Bye Barbie! Exploring the Intersection of Barbie, Black Mermaids, and Bad Behavior
Hold on to your hoop skirts! We are about to go on a wild, multi-generational ride talking about Barbie, Black mermaids, birth rights, and bad behavior.
Released in 1959, the first Barbie became instantly iconic and has (apparently) grown into a feminist icon with the Barbie movie’s success surpassing any of her wildest dreams.
Pink explosions have splashed across social media, with representation from every subgroup of women imaginable. I’ve especially appreciated seeing how so many Black women have pinked out and showed up to amplify the movie and its message of empowerment for women. While this beautiful display of feminine solidarity is inspiring to me, the racist backlash Halle Bailey received in her role as Ariel in The Little Mermaid just months prior to the Barbie release was not lost on me. Where was the Pepto Bismol parade then? (more on that to come, don’t worry).
Did you know that the first Black Barbie was not released until 1980? Before her release and after scrutiny about the lack of representation during the Civil Rights movement, Mattel did create a Black doll named Talking Christie that was released in 1969.
However, she was not an official member of the Barbie franchise – instead, she was branded as “Barbie’s friend”, which is a perfect example of a microaggression that Black women still face today: even when given a seat at the table, we fight for crumbs.
Black. Beautiful. Dynamite:
The History of Black Barbie
Kitty Black Perkins grew up in segregated South Carolina and played with white dolls gifted to her by her mother’s employer. A visionary designer, she noticed the lack of dolls that looked like her and wanted to change that. She believed that every child should see themselves reflected in their toys and feel a sense of pride and belonging.
The story goes that she bought her first Barbie doll when she was 28 years old to help her prepare for an interview with Mattel, who tasked her with designing a new wardrobe for a Barbie as part of her interview process.
Kitty showcased her #BlackGirlMagic by hand-sewing a stunning floral jumpsuit adorned with tiered legs and puff sleeves, complemented by a matching wide-brimmed hat for her Barbie doll. While Mattel deemed the outfit too intricate for mass production, that design was too good to ignore, and Kitty soon became the principal designer for Mattel – a role she held for over 25 years.
In 1979, Kitty was tasked with creating an outfit for the very first Black Barbie doll….and this good Sis did the damn thing! She designed a dazzling ensemble that was destined to shine, complete with stylish stud hoop and dangle earrings, a bold modernist necklace, and a fabulous red bodysuit paired with a wrap-and-snap disco skirt. The packaging proudly proclaimed, "She's black! She's beautiful! She's dynamite!"
Naturally, this groundbreaking incarnation of Barbie received a mixture of reviews, but it marked one of the early efforts by a major toy company to celebrate and showcase Black pride.
However, it cannot be dismissed that 21 years elapsed from the time white Barbie was released in 1959 to when Black Barbie was released in 1980. Beyond considering the implications of the Civil Rights movement happening in that time period, we also have to consider that the large majority of Baby Boomer girls never had an opportunity to play with a Black Barbie. Similarly, many of us Generation X girls had outgrown Barbie play by the time Black Barbie was released. So not only did the option not exist – but the huge majority of girls of that time, both white and Black, internalized messages about value, worth, and equality based on the options that did exist.
Barbie Bans at the Brown Household
Growing up, my experience was unique compared to that of many of my peers. My parents enrolled me in Savannah Christian Academy so that I could get what was perceived to be the best education available at the time. Centered on their fierce commitment to the Civil Rights Movement (my dad integrated Savannah/Chatham County schools ), they also instilled a deep sense of Black pride and liberation into me and my siblings.
So while my white friends reveled in their Barbie collections, I was unable to participate; my mother’s love and desire to protect me and my sister was center stage. I understand now that she was attempting to shield me. She did not want me to internalize harmful messages regarding my value and worth and white-dominant beauty standards.
Despite her valiant efforts, the messages seeped into our home. I can distinctly remember my sister and I putting towels on our heads to represent long flowing hair like the white Barbies advertised in commercials in between our Saturday morning cartoon lineup. It was virtually impossible to prevent us from absorbing and internalizing messages about what is and is not beautiful. Thankfully, my parents’ ongoing commitment to Liberation helped foster a deep connection to my identity as a Black woman – one that has empowered me to this day to do the work that I do to advance equity, facilitate innovation, and build community.
Black Ariel Makes a Splash
Halle Bailey stunned as Ariel recently in the remake of The Little Mermaid, despite some downright ridiculous reactions that emerged online. Rife with adult temper tantrums, the Internet produced hashtags like #notmyariel and #gowokegobroke.
From accusing Disney and Halle of ruining their childhood to asserting silly claims like, “Mermaids live under the water; therefore their skin wouldn’t be dark,” the worst of the worst were out in full force to protest a beautiful, endlessly talented, hyper-qualified Black woman starring in a major role (SN: Chloe and Halle and I saw the same loctician for our hair at one point 🙂).
“I know people are like, ‘It’s not about race.’ But now that I’m her … People don’t understand that when you’re Black there’s this whole other community. It’s so important for us to see ourselves.”
Among all of the absurdity, one revisionist history argument particularly stood out for me: that since The Little Mermaid is a Danish story, the mermaid thus should be white. Behind the faulty logic is simple racism, manifesting as erasure of our rich history of connection to the water and our birthright to it after enduring centuries of enslavement across the Middle Passage, which stands as a haunting testament to the depths of my ancestors’ suffering during transatlantic slavery.
The ocean, once a symbol of limitless freedom and adventure, was turned into a holy, solemn burial ground. So many people who had been captured, stripped of their dignity and deprived of their futures discovered eternal life in the water en route to America.
And then there are also the stories of the resisters, like the beautiful African people who overtook their captors and then walked into the water at Igbo Landing on St. Simon’s Island, Georgia. Rather than being stripped of their dignity and robbed of their futures, they instead chose eternal rest within the sea.
To erase these stories and their reverence over a cartoon mermaid is a more subtle version of the racism that generated them – a version so embedded into the structures and systems of the United States that it’s nearly unrecognizable to those who are red-faced about a Black mermaid.
Reclaiming My Mermaid Self
Growing up on the water in Savannah, I have always recognized myself as a mermaid at my core, and I feel a deep, nearly indescribable reverence for the sea. Our home was on a bluff with water on two sides. I spent many a Saturday on and in the Ocean fishing and swimming, enjoying the most magical childhood imaginable.
In 2021, facing isolation from Covid and redesigning my life after my divorce, I invested in an ocean-front healing space on Tybee Island. Ocean Song 333 is my refuge; a safe space, particularly for Black women. A space to reconnect to ancestral roots restoration to our highest selves, and reclamation to divine liberation.
Shortly after, as part of my expression of my inner mermaid, I commissioned artist Ty Ferrell of Outlaw Hue to create a piece of art reflective of my connection to Mami Wata, the African deity who symbolizes the power and mystique associated with water, femininity, fertility, and spiritual transformation.
Mami Wata emerged as a cultural and spiritual figure during a crucial historical period, challenging colonial influences on African spirituality and identity. She offers an alternative form of spirituality that allowed people of African descent to connect with our traditional beliefs amidst the imposition of Western ideals.
“Mami Wata is a deity that has existed in Africa for as long as African history and culture can recollect. The half-fish half-human female water spirit is highly respected, feared and worshipped presenting a balance between dark, divine, mysterious and angelic existence. The deity is believed to be a woman with a half-human and half-fish appearance with the ability to transform wholly into any form of her choice. The deity could also take up the form of half-human half-snake. Her upper body is that of a woman while her lower body is a fish with a tail. ”
Art by Ty Ferrell, displayed in Meena’s Manor (my home)
Purchasing Ocean Song 333 and directing this art piece centered another critical concept: Afrofuturism. In 2020, Taylor Crumpton penned Afrofuturism Has Always Looked Forward, in which she brilliantly explains all of my current What, Why’s and How’s which I am no longer discussing with those who don’t get it. Do yourself a favor and read all of this.
“The term was coined by Mark Dery in 1993 but birthed in the minds of enslaved Africans who prayed for their lives and the lives of their descendants along the horrific Middle Passage. The first Afrofuturists envisioned a society free from the bondages of oppression—both physical and social.
Afrofuturism imagines a future void of white supremacist thought and the structures that violently oppressed Black communities. Afrofuturism evaluates the past and future to create better conditions for the present generation of Black people through the use of technology, often presented through art, music, and literature.”
Perhaps the first display of Afrofuturism by enslaved Africans was through seed saving; given that a large share of my racial equity work is through the Anti-Racist Farmers Market Toolkit, this connection is particularly poignant for me. As shared in this article about Black seed keepers recovering African-American history, “During the Atlantic slave trade, crops like sugarcane, West African yams, collard greens, and rice were brought to the Americas by West African women who braided seeds into their hair.” They just knew.
And so, in alignment with the vision of Afrofuturism, this is why it’s so very important to get critical about the all-out show of love for Barbie in comparison to divisive (and exhausting) years-long collective debates about Black Ariel.
Course Correcting the Bad Behavior
Not that we all can see the (pink) elephant in the room, what are we going to do about it? Problem-solving such an insidious, systems-wide, historic issue is deeply complex, but I find hope in seeing the incredible actions that are being taken by authentic leaders, community builders, and innovators every single day. Cue: Legacy Leadership Executives – these women are the shit. Black women executives of impact-driven organizations, they each are contributing to building and sustaining the greater good on any given day.
Then there’s the Legacy Leadership Upstanders – non-Black women who purposely “stand up” and develop the necessary skills to position themselves to increase access to resources and opportunities for BIPOC people. They are supported by the Radical Optimist Collective, who is leading the “Seeing Whiteness for Antiracist Action” training for our Upstanders.
Women from each of these groups have joined The SageD Collective, which means that I am surrounded and grounded by fierce women who are stepping up to the challenge of problem-solving the seemingly impossible.
So, I know it is possible. I know that we can live in a world where white women go as hard for Black Ariel as Black women did for Barbie (you can keep the Pepto Bismol parades though 😉). And I also know that it takes action, commitment, and endurance, each of which add up to daily opportunities to disrupt the status quo and move forward toward a world that is so clear to me in my Afrofuturistic dreams.
If you’re interested in being supported by the SageD team on your or your organization's journey toward liberation, please, get in touch.
PS: We recently learned (and are ecstatic!) about BLACK BARBIE: A Documentary, which was released earlier in 2023 and was then acquired by Netflix and Shondaland! The synopsis is as follows:
“Love her or hate her, almost everyone has a Barbie story. For filmmaker Lagueria Davis, it all started with her 83-year old Aunt Beulah Mae and a seemingly simple question, ‘Why not make a Barbie that looks like me?’
BLACK BARBIE is a personal exploration that tells a richly archival, thought-provoking story that gives voice to the insights and experiences of Beulah Mae Mitchell, who spent 45 years working at Mattel.
Upon Mattel’s 1980 release of Black Barbie, the film turns to the intergenerational impact the doll had. Discussing how the absence of black images in the ‘social mirror’ left Black girls with little other than White subjects for self-reflection and self-projection. Beulah Mae Mitchell and other Black women in the film talk about their own, complex, varied experience of not seeing themselves represented, and how Black Barbie’s transformative arrival affected them personally.”
Click here for a schedule of screenings coming to Atlanta, this October 22-27!