When Barbie Made Me Cry (Again)

Last night, faced with the endless scroll of "nothing to watch" across our multiple streaming services, I did what any reasonable adult does: I rewatched The Barbie Movie.

I'd forgotten how emotionally devastating America Ferrera's monologue about womanhood is. You know the one—where she lays bare all the impossible contradictions women face every single day. It hit me just as hard the second time, maybe harder, because now I recognize myself in every single line.

The Generation Caught in Between

I come from that peculiar generation caught somewhere between women's liberation and the lingering pull of traditional homemaking. We were raised on "you can be anything" while secretly wondering if we were supposed to want to be everything. And heaven forbid you actually admit you might want to pack your husband's lunch or stay home with the kids—that wasn't very empowered of you.

The thing is, I did want to be the independent, career-driven woman who could conquer the world. I watched my mom, who didn't have a college degree, take part-time jobs while primarily staying home to raise us kids and take care of my dad. I saw my mother-in-law pack bags for my father-in-law because that's what good wives did.

And yet, as much as I fought against these examples, something deep inside me felt conflicted. Part of me thought I should be doing those nurturing things and crushing it at work and never letting anyone see me sweat. Talk about confusing.

Finally, a Name for the Chaos

Turns out there's actually a term for what I was experiencing: mental load. Who knew? The Cleveland Clinic defines it as "the invisible cognitive burden of managing various responsibilities in life." And it mostly affects women. Basically, it's the constant mental juggling act that never, ever stops.

For over twenty years, my days looked like this: Get kids ready and out the door. Rush to work for at least eight hours. Come home to "What's for dinner?" Start the evening routine of cooking, laundry, baths, bedtime stories. Maybe—maybe—squeeze in a few pages of a book before collapsing into bed, only to wake up and do it all again.

My husband has always been wonderful, and he didn't do anything wrong. The problem was me—I set the standard. I cooked, paid bills, planned vacations down to the minute, signed kids up for activities, and constantly pushed for the next promotion at work. I wanted it all, and I was absolutely exhausted.

The Truth About "Having It All"

As America Ferrera's character says in that gut-punch monologue: "It's too hard! It's too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you!"

She's right. And yet I kept doing it all until suddenly, we were empty nesters, and I felt completely lost. How do you fill your time when your identity was built around being everything to everyone? What do you even want from your career when you've been running on autopilot for decades?

My daughters now jokingly call me a "trad wife" (look it up—I might be leaning that way). The irony isn't lost on me. I missed out on truly being present during their childhood because I thought it was more important to prove I could do everything. I was terrified that stepping back from my career would mean falling behind permanently.

How heartbreaking is that?

The Invisible Weight We Carry

Here's the truth: my kids turned out just fine. They're intelligent, capable, emotionally mature young women making their own way in the world. But I still wonder—did I set the right example? What does that even mean?

Being a woman at any age comes with invisible expectations that we mostly place on ourselves. We're the ones keeping mental inventories of what needs to be done, who needs what, when everything is happening. We're the family's default setting for emotional labor, even when we're trying to lean in professionally.

A Different Message for the Next Generation

Now I tell my daughters (and any woman who'll listen): Do what brings you joy. If that's working and building a career, then work without guilt. If it's staying home and raising a family, do that without apology. If it's some combination of both, figure out what works for you.

There's no right way to be a woman, despite what society keeps telling us.

Full Circle Moments

It's funny—when my sisters and I were little girls playing with Barbie, we thought she could be anything: astronaut, president, veterinarian, mom. I never imagined that a movie about that same pink plastic doll would make me sob as an adult, confronting all the ways I'd internalized impossible standards.

I wonder where those childhood Barbies are now. Probably in a box somewhere, still perfect and unchanging, unlike the rest of us who are trying to figure out how to be human in a world that expects us to be superhuman.

Maybe that's the real lesson—we don't have to be perfect. We just have to be real.