Why I bought a Barbie for the first time in 30 years: Thoughts on Autistic Barbie

Like many women, I've had a pretty complicated relationship with Barbie. Originally launched by Mattel in 1959, the doll continues to polarize, symbolizing aspects of both women's liberation and oppression. Barbie can be seen as a role model for independence - she's held seemingly limitless careers over the decades, from doctor to athlete to pilot, but she's also been criticized for contributing to unrealistic beauty standards. Toys come alive when merged with the imagination, and Barbie can be anything - an avatar or extension of the self, so perhaps she holds up a mirror to our own possibilities and strengths as well as our weaknesses and insecurities.

And… I could go on, but to a certain extent, I don't want to over-intellectualize Barbie, or even take her too seriously, because ultimately, while being an icon or archetype she is a toy, and at some point this type of discourse sucks the fun out of everything… But is it possible for Barbie, a mass-produced doll, to represent the idea that it's okay to be different… or to diverge?

Rewind to 1980’s me and a good portion of my life was Barbie-focused. In those virtually pre-historic pre-internet days I would scan Sears catalogues and toy stores, scrounging and saving in anticipation of my next plastic acquisition. It was serious business. I can remember Barbie's vacant beauty pageant smile flashing back at me from behind a plastic window of packaging, and the thrill of tearing into the pink cardboard with my stubby kid hands. I had a fairly impressive doll collection, considering how broke my parents were. Garden Party Barbie, wearing a lilac tulle monstrosity, was a favourite, as was Aqua Net laden Rock Star Barbie. I even owned Barbie Dance Party! on vinyl and a Ken doll which, perplexingly, wore permanent underwear and had rubber hair. 

The imagination aspect was key for me, and often my Barbies lived in big cities full of life and lights and neverending traffic, doing all sorts of cool things like being fashion designers and artists and wearing 5 shades of pink at once. It was a complete escape from bland suburbia's rigid rules - Barbie went, wore, and did what she wanted. She had an impossibly tiny waist, glossy hair, and was never bullied. I was gonna be just like her one day, right?

But time and experience brought new meaning to Barbie as the 1990s and teenagehood loomed. The dolls hibernated in my bedroom closet for extended periods of time. “Ugly” - that unwanted label - stuck to me and no amount of scrubbing or iterations of self could remove it. Pink sparkle was binned for grunge plaids. I was fat. I had an imbalance. I had acne. And… I was pissed off. 

The dolls, once coveted, now brought resentment. They were symbols of everything I couldn't become. At first I did things like cut their hair into mohawks with kitchen scissors. Punk Barbie. But she was still… taunting me. One day I took a bunch of my Barbies and threw them in a muddy ditch at the side of the road. It felt like some sort of screwed up rite of passage, though into what I was not sure. Barbie was no longer the beloved role model or extension-of-self she had been for me as a child. “Ugly” wasn't what she had promised me. 

As years and even decades went on, I didn't think too much about Barbie. But when the Barbie movie was released in 2023, I felt a sense of nostalgia. By that time I had softened my view on the dolls: in retrospect I believe they hardly impacted the majority of what I personally went through as a pre-teen and teenager, if at all. It was far more complex. The movie, starring Margot Robbie, even addresses themes of unrealistic beauty standards affect on women and girls. There's a sense of progress.

Barbie movie

So, on learning in early January that Mattel was unveiling, with the help of ASAN, the Autistic Self Advocacy Network, a new, “autistic Barbie,” my interest was more than a little piqued. And - as a woman who grew up with undiagnosed autism I was actually kind of - excited? I wondered exactly how autism could be represented in an inanimate object, like a doll, but also kept an open mind because I thought the idea was pretty cool. Not to speak for other neurodivergent people, but I often feel like an unwanted weirdo, so the release of a doll featuring some of these unique traits feels significant to me. It's not necessarily about automatic perfection so much as building representation and understanding. 

What does autistic Barbie feature that makes her different from other dolls?

- Shifted gaze (some autists find direct eye contact uncomfortable)

- Noise cancelling headphones (in case of sensory overstimulation)

- An Augmentative and Alternative Communication tablet for non-verbal communication 

- Articulated wrists and elbows (for stimming, hand motion)

- A fidget toy

- Loose clothes and flat shoes (for sensory sensitivities)

Since autism is a spectrum, not all of these traits and sensitivities are necessarily true for all autistic people. For example, I struggle a lot with noise sensitivity, and have felt self-conscious about the 'strange' ways I sometimes hold or move my wrists (also known as T-Rex arms), so the headphones and articulated wrists I definitely relate to; but I don't go non-verbal, so I don't need to carry an AAC tablet. However, it would be completely unrealistic to expect one doll to reflect all individual differences, and I don't believe that is really necessary or even the point. It's just nice to feel represented instead of feeling ‘wrong’ or like an outcast who needs to change.

Headphones on!

Not everyone has responded favourably to the doll, as some parents perceive her as needing to be “more inclusive.” Psychologist Dr. Jessica Taylor goes further, declaring via substack and social media, “nothing about this doll reflects the material realities of autistic people's lives. There is no engagement with power, exclusion, or harm… But forget about all that. Look pretty, get your legs out, and play with your fidget spinner, sis.” Taylor also feels that the doll being feminine and "conventionally attractive” is an attempt to make her autism more “palatable” for monetization. Yikes. Maybe it would be more useful to ask the actual kids what they think of the doll.

This is a toy, after all. It doesn't have to be about saving the world so much as making steps towards helping neurodivergent kids feel more seen and accepted, and increasing awareness. In my opinion, the people who constantly rage against such attempts at progress aren't really helping make the world more inclusive. While critique is fine, demanding some nebulous form of politically correct perfection from a simple toy, I feel, misses the point. Author Sarah Kurchak sums it up nicely: “for me, caring about good autistic representation isn't just about looking for a mirror in popular culture. It's about looking for windows into other autistic experiences that can speak to any of us - and possibly expand the general public's knowledge or acceptance along the way. This doll has the potential to do that."

And… why shouldn't autistic Barbie be conventionally attractive? There certainly are autistic people who fit that description. Autism advocate Amy Walker recalls being brushed off at an assessment as a child because she was “too pretty to be autistic." According to the National Autistic Society, boys are still diagnosed more often than girls by a ratio of 3:1, and while some of that has to do with the fact girls tend to be more likely to mask autistic behaviours, it also has to do with stereotypes about how people believe autism should look. 

I want to support the fact a neurodivergent Barbie exists in 2026.

Toys weren't like this when I was a kid. I think it's progress. 

So… for the first time in almost 34 years, I bought myself a new Barbie doll.