Barbie, the Political Firebrand.

To say I had no intention of forking over $20 to see Barbie is an understatement.  But when a friend of ours, a renowned political analyst, said it was an important film, I relented, albeit with a healthy dollop of suspicion.  So there we were, with our wives, awash in a sea of pink in a packed theater, each of us older than the combined age of any three other people in the place.

The film had some clever touches, including a brilliant opening, but was otherwise deeply flawed.  Still, our friend was right.  This was an important movie to see, one that may well have sufficient legs—you should excuse the expression—to impact the 2024 elections.

Without delving too much into the plot, the basic thrust is that Barbie lives in idyllic Barbieland, where women—all named Barbie—can be anything they want and look any way they want, and men—all named Ken—are adoring morons. Due to a convenient contrivance, Barbie is forced into the “real world,” where quite the opposite is the case.  When she returns to Barbieland, the morons have taken over, just like in real life.  But after a palace revolt, which the Barbies deftly pull off against the clueless Kens, the original social order is restored, and matriarchy is again triumphant.

The filmmakers, writer/director Greta Gerwig and her partner, co-writer Noah Baumbach, interspersed enough dramatic subtext and philosophic asides to make it clear their target audience extended far beyond the teen and post-teen, overwhelmingly female devotees that were in the theater with us and likely in just about every other theater across the United States.

Regardless of how many women older than their mid-twenties will actually buy tickets, the message of female empowerment is roaring out into the same real world that has so disappointed both Barbie and tens of millions of actual women across America. 

Dozens of articles have already come out discussing the movie’s intent and execution, everything from its attack on misogyny to the irony of using one the world’s most stunning and, by traditional standards, perfectly built women, to convey the message that surface beauty is far less important than the inner variety. 

The reaction has not been restricted to film critique.  Michigan governor Gretchen Whitmer, who could well be a future aspirant for the White House—even near-future if President Biden changes his mind about seeking re-election—“capitalized on the social media ubiquity of Barbie to near-viral success by depicting an 11.5-inch, fuchsia suit-wearing version of the state’s chief executive.”  The Gretchen Whitmer Barbie, “produced by the governor’s staff exploded on social media” and was “so widely shared that The New York Times wrote a full-fledged style section feature on the outreach strategy.”

Those who predicted that Whitmer would be vilified for cheapening both her office and herself by adopting a foot-tall doll as an alter-ego have been grievously disappointed, as cheers have far outnumbered boos.  What boos there were came from predictable, overwhelmingly male sources on the right, which only makes the Barbie message more persuasive.

But the societal impact promises to go a good deal deeper, which is more than a bit ironic.  Here is a film featuring a perpetually smiling, rosily optimistic (most of the time) lead character played by a preternaturally beautiful actress, which has begun to evoke, and will increasingly evoke as the elections draw closer, a powerful, against-type emotion.

Anger.

The backdrop for this anger will not be the movie’s use of stereotypes to undermine stereotypes, or Mattel’s transparent attempt to monetize a line of toys, but rather Dobbs v Jackson Women’s Health Organization and subsequent efforts by aging white men in conservative states to radically restrict a woman’s right to decide if she wishes to carry a child to term. 

Abortion is going to be one of the most important campaign issues in 2024, not just in the presidential race, but in congressional, state, and even local elections as well.  Conservatives, who might well be named Ken, have already walked into a minefield by doubling down on restricting access to the procedure despite the huge backlash against Dobbs that stretched from traditionally liberal bastions all the way to conservative Kansas. 

And women are angry about it.

But anger and politics often make an uneasy mix.  Sometimes, as with the Donald Trump phenomenon, anger can be the springboard to power.  Sometimes, as has often been true in the Black community, anger can result in the conviction that nothing will ever change and lead to withdrawal and apathy.

Unless there is an issue or item or person—or idea—around which that anger can coalesce. 

Trump demonstrated that white working-class anger, present in the United States for decades, could be transmuted into ferocious partisanship and millions of votes.  The same man demonstrated that anger at him could also be transmuted into ferocious partisanship and millions of votes.

Women’s anger at being told what they can and cannot do by old men who have no stake in the decision, often but not always white, was already a potent force waiting to be tapped into.

Barbie and the focus on this hypocrisy will only make that force more powerful.

And so, while President Barbie might not happen literally, Presidential Medal of Freedom Barbie just might be in the nation’s future.