I want to write about the movie Barbie. Though I do not want to write it as a movie review because in that case, this blog would only contain criticisms and personal judgements—I think the discussion of gender conflicts and equality in this movie is superficial, lacks of details, and is confined to sermons. Two scenes aroused my emotions. First was when, at the sight of a perfect female image, with a curvy figure, blonde hair, and pretty face, girls flung the dolls with rage and angrish, and smashed up the ironing and laundry toys of the home chores game they were playing. Second was when Ruth Handler said, “We mothers stand still so that our daughters can look back and see how far they’ve come.’’ I recalled the love and tension between me and my mother.
My mom played her role as a dutiful mother and wife. Ever since I can remember, she spent every single day centerred around the family: standing behind my father for his career, attending to all the needs and comforts of the kids, looking out for the grandparents, and nourishing domestic ties with the big family. I know the Chinese do not like always to speak the word love, but every night, no matter how busy my mom was, she came home and made a five-course meal—I cannot find a better expression for this act than love.
The scene of the girls throwing away the dolls is a metaphor for the second-wave feminism when women turned unsatisfied about being the perfect mothers and wives. If my mother stand prior to the women’s rights movements, then I live in a world afterwards, just like in the scene when girls tossed aside the game of home chores; I consider myself a career-driven woman and pursue a life of self-realization. A lot of friction between me and my mom were caused by such discrepancy in our cognition. Studying STEM, going abroad, doing a PhD, etc., we had intense arguments over each decision I made.
Yet no matter my mom understood my decisions or not, she had spared no effort to support me along the way. She was the kindest and the strongest woman I know. Quoting the words of Ruth Handler, my mom stood where she was so I looked back and saw how far I’ve come. I have left my parents and drifted alone in foreign countries for five years. If I ever learnt any kindness, if I have ever had empathy, if I know to be considerate to other people, I owe it to my kind mom.
