Movie hit reminds me: I learned about 'the real world' with Barbie at my side

There’s a scene in the new “Barbie” movie where the iconic doll, faced with a major life change, heads out of Barbieland in her pink car.

Singing the Indigo Girls' "Closer to Fine" as she starts her existential journey to Los Angeles, she comes upon a “Real World This Way” road sign.

Oh, Barbie, my friend, I thought as I watched writer-director Greta Gerwig's sweet, smart, sarcastic and funny movie on opening night: Haven't we all been there (well, except maybe in a car with a real engine)?

I won’t share much from the movie for those of you who hate spoilers, or who claim to hate Barbie with the heat of the sun (though I’ll bet that even those of you who'd rather pretend-drink sour milk than endure anything Barbie-related would appreciate the social commentary. And choreography. And that expired milk joke).

I won’t go into the comical stink that's been stirred up by politicians and pundits and Barbie-haters, all spouting about man-bashing and Ken's "low T" and how the movie doesn't mention faith or family. (But for Ken's sake, Ted Cruz, had you not made an issue of it, I'd never have noticed the world map that you, who hadn't seen the movie, opined is Chinese Communist Party propaganda.)

What I will say is that long before Movie Barbie's arched feet went flat and she was forced to make that decision about leaving the perfection of Barbieland, a blonde Barbie was my pal in an alternately real and make-believe world that, it turns out, has benefited and suited me personally and professionally.

More: 'Disappointingly low T from Ken': Matt, Ginger Gaetz 'Barbie' film comments spark blowback

One where I was encouraged to dream big, one where reality and my Adventures with Barbie often crashed into each other in life-enhancing ways.

For example: My grandfather gave me my first Barbie doll, the blonde one from the first line, as a Christmas present. I still have her. She and Ken attended the movie with my husband and me (which is another whole story).

Years later, I learned that my grandpa not only did not buy the Barbie or any other gift he ever gave me, he was broke and dependent on my parents for money and my presents.

My mom and dad were TV and print news junkies. I was never shielded from watching or reading along with them. I watched the horrors of war play out on the TV in our den, which I could see past my father's elbow as we sat at the dinner table.

So when my Ken doll lost one of his arms, I bandaged him up and told everyone who’d listen that it was blown off in Vietnam.

My parents were factory workers and farmers. When I asked for a Barbie Dream House, and a car, and fancy Barbie clothes, I didn’t get them.

Instead, Barbie traveled the world in my bedroom, wearing outfits my mom and I made for her and “driving” around the floor in a shoebox with drawn-on wheels. Later, her “dream house” was my turquoise bedroom in the “dream home” my parents built in 1965. Books filled the shelves and music the air in that room, where I listened to the soundtracks to Broadway musicals, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and the Monkees.

I learned in that room, Barbie along for the ride, that clothes aren’t always beautiful and sparkly. That life can be hard for many of us. That we must often make sacrifices for family. That, as Movie Barbie learns, people can be cruel. That people die. But also, that with luck, there can be so much life and love sandwiched in between those "Real World This Way" road signs.

That like Movie Barbie, we can strive to have a perfect day anyway, and what "perfect' is ... that's up to you to define.

Barbie evolved over the years, for sure, and good for her (and Mattel). She's taken on hundreds of careers: business. Polices. Education. Music. Space. She can sing, dance, act. Barbies come now in different skin tones, hair styles and shapes, interests and disabilities. In the theater, where I was surrounded by people of all ages, races and faces, we saw a diverse "Barbie" cast, including Kate McKinnon, a lesbian, and trans model and actor Hari Nef.

Just as Barbie did, I changed over the years, too.

As it plays out in the movie, I outgrew Barbie (though, full disclosure, I have a nice collection of them which line three shelves, along with books, in my home office). Music fills the air as I work.

And in that room, I like to think, I watched the baton being passed.

My great-niece Emmy is 13 now, and starting eighth grade — about the age I was when my much-loved Barbie went up on the shelf, but not in a box.

She will likely be seeing the movie soon with her father, Tony, an artist who co-created "The Walking Dead." She's bright. Beautiful. Funny. Loving, with interests all over the map.

They came to visit me when Emmy was 5. She headed straight for my office and my Barbie collection and started to open one. Her mother tried to stop her.

“But if you don’t take them out of the boxes, how can you play with them?” Emmy said.

How indeed?

So we took two of them out of their packages.

And that night, Emmy, Aunt Britt and two Barbies shopped, and traveled, and laughed.

One Barbie became a pilot. Her friend parachuted from the "plane" onto a pillow "cloud." We talked to each other in high-pitched, silly voices. We traded tiny plastic shoes. And stupid jokes.

I never put those Barbies back in the boxes.

I don't imagine I ever will.

Looking at them makes me smile whenever I need a detour from that "real world" stuff.

Britt Kennerly is education/breaking news editor at FLORIDA TODAY. Contact Kennerly at 321-917-4744 or bkennerly@floridatoday.com. Twitter: @bybrittkennerly Facebook: /bybrittkennerly.

This article originally appeared on Florida Today: What I learned, a Barbie at my side, resonates in the 'real world'