I saw the Barbie movie. You may feel compelled to stop reading after that shared sentiment. I’m sure you’ve heard all the things or read all the things or seen all the memes. You may have heard that it was perfectly cast or that Greta Gerwig is a genius or perhaps that everyone in the theatre was laughing. Those are statements I can’t argue with, and I won’t.
It is, as a good friend stated, a brilliant social commentary. Kudos to Ms. Gerwig on yet another spectacular creative endeavor.
I am not going to give anything major away here, because if you haven’t seen the movie yet, I’d want you to do so without hearing anything from me first. If you choose to read or view spoilers elsewhere, that is certainly your choice. Though, I will share my unsolicited opinion that this movie is best seen with a clean palate and no expectations. I do not imagine you will be disappointed either way, but I do believe that approach will give you the purest viewing experience.
Here is what I want to tell you: I cried. The feeling started in my lower belly, as such a thing does, and moved into my chest, and then, my throat. By the time it arrived in the upper part of my person, I had no control.
I can also tell you that I cried after one speech that was given by the character played by the endlessly talented America Ferrara. It was the whole speech, but also, just one line. One thought. One sentiment.
I am not going to put forth an exact quote, because I don’t have a memory for such things, and I don’t want to give context and ruin anything and also, it doesn’t matter.
She states that women have to be extraordinary.
Extraordinary.
I heard that and it felt like someone reached into my heart and tore it in two. Worse than that, it felt like someone was picking at an already infected wound. Because it is, an established injury.
I know that there are a million experiences and it is not my intention to be exclusive. I also don’t have the energy to disclaim properly. I can only share what I see from my seat. I can only tell you what I feel. And I’ve shared this before, but as I just shared, this movie scratched barely healed sores.
First, I want to tell you that I think every human should have to see this movie. In fact, while I do not usually bother with getting involved in others’ experiences of anything, I couldn’t help but feel salty when I saw a few young women more engrossed with their Snapchat than what was on the screen before them. I wanted to scream. Pay attention. Be mindful. Care. Care because if you do not, no one will. Care because it’s up to you to change this world that we live in. Care because we are running out of options and out of rights. Care because it’s worse today because we spend a lot of time as a society pretending like things are better. Care because there are more women who are against women than ever before. Care because our freedom and livelihoods and sanity and peace depend on it.
So yeah, young people should see this, and middle aged and, elderly. People of every gender and no gender at all. Blue collar workers and, white collar and everything in between. This was about women, but also, it was a story about how easy it is to establish roles and define them and use those boundaries to marginalize and make smaller and punish.
I don’t have the liberty of being ordinary at work. Ordinary is akin to less than average. Ordinary is not even ordinary. It’s unimpressive. I am expected to be all knowing and perfect. I am expected to do what I do and then more, and then more than that. I am expected to be satisfied. No, not just satisfied. I am expected to be happy, and also, grateful. I am expected to understand all the time. And also, have a sense of humor and not take things so seriously. Well, take most things seriously unless it’s something insulting and belittling and degrading and then, I have to dig deep for my funny bone. Or else, I’m too much.
I should be tough enough to withstand insults and degradation but not so tough that I’m a bitch or challenging to deal with, ever. I should be resilient but also, flexible, always. I should be flexible with my sense of responsibility and also, my sense of self and sometimes, my loyalty to a self-imposed moral compass. I should know when to say something, but should measure how that something is said. I should know that sometimes, often, nothing should be said and I shouldn’t be afraid to be silent, but I should be afraid to say something. Most things. All the things. All the time.
Oh, but sometimes silence makes people uncomfortable, and I should be afraid to make people uncomfortable, so I have to read the room, but also, tune everything out.
I have to be endlessly gracious when I am given what I have worked hard for and earned and more charming when that thing is less than what a male counterpart (who is decidedly more ordinary) gets just because he was born with the proper genitalia.
I should probably understand that change takes time and no one likes change and sometimes things take multiple bites of the apple and then often, the apple is discarded after the first chomp, and that has to be okay too.
I have to be okay all the time, but I should never tell anyone I am just okay because that’s depressing and someone might feel responsible and that would be a travesty.
I have to know that sometimes men are the enemy and often, women are the enemy and really, the enemy is humans because we can’t get out of our own fucking way. Because, at the end of the day, there are the bullies and the people pleasers and everything in the middle are just invisible specks.
Sometimes people will wake up and care, but that’s usually only when it happens to them and then, when faced with the decision of clinging to their rage and advocating for solutions, and making nice, they will choose nice, every time.
Being disappointed in our society is something many of us feel and still, it’s a lonely road and often, a solo endeavor.
And so, I get it. I do. I do have to be extraordinary. And, I am. I am an extraordinarily hard worker. I am an extraordinarily passionate person. I am extraordinarily filled with all the feelings, like compassion and disappointment. I am extraordinarily pissed off that I don’t have the luxury of being ordinary and thriving in that space. Not ever. Not even for a second.
And everyone deserves an ordinary day, don’t you think?
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