Hey Barbie! Maybe You're Not the Problem!
Have you ever left a toxic situation and then wondered: “Wait, was it me? Am I the drama?”
Yeah, me neither.
Have you also noticed how lately, more and more videos of young girls screaming the bridge to a Taylor, Olivia or even Sabrina song have become almost unavoidable?
I keep thinking about girlhood. About the way the summer of Barbie and Taylor got cancelled the minute that no name dude made those jokes at the Golden Globes. About how Greta and Margot didn’t get a single nomination, but Ryan’s up for an Oscar, which I hope he wins and accepts with fury. (Thankfully, America did get a nom.)
I keep thinking about how hard they don’t want us to exist. They don’t want to see pink or hear “Hi Barbie!”. They don’t want to see a blonde with a red lip and a cute hat on at a Chiefs game. How they don’t even want her to have friends or fun at her actual boyfriend’s game, but girls praise Travis relentlessly every time he shows up and dances at her show. The amount of audience and revenue she’s brought to the NFL is actually hysterical — an antiquated, problematic institution benefiting from a female pop artist trailblazer and them blaming her for a loss or a win regardless.
They don’t want to let the girlies to have things. They don’t want us to feel comfortable somewhere we “don’t belong.” They don’t want us to “make the friendship bracelets or take the moment and taste it” even if they did stop to take into account the thousands of little girls now watch football with their dads every week. They don’t want us to take up space. The end.
Little girls are screaming the bridge to songs like “Vampire” and “Cruel Summer” because they’re already experiencing this sh*t. And if an 11 year old can scream words like: “You said it was true love, but wouldn’t that be hard? / You can’t love anyone cuz that would mean you had a heart / I tried to help you out / Now I know that I can’t / Cuz how you think is the kind of thing I’ll never understand.” Then where are we at on the map?
Like, listen, I grew up on Avril and Paramore and Mayday Parade and All Time Low and Yellowcard and Jimmy Eat World and Rage Against the Machine and Nirvana and Taking Back Sunday and god, I mean. Eventually, it became and every niche emo / alternative band you’ve never heard of for a minute (I’m VERY COOL, okay?). All those songs with all the big heavy lyrics. But I never thought about why I felt it so hard. I had never been in actual love. I had never even done anything more rebellious than paint my nails black at the time. But there’s something in our chests. I don’t know if it’s that extra dose of empathy, a dash of drama or an extra cup of hormones. But I think girls just need more space to exist than people even understand. I remember days I just simply couldn’t come out of my bedroom as a teenager because the world just felt like it was way too much. And now, I’m thirty, and I fail to go multiple days without the same feeling at certain times of the year.
Some of us just work harder to exist. Not just women and girls, but lots of us. It’s like some people have a picture of the puzzle, but some of us are just handed a piece and told to figure it out. And on top of that, some of us don’t even want to figure it out. We just want to be here. We want to love people and create and laugh and go to silly brunches and watch movies under a blanket and love our dogs until they’re gone more than we want to clock in and out. (Yes, I know, capitalism and no one actually “wants” to do it. “It’s just part of life.” But in all actuality, you’d be surprised the amount of people I’ve met who thrive on it. And vice versa, the amount of people who it destroys.)
Anyways, holidays are over. (Good thing or bad thing? Never quite sure.) Election season is like the biggest impending doom I’ve experienced since the last election season. (Definitely bad thing.)
I guess I need to run errands and get my mind off the things that keep me up at night.
Go on and tell ya momma n’ them I love ‘em.
