Kenergy (n.): the state of being and behaving as a Ken [(n.) Barbie’s main supporter, where Barbie is the love of Ken’s life and Barbie’s as well] would, in each and every regard.

The narrative of Barbie has been silly to me.

In a history dive into Mattel, it looked that much of the founder’s vision was to give girls a realistic image of an adult woman, but “one that includes breasts,” as a famous quote put it (the implication that other girl’s toys had no breasts is absurd in its own right). A spicy history dive likens the image of Barbie to be that of a German sex worker. Great.

Throughout cultural norms, Barbie has been criticized for her body image standards and generally praised for her range of diversity.

This is not to say that every Barbie was made equal in the eyes had in its apple inside; but rather that, while championing diversity is great, we have to consider how the people we hope like it, will end up actually enjoying our representation of them.

When most women go into screenwriting, their goal is to tell their story.

Mindy Kaling and Jenette McCurdy come to mind as actresses whose written words (one splashed among sitcoms and one in a famous memoir) were their stamp. After all, what’s more powerful than being able to say, “See, there I am!” and have it actually be you?

We could talk days about the significance female writers have brought to pop culture.

But, take one step back.

Consider that the narrative power of a writer is to change perception, and not reality, in how their writing allows a new stance into the mix. Scientific journals take this to an extreme conclusion, requiring peer-reviews to become credible. To consider that these are often the product of years of work, that is pretty incredible of a requirement.

Now let’s enter back to the beginning.

I want to give credibility to my partner’s story.

I give mine often enough, of course.

An Anecdote

On the day which scarred me, he was there, panicked and freaked out that I had entered into a crisis state. He was worried as could be, “Should I call 9-1-1?” he screamed at one point, which threw his already worried girlfriend into more worry. He saw me run away and followed me, fearing the worst was going to come true.

“Leave me alone,” he heard, but he was scared beyond reproach. In a moment of desperation, he grabbed me from behind, hoping to everyone and no one, that by grabbing me, I would realize there was no danger.

He got elbowed in the nose. As you do.

He still persisted to help, but nothing seemed to work.

Yet, the only words he kept hearing turned from “Leave me alone” into “Go away,” which so happens to be his personal trauma brain trigger.

What a mess.

It wasn’t like anything either of us could do from that point onward would help.

He thought I was furious at him.

“You can hit me, you know,” he declared with almost too much confidence.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I screamed, confused as could be.

He began to bash his head against the wall in desperation, arms following suit to make forceful, intentional contact to the nose.

And you can find the rest of the story somewhere else.

Why bother to show this?

My brother asked me quite boldly, “Why did you protect him?” It was a follow-up to declaring to me that someone chasing me while I was in crisis is abusive. The thing is, I totally knew that, and was kind of trying to leave it out of legal matters because I wasn’t really desiring some boy to get yelled at by my parents for having done that.

See, what happened through my persistence were the magic words.

My brother presumed the following question was logical: “Do you think he just wasn’t prepared to handle that?”

And that was exactly what it was about.

See, the Ken to my Barbie is not super skilled like Barbie is. Barbie has obtained pretty much every career path imaginable. Ken has not. My Ken shouldn’t be expected to have crisis management skills. I wouldn’t expect that much of anyone, really.

The Kenergy could not have been bigger and brighter in my boyfriend.

He didn’t want to press any charges and was convinced the police would arrest him if he asked nicely enough. What a great guy.

Unfortunately, recent internet advocacy dives have shown how legal systems care more about victim-blaming than actually helping victims. It means that police are encouraged to make an arrest, even if no one agrees with it or wants it other than police. They get promoted based on arrests made and charges given. They don’t really care to help.

After all, they spent no more than ten minutes to “assess” and “determine” fault.

Such a weird thing, policing.

But my partner is the sweetest human being.

He cried harder than I did. I hugged him and told him it was fine.

I had a crisis brain, though, in fairness – the shock took about three months to hit.

My morals told me that blaming someone for not being a crisis management expert was only going to further the struggle. I don’t play the game well of being blamed for reacting as police told me to last time (being yelled at for not fighting back) by the police. Don’t tell people that they have to be a perfect victim if you’re going to yell at them either way.

Barbie’s (my) day off was the day where my mind left me.

Ken stepped in, but was scared as well.

I can’t fault a reasonable emotion overtaking him.

He was there for me, and although imprefectly, I don’t care. We were both imperfect, and I don’t care to blame two sets of trauma at once. I wouldn’t blame just one, either

Sometimes love is perfectly loving imperfections.

XOXO,

Dorothy B.