Guest Post: Barbie, Ruth, and the Feminine Divine

by Miriam Higginbotham

I have loved reading all the response pieces to Greta Gerwig’s Barbie movie. The movie does a great job of meeting viewers where they are in their experience and familiarity with feminism and the impact of the patriarchy on both women and men. I have found that the movie cannot help but spark thought and conversation. Its humor and silliness make challenging concepts accessible to audiences that have never attended (or would never attend) a gender studies class. The movie has also inspired stimulating discourse among Mormon feminists, and I wanted to contribute to the discussion before Barbie leaves the big screen.

I have been thinking a lot about the portrayal of Barbie’s creator, Ruth (which happens to be my grandmother’s name), and what she represents in the movie. Ruth is featured in three scenes. We first meet Ruth when Barbie discovers Ruth hidden within the overly masculine Mattel headquarters. Barbie enters a room while frantically trying to escape male Mattel executives, who are intent on putting her back inside her Barbie box. The scene shifts dramatically from chaos to peacefulness, as Barbie enters a cozy kitchen, bathed in warm light; drinks tea while she converses with Ruth at the kitchen table; and learns from Ruth that women “do more than work here.” When Barbie has to leave, Ruth directs her to a safe escape out of the building. Ruth appears again towards the end of the movie, when she announces to Barbie and others that she is Ruth Handler, creator of Barbie. Ruth is a good-natured figure who does not purport to be perfect (she has a “double mastectomy and tax evasion issues”). Ruth’s third scene follows when Barbie expresses uncertainty about what she wants for her ending, and Ruth asks Barbie to walk alone with her. In this last scene, Barbie shares her desire and asks for permission to become human—to be “a part of the people that make meaning, not the thing that’s made.” Ruth responds that Barbie does not need permission to become what she wants—this is within Barbie’s power, not Ruth’s.

I have long had an interest in portrayals of the feminine divine and the Mormon concept of Heavenly Mother. As a young woman, I eagerly looked forward to attending the temple, as I was certain I would learn more about Her there. I have a “Heavenly Mother” wall in my home office with different artistic depictions of what a divine female entity may look like. Which is why I was so surprised on my second viewing of the movie to realize that Ruth is intended to serve as a God figure. Somehow, I missed this the first time. Once I recognized her role, it seemed so glaringly obvious, with the soft, heavenly, surreal lighting and setting of Ruth’s final scene with Barbie. (A friend joked that the scene gave off “Saturday’s Warrior vibes.”) I suppose I just thought they were in heaven because Ruth was no longer alive.

With further consideration, however, it occurs to me that the reason I didn’t recognize Ruth’s role as a God figure (even though she is called the “Creator,” hello!), is because she is just so different than the internalized image I have of God, after countless church lessons detailing—in no uncertain terms—the nature of God. It is not surprising that I did not recognize God in a slight, imperfect, female figure, whose nature is supportive, proud, encouraging, and not controlling.

In her last scene with Barbie, Ruth says she does not have any more control over what her creation becomes, than she does over her own daughter. This statement presents a mind-blowing paradigm shift for me, because in Mormonism, God absolutely defines scope of women’s divine potential, and parents have the responsibility to ensure their children understand what God expects them to become. The Billie Eilish song during that scene asks a question I was never allowed to ask as Mormon woman: What was I made for? As a young woman growing up in the Church, I never questioned my purpose. I was taught that my one eternal purpose was the same as every other Mormon woman: to get married and have children. It was a narrow role that I could not easily fit and that I had little control over. It left little room for my own development, interests, and abilities. The idea, as expressed in Eilish’s song, that perhaps I was made for the purpose of finding happiness of my own making, is nothing short of liberating.

Despite my youthful hopes, attending the temple did not teach me anything more about Heavenly Mother. Conversely, the temple is my biggest source of religious trauma. Ruth’s final one-on-one scene with Barbie has been healing for me to watch. If I let myself go there—and I am not sure I am ready to do that—I can almost see that scene as a temple-like experience. Or, at least more what I needed the temple to be: a communion with the Divine, without cumbersome clothing, and the unfamiliar rituals replaced by a Heavenly Mother’s gentle grip, as she imbues me with wisdom helpful in achieving my desired (not predestined) potential. I can see that as a kind of “endowment.”

I realize my interpretation of this scene is nothing more than a wishful reimagining of my temple experience, but the Mormon version has been so engrained in me, body and soul, that even the permission to imagine something different feels like a gift. Each time I have seen the movie, it feels more like a spiritual experience. I understand it better—the way I was told the temple would make sense if I just kept attending, though it never did. The Barbie experience has also been a communal one: sitting with friends and family, often with tears running down our cheeks, as we witness a female God who drinks from delicate teacups.

I have been watching it again and again, just soaking it in.

Miriam is a work-from-home law school grad, with a brilliant husband, two kids who constantly challenge everything she knows about the world, and a very naughty dog who loves and is loved unconditionally. She has Mormonism in her bones and is working to figure out who she is in spite of that.

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Featured photo Ruth Handler, executive of Mattel Toy Company, 1961. Originally published by the Los Angeles Times. Photographer unknown. Restored by Adam Cuerden.