can I innocently label myself as enjoying giving gifts to loved ones as well as receiving them?
I suppose I must dive deeper into this subject some other day, but for now I leave you with questions to ponder. I'm not going to make myself feel guilty with this topic, but I urge you to also take a look at how you view these gifts and objects that you may receive.
I suppose I must dive deeper into this subject some other day, but for now I leave you with questions to ponder. I'm not going to make myself feel guilty with this topic, but I urge you to also take a look at how you view these gifts and objects that you may receive.
Thursday, 20 December 2012
Top 7 family Christmas traditions.
I love Christmas. I love the excitement, the food, the music, the presents, the decoration, the games and the happiness I feel when I celebrate at this time of year. I also love the fact that for every single family there are separate and equally wonderful traditions for Christmas day. I like how some are similar, and some are completely different and unique to that family. And how each one means so much to the individuals. I love how rarely one changes a Christmas tradition, and that many have been carried out the whole of their lives. I love how the magic of Christmas changes through age, but never disappears. These are my family traditions that make Christmas for me, and are part of the magic I get excited for.
7. My gran's mince pies.
Now these are the absolute bomb. Having tried one of these beauties you'll never want to turn back. Nothing is quite a excellent as the squidgy, moist but not too moist pastry that literally makes your mouth water. It really is a unique recipe that has been passed down to my mum so that we get the pleasure of making them, and it wouldn't be Christmas without having at least one homemade mince pie.
6. Elf.
I don't think there's been a Christmas since the film was made that we haven't watched it. It's one of those movies that never gets boring no matter how many times it's been viewed. My dad's a huge sucker for it, claiming every year that it is definitely one of his favourite films. Elf is a favourite for having the whole family in front of the TV, with the fire on, and feeling very Christmassy. It's a tradition I hope never dies.
5. Calling relatives to sing down the phone.
Every year we call, or we receive a call, with a verse and a chorus of 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' on Christmas day. Everyone in the house joins in and the family on the end of the line join in too, it's like our own private carol service. Except much shorter and we aren't quite as bored. And then we discuss what we got, thank each other for the presents we gave and tell the plans for the rest of the day. It's just a nice way of staying in contact with the relatives you couldn't spend the day with. And Christmas wouldn't be the same without mum telling me to say thank you to aunties for presents I have to search for frantically so I can remember what they actually gave me.
4. Charades.
This is pronounced Charardes in my family because we are not Northern or American. Every Christmas evening there has to be at least several rounds of the game. With the family members most awful at it having the most goes because they're hilarious to watch, and we don't give them much choice. It's particularly brilliant when someone has to mime something impossible, and we all just laugh at them giving them no mercy. Because Christmas is a time for loving.
3. A tin of Roses or Quality Street.
Christmas is essentially a time for binge eating, an excuse to eat everything you absolutely love in enormous quantities. So after we've eaten the gigantic roast dinner, had second helpings of Christmas pudding and mince pies with brandy butter we convince ourselves that there is definitely plenty of room for chocolate. Every year the tin is bought and kept in the cupboard until Christmas day, or Christmas eve if we fail at waiting any longer, and is demolished in less than 24 hours. In my family, the concept of saving things for later rarely exists particularly with sweets and puddings. And so we often lie to ourselves at having 'just four' but in fact eating about ten and losing count because you're too absorbed in the process of eating them. By the time we come to the end of tin and only the unpopular chocolates are left we force ourselves to eat them, in favour of not wasting food. Obviously.
2. Doctor Who Christmas Special.
Christmas hasn't ever been the same since Doctor Who was reintroduced onto our screens. The most important reason for the Christmas Radio Times is to know when the Doctor Who special is on. In fact, one of the first questions asked on Christmas morning is always "when's Doctor Who on?" because without it we feel Christmas really wouldn't be the same. Even though, as much as I love the show, the Christmas specials are always ridiculous it's a tradition that's popular in the family, and everything stops just for an hour so we can watch it. And any family members that don't watch it normally are forced into it by majority rule. Again, Christmas is a time for loving.
1. Present Piles.
My sister and I feel that without the organisation of presents into piles for the people they're meant for would make the process of unwrapping them very messy. That and the fact that it's something to keep us entertained until the adults stop messing around and get down to business with the gifts. It also gives us the chance to see who has the biggest pile and whether the average size of the gifts are big or small. I'm honestly not the type of person who values Christmas simply for the presents, nor do I pull a tantrum if my sister's pile is bigger than mine, it's just been our tradition since we believed in Father Christmas. And I hope we still do it as adults, just for old times' sake.
7. My gran's mince pies.
Now these are the absolute bomb. Having tried one of these beauties you'll never want to turn back. Nothing is quite a excellent as the squidgy, moist but not too moist pastry that literally makes your mouth water. It really is a unique recipe that has been passed down to my mum so that we get the pleasure of making them, and it wouldn't be Christmas without having at least one homemade mince pie.
6. Elf.
I don't think there's been a Christmas since the film was made that we haven't watched it. It's one of those movies that never gets boring no matter how many times it's been viewed. My dad's a huge sucker for it, claiming every year that it is definitely one of his favourite films. Elf is a favourite for having the whole family in front of the TV, with the fire on, and feeling very Christmassy. It's a tradition I hope never dies.
5. Calling relatives to sing down the phone.
Every year we call, or we receive a call, with a verse and a chorus of 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' on Christmas day. Everyone in the house joins in and the family on the end of the line join in too, it's like our own private carol service. Except much shorter and we aren't quite as bored. And then we discuss what we got, thank each other for the presents we gave and tell the plans for the rest of the day. It's just a nice way of staying in contact with the relatives you couldn't spend the day with. And Christmas wouldn't be the same without mum telling me to say thank you to aunties for presents I have to search for frantically so I can remember what they actually gave me.
4. Charades.
This is pronounced Charardes in my family because we are not Northern or American. Every Christmas evening there has to be at least several rounds of the game. With the family members most awful at it having the most goes because they're hilarious to watch, and we don't give them much choice. It's particularly brilliant when someone has to mime something impossible, and we all just laugh at them giving them no mercy. Because Christmas is a time for loving.
3. A tin of Roses or Quality Street.
Christmas is essentially a time for binge eating, an excuse to eat everything you absolutely love in enormous quantities. So after we've eaten the gigantic roast dinner, had second helpings of Christmas pudding and mince pies with brandy butter we convince ourselves that there is definitely plenty of room for chocolate. Every year the tin is bought and kept in the cupboard until Christmas day, or Christmas eve if we fail at waiting any longer, and is demolished in less than 24 hours. In my family, the concept of saving things for later rarely exists particularly with sweets and puddings. And so we often lie to ourselves at having 'just four' but in fact eating about ten and losing count because you're too absorbed in the process of eating them. By the time we come to the end of tin and only the unpopular chocolates are left we force ourselves to eat them, in favour of not wasting food. Obviously.
2. Doctor Who Christmas Special.
Christmas hasn't ever been the same since Doctor Who was reintroduced onto our screens. The most important reason for the Christmas Radio Times is to know when the Doctor Who special is on. In fact, one of the first questions asked on Christmas morning is always "when's Doctor Who on?" because without it we feel Christmas really wouldn't be the same. Even though, as much as I love the show, the Christmas specials are always ridiculous it's a tradition that's popular in the family, and everything stops just for an hour so we can watch it. And any family members that don't watch it normally are forced into it by majority rule. Again, Christmas is a time for loving.
1. Present Piles.
My sister and I feel that without the organisation of presents into piles for the people they're meant for would make the process of unwrapping them very messy. That and the fact that it's something to keep us entertained until the adults stop messing around and get down to business with the gifts. It also gives us the chance to see who has the biggest pile and whether the average size of the gifts are big or small. I'm honestly not the type of person who values Christmas simply for the presents, nor do I pull a tantrum if my sister's pile is bigger than mine, it's just been our tradition since we believed in Father Christmas. And I hope we still do it as adults, just for old times' sake.
Thursday, 13 December 2012
I'm a Barbie girl.
When I was a little girl, I loved to play with Barbies. I loved my Playmobil and baby dolls too, but my Barbies were quite high on the favourite toys list. I had the whole 'shebang' when it came to Barbies; I had the lounge, the bedroom, and I even had the pregnant one with the removable stomach and tiny baby. My only version of Ken was my dad's old Action Man from when he was a boy, so he was obviously very busy in my little Barbie world. But I didn't just brush their hair and put pretty pink dresses on these dolls, I was more interested making realistic scenarios for these girls. I loved making the dolls reenact how I thought adults behaved, and they didn't just go shopping or have sleepovers. They lived gripping story lines as young widows with my Shelly doll and the tiny baby as their young families, and they only had tiny one bedroomed flats to live in because that's all the furniture I had. And the majority of the time they had to earn their own income for this young family because I only had one Ken and sometimes I couldn't find him. But it was okay because a woman doesn't always need a husband in order to survive, she can do perfectly well by herself.
However, despite these heart wrenching stories I contrived with my Barbie dolls whom were all independent, confident women, obviously, I am being told that by now I should have terrible body image because of them. Because whilst I was playing out these lives the ridiculously unrealistic bodies the dolls have were greatly affecting me, and some day I would be upset I didn't have arms that didn't bend properly. Fortunately I am not looking into surgery that will make my hands cease movement and become spatulas at the end of my arms because of the dolls I played with as a child. When I was an 8 year old I did not see the old fashioned misogynist view of how a woman should look in my Barbies, I just saw tiny plastic figurines that would be fantastic to play with. I laughed at the fact that their boobs were like odd looking cones on their chests, and that their feet would in no way be able to stand them up. I was annoyed, in fact, that they could not stand for themselves because it was a great obstacle in the stories as you could guess.
I can understand why some are becoming concerned in this day and age with the image that Barbie dolls portray to young girls, or boys. But I completely dismiss the claim that the toys are the root cause for my bad body image. I hold that blame entirely to the media. Whilst Barbie has the skinny waist, beautiful smile, gorgeous legs and luscious, long blonde hair it is not these features that were the focus in my play with the dolls. As you can see, I was far too busy making soap opera like scenarios with them and the one lone Ken/Action Man doll. I believe that adults have forgotten what it's like to be little, to not have the concerns and damage that the world brings on them. That a little girl playing with her Barbies dolls in the bath is just innocence, and to her it is just a trip to the pool or beach and not the display of 'perfect' female bodies that she will long for at 8 years old.
I agree that the stereotyping nowadays of Barbie dolls has gone a little too far, and I wouldn't have cared less if the box she came in was blue or neon green and not pink. It was the endless stories and games that the doll had the potential for I was excited about. I refuse to be labelled as 'girly' for playing with the dolls, and that cutting their heads off with blunt scissors and flushing them down the loo would have been any more morally sound. At the time I can remember my favourite colour being red, and that if I was given a remote controlled car or something boys were 'supposed' to play with I would have been equally as happy. I don't regret playing with Barbies and it hasn't made me into a 'girly' girl who only functions for the existence of pink fluff and sparkles. The dolls have not made me buy makeup when I go shopping or hair products or nail polish, in fact I usually buy books.
Therefore, I loved to play with my Barbies and I am proud to say I have not been mentally damaged by them. I have grown up sane and with a grasp on reality, almost. And I do not blame my often awful view of my body on the toys I used to play with as a little girl.
However, despite these heart wrenching stories I contrived with my Barbie dolls whom were all independent, confident women, obviously, I am being told that by now I should have terrible body image because of them. Because whilst I was playing out these lives the ridiculously unrealistic bodies the dolls have were greatly affecting me, and some day I would be upset I didn't have arms that didn't bend properly. Fortunately I am not looking into surgery that will make my hands cease movement and become spatulas at the end of my arms because of the dolls I played with as a child. When I was an 8 year old I did not see the old fashioned misogynist view of how a woman should look in my Barbies, I just saw tiny plastic figurines that would be fantastic to play with. I laughed at the fact that their boobs were like odd looking cones on their chests, and that their feet would in no way be able to stand them up. I was annoyed, in fact, that they could not stand for themselves because it was a great obstacle in the stories as you could guess.
I can understand why some are becoming concerned in this day and age with the image that Barbie dolls portray to young girls, or boys. But I completely dismiss the claim that the toys are the root cause for my bad body image. I hold that blame entirely to the media. Whilst Barbie has the skinny waist, beautiful smile, gorgeous legs and luscious, long blonde hair it is not these features that were the focus in my play with the dolls. As you can see, I was far too busy making soap opera like scenarios with them and the one lone Ken/Action Man doll. I believe that adults have forgotten what it's like to be little, to not have the concerns and damage that the world brings on them. That a little girl playing with her Barbies dolls in the bath is just innocence, and to her it is just a trip to the pool or beach and not the display of 'perfect' female bodies that she will long for at 8 years old.
I agree that the stereotyping nowadays of Barbie dolls has gone a little too far, and I wouldn't have cared less if the box she came in was blue or neon green and not pink. It was the endless stories and games that the doll had the potential for I was excited about. I refuse to be labelled as 'girly' for playing with the dolls, and that cutting their heads off with blunt scissors and flushing them down the loo would have been any more morally sound. At the time I can remember my favourite colour being red, and that if I was given a remote controlled car or something boys were 'supposed' to play with I would have been equally as happy. I don't regret playing with Barbies and it hasn't made me into a 'girly' girl who only functions for the existence of pink fluff and sparkles. The dolls have not made me buy makeup when I go shopping or hair products or nail polish, in fact I usually buy books.
Therefore, I loved to play with my Barbies and I am proud to say I have not been mentally damaged by them. I have grown up sane and with a grasp on reality, almost. And I do not blame my often awful view of my body on the toys I used to play with as a little girl.
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