I am a doll. And yet, I’ve always caused a bit of a stir, starting with my debut as a teenage fashion model in a swimsuit in 1959. My creation was met with skepticism and judgment. But I was designed by a woman and mother determined to give girls a way to play, to imagine and to dream—and it was those girls who understood me and made me an instant success. Over time, I’ve become an icon, and as with all icons, I’ve been pulled into the cultural conversation.

My bathing suit now hangs beside a Presidential power suit, Pastry Chef hat, and Astronaut gear in a wardrobe reflecting the more than 150 careers I’ve pursued to illustrate for girls that they can achieve anything for which they aim. And yet, I am still seen as just a pretty face. It’s simpler to keep me in a box—and since I am a doll—chances are that’s where I’ll stay.

Every year, Sports Illustrated’s Swimsuit drums up conversation and controversy. Upon the launch of this year’s 50th anniversary issue, there will again be buzz and debate over the validity of the women in the magazine, questioning if posing in it is a blow to female equality and self-image. In 2014, does any woman in the issue seriously need permission to appear there?

I, for one, am honored to join the legendary swimsuit models. The word “model,” like the word “Barbie^®,” is often dismissed as a poseable plaything with nothing to say. And yet, those featured are women who have broken barriers, established empires, built brands, branched out into careers as varied as authors, entrepreneurs and philanthropists. They are all great examples of confident and competent women.

Today, truly anything is possible for a girl. Let us place no limitations on her dreams, and that includes being girly if she likes. It’s easy to say the culprit is the color pink or the existence of makeup. That’s easy, and predictable. Neither prevents girls from excelling in their own fashion. Let her grow up not judged by how she dresses, even if it’s in heels; not dismissed for how she looks, even if she’s pretty. Pink isn’t the problem.

“Barbie^® dolls” aren’t the problem. Models choosing to pose in a bikini aren’t the problem. The assumption that women of any age should only be part of who they are in order to succeed is the problem.

So the Swimsuit issue is out, and there’s bound to be a conversation or two about the women in it. Ask yourself, isn’t it time we teach girls to celebrate who they are? Isn’t there room for capable and captivating? It’s time to stop boxing in potential. Be free to launch a career in a swimsuit, lead a company while gorgeous, or wear pink to an interview at MIT. The reality of today is that girls can go anywhere and be anything. They should celebrate who they are and never have to apologize for it.

Since then, Barbie has been brandishing the hashtag #unapologetic with all the fervor of a rifle toting hillbilly. So what if she’s an iconic beauty–why should she apologize for her perfect body? Why should any of us apologize for wanting more in our own careers? Why should you apologize for upgrading your LinkedIn account solely to aggressively stalk the faltering careers of your colleagues from high school? #oh

While there is a kernel of genius in Barbie’s marketing plan, it’s also too easy to cry bullshit on a lot of this damn doll’s escapades. I’ve highlighted some of Barbie’s desperate attempts to be both hot and a constructive member to society via social media.

On July 4, I fell asleep in the middle of a house party (apparently on the section of the couch covered in beer) while surrounded by hedgefund bros. I call that work AND play.

 

I hope LinkedIn enjoyed her cold, hard handshake and the silent judging of her blank, listless eyes.

 

Where are the cowboy boots for Farmer Barbie to grasp at straws with?

 

You’re missing the greatest accessory of all: the alcohol necessary to be #unapologetic.

 

Last time I checked, “entrepreneur” was synonymous with “unemployed.”

 

Who do you have to blow to get a #BarbieBirkin?

 

You mean half a cupcake and your phone lighting up with texts from names you’ve replaced with “Completely Worthless,” “You Can Do Better,” “Voldemort,” and “Never Again”?

Where’s Trophy Wife Barbie? Oh, wait. They all are when you take off their outfits.

 

She’s been around since the ’50s and this is her first day in the office? If she gets an intern, I’m going to be so pissed.

 

That’s a bit morbid. No one wants to be Raped And Killed Barbie.

 

Duh, I wanted to be Barbie when I was older: cold, indifferent, and a product of our evolving commercial environment. And I’m doing the best I can. <3

[via Barbie Collector]

Image via DigiDay