Editor’s letter
I was never one of those gay little girls who played football and wore dungarees. Forever femme even as a kid, I dressed in flowery frocks. I was humiliatingly horrific at P.E. and I bloody loved my Barbie dolls. To the outside world it may have seemed like I was conforming to archaic stereotypes and merrily submitting to those pesky gender norms. But then the outside world didn’t know just what my Barbies were getting up to behind closed doors. Tragically I never had a Dreamhouse, but I did have an imaginary dreamworld where my Barbies were all madly in love with each other. Back then Barbie was often dismissed as the antithesis of feminism and the epitome of heteronormative culture. But for me? Barbie was always queer as hell.