Disability Representation and Why I Bought A Barbie in My 30s

It was just a regular toy store run, tradition now after our six hour road trips to the city.

I was looking forward to seeing friends from the States and catching the end of The Edinburgh Festival(s).

We were passing through the doll aisle on the way to the musical instruments. Isla wanted to make the same guitar noise as her Dad.

(The product link in this post is an Amazon affiliate link. I make a small commission if you make a US or UK purchase through the link. Read my disclosure here.)

‘Look, Mumma, it’s one for you’, says Isla pointing to a Barbie Fasionista wheelchair user.

And there Barbie was. In an active wheelchair, with arms she could use to push herself. In sensible and stylish shoes.

‘There’s even a ramp,’ says Isla. You can go anywhere.’

Where I went was Long Island in the 80s, riding my tricycle around my apartment complex. I had just gotten home from PT, and my purple wheelchair was parked at our door.

I was minding my own business.

But little did I know, I was about to start my career in disability advocacy.

I was making my way from the trike to my chair to inside my house. An older neighbor comes over waving a Barbie in a leotard, complete with a sweatband and tiny wristbands.

‘Maybe if you work hard enough in your PT ‘lessons” she said,’ you won’t need that chair or those crutches any more.’

‘You can be like Barbie,’ she said.

‘No, thank you,’ I said. ‘I like my chair. I have a race next week. And I’d like to go in my house and have dinner now.’

She walked away, and honestly it was the first time I remember feeling different from other people.

And I never bought a Barbie, that one or any other. Until I bought the Barbie wheelchair user.

I took a photo of it, happy for the kid I was and the kids today who get to see themselves represented.

I posted the photo on Gin & Lemonade’s Facebook page. The post took me five minutes to write.

The text of the post is here, if you can’t access the post above:

‘I’m in my 30s, and I just cried in a toy store. Because I finally found a wheelchair user Barbie. I’ve never had a Barbie, but I bought one today. Let me tell you why.

When I was a kid, an old neighbor knocked on our door with a Barbie in a leotard. She suggested to my mother that it would inspire me to walk unaided. If I tried hard enough. As if my disabled body wasn’t good enough. As if my wheelchair wasn’t cool enough.

The neighbor walked away, mystified that her idea wasn’t graciously accepted. And I’ve never forgotten that moment.

Today, I saw a Barbie. In an active wheelchair. And I cried in the aisles. Because representation matters.

My daughter pointed out there’s even a ramp. Because we have places to go, too. 

My point is, my wish is, kids will finally get to see that we don’t need to work ourselves out of our wheelchairs to be seen. 

We matter as we are.’

At the time of writing this follow up, the post has had 18K shares and has reached 2 million people and counting. (Post is now at 41K shares with a reach of 6 million.)

We are now at 46K and 6.9 million.

I have some things to say.

Thank you.

The point of the post was in the last few lines:

Kids will finally get to see that we don’t need to work ourselves out of our wheelchairs to be seen because we matter as we are.

Thank you for sharing that message and sharing your stories along with it.

The Thing About Becky

Folks quite rightly pointed out that there’s Becky, Barbie’s friend.

To me, Becky was tokenism.

She was the one on the outside looking in at everyone else having fun.

Becky did little to promote the inclusion of disabled people.

Because let’s not forget, the Dreamhouse didn’t have a ramp, and Becky’s medicalized didn’t fit in the elevator. Becky was discontinued because of accessibility issues.

For more in-depth comparison of disabled Barbies through the years, read this from Free Wheelin’ with Karin Willison.

Details count.

This Barbie is in an active chair. With wheels that move, bendable joints to drive, and sensible yet stylish shoes.

And she has a ramp. And the new chair fits in the Dream House.

If it seems I’m late to the party on this, I kind of am. I’m an American living in Scotland and posted when I found this Barbie on our shelves.

Have You Tried Walking?

My FB post was not about me, or specific impairments, or whether or not wheelchair users can choose to ambulate.

The post was about being counted, and meeting people where they are.

I was in PT all through my childhood and into adulthood. It is not always with an end goal in mind, like running a race, but for maintenance.

I have braces and crutches and I have been ambulatory as well. I am more independent in my chair and choose to be a wheelchair user.

No amount of cheerleading in my childhood was going to make my CP disappear, and I continue to work with what I have.

I can sing too, but I don’t do that often, either.

Wheelchair use should be celebrated because wheelchairs mean freedom for a lot of people trying to live regular lives on wheels.

Seeing a doll in a wheelchair or on crutches or with a prosthetic honors people’s lived experience and makes others aware in ways they might not have been.

And I have to say, no nice little old lady neighbors were harmed in the writing of that post or back in the day.

Sometimes even well-meaning comments are harmful.

We don’t need to work ourselves out of our chairs. We don’t need cheerleaders.

We need disabled architects, more learning support in schools and Universities, more equality officers in HR, and more implementation of reasonable adjustments in all companies and employment more than we need supportive cheerleaders waving Barbies in leotards.

Because we have places to go. To school. To work. Home for dinner.

We matter as we are.

If you’re interested in what happens after a viral Facebook post, I’ve written about my experience with that, too.

If you like my writing, if you’ve ever binged on my blog, or you want video content, consider joining me on Patreon. Become a Patron!