EXPLAINER | What dolls teach us: The quiet power of Barbie and the gaps in Filipino toy aisles

 

When Barbie first appeared in 1959, she wore a black-and-white swimsuit, high heels, and looked every bit like a glamorous Hollywood starlet. She wasn’t just a toy — she was a symbol of glamour, aspiration, and what it meant to “have it all.”

Fast forward to 2025, and Barbie is making headlines once again — but this time, she’s wearing a continuous glucose monitor on her arm, an insulin pump at her waist, and a cute pastel purse filled with supplies to manage diabetes.

Barbie is now living with Type 1 Diabetes, and she’s thriving. This change isn’t just about her looks. It reflects a bigger shift in how society views play, identity, and the kinds of stories we want kids to imagine for themselves.

More than six decades since her debut, Barbie remains a powerful cultural mirror. After the 2023 Greta Gerwig film reintroduced her as a symbol of self-discovery and social commentary, Barbie has stepped even further into real life, embracing disability, chronic illness, and difference. Her evolution is no longer just about keeping up with the trends, but expanding the stories children are allowed to see themselves in.

This shift delves into a deeper question: what do toys teach children to expect, not just about play, but also about possibilities?

Back in the 1990s, Barbie reflected the societal definition of perfection — super long legs, perfect skin, and an incredibly tiny waist. She seemed to represent a narrow idea of beauty, something that millions of kids looked up to, but that not many could actually relate to. She was admired, yes, but not exactly someone you saw yourself in.

As discussions around gender roles and opportunities grew, Barbie started taking on all sorts of new careers in the 2000s, such as being a doctor, astronaut, architect, even president. The message changed to, “you can be anything.” Even as Barbie chased after big dreams, she mostly kept the same polished look, that kind of like a goal to inspire, but still quite removed from real life. But even there, her appearance remained largely the same — polished, pristine, and still somewhat distant from everyday life. She inspired ambition, but not always belonging.

Now, Barbie is going all-in on inclusivity. The Fashionistas line now features dolls with wheelchairs, prosthetic limbs, vitiligo, hearing aids, and even Type 1 Diabetes. The latest Barbie was created together with the T1D community and shows real-life experiences in a meaningful way: 

This isn’t just a doll meant to motivate; it’s a doll that truly affirms. Research suggests that when children see themselves represented in toys, they develop stronger self-esteem, empathy, and social understanding. By including visible conditions and different bodies, Barbie doesn’t just reflect progress but she also makes space for children who have long been left out of the playroom spotlight.

While Barbie is redefining the global stage and changing the way kids play, the toy options in the Philippines still seem pretty limited — another cooking set, a baby doll with a bottle, a miniature vanity.

The Filipino toy aisle, especially for the young girls, remains anchored in caring, nurturing, and looking pretty. There’s nothing wrong with these themes, but the issue is that they tend to be the only roles that kids see and learn from. Walk into a major toy store in Manila, and the girls’ section is often filled with pastel-colored kitchen sets, baby dolls with milk bottles, toy cleaning brooms, vanity kits, and princess tiaras. In contrast, the boys’ section boasts robot-building kits, construction sets, doctor costumes, and action figures with armor and tools.

This contrast isn’t just a question of color or theme — it reflects the kinds of futures children are encouraged to imagine for themselves. If girls rarely see toys that reflect diversity in roles, abilities, or bodies, they may grow up thinking those possibilities aren’t meant for them. And for children with chronic illness, disability, or features outside conventional beauty norms, the silence in toy aisles can speak volumes.

Sometimes what’s missing is even louder than what’s there. There aren’t many dolls that show kids with chronic illnesses, disabilities, or different body types. You won’t find toys featuring characters with darker skin, curly hair, or holding assistive devices. There are barely any toys that send the message, “it’s okay if your body works differently.” For children dealing with asthma, hearing aids, alopecia, or birth conditions, it's subtle but telling, like they’re not really part of the story.

This lack of representation isn’t just a local concern. “Where I grew up, in Japan, it was a single-race country. Yet the market was saturated with white skin dolls. Except for the very traditional celebration dolls, the rest didn’t look like us. They have blonde hair, big eyes, and they all look the same, and I just thought, really? What happened to the people from other countries?,” Minako Suzuke-Lowe, an artist and toy designer, reflecting on her own childhood.

Her words echo a quiet reality in the Philippine context, where children dealing with asthma, alopecia, hearing differences, or birth conditions may grow up without ever seeing a version of themselves on toy shelves. Without these reflections, the message they receive, however unintentionally, is that their stories don’t belong in play.

Although Barbie has really expanded her roles, showing girls that she’s more than a glamorous doll. Now, you can find Barbie dolls representing a variety of life experiences — from dealing with chronic illnesses to living with disabilities, and engaging in all sorts of hobbies. By contrast, Filipino toy aisles remain anchored in. 

Meanwhile, if you look at the toy options commonly available in the Philippines, most still focus on traditional domestic roles for young girls like cooking, caring for others, or beauty play. These kinds of toys tend to keep narrow ideas about femininity and caregiving alive.

In Filipino households, caregiving is often introduced early. Many young girls are praised for helping their mothers, looking after younger siblings, or setting the table — acts of love that gradually form expectations. Mainstream media, advertising, and even school activities reinforce these roles, making them feel like destiny rather than choice. As a result, toys become quiet teachers, shaping not just how children play, but what they believe they can grow up to be.

When it comes to how bodies are shown, newer Barbie lines include dolls with different skin tones, body shapes, and facial features. Some even have visible medical devices, like hearing aids or insulin pumps, making them more realistic and comprehensive. But in local toy stores, most dolls are still thin, fair-skinned, and follow classic beauty standards, often not reflecting the real diversity of Filipino children.

Most importantly, the stories these toys tell are very different. Today’s Barbie sends a strong message: “You are seen. Your differences are normal. You belong.” In contrast, many local toys still seem to promote a quiet pressure to conform: “This is who you should be.” These messages may seem unnoticeable, but they carry weight. Child development experts have long emphasized that toys aren’t just playthings but tools that influence a child’s understanding of identity and possibility. The American Psychological Association, for example, notes that early exposure to gender-stereotyped toys can limit children’s skill development and narrow their career aspirations later in life.

Representation isn’t just a marketing trick but a critical reminder that everyone belongs. When a child sees themselves reflected in a toy, it shows them that their feelings and experiences are important. When children play with someone who’s different from them, it teaches them that differences aren’t scary; they’re just part of being human. 

Seeing yourself in a doll is a child’s first mirror — and maybe their first quiet rebellion.

In a world where illness and disabilities are still often hidden or ignored, a doll like Barbie with a glucose monitor quietly challenges that. It sends a simple but powerful message that this is a life worth celebrating too. 

The Philippines doesn’t need to follow every new trend in toys for the sake of seeming modern. But it should consider something more important — are toys helping children learn to fit in, or encouraging them to stand tall and be proud of who they are?

Because what we put in a child’s hand can shape what they believe they’re allowed to become.