Welcome to Day 5 of the September Open Write. Deepest gratitude to our poetry hosts: Stacey Joy, Barb Edler, and Glenda Funk. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here. See you back here in October!
Our Host
Glenda retired from full-time teaching in 2019 after a 38 year career and now subs in her district. In addition to being a dog and cat mom, Glenda is a doting grandmother to Ezra, who at fifteen months scampers around “like he has a jetpack on.” Glenda blogs with the Two Writing Teachers community. You can find her at Swirl & Swing: www.glendafunk.wordpress.com and in two sessions during the upcoming NCTE Annual Convention in Columbus, Ohio. Glenda will also be presenting at the Western Literature Association Conference on the Fort Hall Indian Reservation in October.
Inspiration
The summer of 2023 has been dominated by women!
At the center of all this girl power sits a plastic doll brought to life in Greta Gwrwig’s Barbie. Margot Robbie’s Barbie is joined by the physically perfect boyfriend. The humorist Erma Bombeck characterized these toys as “the real lifesavers of the economy” who arrived in cardboard boxes in time for the holiday season.
Paradoxically, Barbie symbolizes female empowerment while also embodying an unattainable ideal of physical perfection, regardless of how inclusive Matel and Barbie aficionados want to contend otherwise. These days I also see Barbie elevating a “you can have it all” unrealistic standard for women, an unintended consequence of the movie’s themes, I’m sure.
For many of us raised on pointy-breast, spike-heel-wearing, microscopic-waist, blonde Barbie, our body dysmorphia began when we unboxed that plastic doll, pushed aside our baby dolls, and began dreaming of pink, plastic McMansions.
My Barbies never owned a cool pad or convertible. My Barbies wore homemade business suits an aunt sewed for me, and they were virtually homeless, residing in a cardboard box under my bed.
Still, I loved the Barbie movie and especially America Ferrera’s empowering monologue, which you can read here.
Poetry Models
When I was a high school teen my step-mother told me not to wear sweaters because my boobs were too big. She’d take clothes out of my closet and wear them, and in the process damage them. Marge Piercy’s “Barbie Doll” reminds me of that time in my life.
This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs. (Read the complete poem here.)
“Kinky” by Denise Duhamel reminds me of the time I cut my Barbies’ hair, and my dad spanked me for it. I also tried switching out legs among dolls and still think about Erma Bombeck writing, “There was something weird about Ken, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
They decide to exchange heads.
Barbie squeezes the small opening under her chin
over Ken’s bulging neck socket. His wide jaw line jostles
atop his girlfriend’s body, loosely,
like one of those novelty dogs
destined to gaze from the back windows of cars. (Read the rest of the poem here.)
I found several other Barbie-themed poems online, including three from Victoria Chang’s collection Barbie Chang, a collection of poems reimagining the Barbie ideal.
“Once Barbie Chang Worked” by Victoria Chang
“Barbie Chang Got Her Hair Done” by Victoria Chang
“Barbie Chang’s Tears” by Victoria Chang
Although not specifically a Barbie poem, “Walking at Night” by Louise Gluck describes the lived reality of older women, including those aging Barbies among us, as we move through a world oblivious to our presence.
When they pass, they don’t notice her.
She’s like a dry blade of grass in a field of grasses.
So her eyes that used never to leave the ground
are free now to go where they like. (Read the full poem here.)
Glenda’s Poem
Barbie Suits
My barbie wore sexy suits:
A-lined skirts hugging her hips;
back slits skimming her thighs;
kicked back calves crowned by
pointy-toed spike-heeled stilettos like
stop-sticks cautioning not-Ken men to
distance themselves from their
unattainable ideal female fantasy, a
boxed plastic patriarchal mythology
Barbie’s veiled perky protrusions
peek past V geometry & pique curious
orbs that plunge into a storied abyss
beneath the male gaze unaware—
Women dress only for our own delights.
August 10, 17, 2023
Now Write
Think of how you live in this Barbie world, the role Barbie and her cohort have played in your life, the ways they have shaped your identity or that of females in your life. Tap into your inner Ken if you identify more with him than with the girl dolls. Maybe you’re more like Kate McKinnon’s Weird Barbie. We welcome all Barbies.
Choose your own form, perhaps a haiku sonnet, a reverse golden shovel, haibun, or free-verse. I chose a 14-line poem to echo the sonnet form, but I split the final couplet so it frames the three stanzas. Write your own Barbie You poem and share with the Barbies joining us in this space.
Glenda, I forgot to check Ethical ELA yesterday, but I am absolutely drawn to this prompt. I think it will work well in my WIP about a coming of age girl. I hadn’t considered a Barbie poem until now. Thanks for all the great models, but especially your own with its vulnerability.
Nene sewed Barbie’s clothes
embarrassing me with my friends
because they were “old fashioned.”
But the cardboard sofa and chair set
were just-right-Goldilocks sized.
One day Missy and I buried our Barbies
in a pile of sand on a construction site,
not aware that in the future she would bury
her first born for no good reason.
The way life goes…
How I miss Barbie days! Pretend romance,
plastic dreams, all the world’s a stage.
And that friendship built in a sandpit
when all we had was a future.
Oh, Margaret, this sounds perfect for your coming of age heroine. Well done. I’m glad you tried this prompt with her in mind. I’ll look forward to reading her story someday.
Margaret,
I’m so happy to find your poem this morning and ecstatic to hear the prompt offers inspiration for your WIP. I’ve been contemplating the complications in the poem, particularly the foreshadowing and parallels of burying a doll and a child. That’s heartbreaking. I hope, like me, you look back on those homemade clothes and know how much more valuable they are than the purchased ones. The image of plastic dreams offers an ironic commentary on the American Dream, doesn’t it? Neither those Barbie dreams nor that American myth is as true as we were led to believe. Certainly, it’s almost laughable to young people now.
To those of you who showed up and wrote a poem today, thank you. I learned so much from you and feel as though I know you better after reading your verses. This space only works when people are here and when folks share their insights in poems and respond to others’ poems. I’ve been writing in this space since April 2019, That month Sarah wrote all the prompts. In the year following those of us who hosted carried the load for a week. I’ve written many prompts for this group and am most proud of the one I wrote today. I did not sign up to host this year but agreed to take a day after someone cancelled. I wanted to leave space for others w/ fresh voices who may not have had a chance to host to take the lead. I have grown to love writing poetry and realize this community is why. Thank you for that blessing.
Just wanted to elaborate, Glenda, on my appreciation for yesterday’s prompt, as I was half asleep when I finally wrote my poem – school is kicking my butt this year. I LOVED your prompt! I love Piercy’s “Barbie Doll” and never miss an opportunity to read it with classes, and you introduced me to some other fantastic ones. Thanks for this!
Thank you, Glenda! Your prompt today perfectly follows the one Barb offers us yesterday continuing the conversation about women, their power, will, and place in this reality. I haven’t seen the movie, but I read Gloria’s monologue following your link. Thank you so many mentor poems and your gem with that final punchline: “Women dress only for our own delights.” I am right there with you.
I was never much into dolls simply because I simply didn’t have them, except for one rag doll, so it was kind of challenging to define me through them. I still wanted to write tonight, after a very long work day.
It’s Okay not to Have Barbie
I didn’t have Barbie.
Had no idea it existed.
Mom helped me sew my first doll,
I robed her using mom’s fabric scraps.
She looked awkwardly angled,
Yet kept me inventing her wardrobe,
Dreaming ‘bout more elegant looks.
My daughters didn’t have Barbie.
They weren’t sold in stores or markets—
Sanctions worked better than today.
I bought them local dolls,
With round cheeks and bodies
Resembling real little girls.
If they wanted a new dress,
I took out my sewing machine.
My granddaughter doesn’t have Barbie.
Her eight years filled with books, stories,
Stuffed animal friends, world map puzzles,
Magic Magnet, and outdoor playgrounds.
She lives though in, as Anne Lamott calls it,
“The United States of Advertisement,”
Obsessed with forms and exterior looks.
I hope she escapes the Barbie virus.
Here is my youngest with her doll circa 1999.
Cute doll and daughter! That hair is magnificent!
Leilya,
I’m glad you wrote and offered this glimpse into a Barbie-free world. Your poem is a sociology lesson underpinned by political reality in this American consumerist nation. I’m going to look at my prompt so I can understand why folks in this group thought they had to write about Barbie rather than about issues surrounding the doll, if that makes sense. It’s the monologue and what it says about women and expectations of women that inspired me. The doll is, as I see it, a backdrop, which is why I looked for poems specific to the doll. Anyway, my mom brought a Barbie to my sister but not one to me. My dad intervened and told her she had to get me one. I waited moths for it. When she finally gave me the doll it had a wonky leg that didn’t bend right. My parents were divorced, and I lived w/ my dad at the time. So I do understand the not having Barbie. There’s a generational quality to your poem that I love. I hope your granddaughter stays focused on the stories and not the stuff. I do love Ann Lamont’s characterization, “the United States of Advertisement.”
Leilya, it’s so interesting to read your take on Barbies for the generations. Beautiful. We can learn about your history (sanctions) with this beauty. “the United States of Advertisement” is so sad, but true.
Glenda, I love you and your poem. I haven’t seen the movie, didn’t have an interest. Thank you for today’s inspiration and for allowing me to vent one last time about Malibu Barbie.
Barbie, You and British Royalty
I wrote a poem in 2011
And again in 2019
About how Malibu Barbie
betrayed me.
I don’t think she deserves
another poem from me.
My feelings remain unchanged
about Barbie and British royalty.
Adding some color
to the family
and more texture
to the hair
will never convince me
we are welcome.
©Stacey L. Joy, September 20, 2023
Stacey,
Vent away! Our England guide needs a coming to Jesus about British Royalty.
I wasn’t finished w/ my comment. It has been that kind of week! Here’s the rest: First, I need to read those other poems, and that last stanza needs to be shouted from the rooftops:
”Adding some color
to the family
and more texture
to the hair
will never convince me
we are welcome.”
That says so much about trying to reinvent an image engrained in culture. It’s a fair criticism, for sure, one I need to hear. Maybe it’s time to acknowledge Barbie betrayed all girls in one way or another. That’s something I’ll think about even as I also like much of the movie, especially the monologue. Thanks for complicating my thinking. ❤️ you.
Hi, Stacey! I honestly didn’t know anything about Malibu Barbie and had to look up that doll. What’s up with betrayal? ))
Love your final stanza; you got it so right!
Hi! When I was little she was the only Barbie who had a tan and was closer to my skin color. But it took years to realize she was white and I would never live a Malibu Barbie life. She betrayed me. 😂
Glenda,
I loved every poem that you shared. <3
And I grew up with and of Barbie. Loved seeing the movie this summer.
Inviting their gaze
Was always a mixed blessing:
Exciting, in ways –
In others, not so much.
Like when she stood behind the
Counter, hawking the
Records that spun songs
From long-haired boys about sex
Drugs and rock and roll,
Was propositioned
By a john and told that she
Was wasting her time
Working here – why not
Come work for him? He left his name
On the counter and the
Blonde with him smiled,
Hair perfectly styled.
Wendy,
You know I love haiku sonnets, and this one sizzles. You’re speaking the quiet part out loud :
“Inviting their gaze
Was always a mixed blessing:
Exciting, in ways –
In others, not so much.”
Preaching the truth w/ those words. Then the icky part w/ that *john* and his unwelcome advances. eww! Love the setting details: the record store, the grittiness of sex, drug, and rock ‘n roll. Amazing poem. I’m go thankful for your gift today.
Thank you, Wendy! Your first haiku sets an unsettling mood from the start with “Exciting, in ways –” where the dash hints that’s there is more to it than being “exciting.”
Love how your poem accounts for every word!
Clarification: I meant to say “pimp” not “John.”
Wendy, my brain actually read the poem as pimp, at least in terms of defining.
I thought about it too considering low case “john.”
No Barbie for Me
Born years after me
I was already thirteen
ready for real boys.
No Barbie for me.
Bouncy ponytail
black and white striped swimsuit.
Baby dolls were mine
No Barbie for me.
No plastic pink glitter.
She lives kind in her dreamhouse
while I learn to drive a car.
No Barbie for me.
Watched my children play
with a pink house and boutique.
The times were changing.
No Barbie for me.
Love the repetition of “No Barbie for me.” – I hear strength and wisdom in this! It immediately reminded me of a friend named Barbara that I met in high school, who (like me) was born the same year Barbie was introduced; she had never owned any of these dolls. (Mine were long gone by high school, hahaha) Anyhow, her Mom was a strong feminist and refused to allow the dolls in their house. I was fascinated by this critique! And the very idea that a mother would raise her daughters to be feminists! This was life-changing for me. I don’t think I had ever really thought deeply about those playthings.
Susan,
Im a bit jealous of your Barbieless life. You didn’t have that plastic doll sending you messages about maintaining a microscopic waist, which I obviously do not. Getting a drivers license is much more thrilling than playing w/ a deformed doll anyway.
I really love your first stanza, especially, “I was already thirteen, ready for real boys.” You sound way cooler than Barbie!
Susan,
That repetition potentiates for me in each stanza. There is an intensity that I can feel in what was and wasn’t. I love the sound of the line “No plastic pink glitter.”
Sarah
Susan, your poem shares an interesting perspective, and I enjoyed the repetition of the final line. Your life sounds far more daring and “real”. I liked the “black and white striped swimsuit” detail as this immediately brought that image to life for me as I am sure I remember Barbie wearing something like this. I like the comparison between real life and a dream life in your poem.
such an intriguing refrain!
“No Barbie for Me” perfectly resonates with me too, Susan! Although it appeared before I was born, we didn’t have access to these dolls.I like how you trace your life with the repeating “No Barbie for me,” as you had other things to do and real life to live. Thank you!
Love it! “Ready for real boys”
You didn’t miss anything by not having a Barbie at the center of your life. 😂
Barbie has a canopy bed at the top of the basement shelf
it’s no dream house but my parents assure us the shelves are better than plastic
When Ken comes over it isn’t long before he and Barbie toss their velcro-ed neon clothes aside and tangle limbs into the bed
Ken’s permanent molded underwear and Barbie’s nipple free breasts clank against each other in an approximation of what we think happens between adults when no one’s watching
Eventually my sister is too old to play Barbies with me anymore
And the shelves replaced with her new bed
A preteen, she needs her own room in the basement that used to be reserved for Barbies and LEGO
Our Barbies found a new home somewhere else
Maybe they got a fresh start from their wanton ways
Maybe they kept the party rolling
Glenda, I love this prompt because one of the more “wtf” recollections I have from childhood is that my sister and I pretty much only played Barbies as a giant apartment complex of horny dolls hopping into each others’ beds. I remember trying to play Barbies with a friend once but her Barbies were chaste and just liked to try on different outfits and it was much less exciting.
You have me laughing out loud –
and your “giant apartment complex of horny dolls” – hahaha. A self-taught sex ed class!
Missy,
Thank you for this delightful romp! I’m laughing at these lines:
“Ken’s permanent molded underwear and Barbie’s nipple free breasts clank against each other in an approximation of what we think happens between adults when no one’s watching” 😱
I wonder how much sex education those plastic dolls w/ missing parts provided over the years! I’m here for the unchaste Barbie and Ken. They’re much more interesting to me. Love, love, love your poem.
Missy, rest assured, you were not alone in this inquisitive Barbie and Ken play! Thanks for the memories.
Missy, your poem had me laughing aloud. I love the way you describe the Barbie and Ken play. I’m sure that occurred with a lot of children’s play. Your last two lines are brilliant, and I absolutely adore” Maybe they kept the party rolling”! Loved it!
Missy,
This is awesome!! My husband just asked my what I was laughing about. He laughed, too, when I shared.
This poem, Missy, put a new perspective on how some children play. I can’t imagine horny Barbie and Ken. Now I can! What a funny take on them.
Glenda,
I positively loved the Barbie movie. It was nostalgic, which I loved, but it also was a great study in sociology and stereotypes and gender evolution. I could watch it again and again. I am so glad you used to create a prompt, and it’s a prompt with plenty of fodder to help us create.
I couldn’t help but take a trip down memory lane of playing Barbies with my sister, and the more I wrote, the sadder I got so I landed on the ending. 🙁
Playthings
My sister and I played with Barbies so much as kids.
Between those perfect plastic renderings of women and
Donny Osmond,
our shared adolescence was something to treasure.
We probably had ten or so dolls between the two of us.
Sometimes, we would fight over who got
to be Skipper,
but we couldn’t be too territorial
because they were meant to be shared.
I cut one of the Barbies hair once
(who didn’t?)
much to the chagrin of my sister.
I snuck my mom’s nail polish
and painted one of the doll’s fingernails and toenails.
(you can imagine how that turned out.)
I used straight pins that had the little balls on the ends for earrings.
(they had to be stuck in strategically so they wouldn’t
come out through her face).
Barbie was a doll.
A plaything.
Nothing about her seemed at all like real,
Nothing like the women in my life.
Her skin
Her clothes
Her waist
Her shoes
Her clothes
Her pointed boobs
were a perfected, exaggerated version of women.
No one looked like that.
And I didn’t even think she was supposed to look real.
One Christmas, Santa brought us
a cardboard Barbie Dreamhouse
(it was quite basic compared to
the mansions my daughters had
decades later) and
It.
Was.
Awesome.
I wanted to live in that house.
I wanted our house to be like hers.
Sure, the pennants on the wall
were like my brothers’ and
the cabinet record player looked
like ours,
but I resented Barbie’s house.
It made our house feel
like a cardboard box.
It had a Murphy bed
(I had no clue then they were called that or why)
that was THE coolest.
Beds don’t fold down out of the wall!
(Little did I know they actually do).
Rearranging the furniture and lamps and picture frames
was such fun. . .
a breeze compared to doing the same in our house.
The nifty way the Dreamhouse folded up into
a carrying case was the grooviest thing ever.
There were times we fought over who could take it to a friend’s.
So, the rule was made that it didn’t leave our house.
We had vinyl closets to store her fab clothes.
They, too, latched closed and had a handle for carrying.
How nifty that we could carry her entire world
around from room to room.
These days,
I don’t have a dang thing to talk to my sister about.
Our lives took us in polar opposite directions.
We don’t agree on much politically, religiously, or any other -ly.
We live 50 miles apart and I haven’t seen her in a few years.
But put us in a room and give us some Barbies and
all the differences
would melt away
and we would
just play
and play
and play.
~Susan Ahlbrand
20 September 2023
Susan, it makes me wonder what would happen if you showed up on her doorstep with the dream house and some Barbies. I do understand the distance, geographically and emotionally and all the otherly ways. But memories are ways of keeping the times of love alive. I remember playing Fisher Price Little People with my brother. We always ended up in fights with each other back then!
Great memories, Susan. Sadly I don’t remember having a Barbie. She was born in 1959 and I was already a teenager. I love that you would just play, play, play. It would be nice to get your old barbies out (if you saved them) and invite your sister over for lunch. See what happens…
Susan,
Im thrilled you like the prompt today. I suspect many did not. Oh, well. I’d love to watch the Barbie movie w/ you and agree w/ your assessment of it. I cut my Barbie’s hair, too. My dad spanked me. And those pin earrings are genius. I always thought of Barbie’s dream house as aspirational, but I can see how it would be depressing for some girls. Like you, my sister and I disagree on much, but I try to keep our relationship going as she’s the only sister I have. I hope things get better w/ your sister. hugs and peace to you.
I love the way you weave this story. With your words “a carrying case was the grooviest thing ever, ” you take us right back to the 60s & 70s with that adjective! Now I have this fun image of you with a basket of Barbies, showing up at your sister’s to just play together again – I wonder if something magical would happen?
What a journey you took us in, Susan. Thank you for sharing it with us. I’m sure you didn’t expect to go there with this prompt, but I think that speaks to the power of poetry and writing.
Susan, thank you for taking us along with you on this trip down memory lane. I agree with you that sibling dynamics are sometimes — maybe even, oftentimes — difficult (and confusing, lol) to navigate. I really enjoyed the craft of your poem — the connection Barbie brought with your sister in the beginning, the fact that Barbie (as a doll) didn’t engender envy in you, but her Dreamhouse did, and then the realization at the current state of your relationship with your sister which lead to a hopeful but ultimately (perhaps?) dreamlike and fictional reconciliation where you “just play / and play / and play.” So well-crafted and deeply moving!
Once I carried a Cee Bee’s paper bag
down Ardmore Street around
the big pool and down
Mrs. Nicollela’s wheel chair ramp
to play Barbies with Jenni S.
She was my friend:
Jenni S.not Barbie.
Jenni S. was an only child.
I loved her house; her mom
grew alfalfa sprouts and watched soaps
while we played Barbies upstairs.
My Cee Bee’s paper bag carried
naked Barbie and limbs of Ken,
mismatched outfits,
maybe a broken down Corvette.
Jenni S had a pink Barbie house
where I moved in for an hour or two
to imagine adulting, I guess.
Then, I’d pack my paper bag with
a new shoe or dress to borrow ’til
next time and walk my path back up
Mrs. Nicollela’s wheel chair ramp,
around the big pool and down
Ardmore Street back home.
Inevitably, Mom needed that
paper bag to line the garbage can,
and I’d have to find a new way to
carry my Barbies to Jenni S’s house.
I loved playing Barbies with Jenni S.
Sarah,
Often your poetry is like peeking through a window back in time to glimpse childhood in the “make do” lived reality Mo identifies in her poem. I’m reading I’m thinking about the ideal Barbie envisioned by Matel and the flawed version w/ broken limbs and mismatched body parts that helped forge your friendship w/ Jenny S. This gives Barbie a utilitarian, albeit important, function. I love all the details, such as the ramp, the walk, the bag lining the trash can. These make the story personal. This poem reminds me of Gary Soto’s “Oranges,” which is one of my favorites to share with students.
I don’t know Cee Bee’s but I can imagine that paper bag – and I find it so funny that is “carried naked Barbie and limbs of Ken,” – growing up with four brothers and no sisters, that’s pretty much what happened to my dolls, too. I am struck by your description of your play together –
I had a similar puzzling when I wrote my poem – what did I play? what conversations was I imagining with these dolls? why have I forgotten it all?
Sarah, I was completely pulled into your poem. The images are sharp. I can just imagine the foreign feeling you must have felt once inside Jenni S’s house. “to imagine adulting” shows so different your own family experience was compared to Jenni’s. I am so sad your bag even was taken to line the garbage. The “limbs of Ken” and naked Barbie also reveals your own reality. I really enjoyed how you separated that last line to emphasize the joy you found at Jenni’s home. Extremely powerful poem! I appreciate your strength in writing this poem!
Glenda, thank you for your amazing prompts and the photo of Barbie is hysterical. I love the monologue you shared, too, and I remember that moment well from the movie. I lived during a time the Flatsy dolls were produced which were nothing like Barbie, but a whole lot like me which is the focus on my poem. Flatsy link: Flatsy doll – Wikipedia
I Wasn’t a Barbie Doll
Flatsy, Flatsy,
you’re flat
and that’s that,
the boys taunted
as I strode across the playground
wearing a t-shirt instead of a bra.
I couldn’t disagree,
Barbie’s perky curves
definitely skipped past me.
I’d never imitate Honey West’s
sexy sashaying hips.
So, I did my best to play hard
trying to accept
my disappointing chest.
Barb Edler
20 September 2021
Ugh, Barb. This is so much and everything. “Barbie’s perky curves” and “sexy sashaying hips” — but when I see the Barbie doll now, she’s so skinny and the curves are not sexy but disturbing. Still, you are right on the money here imagining our perceptions, then, of that plastic body and the implications on our conceptions of beauty.
“So, I did my best to play hard.” Nice.
Sarah
Barb, your poem sparks the memories of body image taunting back in those days. Classmates could be so cruel to each other. Busty girls wanted less, flatter girls wanted more. And here we are today, less than perfect and more okay with it the older we get. Cheers to all our flaws!!
Barb,
You nailed the body dysmorphia w/ your brilliant poem I echo Sarah’s thoughts We work to compensate for what society says we lack: “So, I did my best to play hard” is everything. I was the last girl to get a training bra in my class, and now look at me. I have a big regret—two, actually—with my current situation. Love the alliteration in “sexy sashaying” as this creates a mocking tone. And thank you for introducing me to the Flatsy doll. I’d not heard of her before. As always, your poetic brilliance shines.
Ugh! I remember boys taunting me in the same dang way. Ugh ugh ugh. I believe that darn doll did a lot to warp my expectations of my own ‘dream’ body.
California Dreaming
By Mo Daley 9/20/23
“We can make do,” was our mantra
in the 60s, 70s, and even the 80s.
With so many mouths to feed,
surely you can understand
that oftentimes toys were luxuries.
Dream House?
Dream on.
Barbie Camper?
I’ll sleep on it.
Malibu Barbie?
Beach, please!
Be thankful for flat-chested Skipper,
on the sidelines of the action
who better resembles you anyway.
Make do.
Until you can make it on your own.
Mo, perfect Barbie story. Love the Q&A section with the word play. Yes, Skipper “on the sidelines of the action” was more my Barbie style too.
Mo, I can totally relate. I love the way you format your poem with a question and response. I forgot about Skipper:) Your last two lines add a really important message and final punch.
Oh, Mo. I wanted that camper. What do you think it cost back then — way out of our league, too. I like these answers to the questions here: “I’ll sleep on it” and “Beach, please.” That made me smile. And your poem is in conversation with Barbs about the chests. I forgot about Skipper. I am glad for Skipper, an early attempt at representation?
Great final lines: “Make do./Until you can make it on your own.”
Peace,
Sarah
So perfect, Mo! And Skipper . . . she appears in my poem, too. I’d like to hope that Mattel was helping us to see that Skipper was just as beautiful as Barbie even though her traits were clearly different.
Mo,
I learned a saying from a student who learned it from her mom and now rattles in my mind as I read your poem: “Use it up. Wear it out. Make it do, or do without.” I was a very poor child, so this question-response format speaks directly to me. “You’re gonna make it after all,” right? BTW, take a look at Jennifer’s poem if you haven’t yet. It’s a nice parallel to your poem.
“Make do.” This is an excellent thing to learn, I think!
Playing Barbies with My 4 Year Old
I had my fair share of Barbies growing up, but those all went away in a garage sale. I never planned to buy them for my daughter but when you’re gifted something, you plow ahead. “Mommy, Daddy play with me. Mom, your doll is the teacher. Dad, you’re the little girl. I’ll be the Zombie!”
imagination!
Barbie CAN be anything
go with it, enjoy!
©️Jennifer Kowaczek September 2023
Yes, this really happened! As an only child, my daughter recruited her dad and me to be her playmates. She loved to direct us — giving us roles and dialog when we played with dolls. Her imagination was (and still is ten years later) off the charts!
Form: Haibun
Glenda, thank you for this prompt. At first I thought I was going to give this a pass and then I remembered the above. The Haibun form made for the perfect story telling avenue. I’ve written a few, but I often forget about this form, so thank you for the reminder. It is becoming one of my favorites.
Oh, Jennifer, so glad you shared this gem of a story. I love that your daughter wanted to be the zombie! The haibun is a form that I forget about too. Thanks for the reminder.
Jennifer, I love your straightforward voice in this piece. I loved the Zombie like which connects well with a newer generation of fans. Your haiku is delivered with relish. Yes, enjoy!
Jennifer,
Im glad you wrote today. Your poem raises important parenting concerns about the toys we provide and those we omit to our children. I gave my Barbies to a niece at the bequest of my sister, and I think my aunt understood what I needed for my Barbies. Like you, I often think I’ll pass on a prompt only later to have an epiphany. Thank you for being here today. It means a lot to me.
Ha! I adore the zombies playing along with Barbie!! Love it!
Jennifer, I’m glad you remembered the Haibun form so you could share this with us! I love the addition of “the Zombie” into the playing!
After Streaming the Latest Blockbuster
Questioning identity and literal
existence and purpose in this
wide, wide world of ours:
Check.
Significant other who is
unforgiving, prideful and
unwillingly (and at times
quite willingly) holding
the heroine back:
Check.
A “friend” who helps
the heroine by having
her confront her
current relationship:
Check.
Someone who frets
over money and status
introduced into the
storyline:
Check.
A breakout dance number
that helps motivate the
plot (and even dances
its way to the climax
of the play):
Check.
Far reaching consequences
that risk tearing apart
the very fabric of
society:
Check.
(Not to mention the
audience’s reactions
both positive and negative
after the premiere:
Double Check.)
I’ve come to the
realization that
Nora Helmer
from
Henrik Ibsen’s
A Doll’s House
is the
Norwegian
equivalent
of a Victorian
era Barbie.
(And I’m
super
excited
to see
if my
students
this year
will reach
the same
conclusion.)
_____________________________________________
Thank you Glenda for your mentor poem and your prompt today! I loved your alliteration throughout (especially all those p’s in your last stanza). And thank you for introducing me to Victoria Chang’s poetry! (I thoroughly enjoyed the Barbie movie this past week when I saw it, and your prompt afforded me the opportunity to articulate some of my thoughts about it.)
Scott,
I love A Doll’s House. I’ve also thought about the Barbie movie pairing well w/ Kate Chopin’s The Awakening. The structure of your poem intrigues me as I consider in as a series of boxes you as a man have checked and the way that echoes the idea of Barbie arriving in a box, not unlike the way women have been told to fit into little boxes the patriarchy checks off. I’m also thinking about the list of tropes, which are also an ironic commentary of social tropes women have been forced to live by. I don’t know if you intended any of that, but I quite like thinking about your poem that way. I’d love to hear more about how your students respond to the play in terms of the movie. Thanks for sharing such a thought-provoking poem today.
Scott, what a great time you will have comparing A Doll’s House with Barbie. You have lucky students! I hope after your discussion, you’ll share your poem with them.
Scott, an amazing list poem today with a Barbie topic! Love this form and how it works!
Love this!! I hope your students make the same connection – you must let us know! What an awesome connection to make.
Glenda, I still haven’t seen Barbie, but I want to! You (and many others) have told me how worthwhile it is! I didn’t realize how many Barbie poems there were. Thank you for sharing them, and now here we are adding to the collection.
Your poem is full of Glenda-esque word choice, magical and effective. The stilletos as “stop-sticks cautioning not-Ken men to /
distance themselves…” is one of my favorites.
Random Barbie Talk
K: Are you writing a poem today?
D: Yes, about Barbie.
K: Barbie?
D: Yes, Barbie. It’s Glenda’s prompt.
Remember, you sat by her at dinner
in Anaheim? And Ken, who also liked
the movie. He has a Kenough shirt.
K: Yes, sure I remember, but I still don’t
want to see the movie.
D: I never owned a Barbie. I had a Francie
and a Skipper. Skipper was
Barbie’s little sister,
and Francie was like a
young teen with small boobs.
Lori had a Barbie and a Midge,
who had a brown beehive and freckles.
Judi’s friend borrowed Lori’s Barbie and Midge
for a 4-H diorama and never returned them.
That’s one of those unforgivable offenses
of family lore for the Reeds.
My little brother had G.I. Joe. We played
together a lot, and I must say
G.I. Joe was better.
K: Is that why it took so long for
you to fall for me?
D: What?
K: Were you looking for a soldier?
D: He had boots that were easy to
put on and a backpack.
K: I had boots and a backpack.
He also had guns.
D: Oh, I forgot about the guns!
That’s gross.
I liked his wooden foot locker.
Denise,
I love the idea of a conversation poem. Sometimes I post “Conversations with Ken” on Facebook, and your poem reminds me of those. Now tell K you’ll go see Barbie w/out him if necessary. That’s a fun list of dolls attached to lots of family memories. In G.I.Joe’s defense, his guns were plastic. 😉 I have thoughts about that “wooden footlocker” and would love to see that featured in a poem. So many possibilities!
Denise, the conversational approach here is so fun! I love the feeling of eavesdropping in on your conversation! And I love the reference back to Anaheim. I’ll sure miss seeing everyone at NCTE this year!
Denise this was a wonderful presentation. I’m going to file this “conversation form” away for a future poem.
Thanks for sharing
Denise, your poem reminds me of so many details about the Barbie entourage that I’d forgotten about. I love how this conversation flows. I don’t think my sons ever had any GI Joes or Kens, but they sure liked the Ninja turtles. It’s interesting to consider what toys say about our society.
This is awesome! This dialogue is pure poetry. I adore the comparisons “K: I had boots and a backpack.” hahaha that cracked me up.
on Barbie and keeping abreast
mostly
I played alone
I had one Barbie.
Two?
Skipper, Todd, and . . .
Todd’s twin was only briefly with us
squished together bickering
my little brother
got so mad at me
he tossed her out the back window
of the station wagon
on a family trip
I still see her flattened
by the car behind us
as we continued our drive
sometimes
my little brother
played Barbies with me
we’d stretch out
on the floor in our room
he had his Lone Ranger
and the big horse
I don’t think we ever had a Ken
this was long before
being told to go back inside
and change into something decent
this was long before
overhearing
she asked for it
this was long before
my grandmother empowering me
confiding
how she clawed at the man
who jumped her from behind
when she got off the bus after work
and sent him running
this was long before
marching across campus, shouting
Take Back the Night!
Maureen,
I love the title. It’s a perfect pun for pointy-breast Barbie! May Todd’s twin RIP. Becoming roadkill is a tragic ending to a plastic life. 😞 Should we call that Barbiecide? The repetition is perfect, and I love the tone switch it invites. I wonder how these dolls have contributed to the objectifying of women given the time emphasis in your verse. And bravo for grandmothers who taught us and shared their stories. Your poem is a gift that has me thinking about so many complications in the lives of women.
Maureen, I’m sorry your Barbie got thrown out the window and flattened! Oh my – I have the image!!
Oh, my goodness. I remember the Lone Ranger and Tonto too. My brother had those too. The ending stanzas with all the “this was long before” lines made me tense up as I read them. You handled this prompt perfectly and wrote something so powerful, Maureen.
Maureen, I love the imagery throughout your poem, especially the poor flattened Barbie. I also appreciate how you build momentum within your poem. Your grandmother sounds fierce! I will be thinking about your poem for quite a while as there are so many levels of meaning and suggestions here which are compelling and provocative. Love the way you end with the rebellious shouting. Brilliant poem!
Great poem, Glenda! Love that great Glenda-tude you bring forth! You go girl! Love, Susie
Glenda, what a prompt! This brings back all the feels of long-gone days of childhood, and the walk down memory lane was a great way to start the day. Reflecting on those dreams and visions we had as children – always going to keep long non-one-strand-out-of-place hair, always wear high heels, always be tailored with permanent lipstick. Bwahaha! Here I am in gray pants, a floral striped shirt, and a black buttonless cardigan. But…..my silver flats sparkle, so maybe there is still a teaspoon of Barbie dream left in me. Thanks for hosting us today!
Turning Back the Years Reverse Nonet
We’d line them up like kickball players
at recess, then pick one by one,
taking turns to get the best
looking Barbies. Next, we’d
choose accessories ~
whip worlds to life
narrating
stories
dreamed.
Kim,
What a perfect form for a Barbie memory. I like to think there’s a little Barbie glitz in myriad ways of striding ourselves, including your outfit today. Love the simile comparing Barbie to athletes. It reinforces that Barbie can-do ideal.
Kim, so funny. I love the allusion to getting picked “like kickball players” It makes me wonder if the same wounded thoughts happened to the owners of those last picked Barbies–the “ugly” ones. I love the line “whip worlds to life”
Kim, I love how you’ve created this nonet ending with dream. I so enjoyed your opening line: “We’d line them up like kickball players”. I could completely see this happening. We were always making up stories in one way or another while growing up. It was truly the part that added joy to the playtime. Love this poem for sharing that message!
You say so much more in your nine lines than I do in my million. I especially love
Lining them up, dressing them, accessorizing – that’s what it was all about, wasn’t it? Such a flashback! Great use of reverse nonet form.
Joe, GI,
kept his world
to himself,
his head knocked off
by a fall from
the shelf
Joe’s hands,
replaced backwards
after a tragic
twist of fate,
couldn’t grip
a gun,
but in some
remixed world,
Joe and Barbie,
and maybe Ken,
might have had
a bit of fun
(my wife and I enjoyed the movie, too)
Kevin, I love the realignment with GI Joe! A bit of fun, eh? Heh, heh!
Kevin,
LOL on Joe losing his head! Poor guy. Great job flipping the name. I can see all the skinny dolls in cahoots. Barbie and GI Joe are fighting battles of sorts.
Kevin, what fun this “remixed world” might bring. I love that Joe couldn’t grip a gun! Engaging rhythm in your sweet poem.
Kevin, I really like your G.I. Joe. I remember him hanging around my place as well and certainly got the injuries like you describe. Fun poem. Never had a Barbie around.
You’ve given me such a fun flashback, how my brothers and I would maneuver the heads and arms of these dolls in new, inexplicable ways. Love the idea that
Fascinating!
Kevin, you second stanza had me smiling wide: “Joe’s hands, / replaced backwards / after a tragic / twist of fate, / couldn’t grip / a gun”!