Work Text:
you have always loved playing with dolls.
as a girl, dressing up these plastic versions of people just like you. as an adult, in the privacy of your own room. because — like most things, toys are something you need to grow out of.
you’re a grown woman now. your name is gloria and you have a daughter named sasha. your husband is kind, he treats you well. he spends most of his time learning your language and collecting model trains. it’s a good life, all things considered. and then she shows up and turns everything on it’s head.
it scares you, later, the realization that when she returns to her pink plastic life — that you may not be able to live without her. her innocence and hope and joy is compelling in a way you cannot put into words. she has problems and struggles just like any other woman you know.
her name is barbara roberts, formerly barbie. you might be in love with her.
she fits in well into your household, almost like a puzzle piece missing that you didn’t know you needed. sasha though she complains, begins to see her as another parental figure. you teach her how to cook — only a few close mishaps with the stove — and how to apply for a job, you take her to the gynecologist — trying not to think about what it would be like to be the one between her legs.
you desire her, and it’s beginning to ruin your life.
loving women is normal to you, like a giant sisterhood against things like men, and ken, and the patriarchy itself. but barbara is weirdly perfect in her imperfections, and it brings the question — does loving her, longing for her in that way make you queer?
somehow, you find that it doesn’t matter.