*Warning: Spoilers for the Barbie movie ahead!*
Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past year (if you have been, can I join you?! This heat is getting to me, and somewhere cool and quiet actually sounds rather relaxing!), you’ve probably at least heard of the new Barbie movie that has been taking everyone and everywhere by storm. I got a chance to see it with some dear friends last week, and while I thoroughly enjoyed myself (hats off to Ryan Gosling’s hysterical equestrian version of Ken, who stole the show in my humble opinion), the ending of the movie left me feeling… conflicted.
At the end of the movie, Barbie has a chance to spend some time with Ruth Handler (portrayed by an excellent Rhea Perlman), who was the original creator of Barbie. As Barbie herself debates whether she wishes to remain in Barbieland, or say farewell to the plastic life and become human, Ruth (after mentioning that she named and modeled Barbie after her own daughter) shares this sentiment: “We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they’ve come.”
And… honestly? I’m not sure I agree with that.
Motherhood is, by definition, a lesson in sacrifice on a daily basis. There’s absolutely no question about that. However, I don’t love the idea that we stand still — that, once we become moms, suddenly the personal hopes and dreams and goals that we always had (in some cases since we were girls ourselves!) suddenly become null and void. When I think of my daughter’s future, I dream that she will believe she can be anything she wants to be, anything that is in God’s plan for her life. I dream of a future for her where she constantly crushes glass ceilings underfoot on a regular basis. If she wants to become a mother, the last thing I want for her is to believe that, by doing so, she has to choose between being who she always dreamed she’d be or becoming a mother. It IS possible to do both (though it may look different, of course), and I hope that I model that for her with consistency.
READ: My Why: Maternal Mental Health, Pageants, and Motherhood
To be honest, once I became a mother, I didn’t stand still… I started running. When my daughter was small and I was crippled by PPD/PPA, I recognized fairly quickly that “standing still” would be the absolute worst thing that I could do for both of us. So I started running at top speed towards goals I’d always had, but had been too scared to actually try to obtain before. Don’t get me wrong… running makes it easy to trip, and to fall, and to bruise, and to bleed. But it’s worth it in so many ways, not the least of which is that your child(ren) see you persevere through the unimaginable. Sometimes a run isn’t about actually making it to the finish line — it’s about not stopping the journey of trying to get there. Never giving up is as good a legacy as crossing an actual finish line, in my opinion. Standing still implies that our child(ren) look back at us. I don’t want my daughter to look back at me, as if I became stagnant in my own womanhood and God-created self-worth. I want her to look up to me, as we run together towards our dreams.
I feel like it is worth noting that historically, Ruth Handler herself did not stand still as a mother. In a time where the only type of dolls that little girls had to play with were baby dolls, Ms. Handler decided to fill a needed void: a doll that little girls could play with who not only embodied a grown-up… but one where the bounds of imagination were the only limit to who the toy could become in their impressionable, precious eyes. Created in a day and age where little girls were groomed to mostly just be wives and mothers when they grew up (a sacred calling to be sure, but not the only one!), such a plaything was groundbreaking. Say what you will about the issues that stereotypically perfect-looking Barbie has created, like body image disorders and consumerism, but the heart of what Ms. Handler was trying to do for girls everywhere — her own daughters included — remains a noble vision.
It is further worth noting that I come from a long line of mothers who refused to stand still: my grandmother, Mary (who will be celebrating her 100th birthday in Heaven on August 14) was a single mom in a time and generation where there were few, and raised three daughters alone. My mother, Susan, is a paragon of strength, who challenged societal norms by owning her own house in her own name prior to marriage, and then switched gears completely to selflessly homeschool her children for 12+ years after meeting and marrying my amazing father. And finally, my mother-in-law, Brenda, who raised my husband to be the kindest, most caring man I’ve ever met… while working full-time and putting herself through school to obtain her Ph.D., all while raising her son alone. I draw inspiration from these women daily, and their legacy challenges me to build on it for my own daughter–their granddaughter and great-granddaughter.
Motherhood can look like many different seasons, to be sure; perhaps some of those seasons require standing still, and I absolutely respect and advocate for that. But, dear mamas, please don’t feel that you must always stand still as a mom–that you must completely forsake the little girl inside of you who had ambitions of her own — perhaps ambitions that you acted out with your very own Barbie dolls! Sacrificing to put your children first does not have to constantly, unendingly look like putting your own goals on hold; dare I say that watching you try to achieve them might be the most important, formative thing that your young child(ren) can see.
So… I’m going to keep running. I’m going to keep showing my daughter that she can be anything she wants to be: a mom, a teacher, a pageant queen, an author, a model, a doctor, president, and anything in between. I’m going to change the pace of my run to accommodate her as she grows — carrying her first, then slowing down so she can toddle along with me, then, hopefully, watching in delight as she keeps pace with me as she runs towards her own ambitions.
And then, finally, she will run past me and I am forced to at last stop and rest, because my race has been run. And I hope that, for whatever it has been worth, she has learned something by watching me run towards things worth having and worth fighting for my whole life, and that whatever she has learned will bless and enrich her own future, and that of generations to come.
Because her mom didn’t stand still.
