Summary: You had despised how easily he had abandoned the kid with you. But what you had refused to admit until now was how you resented him for so easily abandoning you. How easily he had decided he could take himself out of not just the kid’s life but also your life. How you meant so little to him that he was ready to die without even telling you his name.
A one-shot where the Reader finally comes to learn Mando's name.
A/N: Character co-created with my friend @lokischocolatefountain and written for her birthday. Happy birthday! Reader character (Mech) is the same character in Guess and Daddy Issues
“I'm not gonna make it. Go,” Mando wheezed.
“Shut up!” Cara snapped. “You just got your bell rung. You’ll be fine.”
She removed the hand supporting the back of his neck. It was covered in blood. Her eyes widened in realisation.
“I’m gonna need to take this thing off,” she said, moving her hands to the helmet.
Before the words had fully left her mouth he replied, “No. You leave me.”
That was when you snapped. Till now, you had been on autopilot. When you unlocked the ship so that you and IG-11 could retrieve the kid, when you had ridden at top speed on a speeder bike in the middle of gunfight into a town infested with Imps, when you had hauled Mando into the ruined cantina after the Imp in black had shot him, unheeding of the blaster fight going on around you.
You looked down and saw the blood staining your clothes for the first time. His blood.
Mando’s hands were grabbing Cara’s with a surprising amount of strength given his condition.
“You make sure the child is safe,” he gasped.
Cara’s hands retreated slowly, but you weren’t going to give in so easily.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘leave you’?” You barked. “We need to spray some bacta on or you’ll bleed out right here!”
“No.”
“‘No’?” You yelled hysterically. “What the fuck do you mean no? Mando! You’re going to DIE!”
“NO!” He growled when your hands darted towards his helmet again. He gripped them so hard you felt he was going to break your bones, but in the frenzy of the situation, the pain did not fully register.
It was the stupid helmet all over again. “We need to remove the helmet to treat the wound, do you understand? I’ll - I’ll just spray the bacta on you without looking, okay? No one will look, okay?” You pleaded. It was frustrating having to beg someone to save their life.
“No,” he spluttered, the determination still there but the weight of his injuries weakening his voice.
“MANDO!” You yelled, your tears dropping down to his beskar plate and rolling in rivulets, much like his blood. “LET ME TAKE YOUR HELMET OFF!”
“No. You leave me.”
“YOU HAVE TO PROTECT THE KID!”
“You make sure the child is safe. Here,” he plucked the mudhorn signet off his neck and thrust it into your hands. “When you get to the Mandalorian covert, you show them that. You tell them the foundling was in my protection, and they’ll help you.”
You shook your head vehemently throughout his speech. “We can make it! Come on! Let’s go!” You tried to haul him up, likely aggravating the injury in the process.
“I’m not gonna make it and you know it.”
Just then, flames burst through the door of the cantina. You could almost feel your skin being singed off. Cara shielded Mando with her body while you hid your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You opened them when he grasped at your shirt.
“You protect the child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior’s death.”
As hot as the flames were, they were nothing compared to the rage that boiled inside your veins.
“HOW DARE YOU? HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT? HE IS YOUR CHILD! YOU HAVE TO PROTECT HIM!” You jabbed your finger hard into his chest.
If you were angry before, it was nothing compared to how you felt when he replied, “This is the Way.”
Another burst of flames came shooting through. Your tears dry on your cheeks even as fresh ones make their way out of your eyes when the stormtrooper walks in and points his launcher at you. You barely register the kid stepping out and extending his hands. Though you’ve seen him do things with his sheer will often enough by now, nothing prepares you for the spectacle of him stopping the flames midair and then pushing them back towards the stormtrooper. The trooper goes flying out, the plastic of his armour melting into his skin and the kid collapses, while the IG finally breaks the grate of the sewer open.
Mando’s head lands on the makeshift bed with a thud. “Go… go,” he said, his voice much weaker.
IG picks up the unconscious kid and thrusts him into your hands. “Escape and protect this child. I will stay with the Mandalorian.”
You take the kid numbly and give Mando one last look. “Promise me you will bring him,” you tell the droid, though you have no idea what the droid could do, especially if Mando was unwilling to be helped and harbored such hatred of droids.
“You have my word.”
You climb down into the sewers with the kid. It is only when you have walked in the long, confusing tunnels that you realise: you don’t even know his name.
—--
Your first meeting had ended in you staring down the wrong end of Mando’s blaster. Peli had subcontracted the repairs on an antiquated Razor Crest to you. You thought it had been Peli who was eating away your cookies – you took her protests with a generous pinch of salt – till you had found a strange green little creature grasping for the last few treats.
“Hello, you little womp rat!” Peli greeted the thing. It cooed at her sweetly. “Did your dad just leave you alone? Again?”
The creature cooed again in response.
“That’s Mando’s kid,” Peli explained.
“Mando?” you asked.
“The Mandalorian! Mando for short, since I don’t know his name.”
You studied the kid. It wasn’t any species you had seen or heard of. You admitted it was cute – but it was getting crumbs all over the ship and a ship in repair wasn’t the place for a kid to be anyway.
“Come on,” you said and picked up the kid. You walked down the ramp – only to be greeted by a (presumably) angry looking Mandalorian.
“Let him go.”
You did exactly what he ordered. You dropped the kid and he fell to the ground with a yelp. You barely had a moment to feel bad before the mando started interrogating you.
“Who sent you?”
You gawked at him. Peli had told you he was against droids. Was he against other mechanics as well?
“No - no one?”
“Who sent you after the kid?” he barked.
“PELI????” You screamed.
“WHAT?” she shouted from within.
“PELI!!!!”
“WHAT?” She marched out. “Mando! Put the blaster down!” She looked down and saw the kid on the ramp. “What are you doing down there?” She picked up the kid. “Lower your blaster!” She snapped at Mando again.
“Who is she?”
By now, you were hidden squarely behind Peli. Not that she would be shield enough if he decided to take you out.
“She’s the mechanic who’s doing the repairs on your Razor Crest, you metal head!”
“I told you to work on my ship.”
“And I hired her! She’s the best in the parsec when it comes to Throsic stomper repairs!”
Reluctantly, after a few seconds too many of contemplation, he lowered the blaster and tucked it into his thigh holster. But you could see over Peli’s shoulder that his hand still remained very close to the blaster. If you so much as breathed in the kid’s direction…
“Why was she holding the kid?”
“She was taking him outside to a safe place! A repair dock is no place for a kid to be! Honestly, what kind of a father are you?”
“I’m not its father.”
He strode up the ramp and collected his kid – the kid – from Peli and tucked him into the crook of his arm. Peli turned to face him squarely and you turned to keep her as a barrier between the two of you. He was even more terrifying up close. You felt dizzy taking in the array of weapons decorating his person.
He walked inside and you heard him fiddling around with the ship, no doubt trying to verify your credentials as a mechanic. Peli followed him inside, providing a constant stream of commentary about the repairs and how costly they were and how lucky he was that she was so good at what she did and knew the best staff. You were grateful for it. You stood rooted to your spot on the ramp, sweating through your clothes and wondering if you should just leg it. You needed the money but you didn’t need it that badly, you reasoned with yourself. On the other hand, if you ran away right now without taking any payment, he would think you were definitely out to kidnap his kid. He emerged before you could make up your mind.
“You repaired the Throsic stompers?”
He was standing closer to you than you liked. You couldn’t make out his tone. Was it disbelief? Accusatory? Did he think you’d fucked it up and was going to execute you for it? You were going to die because of a fucking Razor Crest? A Razor Crest?
You shot Peli a scared glance.
“Tell him you did!”
You nodded hesitantly.
“And the Idonic markers?”
It wasn’t in the initial commission… but a part of the reason for the strain on the Throsic thrusters was that the Idonic markers needed recalibration and some hardware changes. You were too afraid to explain yourself. What if it pissed him off? You knew you were being ridiculous. With any other client, you would have fought and defended your logic to the hilt. Then again, most clients didn’t accuse you of child kidnapping and try to shoot your head off.
“Yes, she did!” Peli answered on your behalf.
“And the harkon wheelers?”
That, admittedly, had been an extra. When you had scanned the ship manually it had been obvious the wheelers needed repairs. You were sure if you’d got more time to scan the ship – or could use droids – the diagnostics would show that 99% of the ship needed overhauling… or to be decommissioned into scrap.
You nodded.
You decided you would not charge him for the wheelers. It wasn’t worth it. Not in terms of credits – it was fucking expensive in credits – but it wasn’t worth it if you were interested in keeping yourself alive and relatively unharmed.
“How much?” When you looked at him dumbly, he repeated his question. “How much for all the repairs?”
You looked at Peli again.
“Seven hundred credits,” she answered on your behalf.
“And how much would you charge if you did it yourself?”
You sneaked another glance at Peli. You couldn’t outright tell him your rate – at least not in front of Peli, who had sent a lot of work along your way. At the same time, he didn’t seem like someone you could just lie to.
“Six hundred. To cover the services and the supplies,” you offered. That was reasonable.
“Well, I’m off to feed the little guy before you jet off kark knows where!” Peli exclaimed and walked back to her office, cooing and playing with the kid all the time.
You gaped at her, equal parts terrified that she’d left you alone with your would-be murderer and that she was walking away with the kid and he was letting her.
“You did a good job.”
Your head snapped back to his in surprise. “Th-thanks.”
“Peli tells me you are a travelling mechanic.”
You nodded slowly, worried where this was going.
“I could do with another member in my crew.”
Was he offering you a job? No. It can’t be. He just thought you were kidnapping his kid.
“Oh,” you said. Maybe he was just looking for recommendations.
“I can pay well.”
You narrowed your eyes. ‘Well’ could mean any number of things… but that was for the potential recruit to figure out. “Uh… sure…”
“And you can pick up other small jobs when we dock, if you like.”
You? “Me?” You exclaimed, hating how weak you sounded.
“Who else would I mean?”
All you could do was stare at him. Man had pointed a blaster at your head less than five minutes ago and now he was offering you a job? Aboard his ship? Travelling with him? The man who almost killed you less than five minutes ago?
“I had thought it was just a problem with the stompers. I didn’t figure out it was a problem with the markers. I could have, but that would have taken time and I would have needed to dock anyway to get the equipment. And I wouldn’t have noticed there was anything wrong with the wheelers. But clearly they were in need of repairs and I would’ve been back here less than a cycle later. I like your work. You’re not averse to travelling so I would like to have you onboard. I can pay you five percent of each bounty – on average I get around two thousand credits per bounty.”
“Bounty?” You asked sharply.
He stared you down. “I’m a bounty hunter.”
Nope. Nope nope nope nope. Nope. If you had any feeling of non-hesitation about this deal, then it just got evaporated. A Mandalorian bounty hunter? You might as well hand him a puck on you yourself. You couldn’t travel with him. He would rape you then kill you. The logical, sane part of you wondered why he would go to the effort of bringing you on board to do all this – it wasn’t as if you or Peli could set up any reasonable defence. But the irrationally frightened part of you was convinced that he was doing this because this was his bounty hunting strategy.
It must not have been hard for him to read the sheer terror on your face. “I have a bounty to collect in Mos Eisley. Think about my offer. I’ll find you tomorrow before nightfall to hear your response.”
—---
He had found you. Literally.
Despite the fact that he had stalked you to a cantina and told you that he had seen you flicking through starship catalogues and had not even done you the courtesy of telling you his name, on top of almost killing you and revealing he was a bounty hunter, you took up the job.
The pay was good – not too good to be true, but quite good. Peli had told you you could trust him. Though you didn’t trust Peli when it came to credits, you did trust her when it came to people. And it was a good way of travelling around the galaxy.
You were terrified of him the first few cycles. He was awkward too. You suspected he wasn’t used to having company on board. But he gave you your space, didn’t try to make conversation for the sake of it and didn’t try to get you to babysit the kid.
Slowly, over time, you relaxed. You started idly talking with him. Then started cracking jokes here and there. Then teasing him. Then spending the idle hours in hyperspace playing card games with him. Soon it wasn’t just card games. You were talking with him, really talking with him. You hoped you were curious about Mandalorians without being insulting, teasing about his ways and the Way without being offensive, and friendly without being overbearing. You knew you would never know what he looked like. As for his name, you had never asked, nor had he ever offered it to you, nor had he told you that names were something that were ‘against the Way’. But there was a part of you that had accepted you would never learn it and that had never bothered you.
Until now.
In the aftermath, you sat in the hold, the kid on your lap. He knew you were upset. He gazed at you with beady eyes and slowly put a hand on your cheek, gurgling softly. Tears smarted your eyes. Here he was, this tiny little kid, hunted by the Empire and maltreated by the Imps, but he was comforting you. Bless him.
He had almost lost the only person to look out for him, who could actually do a good job protecting and caring for him, not just physically but emotionally. All because of a stupid creed.
You inhaled sharply at the ferocity of your anger. You had never understood the creed – at least not why it made him wear a helmet at all times – but you had treated it matter of factly. You might not have respected the creed, but you respected the fact that he respected it. But what you could not respect was how he was so easily willing to jeopardise the life of the kid for the Way.
The kid’s squeaks broke through your haze. You realised you had been digging your fingers too harshly into his frail little body.
That was when Mando climbed down the ladder into the hold. Maybe he heard you torturing the kid or maybe he just decided to check on him.
“I’ll take him,” he said.
You handed the kid to him stiffly, biting your tongue to keep yourself from saying anything untoward. It rang in your ears all the same.
You weren’t so keen on taking him back there.
He looked at you for a while until you got up and shuffled away. You didn’t want to say anything to him. You didn’t even want to be in the same space as him. Not anymore. This was already more than what you’d signed up for. And on top of that, to do it for a man who thought nothing of throwing away his life for a set of idealistic notions of glory when a kid – his kid – needed him? No.
–-----------
He had forgot what it was like when you were silent.
He remembered you had once been terrified of him. He hadn’t minded the silence in those early days.
Then, you had rolled over to shield the kid with your body without thinking when a bunch of hunters had ambushed the three of you. He had lied to you that it was the gang of a disgruntled bounty, but he had viewed you in a new light after that. He talked more easily with you and engaged with your occasional attempts to make conversation. He had even initiated a conversation with you himself a few times.
Then he remembered how he had stoked that fear of him again when you confessed your family had accidentally got a glimpse of the kid when you were speaking to them over a holocall. He had threatened to go after your family if they breathed a word to anyone. He remembered how you had cried and pleaded with him to not hurt them, how you had promised he could hurt you instead if any harm came to the kid.
He had grimly made his threat clear, much as he did not like it. Trust was not a luxury he could afford. He had disliked the silence that had followed after that. He knew you had stopped calling your family even though he hadn’t told you to do that. To his surprise, he even hated how you shrank away from him, and how scared and sad you looked. If the silence and distance had been comforting before, it was now awkward at best and forlorn at worst.
Over time the chatter returned. It was stilted at first, but he came to trust you and you him. He knew that when you fell asleep next to him in the co-pilot's chair, not out of exhaustion but out of comfort. Your careful, gentle teasing turned into outright banter. Your smile was infectious and the kid laughed more often. You took to caring for him as much as he did even though you had insisted you would not be his nurse.
It was why he had trusted you with the child when he lay dying. He knew you’d take care of him. What you lacked in physical strength you made up for in wits, resourcefulness and had heart. It had warmed him more than he cared to admit how hard you had argued to save him. It had only reinforced that he had made the right choice.
Now, the silence between you was thick again. Maybe it was just exhaustion and the stress, but something told him it was more than that. This time, he decided to break the silence.
It was as if the sound of your name was a catalyst for whatever had been simmering inside of you for you now erupted.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
He wasn’t surprised. It was a hard life and it was a long time coming, even ignoring today’s skirmish. But what surprised him was how it made his heart clench. He quickly shook off the feeling. He had to convince you to stay. You were good at your job and you were what the kid needed. And what he needed… in a crew member.
“Why not?”
You glared at him incredulously. Just a few cycles ago, the idea of you glaring at him like this was laughable. But now? It was… depressing.
“‘Why not?’” You thundered. Was he serious? Had the shot to the head with the impact from the blast done some damage to his cognitive abilities? Was it a trauma response? You shook your head. It wasn’t your lot to care about him – this – anymore. “Well I almost died today, so that’s why.”
If it was a matter of just getting the worst of your anger to boil over, then he could certainly do that. He had made a career of starting fights, after all. “There have been many such instances before.”
He wasn’t much for figures of speech but he could have sworn that your glare could melt beskar. “Exactly!” You said through gritted teeth.
“Yes. So why now?”
“‘Why now?’ ‘WHY NOW?’” You screeched. The child squeaked and waddled away from you. “So I should wait till I do end up dying?
He couldn’t recall a time he had ever seen you angry. A swell of emotion overcame him. A word that he doesn’t let his mind think. A strange physical impulse that is not aggression but feels quite close to it.
“It won’t come to that. It’s over now.”
“Sure. Sure it is! Until you go make an enemy out of someone or something because it is ‘the Way,” you threw your arms in the air exaggeratedly. “And then what?” you spat. “Do I have to die for that too?”
He sucked in a breath. Was that what this was about? Were you worried he was going to make you sacrifice yourself or that he wasn’t going to protect you? A stab of pain hit him. He had promised to protect you and he had. How could you think he would let you die?
“I will protect you. I will not let any harm come to you. You know that.”
“Oh shut up,” you snapped.
“Excuse me?” he said, walking closer to you.
There was a time his proximity would have scared you. Not anymore. Nothing was scarier than a man who was ready to die for a set of ideals he believed in rather than live for the people who needed him.
“You heard me.” You jutted your chin out. “All you do is care about your creed, your stupid sense of honour and whatever passes for ‘the Way’,” you drew quotation marks in the air, “and your helmet. That’s all you care about. It’s never been about protecting anyone. Not me nor the kid.”
“How dare you?” he growled. “How dare you disrespect the creed like this? I have protected you and the kid with every bit of my life!”
Maybe it was just the shock but he could still not believe you were talking to him like that, especially about the creed. He knew you didn’t understand it but you accepted it was what he believed in. You never tried to debate him or challenge him. It was one of the things – one of the many things – he liked about you.
You moved closer. You could see your reflection in the beskar. You thought you could even gaze into the dark void where his eyes were. Inscrutable and unreachable by any sentimentality that a normal person would hold dear. His hand was twitching from unreleased tension. His entire body was coiled up for a fight even though it had been barely a few hours since you had left Nevarro.
Would he shoot you now in front of the kid because you disrespected the Way? You didn’t doubt it. Not after everything.
No living thing can see my face.
“Oh yeah? Is that why you were so desperate to die back there in the cantina? Because you wanted to prove your honour?” You mocked, your face as bitter and ugly as the feelings of anger, despair, confusion and fear raging inside you.
“Dank farrik, is this what you’re still on about? You know I cannot take off my helmet. You know my creed dictates that –”
“No living thing can see your face? Yeah I know!” you shouted. “How can you be so willing to die when you’ve got a child counting on you? You fucking hypocrite! You said children were important to Mandalorians but here you are – just ready to die because god forbid anyone see your face because some stupid creed and some stupid Way – yes, IT IS STUPID – dictates that a piece of ARMOUR carries more value than the CHILD YOU HAVE SWORN TO PROTECT! YOU JUST THRUST HIM INTO MY ARMS LIKE I EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO AND JUST LET YOURSELF GET READY TO DIE AS IF YOU HAVE THE FUCKING LUXURY OF DOING THAT! YOU WERE READY TO ABANDON YOUR CHILD JUST FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR SICK, FUCKED UP HONOUR? WHAT HONOUR IS THERE IN THIS? FUCK, YOU WERE READY TO DIE AND I WOULDN’T HAVE EVEN KNOWN YOUR NAME!”
There.
It was out now.
You had despised how easily he had abandoned the kid with you. But what you had refused to admit until now was how you resented him for so easily abandoning you. How easily he had decided he could take himself out of not just the kid’s life but also your life. How you meant so little to him that he was ready to die without even telling you his name.
Maybe your reaction was unjustified. You had no right to expect anything from him. You certainly had no right to be angry at him for leaving you. But you did and you were and you didn’t have the time or the capacity to think about the why as you were breaking down into sobs that shook your entire body and made your legs buckle right in front of you.
He stared at you dumbstruck. He was no less shocked or angry or confused as you. Shocked at your outburst, angry at your blatant disrespect, but more than anything, confused. Confused at the fact that there was someone who gave enough of a damn about him to be upset about him dying, to scold him for abandoning them, to grieve the fact that he was dying and didn’t know his name. That someone cared enough to weep.
That you cared enough to weep.
You were shaking hard. He could feel himself trembling as well. Your legs buckled and his arms darted out to steady you. Rather than lean on him, however, you froze and tried to jerk away. He loosened his hold. He wasn’t good at comfort – he wasn’t good at anything that didn’t involve killing – but instinct told him you wanted, no, needed to be held.
And he wanted to hold you.
Since the time he had become a Mandalorian foundling, he had got into many rough scraps, but none had seemed as final as this one. He had never been afraid of death. While he fought hard to live, he didn’t care enough about his life to shrink away from danger and a probable death. But for the first time ever, he thought of all that he would have missed out on had this been it. The knowledge of all that he would have left behind washed over him like a bucket of cold water. The kid – his babbles, his innocence. The Crest, his longest companion. And you. Your smile, your skilled hands, your intelligence. He had been so ready to give up his life in the heat of the moment. While he did not regret adhering to the Way, it was sobering and chilling to think of not being around anymore when life included… all this.
Suddenly, he needed to hold you as much as you needed to be held. He needed to reassure himself that he was still here alive.
His arms wrapped around your body cautiously. You stiffened and tried to withdraw, but he held on with a soft plea that ended in your name.
Slowly, you melted. Despite yourself, despite your anger, despite everything, you couldn’t help but melt. You started to wrap your arms around him as well, needing the proximity if nothing else. It was his turn to stiffen. You figured it wasn’t because he was angry like you – he wouldn’t have initiated the hug if he was. A small part of your brain could not get over the fact that he had done something as extraordinary and yet so ordinary as hug you. But you knew the truth: he stiffened in your embrace because he wasn’t used to being hugged.
That thought set off a fresh wave of anguish. “I wouldn’t have even known your name,” you repeated, fresh tears rolling out.
It was unbearable that your only memory of the man you’d spent cycles travelling with – the man you’d watch fiercely protect a kid and who you’d risked your life with – would have been of his armour and his culture. It was unbearable that his way of life demanded that he be nameless and faceless. It was unbearable how little he would be remembered by.
You sobbed harder, soaking his chest plate. He drew you closer. You had never been so close to him before. This close, you could feel the movement of his chest, how his own body trembled, how the sounded with the helmet modulating his shuddering breaths.
“My name is Din,’ he said in an exhale. And now that it was out in the open, he wasn’t sure why he had never told you his name before.
You look at him, too overcome by emotion. “Din,” you repeated, testing the name on your lips. What an ironic name for someone so silent and hidden. And yet… you knew what a force of nature he was. And despite the meaning, the word sounded so quiet. Sad. Soft. Just like him.
His eyes fluttered shut when he heard you say his name for the first time. He could feel the tension drain out of his body and be replaced by a sense of calm. A sense of purpose – not the kind that inflamed his veins and hardened him to keep pushing on till he lay dead on a battlefield, but the kind that steadied him and gave him the strength and will to live… and other things.
He nodded and drew you in even closer. Neither of you said anything more, content to just stand there and bask in the newfound closeness and the sober elevation at still being alive after nearly losing so much. You were only interrupted by small hands tugging at your legs. Both of you looked down to find the kid babbling softly and looking at you with wide, dark eyes, demanding to be lifted up. Mando – Din – picked up the kid and held him until he reached out for you. You put your hand over the kid as well till he was balanced between you both.
For the first time you felt that it was not just a nameless, faceless, emotionless being staring at you menacingly but a living, breathing man with an armour of beskar but a heart of gold.
I’M SEEING YOU ADDED DIN DJARIN TO YOUR MASTERLIST??
?????
How was I supposed to resist him any longer!?!?
It’s gonna take me a long time to post Din. But until then, you can read the awesome stuff my friend @lokislittlevalkyrie wrote for him called Feeling You. Chapter 1 is Hearing You and Chapter 2 is Touching You.
the fact that the first female human experience barbie goes through is being self conscious and experiencing sexual harassment mirrors how growing up as a girl one day you’re okay and the next all of a sudden you feel bad about your appearance and are receiving unwanted advances is something that can be so fucking important to be recognized in film
Ken was more than an antagonist/villain but a representation/metaphor for all the sweet boys in our lives who eventually grew up to be misogynistic men. Who take more than they’ll ever give. They are the boys who felt under-appreciated and unloved and found validation from Andrew Tate podcasts.
A lot of women if not all can relate to that on some level. Son. Brother. Friend. Cousin. Nephew. Uncle. It happens so much more than we want to think about. It’s so prevalent and sad that despite everything Ken did, Barbie apologized to him and received no apology in return.
Barbie Land was far kinder than Kendom. The Barbies were dismissive about the Kens, yes, but they were always treated kindly and with some decorum. Kendom literally made the Barbies their servants designed to cater to their every whim. Just look at that. And even then, Barbie apologized. President Barbie gave them a (admittedly low) position in the courts as a token of good will. A fairly realistic take right there but so sad considering the harm they’d done.
He stole her dreamhouse. He stole Barbie’s dreamhouse. And she apologized for hurting him.
Ken's greatest suffering came from being a beta orbiter in the friendzone. From not being taken seriously by the person whose attention he believed he needed to validate his own existence. He was never exploited or degraded or dehumanized. He was never subjected to malice or sadism or violence. He was not raped. He was not objectified. The Barbies always treated him with respect (kindness, goodwill), but not with Respect (gravitas, adulation, obsequiousness).
This is truly the worst fate many men can imagine. This is what they mean when they absurdly complain that women have all the power in society, that feminism has gone too far. Men are lonely, men feel unwanted, men feel disposable, men feel unneeded, men feel unimportant, men feel disRespected.
Meanwhile, Barbie is sexually assaulted within five minutes of entering the Real World. She unapologetically hits back because she has not yet been taught that women who hit back are punished. And then she is the one who gets arrested, not the man who assaulted her. In her mugshot, her face shows a mixture of bewilderment and violation. Ken, on the other hand, is beaming. He is oblivious, blissfully unaware of sexual violence.
Because while the Kens never perpetrate such acts, they have also never been victimized in this way. The "plight" of Kens in Barbieland, the one lamented and dreaded by the incels and the Andrew Tate fans, is in no way analogous to the realities of what women experience under patriarchy. It's not even close.
Even without any knowledge of sexual violence, Ken should be attuned the obvious discomfort of the woman he proclaims to be in love with. To the fact that someone has just harmed her. That she is being stared at with an undertone of violence. But he isn't. Because even in his state of innocence, even when he is supposedly HER accessory, he still sees her as a thing first and a person second. Ken's wooing of Barbie is about his desire to obtain and possess her to validate himself and give himself purpose. It is not about her as a person at all. So, while she is upset and confused after being assaulted, he is grinning his face off because he has found an alternative source of validation in patriarchy and is thereby freed of whatever self-serving incentive he once felt to have any concern for her well-being at all.
the barbie movie is not "anti-man", it's anti-oppression.
in the real world, that oppression takes the shape of patriarchal power and women feeling like an afterthought or an accessory. in barbie land, it takes the shape of kens not knowing who they could become as independent beings because their existence has been irrevocably tied to barbie. barbie occupies the place of power, and ken is the afterthought and accessory.
the point of the movie is that any imbalance in the equality of any group of people makes the world a bad place to live in. ken feels unfulfilled and unappreciated in barbie land. He's been told his purpose is Barbie, but he's failing at that and doesn't understand what's wrong. He doesn't think he could be more than Barbie's love interest. Similarly, women in the real world feel forgotten, stunted, and held to impossible standards. Their purpose has been warped by other people telling them what it should be.
That's why it's So Important that both ken and barbie have their own reckonings of how they've reaped benefits at the expense of each other. neither of them wanted to hurt the other. Barbie just liked being a hero in Barbie Land and Ken liked feeling appreciated (and horses) when he was in the real world. But they both see and dislike how the other has been hurt by the power disparity in the real world and in barbie land. And they resolve to not perpetuate that cycle of hurt.
the reason barbie is a good movie is precisely because its main thesis is not Women Better Than Men. Nor is it a preservation of the binary or gender roles.
It's main thesis is that your identity is not the same thing as what you are to other people. And that's not exclusively a moral for Barbie herself. Sure, Barbie isn't Barbie because she's Ken's girlfriend - she's her own person to the point that the actively chooses humanity at the end. But a large portion of the movie also is devoted to explaining that Ken isn't Ken because he's Barbie's boyfriend. That Ken is his own person and should be allowed to be that, because that's (k)enough. Even Alan exists separate from the binary convention and has his own identity and story arc. He serves as a foil for the falsely symbiotic Ken/Barbie role dynamic.
anyway, my point is, no one should be (exclusively) defined by what they mean to someone else, or by what they have (whether that's power, a casa house, or a romantic partner). Everyone is a person deserving love, equality, and their own story, whatever that is.
the complexity of feminism in Barbie (2023) is just *mwah* chef’s kiss
residents of barbieland thinking barbie fixed everything. barbie near-immediately being sexualized and objectified in the real world. teenage girls thinking barbie is horribly misogynistic and supports the patriarchy. so many people on the Mattel board only valuing barbie due to consumerism. barbie thinking she can’t do anything and someone else will come and fix misogyny. barbies brainwashed into enjoying being subservient. barbie feeling like she isn’t enough. gloria telling her she is enough. gloria pointing out the difference between giving women equal treatment and “society claiming they have empowered women by actions they have already done to justify any possible misogynistic action in the future.” gloria saying how nothing women do ever satisfies the patriarchy. the movie itself acknowledging that the movie’s view on feminism is from a white perspective. THE MOVIE EMPHASIZING HOW FEMINISM ISN’T SUPPORTING A MATRIARCHAL IDEAL, IT’S GIVING ALL GENDERS EQUAL RIGHTS AND RIGHT TO IDENTITY. paralleling real world society by giving kens only a foothold in power like giving women only a foothold in power.
feminism isn’t a giant chunk of an idea that can easily be discredited into something as simple as “support women.” it’s a complex issue with individuals of different perspectives that deals with intersectionality and confronting completely new worlds in an attempt to understand others. long story short this movie is a masterpiece
I can’t stop thinking about how perfectly Barbie portrays girlhood and growing up… How you’re born in a perfect pink world, where you make the rules and get to prioritise whimsies and friendship and beauty, and then you notice something has changed, you discover that something is wrong with you, and you’re offered an illusion of choice, but even if you’d rather keep wearing your heels and go home and be safe and comfortable, you have to choose the Birkenstock, you have to leave your home, you have to grow up. So you’re thrust into this gritty, unfeeling world, where you’re scrutinised and suppressed, where you want to disappear into yourself, because everything is harsh and big and you are tiny and fragile and inadequate. And as overwhelming and impossible as it seems, you survive it. You find truth in the things you believed in when you were young, the inherent good in humanity, connection and love; your friends who look at you while you are crying, and tell you that they cannot imagine what it is that you do not like about yourself.
i'm so fascinated by the "just ken." in the context of the tagline (she's everything, he's just ken) it makes it sound like ken is just an accessory to barbie and is nothing without her, but in the actual movie in the speech barbie gives, she turns the phrase on its head. ken isn't an accessory to barbie, he isn't the attention barbie gives him, he's just ken. and that's not even mentioning the "she's everything" part of the tagline and how it goes with gloria's speech of women having to fulfill the impossible task of fitting into every box and juggle conflicting expectations and roles just to be liked by society. the tagline represents opposite ends of a spectrum but by the end of the movie barbie and ken meet in the middle, where they're each allowed to be their own person independent of the expectations and insecurities they've been operating on. this movie, man
You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?
You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.
You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.
You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.
You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.
You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.
You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.
You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!
You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!
You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.
I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.
And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie
It was so important to have Barbie look at that woman in the bus stop and tell her she's beautiful. Cause, like Barbie herself says, she (as an idea) doesn't have an end. As Stereotypical Barbie, she's meant to be pretty and fun and that's it.
But she shows that beauty doesn't end when you get old. Aging isn't the end of your story, just another phase of it. That old woman is beautiful, and it's good that she knows it.
That's why Barbie ultimately chooses to become human. She wants to experience that new and different kind of beauty; not just her physical appearance, but that of a life well lived. She wants scars and wrinkles and cellulite. Barbie's end is that she lives as a whole narrative rather than some eternal object of visual pleasure.
the thing that gets me about the barbie movie being framed as an "anti-men" movie is that it's fundamentally untrue to the message it's sending out. the movie is an empowering feminist piece as much as it is a cautionary tale about men letting their insecurities and doubts about their place in the world lead them to falling into the alt-right/incel/mra pipeline. it's looking out for men just as much as it's looking out for women, and the only reason you might find this as an "anti-men" message is because you somehow deeply believe that this is the wrong message to send
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