Breathe
By Edmée Pardo and Marilú Acosta
I have ideological and aesthetic prejudices, because of childhood trauma, because of resentment, because of the commotion it has generated, because I don't believe the women who comment on it, because of the silence among men. I don't want to see it just because it is the fashionable topic and the truth is that I don't feel like it, I say all this in one breath to Marilu and then she suggests a four hands?
And so our dialogue begins. Edmée and I have in common not having had Barbies and not having played with them. The film, like so many others, I was not going to see it "because it is not for me": I never played with dolls. Seeing pink everywhere does not invite me to see it, however, reading the emotional and enthusiastic reflections of adult women about the film along with the proposals to go in a ball to the cinema to see it, made me question myself: will I go?
I suspect with my chest, I answer. Yes, even for women, constructing and assuming ourselves as feminists is a long and uphill process that we have to rethink every now and then, since when is a doll full of emptiness our conscience? Now, then, we are facing the creation of a worse stereotype, more overwhelming because now she is much more perfect: besides being beautiful, she is revolutionary. I hate her.
The advertising slogan says that if you love it or if you hate it, the movie is for you. Me neither, so is it for me? Probably not, but it does arouse my curiosity. The interesting thing is that the more I think about it, the more I look like Barbie. I come in different presentations Barbie the Healer, Barbie the Writer, Barbie the Doctor, Barbie the Electronics... and many other trades, I also live alone, I don't have children either, and in my life I have several of her accessories.
I love that at least you recognize that you have a little Barbie inside. In my eyes, those who say they don't feel like Barbies see them as super barbarized, and maybe I, in the eyes of others, have the model introjected even though I deny it a hundred times. Maybe because I don't want to look like those girls that I disliked with the elongation of their necks and the almost devotion to take the monkey out of the backpack. No, I don't want to see her. Unless you invite me to the VIP lounge and we order a drink.
Well, it is a recent discovery to know that I know Barbie, I could have sworn that Barbieland and my world did not touch. In my childhood the girls "played" with me to make me the law of ice. I don't remember the reason, if I ever knew it. Back then I played soccer with the boys with a frutsi bottle filled with inorganic garbage, the filling was a science, it was what made it work or not as a ball. That's how I learned to feel excluded from "the feminine" and therefore from Barbie and her pink. Let's see it in a premium room, with alcohol and if you're up for it, let's go dressed in pink.
The opinions expressed are the responsibility of the authors and are absolutely independent of the position and editorial line of Opinion 51.
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