Barbie Rising: Why Burning Barbie in a Trash Bin Can’t End Her Life or Legacy
My adult self does not comprehend how a Barbie doll—inspiring beauty and creativity—has become twisted into an object of disdain.
My adult self does not comprehend how a Barbie doll—inspiring beauty and creativity—has become twisted into an object of disdain.
I’m the daughter of a praying mother, a woman who always keeps a prayer list by her bedside. As a child, I often snuck into her room to see what she was praying for me. “Attitude change? Patience?” I would read, bristling, not at the suggestion that I had a bad attitude, but that she…
The Old Testament enthralls me: the poetry, the heat and sand, the incomprehensible language, the culture and mystery (Who was Cain’s wife? What are the Nephilim? What about Pangea and the dinosaurs?). But the characters I am supposed to identify most closely with—the Hannahs and Rebeccas and Rachels and Sarahs—I don’t. While I have known…
Late winter is often particularly dark and dank. My doldrums are deep; the brief respite of sun and warmth too rare. Cranky, I put one foot ahead of the other, get done what needs to be done, oblivious to subtle renewal around me, refusing to believe even in the possibility. It happened today. Dawn broke…