#woodsrambles

but y’know what really got me? what had me sobbing in the theater? that montage of women. all of our joy, our pain, our diversity, playing out on the big screen. and barbie saw all that. that montage represented all of our humanity. good and bad.

joy.

love.

gentleness.

forgiveness.

she saw people helping each other. she saw friends dancing in the kitchen. she saw family and pets. she saw the ocean and sunrises and fresh green grass. bigotry.

hatred.

struggle.

hurt.

she saw women at the gas station at night, pepper spray in hand. she saw rape. blatant misogyny in all fields. she was catcalled by men on the street. she knew what it felt like to grow up in a world where you’re always vaguely uncomfortable, always cautious, always worried, always prepared.

being the eldest daughter means you’re the third parent. being the eldest daughter means perfection at any cost. long nights studying and early mornings making breakfast. you’re never your first concern, probably not second or third either. failure is impossible. be strong, unbreakable. be the child other parents wish they had. set an example for your siblings, and make sure they do their homework. don’t stop doing. ever.

being the eldest daughter means you need to escape. being the eldest daughter means you can’t hurt anyone except yourself. you have a constant feeling of wanderlust and yet you want nothing more than to go home. you don’t have anywhere you feel safe. nobody hears your secrets, but you know all of theirs.

being the eldest daughter means your family image rests on your shoulders. being the eldest daughter means you’re a carbon copy of your parent’s best qualities. on the inside you have their problems. you don’t tell your parents anything. you’re worried they’re right, because that would mean inevitable punishment. life is under control in any circumstances.

”are you... y‘know…”

*whispers even quieter*