this barbie is an existentialist
what the new barbie movie teaches us about the paradox of becoming
***Barbie spoilers. Proceed with caution.***
I think I had my first existential crisis before I was 5. I know I am prone to exaggeration, but truly, my existential crises began long before I even knew the word “existential.” My family recalls the times when, after a tantrum, I would ask, “Why am I the way that I am?” Or when my father tried to comfort me after a nightmare saying that God would watch over my sleep, and I spent the rest of the night worried about who was watching over God when he needed to rest. (Why was I not diagnosed with generalized anxiety much earlier in life?)
I grew up with a deep love for Barbies. “Sé lo que quieras ser, Barbie girl” (be who you want to be) were sacred words that inspired me to believe I would one day be a full-time professional model, full-time forensic scientist, full-time opera singer, and full-time whatever else I was feeling that day (all at the same time). In the world I created for my Barbies, I could set aside my big questions and big feelings. In my collection, there was no room for weird Barbie, depressed Barbie, or existentialist Barbie. There was also no room for mundane and ordinary Barbie. No, my Barbie Land didn’t have a single career Barbie or even a Barbie with a regular job. I made the clothes and built the dream houses for forensic scientist-miss Universe Barbie and her best pal, fashion designer-president Barbie.
It has been a very long time since I played with dolls and engaged in the world-building games of my childhood in Barbie Land. These days, I still regularly engage in imaginative world-building, though we call it theologizing and not playtime. The theological task, at its best, is all about imaginative world-building. We bring the words of ancient Scriptures and traditions, the ever-speaking inspiration of the Spirit, and our present realities and ask: what is the kingdom of God like for us here and now? And this is why I fell in love with theology! Not only do I now have a very professional way to engage with my never-ending existential crises, but I can also engage in world-building endeavors alongside many others who have concluded that things don’t have to be the way they are. This world-building has not centered on the stories of forensic scientist-miss Universe Barbie (though she is still my icon) but on acknowledging that there is more to life than what meets the eye.
Greta Gerwig masterfully brought together the enchantment of Barbie Land, where girls can be who they want to be, and the messiness of the real world. And like any good theologian would conclude, the solution to Barbie’s problems is not to return to the paradise of Barbie Land - she has seen too much, she has felt too much. Barbie, the girl who can be who she wants, chooses to be human. While Billie Eilish’s heartbreakingly beautiful song What Was I Made For? plays, Barbie sees a montage of mundane, complicated, beautiful life and chooses that over the idyllic Barbie Land.
Barbie’s choice would have made philosophy Ken, Soren Kierkegaard, proud (I’d say Kierkegaard is more of an Allan, but I digress.) Kierkegaard believed that, in some way or another, we all face the same existentialist dilemma Barbie goes through. The movie’s reception proves Kierkegaard right. At the core of the human experience is the question of what to do when we have seen and felt too much. Both Gerwig and Kierkegaard conclude that the answer to the existentialist dilemma is a complete surrender to the paradox of becoming. (Listen to my Lent sermon for a more in-depth look at Kierkegaard’s existentialism).
Barbie meets her maker and seeks her permission to become human, only to find out she doesn’t need it. She can become human, but she must first know what it will be like. It will include the inevitability of death and gynecologist appointments. It will include many tears and aches. But it will also include the freedom to be imperfect, age, change, and grow.
There are two key moments of decision for Barbie. The first is when Weird Barbie offers her the high-heel shoe or the Birkenstock sandal. At this point in the movie, Barbie’s deepest longing is to return to perfection. She doesn’t want anything to change. I don’t blame her - who chooses thoughts of death over unending, perfect beach days? The problem is that once Barbie encountered flat feet, cellulite, and thoughts of death, there was no way back to things as they were. Barbie is about to face an existential crisis, whether she wants it or not.
This point in the story resembles most stories of faith deconstruction. Most people beginning their deconstruction process would love to return to the peace they felt under the certainty of their religious life. In my own story, I prayed to return to my uncomplicated, naive faith. For better or worse, that was never truly an option.
Still, Barbie embarks on a journey to the real world with one goal: fixing things so that she can return to her perfect life. The real world quickly breaks Barbie’s optimism. One of my favorite lines is when, after crying for the first time, she says, “that felt achy, but good.” That line alone summarizes the journey of being human - it is absolutely achy, but it is the only good option.
The second moment of choice for Barbie is when she chooses to become human. I want to argue that not only dolls in movies have to make that choice. As I have noted, Barbie’s experience of the real world resembles the journey of life we all go through, and the choice to be human is also part of that journey. It might sound illogical to say we have a choice about being human, but allow me to explain what I mean.
The world as it is demands our dehumanization. Racial capitalism, sexism, cisheteronormativity, and all the powers and structures that seek to erase our particularity force us to be less than human. These systems dehumanize us, and our willing participation in many of them further robs us of our humanity. When we gain awareness of these issues, we face an existential crisis not much different from Barbie’s. And like her, we get to choose to be human.
As I mentioned above, the theological task of imaginative world-building declares that things do not have to be the way that they are. The choice to become human is an assertion of this truth. The paradox of becoming opens a path through the existentialist dilemma; it doesn't solve the dilemma but makes it navigable. Choosing to assert and embrace our collective and individual humanity is the way forward if we desire to build a different world.
I have two invitations for you as I close this article: 1) GO SEE THE BARBIE MOVIE! 2) Be like Barbie, who could have returned to Barbie Land and figured out her place within that plastic world but chose the path of becoming human. Let us not try to find our place within a world that robs us of our humanity, but let our existential crisis lead us to assert that the only way forward is the embrace of our fragile, complicated, painful, beautiful humanness.