Pre-lude:
Barbie and I have one thing in common; neither of us have nipples. I came to this realisation in the summer of 2023, when the doll I hadn’t thought about in 15 years was suddenly on screens everywhere. It was during the film's mammoth press campaign that the unusual connection between Barbie and I popped into my head. It seemed trivial at first. A fun fact to drunkenly tell at bars. I made a flippant joke about being a real life Barbie as my partner ordered a Barbenheimer T-Shirt from Etsy. But as the fervour surrounding the film grew so did my fixation on this odd, invisible string. What did our nippleless status mean, if anything at all?
I’d been nippleless for 2 months, but I’d been thinking about my “choice” to be nippleless for almost 2 years. Unlike Barbie, I am a BRCA-2 carrier. BRCA is a gene that helps suppress tumour growth but, when mutated, significantly increases the risk of breast cancer.
I found out I was a carrier through genetic testing, which came with the option of genetic counselling, a year-long series of conversations with my geneticist about possible choices and outcomes. We mainly discussed preventative mastectomies, an invasive surgery that removes all breast tissue, sometimes including the nipple. We talked about body image, scarring, the inability to breastfeed imaginary children, sex, intimacy, sensation, the lack of. Given that my mum passed away from pancreatic cancer, another cancer affected by the BRCA-2 gene, aged 37 I ultimately decided to have a preventative mastectomy. Nipples be damned
That’s why I don’t have nipples but I can confidently say, BRCA-2 isn’t the reason Barbie doesn’t. It seems an inane thing to dwell on but it bothered me. Barbie was designed to be nippleless. Someone, somewhere, made that decision and I wanted to know why. From my very minimal and not at all rigorous research (a quick scan of reddit and an old blog post from 2011) I found the following:
Barbie is for children and society has deemed nipples, particularly on female bodies, inappropriate and immodest (we’ll come back to this later).
Barbie is a toy and nipples don’t enhance the user's play experience.
Barbie is intended to be a general representation of a female body and not anatomically correct (see her absolutely insane proportions).
86 million Barbie dolls were sold in 2021, the small addition of nipples would increase manufacturing costs (how significant that price increase would be in real world terms, I have no idea).
It’s purely an aesthetics thing, Barbie just looks better without nipples.
These answers, in their own way, explain the different considerations that went into Barbie's Design. Economical, moral, aesthetic. And while they are all answers to my question, none of them seem like the right answer.
The war on nipples:
Losing my nipples felt both significant and insignificant. I’m not a mother and I have no idea if I want to be. I’ve never romanticised breastfeeding, never dreamt of soothing a child at my bosom, so I wasn’t mourning arguably the only “practical” use of my nipples. I never liked my boobs, they were big, heavy and saggy, but I was weirdly fond of my nipples. I’d had them pierced at 21 to stop them inverting and that small, sharp, sting (X2) felt liberating.
I spent 2 years trying to reconcile what my nipples meant to me, especially as a young woman. Nipples have long been a battleground for conversations about body politics, gender equality, and censorship, catalysed over the last decade by the steady rise of social media. But controversies over “female” nipples sparked debates about autonomy and double standards long before Instagram entered the public domain. You don’t have to look far to see the hypocrisy. Adam Levine can perform shirtless at the Super Bowl no questions asked, but Janet Jackson’s accidental nip-slip during the 2004 halftime show ignited outrage. “Nipple-Gate” persisted in the pop-culture zeitgeist for over a decade, so much so that Justin Timberlake issued an apology for his part in the incident in 2017.
Movements like Free the Nipple rightly scrutinise these inconsistencies. Born from Lina Esco’s 2012 film of the same name, the movement challenges censorship laws, social media guidelines and cultural norms that permit “male” nipples but ban “female” nipples, even when they appear in non-sexual contexts like art, protest, or breastfeeding. Public figures like Miley Cyrus and Scout Willis have embraced the cause; Willis famously walked topless through New York City to protest Instagram’s ban on female nudity.
The uproar over female nipples in the media reflects the anxiety society has about who gets to control women’s bodies. Is a nipple inherently sexual, or does it only become so in specific contexts? While these conversations have gained momentum in the past two decades, the first Barbie was released in 1959, long before these pop culture moments.
What does that trend mean for Barbie and her nipples? According to my research, early versions of Barbie did in fact have nipples(!!!), but they were swiftly removed for being “inappropriate.” I found a 2023 Mumsnet post about a different children's doll with nipples. The OP was outraged: “Is this really necessary in a doll? Wtf.” There was no mention of the other hypersexualised designs choices: the absurd hip-to-waist ratio, bulging eyes, gravity-defying tits, pouty lips, short-shorts or crop top. But nipples? That was a step too far.
Maybe that’s the point. The designers clearly want these dolls to be as far removed from a real woman as possible. Barbie is traditionally marketed to young girls and while we have seen progress, Doctor Barbie, Black Barbie ect. they still embody an idealised version of the female form, long legs, impossibly tiny waists, flawless skin, and exaggerated curves. These dolls promote a version of femininity that feels manufactured, glossy, and completely unrealistic.
I wanted my nipples to be meaningless. I wanted to make a pragmatic choice about my body, solely in the interest of my health but losing my nipples felt, in a very small way, political. I, like Barbie, no longer had the option to bare or cover my nipples. As platforms like Meta begin revisiting their policies—most recently allowing some exceptions for non-sexual female nudity—there’s cautious optimism. But the fact that policies around nipples remain in flux suggests the fight is far from over.
Nipples are in & everywhere:
The choice to remove my nipples was a complicated one. Aside from the politics of nipples, there was the matter of aesthetics. I liked the way my nipples looked, especially through a semi-sheer top and according to teen vogue, nipples are back in.
During the Fall/Winter 2024 Paris Fashion Week, designers like Mugler and Schiaparelli prominently featured nipple-baring designs. Models walked the runway in sheer fabrics, a triumphant celebration of the body, nipples and all. Of course, this trend hasn’t come without backlash. Take Florence Pugh’s stunning Valentino gown at the 2022 Haute Couture show, for example. The sheer hot-pink dress showed her nipples and ignited online debates. Pugh described the backlash as misogynistic, saying, “It has always been my mission in this industry to say ‘fuck it and fuck that.” As fashion continues to challenge traditional norms, it's clear that attitudes towards nipple visibility are shifting.
More and more celebrities are embracing sheer styles. The likes of Bella Hadid and Dua Lipa have been spotted in outfits that show their nipples, a fashion statement that seems to resonate with a younger generation. Hadid’s choice of sheer tops emphasises a growing trend where confidence and body acceptance take precedence over outdated ideas of modesty.
I recognise that we often see these looks on conveniently attractive, skinny women, which is problematic—but that’s a different essay for a different day. If the 2023 Barbie movie is to be believed, Barbie would likely embrace the nipple, as would I. However, my attempts to play around with sheer designs have had limited success. As a 30HH
(before my surgery), the only option that worked for me was those Urban Outfitters halter-neck tops, that were tight enough to hold me up and in without needing a bra.
Since my surgery, I’ve tried on a lot of sheer clothing, but nothing looks quite right. While I imagine it's partly about getting used to my new body, there's more to it. Ironically, without nipples, sheer fabric doesn’t have the same effect. There was something defiant about showing my nipples that drew me to those looks. Without my nipples, it feels like an act of conformity. From a distance, it looks like I’ve used tape or covers to hide my nipples, and I sometimes wonder if people think I’ve bought so deeply into the notion that women’s nipples are obscene that I’ve had mine removed entirely.
Skims ”ultimate nipple push-up bra”:
I want to talk about the Skims “ultimate nipple push-up bra” separately from the wider conversation around nipples in fashion, culture and media because the bra encapsulates both the complexity and contradictions of this shift towards nipple visibility. Released in late 2023, the bra promises a permanent, prominent nipple effect. Marketed as a way to embrace body confidence, the campaign poked fun at societal taboos around nipples, the ads playfully teasing "We’re always cold." The campaign was proactive and as with most things Kim Kardashian does, the praise and condemnation came thick and fast.
Ultimately, Kim Kardashian is a businesswoman who saw a movement and seized the opportunity to make money. While some commend the brand for promoting body positivity, others critique it for reinforcing hyper-sexualized beauty standards. Some argue that the bra epitomises the commercialization of social change. While fashion shows and red carpets have already embraced nipple visibility as a form of rebellion, critics question whether a nipple bra marketed for everyday wear signals true progress or trivialises the fight for acceptance.
I, however, was far from offended. For people like me who have undergone mastectomies and reconstructive surgeries, it offers a way to reclaim a sense of bodily autonomy. I’ve been confronted on many occasions by the realisation that I really do look like a Barbie doll and it makes me feel uncomfortable. I can feel myself wanting to explain my surgery, to explain my nippleless-ness and to justify my lack of choice.
Breast cancer survivors who have lost their nipples say the bra is a tool to help restore their pre-surgery appearance, crucially without additional reconstructive surgery. Most of the time, I am not bothered by my lack of nipples. In fact, I often forget about it entirely. But there are occasions when I would like the option to bare my nipples, even if it’s in the frivolous pursuit of fashion. Again, Kim Kardashian is a businesswoman, and I doubt she intended this product to resonate with the breast cancer community, but that doesn’t make it any less significant. For a business built on trends, this bra inadvertently tapped into something profound: the power of choice.
Post-lude:
In a way, the conversation around nipples—whether they appear on Barbie, celebrities, or in everyday fashion—boils down to control. Who gets to decide what is shown, what is hidden, and what is celebrated? For me, losing my nipples wasn’t just a health decision but an unexpected entry into this wider conversation about autonomy and aesthetics. It forced me to confront how deeply intertwined identity and body image are with societal expectations.
I’ve learned that body autonomy isn’t just about making practical or medical choices; it’s also about having the freedom to engage with fashion and culture on my own terms. Whether it’s wearing a sheer top or putting on a bra with built-in nipples, these choices, no matter how trivial they seem, carry weight. The option to participate in trends, even something as seemingly frivolous as the nipple resurgence, matters to me. They remind me that my body, reconstructed and altered, will always be mine.
- Folly
See You Next Time,
If you made it this far, thank you! Below is a list of other essays I’ve written that you might enjoy and a couple of ways for us to stay connected.
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This was a treat to read, you made so make great points, and so eloquently! A few years ago I saw a non-binary comedian talking about their choice not to have their nipples replaced after top surgery, which is another fascinating aspect in the debate about double standards between male and female bodies. Really thought-provoking about dolls’ physiques, too… I don’t understand why the mumsnet mums are so worked up about nipples (which their child invariably has) and not massive knockers etc. What a world!