Barbie's Revival of Hyper Femininity is the Ultimate Act of Feminism
In a world where women are held to impossible double standards, this year ushered in the reawakening of peak hyper-femininity, largely thanks to feminist icon Barbie.
At the root of Barbie's plastic core, she is a feminist icon.
Growing up, if there's any shared feeling that every woman who owned a Barbie as a little girl can agree on, it's that we felt empowered. Barbie is not only a celebration of women, but a recognition of what we can be beyond expected possibilities. In a society where women have historically been told we're limited in what we can do and that our dreams will never surpass men, Barbie was a beacon of hope.
Since her creation, Barbie embodied two themes that are uncommonly seen as harmonious: feminism and femininity.
She was an astronaut, a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a president, a journalist, a scientist, and every other job imaginable, but she still loved pink, clothes, makeup, bows, and every other aspect of hyper-femininity.
As we got older, Barbie's reflection of feminine feminism became replaced with an image of unrealistic patriarchal standards. We didn't see her as a figure that encouraged us to shoot for the stars, but as a weaponized ideal that had unrealistic proportions and a blatant lack of inclusion — only being created as a thin, white, able-bodied blonde. With a focus on her unattainable beauty, everything else Barbie used to represent for us as little girls was lost: her drive, her kindness, her girl-boss ways, and her unapologetic level of success.
The 2023 Barbie film brought that feeling back.
The Barbie phenomenon reignited the emotions kept under wraps since our childhood. Playing with Barbie told us that girls could do anything, and we didn't have to sacrifice our societally constructed understanding of "girlhood" to get there. Since the announcement of Barbie, we've witnessed the rise of unapologetic hyper-femme codes intertwined in mainstream culture.
Stemming from the niche subcultures of TikTok, girly aesthetics such as coquettecore and bimbocore have been widely embraced, directly challenging the patriarchal understandings of femininity that were an obstacle to women proudly appreciating our own level of hyper-femme. Unlike the girl-boss optics from the past few years, these hyper-femme aesthetics lean into their own respective traditional girly codes.
For coquettecore — which better complements the ever-popular Barbiecore aesthetic — lace, bows, pastels, frilly dresses, pom-poms, anything pink, and everything romantic centers the trend. It's a softer take on hyper-femininity that was rejected by many women as a way of masking our "girliness" in order to be taken seriously.
To be a woman in this world is to bend over backwards to accommodate patriarchal ideals, and feel grateful to do it.
With low-rise jeans, whale tails, ultra-glossy lips, extra-long acrylics, revealing crop tops, all things pink, and platforms, bimbocore takes a different (somewhat satirical) approach to hyper-femininity. Its popularity can be credited to Gen Z's obsession with Y2K, as the bimbocore aesthetic can be traced back to fashion icons such as Britney Spears, Paris Hilton, and Elle Woods, now interpreted by contemporary pop culture figures like Ice Spice and Chrissy Chlapecka.
Coquettecore was criticized for its perceived fragility; bimbocore was rejected because its focus on looks was looked down upon as incompetent. In the context of the patriarchy, to love your looks is to be seen as superficial and compensating for a lack of intelligence — because you can't possibly be pretty and smart.
This idea that femininity and feminism are seen as mutually exclusive has been imprinted on women since we were kids. Think back to any cult-favorite teen movie, and you'll find a number of examples of where the ultra-pretty, hyper-femme popular girl was either "ditzy" or mean, and the "good girl" was the exact opposite. This girl was the epitome of a "tomboy," leaning towards anything that's traditionally catered to men, making her more attractive to the male gaze. And yet, in the end, because she "wasn't like the other girls," she got the hot jock boyfriend and her overall happy ending.
In every scenario, the lesson was: to be strong is to reject hyper-femininity, but not so much so that you're no longer desirable in the eyes of men.
In 2023, the embracement for hyper-femininity has been nothing short of a long-overdue reclamation and a love letter to all women. Flocking to the theaters, Barbie movie-goers have not been shy in unapologetically wearing the girliest pink outfits they own. There have been endless Barbie-themed parties thrown (by and for adults), and the color pink has taken over our closets.
Even though Barbie is a toy, what she represents is very real and the expression of hyper-femme codes stands for a larger sign that embracing femininity is not a weakness but rather an act of feminism itself.
