The Tyranny of Barbie Must End. It’s Time for the Bratz to Reign Supreme.

I’m a child of the 2000s, an older Gen Zer situated in the awkward post-Myspace, pre-Apple era where kids were not surgically attached to iPads yet. My formative years were spent playing with dolls, but not the arch-footed subject of that highly-anticipated Greta Gerwig-led adaptation. No, my obsession, then and now, was with the Bratz, who I can confidently report would easily clobber Barb in a cage fight.

No doll had ever challenged Barbie supremacy until 2001, when MGA Entertainment launched the bobble-headed Bratz into the world. The dolls were a quartet of sassy, fashion-forward teens: the racially ambiguous Sasha, Jade, and Yasmin, along with their token white friend, Cloe. Their vague diversity—we’re judging by 2001 standards here, people—was part of the reason for their massive success, bringing an end to Barbie’s half-century reign of terror. Believe me when I tell you that platinum-blonde heads supported by anatomically ridiculous necks were r-o-l-l-i-n-g.

Bratz just felt more mature and fun and cool. They had big heads and pouty lips with long eyelashes, and wore their hair in bubble ponytails with silver clips, or straightened with zig-zag headbands. And the ‘fits? Fire. They took inspo from the Black culture of the late 1990s and early 2000s and styled themselves in crop tops, cargo pants, mini skirts, jelly slides, and Steve Madden-esque wedges. It was bad bitch shit that even as a six-year-old, I knew I wanted to embody someday. Am I taking a couple of dolls with itty-bitty waists too seriously? Maybe. Were they a bit oversexualized for children’s toys? Possiblyyyy. But to me, they were the epitome of badassery.

Barbie, meanwhile, was designed in the 1950s as a kind of palatable bimbo. She’s an O.G. girl-boss who started out as a teenage fashion model, but later became an astronaut, a surgeon, a NASCAR driver, and even the president. Really, a tragic early victim of hustle culture if you think about it. Her success was also her undoing: Over the decades, Barbie's girl-next-door aesthetic was so emulated that it became passé. Queen of the basic bitches.

The Bratz would never. They served too much c*nt to give plain Jane. And I’m not talking strictly about fashion either. Friendship was core to the dolls' identities. Their 2005 animated TV show and at least ten direct-to-video movies gave us insight into their vibes and personalities. There was delusional and boy-crazy Cloe, understated and kind Yasmin, ambitious aspiring fashion editor Jade, and give-no-fucks Sasha, all of whom set the standard for ride-or-die besties.

Despite the internet’s (temporary, I’m calling/begging for it) Barbie fixation, I know I’m not the last standing Bratz fan. Just look at Bratz’s TikTok, where the brand has the dolls recreate Lady Gaga’s famous no-sleep monologue and Cassie’s “I have never ever been happier” scene from Euphoria for their 2.3 million followers. Bratz built its platform on inclusivity long ago, so it’s no wonder that the dolls now use their social followings to talk about injustices against Iranian women and boost queer representation, as when Roxxi (a 2004 doll) and Nevra (a 2003 doll) made their debut as a couple in 2020.

But it’s Barbie that’s getting all the attention and a full-length, big-budget, prestige feature film? Fine, I guess. Don’t get me wrong—I do have some affection for my sis Barb who effortlessly struts in unbearably high heels, refuses to settle down with a mediocre white boy, and switches jobs like I switch my men.

To be clear, I will be seeing Barbie this weekend. I'm only human!

So I'll begrudgingly admit that Barbie has won this round. Barbie: 1. Bratz: 0. But that basic B better watch her back because my big-headed girlies are coming for her neck. I’m already writing a four-page letter to MGA Entertainment and starting my Bratz film fundraiser on Reddit. Call me delusional or unhinged—I don’t care—the Bratz will return and when they do, count your days, Barbara.

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