Fashioning the Body: Versions of the Citizen, the Self, and the Subject

I am the Barbie Karaoke Machine. I have lost my voice and lost my arms. Only occasionally can I still say my catchphrases, such as “Get up and dance!” I can only occasionally play my songs for my fans. I have lost my microphone, so I can no longer amplify and echo the songs of others. But I am still a Barbie. I may not have a head and legs, like other Barbies, but I have (or had, at least) the voice that most Barbies do not have. I also had the ability to process the voices of others. I could speak for every Barbie and every little girl could speak through me. They could speak louder, sing louder, make music. I turned their voice into song. I was built in 2001 – my development process began not long after Cher’s hit song “Believe,” which made altered voices in music a trend. Just as Cher appropriated voice altering for women and pop, I appropriated it for every little girl with a Barbie collection. I am a prosthetic of the voice. If only there was a T-Pain Barbie, perhaps I would be rebuilt, repopularized. Is voice altering no longer for little girls? Without me, the female cyborg loses her voice. If anything is to become a cyborg, it should be the voice, so you can always speak your cyborgness, and you can speak it through speakers, through MP3s, and over radio waves. Through altering your voice, I give it to you.