
How many women and feminist trailblazers have been historically called by their partners’ names—boiling them down to the mere “Mrs.” version of their husbands?
The answer: a lot.
Feminist stuff worth celebrating.
Posing in front of mosaic tiles and Victorian paintings, sporting handmade outfits like feathered, cotton candy-colored dresses or quarantine-friendly bathrobes, a young woman exposes the misogynistic undertones of art at big-name museums like the National Gallery in London and the Getty in Los Angeles. She stands at about a foot tall with an annotated notecard on a small wooden stick in hand. Her name is Barbie.