There's no denying that Shakira stands tall as a feminist icon. After publicly parting ways with her long-time partner and father of her boys, Gerard Piqué, she gracefully transformed a heartbreaking experience into a shared triumph. Her latest album, "Las Mujeres Ya No Lloran," is a powerful ode to independence and the strength it brings. This sentiment resonates deeply with many, especially women, who can relate to her journey.
In her recent Allure cover interview, published on April 1, Shakira delves into the essence of this strength and what it means to be a woman healing in today's world. However, one aspect of the interview that particularly caught my attention was her controversial take on the feminist pop culture phenomenon: the "Barbie" movie.
Shakira revealed that her sons "absolutely hated" the film, feeling that it was emasculating. She expressed, "I like pop culture when it attempts to empower women without robbing men of their possibility to be men." While I understand her perspective, I find myself respectfully disagreeing.
Feminism isn't merely a theory; it's a practice, and everyone approaches it differently. Just because Shakira doesn't like the "Barbie" movie doesn't diminish her feminist credentials. However, her opinion seems to echo a vocal minority, one that I've heard echoed by many men (and right-wing politicians like Ted Cruz), many of whom wouldn't even consider watching a "girl's movie."
In a world where feminism is striving to break barriers and promote equality, it's crucial to remember that diverse opinions and perspectives are part of the movement's rich tapestry. Shakira's take on the "Barbie" movie, while different from mine, is still a valid part of the conversation, reminding us that feminism is a multifaceted and evolving concept that continues to shape our world.
As a man deeply immersed in the world of "Barbie," I found the script penned by Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach to be more nuanced than a simple "men are bad, women are superior" narrative. It baffles me how so many individuals could misinterpret its intent. To clarify, the film doesn't caricaturize men as frivolous and superficial beings solely to denigrate them. Instead, it presents them as what they truly are: victims.
The Kens have been stripped of any meaningful autonomy and the opportunity to be more than mere eye candy by the Barbieland's matriarchal system. This system, ironically, elevates women to every major role in society. Does this ring a bell? It's the polar opposite of a patriarchy, yet it manages to achieve the same end: the oppression of the opposite sex.
Yes, much of the Kens' predicament and subsequent takeover of Barbieland involves exaggerating their foolishness to the extreme — poking fun at macho culture. But at its heart, it's a commentary on the importance of being valued at a societal level. At every turn, the Kens are marginalized within the society they serve, putting them in conflict with the Barbies — not women as a whole. Instead, the Kens' struggle mirrors the challenges women face in real life. It also illustrates how patriarchy can be destructive, even for the men it purportedly empowers.
By embracing patriarchy, the Kens tie themselves to adhering to often inflexible standards of masculinity. Hence, the overabundance of cowboy hats, trucks, horses, and Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, regardless of whether or not each individual Ken has a genuine affinity for these things. They may gain a sense of power, but they sacrifice their individuality, this time by their own hands.
Shakira insightfully remarks that "men have their purpose too" and expresses her desire for her sons to feel empowered, all while respecting women. This profound sentiment serves as a fitting conclusion to the film, which for the very first time, allows the Kens to decide their own role in society. For the first time, their existence isn't merely centered around catering to the whims and needs of the Barbies, but rather on what they desire for themselves.
However, the question remains about the perception that the movie somehow "emasculates" the men. Granted, the Kens' portrayal as having "beach" as their sole occupation could have been more layered. But I believe that adding more depth wouldn't have been as humorous or effective in highlighting the loss of agency that results from oppression. I, for one, didn't find it emasculating. Nevertheless, the outcry surrounding this aspect is indeed telling.
As an afropuertorriqueño, I don't often encounter narrative plurality or a wide range of films, shows, or other media that depict
my people in diverse roles and perspectives. But as a man? The options are abundant. I can turn on my TV at any given moment and find a movie about a fearless killing machine who adores dogs ("John Wick"), a show about a physically disadvantaged, neglected child who uses his wit to outsmart and survive multiple empires ("Game of Thrones"), or a film about a reluctant hero who inherits his mother's magic and his father's kingdom, using both to become a literal messiah ("Dune"). The list goes on and on.
Narrative plurality ensures that there are enough positive depictions of characters like us, making the negative ones less significant. Or so we would think. But it only takes one movie, where men - or in this case, the Kens - are portrayed as superficial accessories, constantly competing for the affections of a woman and existing solely to cater to her desires, to undo all the progress made. Perhaps, in a similar vein, we should also reflect on the impact of negative portrayals of women and people of color onscreen.
