Goodbye to Barbie

Our daughter is a collector. When she was little, there were always pebbles, coins and bits of things in her pockets. She is an avid American Doll kid (even making food and knitting scarves for her dolls) and has more Littlest Pet Shop figures than I care to count. She even has -- against my better judgment -- Barbies.

I wasn't a Barbie person. When my friends brought their dolls out, I always wanted the doll who was a little different, with dark or red hair. Barbie made her way into my daughter's life via birthday gifts and Nana time. Nana is an expert at doing Barbie hair.


I was not sad, a few weeks back, when we said goodbye to Barbie. She and her friends were in plastic supermarket bags, naked or partially dressed, their hair entwined as only plastic hair can be. My sister-in-law said "no" to Barbie enjoying a second life with her daughter, age 4. I can't blame her.


Many women have mixed feelings about the fashion doll, especially as a play thing for our daughters.


Here is what Debra Kaufman, one of the North Carolina poets visiting this coming weekend, had to say about Barbie.

"There are good prompts and poor ones--the best ones work as talismans to stir some memory, fresh observation, or unexpected imagery or narrative and are in no way proscriptive. In this case the teacher laid out varied objects (a skeleton key, decorative cufflinks, a small glazed imperfect bowl, a nest, and so on) and asked us to take one and write about it. I chose a naked, disheveled-haired Barbie doll, and this poem came pretty much just as it is."

To a Barbie

by Debra Kaufman

She dresses you in evening gowns,

pushes shoes onto your

achingly arched feet,

bends you at the waist

and forces you into Ken’s car,

Ken’s boat, Ken always

whisking you away.

She moves your arms:

wave hello, better wear your windbreaker.

How tiring to have a pink

smile painted on

over a smear of white teeth,

your eyes, the blue of a chlorine pool,

always open.

Would you be happier alone

in the kitchen with your miniature

stove and tiny, unbreakable cups?
Mmm, this coffee sure tastes good,

she says for you, then strips

you again, rakes the comb

through your coarse, bleached hair,

then drops you in hot sand

under a killer sun;

grit gets in your cracks

while she eats an ice cream cone.

Naked, you wait—pert, expectant—

fated never to be loved for yourself,

but only as the plaything

of this moody little girl

now coming at you

with scissors in her hand.

You have a few chances to meet Debra and check out her award-winning book this weekend.

Friday, March 2, Little Patuxent Review is sponsoring a reading. Debra will be one of the featured poets. It runs 6:30pm until 9:30pm (reading begins at 7, open mic at 8) with light food, wine and maybe even music. The reading is hosted by Wisdom Well, 8955 Guilford Road, Suite 240, in Columbia.

Saturday, March 3, Debra, Richard Krawiec and Stephanie Levin -- our other two visiting poets -- offer a workshop at the Bethesda Writers Center, "Crafting Images." This runs 12-3 PM and will cover all writing genres. Registration information is here -- the price was recently reduced!

Saturday evening is Little Patuxent Review's Social Justice reading at The Writers Center. Debra will be a reader and panelist. The reading begins at 7:30 PM. We'll have copies of the ground-breaking issue and posters of the amazing cover, art by Theaster Gates, for sale.

I like the writing exercise that Debra shared. For a high school, or even middle school class, writing produced from this grab bag of junk might produce an interesting group project. If you're working alone, try raiding the junk drawer, or write about something that should have -- like my daughter's Barbies -- gone out with the trash long ago.