Question: What. Have. I. Done.

Recently we were the recipients of a coven full of Barbies, the likes of which I have never seen. Even in my heydey of Barbie usage, there weren’t nearly so many blonde, curvaceous, scantily-clad fairies in the playtimes of my sister and I.

We had Dollikins, which were uglier, but far more bendable, pseudo-Barbies. We knew they were lesser, and made their characters irritable and spiteful. We had a few Barbies. Being the younger sister, of course, I had Skipper, whose flat chest I apparently inherited. But not her wicked tan.

We had one Barbie, my sister and I, who was a skater or something, and she had a tilting torso you could wobble around via a tab on her back. Her torso was actually detachable. I would periodically make her lose her torso, my charming equivalent for “losing her head”. She would then flail around looking for her other half, saying things like “Oops! I lost my body! Oh my!” Even at a tender age, I was well aware of the dumb blonde stereotype.

Which brings me to now. I have a three and half year old daughter. My son is two years older. His interest in these Barbies is limited to the bitchin Mustang that came with these hand-me-overs from a friend, whose daughter is out of the phase.

These toys also came complete with a small wardrobe including those blasted eeny weeny Barbie shoes which, though beloved as a child, are beloathed as the parent in charge of trying to locate them every time one of them falls off, or gets sucked up in the vacuum cleaner.

The army of Barbies we now have are almost exclusively blonde and buxom and blue-eyed. I’m feeling conflicted about my daughter having them, but it’s mitigated somewhat due to the fact that she is a blonde with blue eyes. At least she can see some of herself in these ubiquitous dolls most girls adore. I had a hard time finding a Barbie that looked like me as a child; there was no "Gangly Barbie": dorkily-skinny, tall, flat-chested but also pale, brunette and brown-eyed, with distinctive but not altogether glamorous moles. (“Beauty marks”, my ass.)

I know my daughter loves to play with dolls, leaves, straws, Christmas ornaments; anything can turn into a character in her little hands. I was exactly the same way when I was her age. So does she really need those Barbies? Is she too young? Are they too stereotypical, casting unattainable perfection onto all who touch them?

Yes.

And no.

She absolutely LOVES them, as many girls do. And she’s using her imagination. Is that enough for me to say, okay, they’re acceptable? I mean, I had them myself. And I don’t really think all good-looking blondes are dumb. I have fond memories of playing with my Barbies. So maybe it’s okay.

But damn those little shoes.