This Barbie Isn't Sure How the Expression of Femininity Should Be Posited Against Capitalistic and Consumerist Structures!
I was a few months into my first “adult” job when I had an important realization: many of my colleagues were treating me like a woman first, colleague second.
This is a hard phenomenon to describe, but an easy one to notice. I was getting spoken over in meetings. People were informing me of important projects rather than including me in collaborations. My ideas were being ignored, only to be re-pitched by a (male) colleague later. Most poignantly, during an interview cycle for student workers who would be working under my management, my supervisor had not introduced me to any of the candidates, had not allowed me space to pose any of my own questions, and had not asked for my input or feedback. Even when I was asserting myself during these conversations, it was as if my inputs were cursory little afterthoughts. Several interviewees never even met my eyes or shook my hand, acting as if only my supervisor were in the room with them.
I tell this to my dad on the phone. Benny, whether he wants to admit it or not, is a bit of a feminist–third wave, specifically. His more progressive ideas shaped a lot of my own early understandings of myself, my gender, and my place in the world.
“I guess it’s partially my fault,” I told him. “I’ve been wearing a lot of dresses lately, and I already have a face that makes me look a bit young.I should try to make myself look a bit more serious.”
“What are you talking about?” My dad had said to me. “You’re not less deserving of respect because of how you dress. You ought to wear your pinkest dress into the office tomorrow, march into the next meeting, and go bust some balls” (thanks, dad! Hashtag girl boss!).
And, like a lot of women my age–especially cisgender white women–this attitude has been central to my understanding of empowerment. It’s reflected back to me in a lot of popular culture and mainstream messaging. Elle Woods’ pink power suit skirt-set and fluffy feather pen, taking on Harvard. Barbie, whose astronaut suit comes in pink and is custom-tailored to her measurements. Cheugy little desk signs with swooping cursive lettering at TJ Maxx: GIRL BOSS, BOSS BABE, THE FUTURE IS FEMALE. There is a sort of agreed-upon subscript here: anything the men can do, I can do while still being very very pretty.
A cursory glance into my Facebook posts will tell you that I have always been a girly-girl. Traditional, socially-determined markers of femininity haven’t been an obstacle for me: as a child, I loved glitter and princess dresses, and I grew up into a girl who happily participated in beauty pageants (to be a part of a sweet hometown tradition, obviously), a sorority girl (there really were great opportunities for leadership and professional connection!), and, briefly, a high school cheerleader (...I can’t come up with a moral reasoning here; this one was always about wanting to wear the cute little skirts).
And you’ll also see a fairly-steady stream of my achievements: speech and debate competitions won, graduations celebrated, awards given, scholarships accepted, internships completed. I enjoyed the privilege of getting to be equally praised for both my girlhood as well as my successes.
But now, within the context of cushy-little desk jobs, I find that “being a woman” to the degree that I once embraced “being a girl” often doesn’t benefit me. In fact, it kind of sucks. I had been feeling less “girlboss” and more “girl-quiet-in-the-meeting-taking-notes.” And this is in a socially-progressive context (academia) in a socially-progressive* country (Norway)! How is it, in a bubble that many would assume to be more equitable and inclusive than most, that I am still feeling the woes of womanhood?
Femininity is still sold to us as a commodity, and so many of us are standing around with our wallets open. I can do it all and do it in heels.
Contemporary femininity is marketed as a capitalist commodity-–after all, those hot pink polyester pant-suits from Zara aren’t going to buy themselves, you sexy little SHE-EO. Womanhood isn’t something you have, it’s something you curate through a series of purchases. The presentation of femininity continues to be a pay-to-play game, like a slot machine with an addictively colorful interface. But even when it’s fun, I’m still the one pulling the lever and leaving empty handed. Someone is profiting off of this, and it clearly is not me.
It’s frustrating because, if we can understand gender as this game of make-believe that we never stop playing (which is largely how I think about it), why do we insist on making every aspect of the femme experience an add-on accessory? If I were to take off my makeup, undo my hair, stop stylizing my outfits–would my body (or my life???) feel more or less like my own? Which of those outcomes is scarier?
And when does this argument become less of a critique of capitalist structures and venture into good old fashioned misogyny? The line feels thin to me! I don’t know!!! Let women like things, let women spend their money however they’d like, etc etc etc.
I guess what I keep circling back to is this: how much of our womanhood do we actually like and feel empowered by, and how much of it is just incredibly effective marketing?