GUEST Post ~ Why should mothers stand still? The most celebrated quote from the Barbie movie is actually a huge problem ~ By Felicia Romano
“We mothers stand still so our daughters can look back to see how far they have come.”
Give me a break. Everyone I have seen gushing about this line from Barbie is hugely off-base, and I am here to talk about it.
As a parent of a three-year-old doing my VERY best not to become stagnant and lose myself, I resent this message. This brand of stillness is not commendable and glorious, it is reminiscent of an insidious phenomenon that is so ingrained in our psyches that we do not see the feminist hypocrisy in it. If we really think about it, do any of us actually think mothers standing still is a good thing? Sorry, but I’m not choking up at the profundity of glorifying the sacrifices of motherhood. This is not the world I want to live in.
Don’t get me wrong, the Barbie movie was revolutionary and had me chuckling throughout. I cried laughing at certain points. I will watch it again and have already shared my raving reviews to my friends and family. Still, I was livid as soon as I heard this line, and there are a few reasons why this is the case:
First, the fact that we glorify the loss of selfhood that comes with motherhood is inherently problematic. Next, the pseudo-depth of the quote is frustrating and predictable. I knew from the moment I heard it that I would find multiple articles gawking over its acuity, totally deaf and blind to the underlying implications (I was right — one article even cited it as the “most profound line” in the movie). Finally, it feeds into the highly pervasive binary motifs of gender roles in the film, highlighting the stubbornly dichotomous patterning of society at large.
Maternal stasis is not a virtue, it is an affliction
I am not blind to the widely held belief of many mothers, especially in immigrant families, that their self-immolation is wholly necessary in order to provide the next generation with a better and more fulfilling life than their own. I am also certainly not dismissing the reality of the votive plight of parenthood, nor am I trying to prop up an ideal of child-rearing which prizes holding onto oneself at the expense of a child’s needs or wellbeing. Unless a family has the resources to outsource childcare, there is a necessary delay of gratification and self-expansion to be expected when the spawn arrive. I get that. This surrendering of certain individual needs while bringing new life into the world is not the issue at hand.
Rather, I am raging against the notion of stillness, stagnancy, and stunted self-development in mothers (and all parents — more on challenging gender norms in a bit). I am pushing back against the idea that mothers standing still is in any way helpful or in the best interest of their children in the long run.
Time and time again, children whose parents are possessed by this narrative of virtuous altruism are plagued with guilt, often unknowingly carrying the heavy burden of the unlived lives and forgotten dreams of their parents. Bogged down with wishes and hopes that were never their own, these children lose their ability to navigate in the direction of their own ideals.
“The greatest burden a child must bear is the unlived life of its parents.” — Carl G. Jung
Even parents who do not consciously shove their sacrifices in their children’s faces are guilty of this; their children inherit their unrealized potential either way. Indeed, more often than not the parents of these children carry a deeply buried unconscious resentment.
That which falls into a parent’s unconscious is extremely impactful and cannot be overstated. Marion Woodman (1928–2018) was a Jungian Analyst and brilliant voice of forgotten feminine knowledge as it pertains to modern culture. She touched on self-effacing parents quite often in her writing, especially with respect to the archetypal patterns that commonly manifest in the dynamics of mothers and daughters. Speaking to feminine energy as it relates to mothering, she wrote:
“The mother, to be sure, may have felt trapped by her daughter’s need. If she was locked into a loveless marriage, confined at home with children, desperate to get out, then her child’s needs would become her nightmare. Thus in relation to the child’s yearning for a positive mother, the actual mother may in fact become negative no matter how much she ‘gives.’” — Marion Woodman, Addiction to Perfection
There are too many parents who were taught that it is noble and just to give up their own passions, dreams and desires for their children. But in reality, no woman needs to put her entire life on pause to be a good mother, nor should she. Even stay-at-home moms need movement and transformation in order to feed their souls.
Can we please stop celebrating outdated gender roles?
I understand that it would have been too much for Barbie to effectively represent or even begin to speak to the lived experiences of nonbinary people. This was a binary movie, to be sure, and it was not trying to be anything more than that. Still, I would like to nod at the nonbinary parents in the room, and to any parents who fall outside gender-normative roles in the lives of their children: dads who stay at home, moms who bring home the bacon, single parents who do everything, nonbinary and trans parents who negotiate their parenting and partnership roles over time. None of the above should stand still. Everyone should keep on evolving in the best interest of their children.
Parents of all genders need to find a way to re-constellate their selfhood in the novel context of being relied upon by a perfectly helpless creature, or creatures if they have more than one. There is no getting away from the need to stay centered as a person in parenthood; those who don’t will inevitably turn into shells of themselves before long. James Hillman (1926–2011) emphasized this need for parents to stay true to themselves throughout his life’s work:
“When your child becomes the reason for your life, you have abandoned the invisible reason you are here.” — James Hillman, The Soul’s Code
I don’t want to abandon the reason I am here. That sounds terrifying and bleak. So, for those who resonate, can we all agree to model a life of self-compassion and self-discovery for our children? Not a life of resigned stagnancy nor a marathon of ruthless urgency, but an unfolding of ourselves that feels true?
It’s easier said than done, to be sure. But I couldn’t just stand by and say nothing about this silly quote. It really has nothing to do with the rest of the movie anyway. It is so random, yet so impactful. And in my opinion, it’s reflective of the ways in which feminists critiquing patriarchy still have a lot of work to do. Don’t stand still, feminists! Keep swirling and spinning and questioning yourselves! Don’t just celebrate a line from Barbie because it sounds good! Please, dear god.
TLDR: Don’t stand still and expect your kids to know the best direction forward. Walk with them
Some people are born to be parents above all else, and maybe this article does not speak to them (until they become empty nesters?) Personally, I was not born to be a parent. I am a parent, as fate would have it, and I think most days I do a pretty good job. My kid can see me following my own path in all its imperfect twists and turns, which have unfurled into quite the labyrinth. I am a full-time depth oriented therapist for couples and individuals, and my daughter’s dad is a stay-at-home rockstar. We both don’t really know what we’re doing, especially because we are doing this without many models of family systems organized in this way. We are fumbling and figuring this out as we re-negotiate our relationships to our kid, each other, and forgotten parts of our own selves each day.
I am nowhere near the best parent I can be. At times I am admittedly a bit preoccupied due to all I have on my plate; perhaps this style of parenting is an over-correction simply because I cannot ever imagine standing still. Perhaps I have always resonated more with the paternal norms of distance and providing necessary resources than the maternal norms of closeness and nurturance. Maybe I’m just possessed by the demons of American individualism and I am missing the point of the quote entirely. What do you think? I would love to hear from anyone who disagrees with what I have said here. Let me know.
Whatever the case, I refuse to stop moving just so my daughter can look back and see how far she has come. Are you kidding me? No way. She can reflect on how far she has come while we dance off into the sunset. We can reflect on how far we have come while we keep on moving forward, side by side. That is the world I want to live in.