American Envy and Greed
Driving forces behind widespread loss of identity
BY KARYNE E. MESSINA
Karyne E. Messina published a book on Barbie in 2024. Book cover courtesy PI Press.
The story of Barbie has two versions—the fun version, festooned in Pantone 219c magenta-pink, and the dark version, an allegory of envy and greed, the twin forces driving widespread identity loss in America. Barbie—the doll, the myth, the merchandise—perpetuates the loss of identity by encouraging people to prioritize the ideals and expectations of others rather than looking inward and embracing their true identities.
Greta Gerwig’s 2023 blockbuster movie Barbie plays with both versions by assigning an existential identity crisis to its perfect protagonist in pink. Barbie’s mission to find the sad human in the real world who is playing with her morphs into a larger mission of self-discovery: Who is Barbie? Does it matter if Barbie has an identity or not? And does her lack of self-understanding reflect anything about Americans today? I believe the answer is yes, both for the film treatment of Barbie and for the plastic plaything sold every few seconds around the world. This movie is a fanciful representation of what many Americans are experiencing now—a full-on identity crisis—and if we don’t discover who we are and what we’re here for, we’re in for a mental collapse that could deteriorate into further breakdowns in society and social relationships.
“In the social jungle of human existence, there is no feeling of being alive without a sense of ego identity.”
The dark and little-known history of how the Barbie doll came to be is a story of unstable American identity and those who preyed upon it. Ruth Handler, Barbie’s creator, said that her philosophy regarding Barbie revolved around the notion that “the little girl could be anything she wanted to be.” If only empowering little girls were Handler’s true motive.
Four years prior to Barbie’s 1959 debut, Ruth Handler had unsuccessfully pitched Mattel executives on creating a full-figured woman as a children’s doll. She and her daughter Barbara went to Switzerland for a reset. While there, to their surprise, they found Lilli, a very adult-looking lady doll. Handler bought several and made Lilli the prototype for her own doll with only a few modifications, including a name change. Rechristened Barbie, this womanly-looking toy was a wholesome girl next door with cute outfits. But Barbie’s progenitor Lilli was anything but wholesome.
Lilli was never meant to be a role model for young girls. German children weren’t initially allowed to play with Lilli—she was too risqué. Lilli began life as a comic strip character in the Hamburg newspaper Bild-Zeitung, where her primary focus was on sustaining a life of luxury through sex work. Lilli was so popular that, according to Rolling Stone, the newspaper merchandized her into a profitable and popular gift—for men.
Then in 1959, at the New York International Toy Show, an 11.5-inch plastic fashion doll made her first appearance. She had eyes, hair, and proportions like Lilli. She also wore the same black-and-white swimsuit as her German counterpart. The major outward difference was her name. Nobody in America had ever heard of Lilli. This was Barbie.
But there is no Barbie without Lilli.
Pretending that Barbie was a flawless woman leaves out her history, a classic example of disavowal or a way of projecting—getting rid of—important aspects of the real first female adult doll’s personality. By canceling Lilli, Handler and Mattel attempted to erase Barbie’s past.
Though Barbie is a bona fide juggernaut today, initial sales were lousy. So Handler hired Ernest Dichter, a Viennese psychologist, psychoanalyst, and marketing expert who applied Freudian theory to advertising campaigns, to identify why nobody was buying Barbies. From his research with focus groups composed of mothers and daughters, Dichter determined that convincing the mothers that Barbie modeled an ideal—that of securing a good marriage—was the key to getting dolls off the shelves. By finding this vulnerability, Handler and Dichter moved Mattel closer to being the most profitable toy company in the world.
This is another illustration of Handler’s duplicity and greed. That she merely wanted little girls to be anyone they wished to be through an identification with Barbie is out of sync with hiring a man whose specialty was to manipulate mothers to buy a doll that would ultimately prepare their daughters for marriage.
This open-ended invitation to be anyone or do anything one wishes was no more than marketing genius and exploitation. Americans were groomed to believe and behave in a particular way. Mothers, marry off your daughters; buy these dolls; buy these clothes; buy, buy, buy … you’ll never actually measure up, but the more you spend, the more you can try. Handler’s Barbie promoted an unrealistic body image, perpetuated gender stereotypes, and undermined diversity, all while contributing to consumerism as well as a focus on external validation rather than intrinsic self-worth. The Barbie phenomenon both reflected and contributed to the American identity crisis. Today, we’ve got a country full of Americans who aren’t sure who they are but are afraid to find out. We face a complex psychological crisis characterized by confusion, uncertainty, and fragmentation exacerbated by several other factors, including rapid social change, economic inequality, political polarization, continued racism, and technological advancement we don’t understand, all of which can lead to disorientation and alienation.
“We’ve got a country full of Americans who aren’t sure who they are but are afraid to find out.”
As Barbie came into existence in 1959, Erik Erikson, a German psychologist and psychoanalyst, coined the term “identity crisis” and put forth a theory of psychosocial development that can help to understand the American identity crisis that grips Barbie in Gerwig’s film. A strong, healthy identity, Erikson suggests, is anchored in values, beliefs, and goals discovered within. An identity crisis features confusion about those inner values and, often, an appeal to others for a sense of self. Freud called that process identification—a psychological defense wherein people adopt the characteristics, values, or behaviors of those around them to gain acceptance. Children identify with their parents in forming an idea of who they are. People of all ages seek approval from peers by conforming.
By going along with the group, individuals avoid conflict and protect themselves from being singled out or criticized, thus reducing the threat of hostility or rejection. But what happens to those who choose to follow the less-traveled path while speaking in their own voices?
These brave souls may find themselves facing unintended consequences. Why? Because those who have lost their identity in exchange for the safety of groupthink are frequently envious, and envy can lead people to sabotage those who have the confidence to live on their own terms while speaking freely.
“Identification is known to psycho-analysis as the earliest expression of an emotional tie with another person.”
Just as Barbie questions her purpose and identity in Gerwig’s film, many people in our country face similar uncertainties. Our inability to pinpoint who we are as Americans has broad consequences that we will need to continue to grapple with in order to preserve our democracy.
While Erikson’s theory emphasizes the importance of establishing a solid sense of self, cultural icons like Barbie perpetuate unrealistic standards that worsen identity confusion and alienation. Barbie symbolizes greed and envy in the form of blatant sexualization and rampant materialism. She perpetuates unrealistic body standards and a glamorous lifestyle that few Americans can ever attain.
Envy and greed on a community-wide level can fuel violence and oppression. These feelings do not disappear when the physical damage is done. It can take years to fully understand and work through the psychological toll that is taken on the oppressed.
While Barbie’s story is a sad tale of dishonesty and greed, she is a toy. She wasn’t kidnapped, murdered, or stoned to death. Far worse crimes than Ruth Handler’s are committed on a regular basis in our country multiple times a day. Nevertheless, Lilli’s identity was stolen, and Barbie’s pseudohistory is starting to show cracks.
The story of Barbie has a dark side. Understanding it helps shine a light on what happens when identities disappear or are stolen. There is more at stake than just feeling lost or out of touch. Identity, and the lack of it, affects how we treat each other.
Of course, Barbie is not the sole cause of the psychological crisis of identity afflicting Americans. Still, she symbolizes the cultural forces that have contributed to this crisis. Studying Barbie and her place in society can help us find the roots of this crisis and perhaps take steps to address it and rediscover our true selves. ■
Karyne Messina is a supervising and training analyst and the author of five books on projective identification, populism, misogyny, and Trump. Her most recent book, Barbie and the Great American Identity Crisis: The Unfortunate Reality of a Nation Plagued by Racism, Patriarchy, and Stark Hypocrisy, was published in March of 2024.
Published May 2024.