We made the decision not to sell these dolls at retail stores, but rather get the dolls directly into the hands of children who can most benefit from the unique play experience, demonstrating Mattel’s ongoing commitment to encourage play as a respite for children in the hospital and to bring joy to children who need it most. We appreciate the conversation around this issue, and are interested to hear what you think!Well, here's what I think:
Bra...
vo.
[Can you sense the sarcasm?]
First, I'm going to point out the obvious: 1. Aren't there little girls who are not in the hospital who might benefit from seeing and playing with a bald doll? 2. Likewise, is bald only beautiful if you're sick? 3. Does hair (whether you have it or not) have to define female beauty?
Then, I HAVE to ask this: Aren't these dolls still "Made in China," by little Chinese girls who will never be able to afford them? Somehow that dampens my "Hoorah!" feeling for Mattel, and the Facebook and Change.org groups who lobbied for this doll and probably feel real good about themselves right now.
Lastly, I'm going to take it here: Barbie was modeled after the German doll, Bild Lilli, who was a novelty pin up doll - the 1950s blonde bombshell-type - sold to adult men.
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In the Gallery Opening portion of The Window Sex Project I have juxtaposed three images of women: barbies, live works of art, and paintings. The barbies are in many plastic skin-tones, hair and clothing styles. They stand tall on their various pedestals, reminders of my childhood in which I played with barbies (pink limo, Fold & Fun House and all...) pretty intensely until pre-adolescence. Yet, in their miniature stature I am reminded that they are just toys, pieces of plastic. I do remember that I played more with my black barbies than my tan or white ones, because they looked more like the brown skin women in my life. I also remember always being frustrated by her forever arched foot, and that even when she wore sneakers she was still prancing on her toes - not very life-like at all. I got extremely upset and protective the night boys from my elementary school came over and decapitated my dollar store imitation barbies while my parents held a PTA meeting upstairs. (But phew! they weren't the real ones.) Yet and still, I've grown up with serious self-confidence in my womanly body despite the fact that I played with dolls that looked nothing like me, and my only ever serious ongoing extra-curricular activity was dance.  |
| Carrie Plew, For Whom the Southern Belle Tolls |
The live works in The Window Sex Project are the women performers on pedestals performing pin up versions of themselves echoing standard tropes of womanhood. For example, dancer Carrie Plew is titled For Whom the Southern Belle Tolls. In her somewhat modest lingerie, she shows her American southern charm with a curtsy while accentuating (if not exposing) her female parts. Another dancer, Candace Thompson, is the Caribbean Beauty enticing passersby with her exoticism via her long legs, bare midriff and short light brown 'fro. When thinking about putting the women on the pedestals, I ask: How do we perform sexy? How do we transform ourselves into the fantasy that men want to see? These women stand on pedestals and suddenly we remember that womanhood, particularly the sexy woman can often times be a performance - and it's mostly not about us, but about what someone else wants to see. Not to mention the under tones of "for sale," when we display art in a gallery...
The moment that a body is for sale, it is identified as a product, an object, available to be owned by someone else. That woman on the pedestal has lost all agency, brain, emotion, power...
 |
| Candace Thompson, Caribbean Beauty |
Although I turned out alright, and so do many other girls, sometimes I wish I had spent more time creating my own dreams of womanhood in play, instead of adjusting movable parts.
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The "Dare to use the F word" sign sits in the window of the office of the Barnard Center for Research on Women. I remember my first year at Barnard walking by it often and thinking to myself "Why would anyone be afraid to use it?"
At that point, if you asked me, I wouldn't declare myself a feminist, but I had nothing against the idea of it. Maybe I wasn't even really sure what it meant, but the idea of being pro-woman was heavily instilled in me.
At 18, I had 7 years of single sex education which nurtured and valued self-confident young women with initiative, intellectual curiosity and a "tenacity of purpose," and as if I wasn't empowered enough, I chose to attend a women's college which nurtured all that in me and more.
It wasn't until after I left Barnard though, that I recognized my philosophical and every day practice of feminist ideals (and maybe sometimes the lack thereof), and even more so recognized that the rest of the world didn't think that way.
Grad school was TOUGH. I felt passed over and subsequently attacked and undervalued because of my body in conjunction with my field of study. No one ever said it outright and I never got a straight answer when I asked, but I think my body signaled to others that somehow I wasn't really serious about dance. Serious meaning I didn't work hard, I had no intention of performing etc. The common theme in my choreography of hearing voices, particularly women's voices, was born at this time.
At the same time, the man I was dating challenged me on issues of gender politics and sexuality. A common debate we had was whether your "number" (of sexual partners) should matter. The answer is no, though I didn't always think so. In this context of self-perception versus outside perception, I used to think it did matter because I was worried about what someone else would think of me, especially if that someone was a man I might care for. I didn't value enough what I thought for myself. I had honestly never met someone of the opposite sex so open minded and always joked with him that he was more of a feminist than I. His reaction: "What kind of men have you been dating?" Apparently, the wrong ones.
Once back in NYC, I happened to move in with three gay men which set into motion in my head all types of questions about gender, sexual orientation, and relationship dynamics between the sexes. (There were all types of power dynamics at play in that apartment.) But I was really caught off guard one day when one of my roommates retorted in an annoyed and maybe disappointed tone, "Oh. You're a feminist aren't you?" It was the first time I'd heard the word with a negative connotation. It was the first time I'd imagined someone definitively wouldn't want to be identified as such.
You see, I never took any courses on feminist theory or history in college. My understanding of the historical feminist movements were just briefly touched on in my 11th grade survey course of US History geared toward getting a 5 on the AP. I didn't have a full understanding of the critics of the bra burners (much like I am a critic of the "slut walks"), until I took the time in the past couple of years to do my reading and get an understanding of feminist movements in the US.
Since college, I've heard the F word used with trepidation amongst women and men alike in popular media. Writer and "relationships expert" Demetria Lucas wrote a whole piece about how she wouldn't label herself as such, although her values and opinions that she communicates on a broad national platform are clearly aligned with feminist values.
People have asked me about my choreography and then remarked, "Oh, well I don't want to label you, but would you say that your work is... Feminist?"
"Um, yes." I reply, definitively.
It makes me laugh really. Labeling things sucks because no one and nothing fits neatly into labeled boxes, but we live in a culture that thrives on brand recognition - so, brand we must.
I am a feminist. My work as a choreographer sometimes has a feminist focus. My personal life, particularly romantic relationships, is sometimes at odds with feminist values because I've yet to find a man whose relationship practices are in agreement with me in theory and practice. Sometime I don't even think I'm in agreement with me in theory and practice. Imma say this out loud: I don't wanna buy my daughter a Barbie, but I like dancing to Rihanna's "Birthday Cake" song.
But the beauty of feminism is this: We get to choose. Each individual gets to decide how she sees and understands and values herself, contradictions and all. I choose the conjunction AND, not BUT. So imma say it out loud again: I don't wanna buy my daughter a Barbie, and I like dancing to Rihanna's "Birthday Cake" song...
AND the reason I can't stomach the Mattel announcement is because "Bald is Beautiful Barbie" is about nothing more than money. It is a show of good faith to keep Barbie on the shelf, and little girls overseas in poor working conditions.
... and I'm sure that I unknowingly (or knowingly) support a lot of other corporations with poor business practices which is a conversation for another day...
and...
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