‘Barbie feminism’ isn’t going to save us
Illustration by Nathan Varney.
Katie Meeker, Contributing Writer
If you were a part of the miserable cohort of people who turned on the news on March 4, then I’m sure you’re familiar with the dull, fanatically disconcerting event that was President Donald Trump’s first State of the Union address.
While most of the broadcast focused on the slumped form of the president hanging off the podium, it occasionally panned across the sea of lawmakers filling the congressional chamber, waves of the usual black suits and gray dresses disrupted by a few obnoxiously pink pantsuits.
This collection of colorful anomalies was no coincidence. The pink pantsuits — coupled with their wearers holding up signs reading, “RESIST” — was a coordinated act organized by the Democratic Women’s Caucus to protest against the Trump administration, who have a history of piloting discriminatory policies against women and a leader with a foray of sexual assault accusations.
It was all very “girlboss.” I’m sure a few white millennials were absolutely salivating over the entire display, but the whole thing has left me with a distinct feeling of second-hand embarrassment and any faith I had in the Democratic Party dying pitifully.
I have to be honest — I don’t think a cheap imitation of the end of Greta Gerwig’s “Barbie” is the type of resistance I want to see from our elected officials.
Like all forms of protest, there is a time for acts of silent resistance. But staring at CNN, looking at all these elective representatives who have the actual governing power to do more than sit silently, I notice a bad taste in my mouth. It feels lazy. Worse, it feels performative.
During the address, Texas Rep. Al Greene was thrown out of the chamber for loudly protesting the defunding of Medicaid. Not a single one of these lawmakers stood up to defend him publicly. There was some heartwarming singing from Democrats as Greene was escorted out, which was nice, but not really the response I was hoping for.
Passive resistance is better than no resistance, at the very least, and it can be effective. Passive acts of resistance are some of the most accessible and effective acts of protest available to the wider public. The pink pantsuits are not a part of the wider public — they are individuals with governmental power, and they are individuals who have the privilege of being recognized and heard by a broad audience. They have the ability to do more than sit quietly in pink but choose not to.
I can appreciate what Greene was trying to do with his outburst more than I can the “protest” that his other party members attempted. Even if his caterwauling didn’t save Medicaid, it still resulted in something. It brought attention to the issue, and the entire situation highlighted the authoritarian behaviors of the current administration.
Let’s look back at the “Congressional Barbies” — what sort of positive change did that protest generate? What kind of conversation did their actions create? Answer quickly. And no, this article does not count.
This sort of resistance means nothing if you can’t back it up in practice and the women of the Democratic Women’s Caucus failed to deliver. Four out of the 10 Democrats who voted to censure Greene belong to the Democratic Women’s Caucus. One of these women, Rep. Chrissy Houlahan, is on the organization’s steering committee. In this small selection of women, I know of at least one who partook in the pink resistance.
This sort of insincere performativity is what is disillusioning so many people with the Democratic Party. Maybe the performativity was always there, but it was harder for us to see. It would certainly explain how we got here.
I suppose I should find it in me to appreciate what these women were trying to achieve, however poorly executed or insincere. At least they tried to do something while the rest of their party sat dumbly in their chairs. At least they weren’t Chuck Schumer, who actively voted against his fellow Democrats.
Still, the entire display frustrates me — it’s a glaring reminder of my own powerlessness. I can attend as many protests as possible and write as many articles as I can manage, but what does all that mean in the long run when the officials I cast my votes for refuse to act?
I don’t care about the outfits. I don’t care about the signs. Wear pink or not, it doesn’t matter. These acts do not reassure me, and they do not give me hope for a better future. If Democrats want to win back voters, they need to do more than sing and play dress-up — they need to start yelling.
