Barbie has always been about more than pink and plastic. She’s a blank canvas upon which children could their draw own ideas and stories.
Growing up in New Delhi, I saw Barbie as more than just a doll. She was the central character in countless stories filled with politics, drama and intrigue that I, like many other girls, staged on my bedroom floor. As I had Barbie enact different lives and scenarios, I began to discover the joy of storytelling even before I could read or write. Barbie was the springboard for my journey as a writer who would go on to study English at one of the world’s top universities and write for my dream publications.
As much as I loved Barbie, our time together could only last so long. Eventually, I grew embarrassed that I still played with my Barbie dolls while my middle-school friends had all moved onto more “mature” pursuits. Barbie became synonymous with being a fake, “plastic” girl and my friends and I developed a nausea over her trademark fluorescent pink clothing.
By the tender age of 12, my friends and I had developed a sexist disdain for all girlish things, and Barbie topped our list of items to outgrow. Every pastime we took up instead seemed either gender-neutral or traditionally masculine. For a brief period I took up watching football to look cool (a hobby that lasted for exactly a month).
