“What Was I Made For?”: Thoughts of a Queer Barbie

I look out over the rolling waves and allow my eyes to rest on her. She’s wearing a fitted white tank top, jean shorts, and her signature silver chain around her neck. Her dimples are on full display as she laughs at something her friend says, and her eyes capture the rays of sunlight and infuse them into her irises, brightening them beyond Technicolor. They’ve broken through to the sixth dimension, and I can’t look away, and I don’t want to look away.