clv creative

I’m not one to get philosophical about pop culture. But as I reclined in the worn out, faux-leather chair in the crowded yet distanced and darkened movie theater, I was repeatedly struck by the emptiness portrayed on screen. The longing for more in life. And the deeply comforting realization that I have it already—but not in the way it was pictured on film.

This is not a critique of the movie at all. Actually, it’s a note of praise and gratitude to a cultural work of art that not only brought me laughter, joy, even a few tears, and the overwhelming feeling that I already have what the characters are searching for, even when I may forget or doubt.

While I don’t know what the average movie goer’s philosophical response to the movie is other than it’s a great display of the damage of gender-based tribalism, with the pitting of man against woman, and how the two can coexist supportively outside of the traditional cliched confines of a romantic relationship, I can’t help but to wonder what the filmmaker’s faith is. 

It feels as if they are screaming out loud to society that there is something so much bigger than feminism vs. the patriarchy, that both of those concepts actually reflect the bigger, fallen world. But then I wonder if she gets the bigger picture because at the end of the day, even though Barbie is living her chosen life, it still just ends at the *spoiler alert* gynecologist’s office.

Our inherent western, American culture is constantly telling us to find ourselves, what makes us happy, and live for that, but there really isn’t much to live for other than the mundane routines of a “happy” life. Sure Barbie gets to wear Birkenstocks in her chosen life, but her new last name reflects the bigger problem with culture. She’s Barbara Handler, someone to simply be handled by society. Sure, now she’s more than a piece of unrealistic sculpted plastic. And she probably has cellulite and will one day get wrinkles. But will fighting off those personal lines be what consumes the rest of her life?

Or will she dream of escaping back to Barbieland where every day is the perfect day—even when the Barbies realize it truly isn’t.

And for anyone who does not know what I know, that’s probably where you think it ends. Instead, I am so thankful to have sat back in that theater, crying the same tears as the next woman knowing what it feels like to be marginalized and put upon by society, confused as to what I’m supposed to do with my life, and who I’m supposed to be in the world’s eyes.

Because I know that’s not where it ends. I’m en-route to Barbieland, metaphorically speaking. 

This is probably the point in the evangelical sermon where you expect me to equate Barbieland to Heaven and the Real World to Hell, or something like that. And don’t get me wrong, the thought popped in my mind at one point in the movie. But to me, it had a much bigger spiritual, emotional and philosophical impact than that immature comparison.

First, let me back up. Way before I walked into the movie theater today in my magenta leggings, high pony, and pink scrunchie.

Let’s rewind to probably a very similar outfit, but this time being worn by probably 5-year-old me. The twin bed of our family’s guest room has been turned into my own Barbie dream house, minus the actual house. I’ve created rooms, storylines, complete new worlds for my Barbies. A place for them to live the best life I thought I wanted to live. A place for me to escape from the reality of my own life, fraught with its own fear, frustration, and failures.

My Barbie’s world had all the potential I didn’t have—not just because of my age, my looks, my family’s issues—but because it was completely fictional. But it’s completely acceptable for a 5-year-old to escape into this creative, imaginative and fictional world.

The only problem is, our culture doesn’t teach us how to leave that world when it doesn’t come to fruition. If we’d only work harder to get what we want, to be happy, then our dreamscape should become a reality, right?

Wrong. Existential crisis Barbie realized this in the movie. And unless you’re living in denial about life and what comes next, you’ve probably thought about it at some point too. 

But we can only escape into our imaginations—or others—for so long before we have to accept how life is, and what we can do about it.

And here’s the catch, there’s no doing. Because He already did. 

There were 3 ways for me to leave the theater today—and boy am I thankful for the third.

1. Happy, light-hearted, but with a creeping sense of there must be something more that the movie spoke to.

2. Pissed off because I was reminded that we live in a crappy world that could even pit Barbie vs. Ken.

3. Grateful and relieved to know that I can feel both 1 and 2, and still have something bigger to not only rely on but to believe in.

Sure, drawing a comparison between Adam & Eve, and Barbie & Ken would be ridiculously cliche of me. Yeah, the fact that we have to have feminism to fight the patriarchy is a reflection of when sin entered into the world because of Adam & Eve’s actions. The original Eden is a reflection of Barbieland before they go into the Real World (fall/sin). 

But if you noticed, the movie ended short of providing a better alternative to the original worlds. 

That takes me back to her Birks and presumed pap smear. If all were living for is this world, that’s all we’ll ever get—even if it comes with perky boobs and a good tan.

If those were the only things I was searching for, the Chanel bag, the pink Corvette, the devoted boyfriend exuding Kenergy, then I would be left leaving the theater today feeling like an epic failure—living without any of those things. Though I do have the Birks.

Instead I left feeling energized knowing those things my 5-year-old self dreamed of I know longer long for because I am already filled. I’m filled with the peace, confidence and joy knowing I’m loved by God.

This is where the cringy pastor would say something like, God is our ultimate Ken and we’re his Barbie. Even typing that out causes me physical pain and emotional, church kid damage.

Because that trivializes something that is so much bigger than the repeated cliche of a picture perfect plastic relationship.

Yeah, I know I am not picture perfect—and I won’t be this side of the doll box. And no one is asking me to be. Because I’m already redeemed. Each day I’m growing in understanding myself better, and more importantly, the one who created me in His image.

The wide range of Barbies and Kens, to Midge and Allan, reflects an infinitesimal proportion of the people who come before us and will come after us all reflecting the work of one creator. Not Ruth Handler. 

Elohim.

But He didn’t stop at the garden. Or the fall. Or even 2000 years ago on the cross. He’s still working in my life. In your life—even if you don’t see it. He’s work on a dream house better than our 5-year-old selves can imagine. A new creation that he longs to share with us.

The Real Barbieland.

Written Sunday, July 23, 2023