






































OCR Document


 

"I HATE YOU, YOU HATE ME": CHILDREN'S RESPONSES 
 TO BARNEY THE DINOSAUR 
 ELIZABETH TUCKER 

Since the spring of 1992, public television has given American viewers 
regular glimpses of a large purple dinosaur named Barney who teaches 
preschoolers how to brush their teeth, recognize colors, and make new 
friends. Although Barney seems at first glance to be thoroughly bland 
and harmless, he has become the focal point of a raging controversy 
between lovers and haters of his TV persona. Schoolchildren have given 
Barney a violent death in song parodies and mock-beatings; adolescents 
and adults have created their own song parodies, written humorous 
articles, and spread rumors about Barney's evil intentions on the 
Internet. While there is a strong thematic unity between children's and 
adults' attacks on Barney, I will not try to cover the whole range of 
expressive behavior here. Children's Barney songs and mock-beatings 
constitute an important body of folklore in themselves, reflecting a 
larger cultural phenomenon in which fear of coercion, rebellion against 
authority, and anger toward blandness are dominant issues. 

A background check on Barney reveals that he first came to 
television in 1988 as star of the small-scale "Backyard Show" in Texas. 
Cheryl Leach, a former teacher and the mother of an active two-year-
old, wanted to create a character who would capture young children's 
attention. With help from a friend and capital from her father-in-law, 
who owned a video studio, Leach began a campaign to boost awareness 
of Barney in nursery schools and daycare centers. The breakthrough 
came when four-year-old Leora Rifkin found a Barney tape in a 
Connecticut video store and watched it, as her father said, "over and 
over and over" (Lawson; Fitzpatrick). Since Leora's father was 
Executive Vice-President for Connecticut Public Television, he was 
able to launch Barney on PBS in April of 1992. The show got off to a 
slow start and PBS threatened to cancel it, but a write-in campaign from 
parents and children kept the show on the air. Within a year, Barney had 
become a household word. News anchorman Peter Jennings called him 
"a rage," and others started to use the words "cult" and "mania" 
(Fitzpatrick). Barney and Friends surpassed Sesame Street as the 
highest rated PBS series for children, and the na- 



 

TUCKER 

tional PBS preschool audience rose by 30%. Barney-lovers made up 
45% of the pledges in Connecticut Public Television's first fundraiser 
since the beginning of the craze. And Barney merchandise, including 
dolls, slippers, bedsheets, and clothes, rose into the hundreds of millions 
in sales (Forest). 

Statements of support by psychologists, parents, and children have 
shown that the rapid escalation of Barney's popularity hasn't just come 
from artificial publicity; many people truly do love and appreciate 
Barney. Dorothy Singer, co-director of Yale's Family Television 
Research and Consultation Center, says, "Barney represents the type of 
person a lot of people wish they had in their lives-someone who is 
always loving and approving and really nice whenever he or she is 
around you" ("Secret"). Singer's explanation gains credibility from 
tributes like this one from three-year-old Laura Carroll: "I like Barney, 
he's so nice. I want to give him a great big hug" (Fitzpatrick). 

Some of the most dramatic statements about Barney come from 
parents of preschoolers and children in the first and second grades. One 
young mother told me that her eighteen-month-old daughter, while ill 
with chickenpox, wanted to do nothing but watch Barney tapes. With 
wide eyes fixated on the antics of her purple friend, the little girl had just 
one word to say: "More!" Another mother said that her seven-year-old 
son, after seeing a TV commercial for a local Barney performance, 
turned to her with disturbingly vacant eyes and asked in a singsong 
voice, "Can we go? Can we get front-row seats?" This apparent 
mesmerization of young children has troubled their parents. Terms 
related to drug use and abuse have arisen in critiques of the Barney 
show. "My daughter's addicted to him!" was the claim of one reporter 
(Ferguson). Another writer referred to Barney as the "drug of choice" for 
a legion of preschoolers (Forest). Despite these disturbing, semi-hu-
morous references to drug-induced conformity, many parents have been 
happy to see their children becoming happy and quiet—one writer used 
the term "immobilized"—when Barney's show is on ("Pacifier"). 

The age at which young Barney-lovers become Barney-haters seems 
to vary. In most cases, the shift seems to occur around the second grade. 
After getting through the first year of elementary school, children start 
looking for ways to establish their status in the school's hierarchy. No 
longer the youngest, they look for ways 

26 



 

"I HATE YOU, YOU HATE ME" 

to assert their superiority to new recruits. Making fun of Barney, beloved 
icon of the preschool set, serves the purpose of establishing superiority 
very effectively. 

Parodies of Barney songs began to emerge when the show achieved 
national recognition. These parodies peaked in the fall of 1993; at that 
time, children on playgrounds across the United States delighted in 
sharing Barney songs they had heard, and some children also enjoyed 
inventing new versions. My data sample of Barney songs comes from 
children in New York, Pennsylvania, and California; all of these songs 
were collected in 1993 and 1994. The songs spread with lightning speed 
and also faded relatively quickly, as is common with topical song 
parodies (Opie; Knapp). My collection of children's Barney songs falls 
into three subtypes: simple parodies of the main theme song, parodies of 
the same song that accentuate HIV, and two-line parodies of another 
Barney song. While other experiments with poking fun at Barney in song 
have occurred, these three subtypes appear to be the most common. 

The first kind of Barney song involves a simple inversion of the 
Barney show's theme song, which goes like this: 

I love you, you love me, 
We're a happy family. 
With a great big hug 
And a kiss from me to you,  
Won't you say you love me too? 

Sung to the tune of the song "This Old Man" (well established in 
schoolrooms and on playgrounds since the 1950s), this theme song 
introduces each "Barney" broadcast. In 1993, an eight-year-old boy gave 
me this version: 

I love you, you love me,  
Let's hang Barney from a tree. 
With a shotgun, boom,  
Barney's on the floor. 
No more purple dinosaur. 

Variations of this song spread rapidly through the United States, with 
Barney experiencing various deaths—all through violence and 
aggression. The variety of invitations to kill Barney showed plenty 

27 



 

TUCKER 

of creativity: "Let's throw Barney in the sea!" "Let's go out and shoot 
Bar-nee!" Usually the songs ended in gunshots, with Barney dead, 
bleeding, and gone forever. 

One version of this subtype (taught to a three-year-old by her older 
sister) found its way to print in The New York Times in April of 1993 
("Regarding Barney"). The text is as follows: 

I hate you, you hate me,  
Let's go out and kill Barney 
And a shot rang out and  
Barney hit the floor 
No more purple dinosaur. 

The author of the opinion piece in which this Barney song appears 
expresses concern about the focus on violence: "The goal—getting rid of 
Barney—was admirable. The solution seemed, even in jest, excessive. 
Almost as though, schooled by the usual TV fare, the kids had to supply 
the missing element: a gun" ("Regarding Barney"). Both the publication 
of this text and the commentary on its meaning had a significant impact 
on readers of The New York Times. Reciting the song and worrying about 
what it signified, parents and other concerned adults found it to be 
evidence of decaying social values and lack of impulse control. While 
some adults enjoyed the song, sharing the exuberant rebelliousness of its 
composers, others decried it as a sign of increasingly violent behavior. 

Children, however, tend to have quite different explanations of their 
own parodies. When I asked several kids why they liked to sing Barney 
songs, they gave me short answers: "Because they're fun!" "Because I 
hate Barney!" "Because I like to make songs like this up!" The last of 
those three responses reminds us how joyful the process of parody 
composition can be for a child.  Inversion of an annoying song written 
for children puts the creative power right back where the children want 
it: under their own control. Writing about parody, Iona and Peter Opie 
made an observation that fits the Barney backlash beautifully "It is as if 
children know instinctively that anything wholly solemn, without a smile 
behind it, is only half alive" (87). The bland, carefully affectionate 
didacticism of the large purple dinosaur becomes a target 

28 



 

"I HATE YOU, YOU HATE ME" 

for obliteration in the Barney song parodies, with children wielding the 
weapons of mass disapproval. 

Whether the destruction of Barney within a song text shows a 
disturbing trend toward violent solutions deserves careful consideration. 
Instances of aggression in schoolyards have become more common in 
this decade, with the result that recess has sometimes been removed 
from school schedules (Beresin). Parents have questioned whether 
violence on television begets violence in real life, and the likelihood of 
some children imitating aggressive role models seems high. On the other 
hand, rhymes about shooting and killing have been prevalent in 
children's folklore for many years. The Opies include a "Mary Had a 
Little Lamb" parody in their collection that features a gun-toting father: 
"Mary had a little lamb, / Her father shot it dead,/ And now it goes to 
school with her/ Between two chunks of bread" (90). Closer to the 
Barney song pattern are the numerous songs about murder and mayhem 
in schools, including the version of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" 
that I learned in the 1950s: "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the burn-
ing of the school. / We have tortured every teacher, we have broken 
every rule." A version of "Oh, Little Enemy" (a parody of "Oh, Jolly 
Playmate") that I collected in 1976 ends with the words "I'll poke your 
eyes out, I'll make you bleed to death. / And we'll be enemies 
forevermore, more, more-more-more-more!" Perhaps limited familiarity 
with children's folklore makes adults worry more about the Barney 
songs. When violent behavior seems to be increasing, song texts can be 
viewed as bad influences and harbingers of worse things to come. 

Less violent than the first kind of Barney song is the "HIV" subtype, 
sung to the tune of the same theme song: 

I hate you, you hate me,  
Barney died from HIV 
We called the doctor 
And this is what he said:  
"Sorry, kids, Barney's dead." 

In this song text, nobody kills Barney; the children seem to be sad 
witnesses to his demise from "HIV" (or AIDS). The last lines of the song 
remind the listener of jump rope rhymes in which a doc- 

29 



 

TUCKER 

tor is summoned (Abrahams). Since AIDS is such a pervasive and 
frightening plague, it is no wonder that it has found its way into Barney 
song parodies. In the above text, Barney seems to be the victim of a 
sudden, mysteriously fatal disease. The song reflects both children's and 
adults' perplexity in the face of such a swift-moving, incomprehensible 
killer. 

It is also possible that the "HIV" songs about Barney make him a 
target for homophobic feelings. Just as TV viewers have speculated 
about whether Bert and Ernie of "Sesame Street" are gay, they have 
wondered whether Barney's bright purple color signifies homosexuality. 
The most recent subject for such debate has been Tinky-Winky of the 
popular children's show Teletubbies. Participants in an Internet chat 
group have recently asked whether the purple color of both Barney and 
Tinky-Winky confirms that they are homosexuals (alt.tv.teletubbies). 
People who view Barney as homosexual may regard his death from 
"HIV" as a reasonable consequence. While contemporary awareness of 
AIDS has moved beyond the stereotype of "the gay man's disease," there 
is still a linkage between HIV/AIDS and homosexuality in popular 
humor. Jokes about AIDS were classified as "homosexual" humor in 
Blanche Knott's Truly Tasteless Jokes IV (1984). However, this seems to 
be a preoccupation that primarily arises from the folklore of adults rather 
than the folklore of children. The children whom I interviewed did not 
seem especially worried about "HIV" or interested in Barney's sexuality. 
To them, the obliteration of Barney was the main point; "HIV" was just 
one more opponent to bring Barney down. 

In contrast to the "HIV" texts, the third kind of Barney song is a 
simple couplet. Its tune is that of "Yankee Doodle," and its focus is not 
on death but on mental incapacity. The words are as follows: 

Barney is a dino ' saur with lots of imagination.  
Just one thing he has a problem with, it's retardation. 

This brief, succinct parody of the first two lines of a popular Barney 
song fits the pattern of children's taunts and jeers that has been well 
documented since the publication of Iona and Peter Opie's Lore and 
Language of Schoolchildren. Anyone who has spent time 

30 



 

"I HATE YOU, YOU HATE ME" 

on the playground of an American public school knows how frequently 
many children use the term "retard." This politically incorrect epithet 
does not always criticize a person's intelligence; sometimes it derides 
social ineptitude, slowness, or dullness. Children have found Barney to 
epitomize all of these undesirable characteristics. When asked why they 
hate Barney, children have told me: "Because he's stupid." "Because I 
can't stand him." "Because he's such a lovable JERK." Adults have 
drawn similar conclusions in witty statements such as this one from a 
New Yorker columnist: "Barney is a six-foot-tall magenta dinosaur. . . 
who when he rocks back and forth giggling compulsively in a tone of 
unequalled feeblemindedness—'ohh-ohh-oh'—jiggles his lumpish body 
like an overripe eggplant" ("Pacifier"). Both adults and children have 
made it clear that Barney is not very smart and deserves all the taunts he 
gets. As the butt of jeers in the schoolyard and on the pages of high-
profile magazines, he has received an impressive amount of well 
publicized hostility. 

Another part of the Barney phenomenon has taken the form of 
ritualized physical attacks on Barney merchandise. I have watched 
children grabbing Barney dolls, pommelling them, and jumping up and 
down upon them. One of my students watched a seven-year-old girl in 
Toys R Us beat up a four-foot-tall stuffed Barney, then revive it with 
CPR. A nine-year-old boy, at his first sight of a Barney tub toy, asked 
eagerly, "Oh boy, can I take it in the tub and drown it? Can I rip its head 
off with a knife?" Newspaper reports and urban legends have told of 
Barney being mobbed in a shopping mall, poked and prodded by hostile 
youngsters. And on college campuses, fraternities have beaten up 
effigies of Barney in fund-raisers and party games. 

Why have both children and adults so enthusiastically beaten up 
Barney? Their attacks are only mock-violent, as Barney dolls feel no 
pain. However, playful violence can indicate problematic hostility. 
Barney provides not just a target for specific scorn, but also an outlet for 
strongly aggressive feelings. While children are not generally allowed to 
hit their parents or teachers, sometimes they have permission to beat a 
grinning purple doll representing a bland, sanctimonious authority 
figure. Beating up Barney has given some children the chance to let off 
steam, but it has also lent legitimacy to the idea of attacking those that 
one does not like or 

31 



 

TUCKER 

respect: an approach frequently found in cartoons and on TV shows 
watched by the young. It appears that children are acting out quick and 
violent solutions within a framework of humorous response, often 
receiving applause from both adults and other children. 

Since I started writing this article, the massacre of schoolchildren in 
Littleton, Colorado, on April 20, 1999, has caused many people to look 
closely at evidence of violent and aggressive behavior among American 
schoolchildren. Both Barney song parodies and ritualized attacks on 
Barney dolls certainly involve aggression, with an emphasis on mock-
beating and killing. Do these verbal and physical attacks on Barney 
signify healthy rebellion against authority figures, as so many other song 
parodies have done in the past? Or do they represent a dangerous 
preoccupation with violence that will yield destructive consequences? 
The answer to both questions may be "yes." In any case, children's folk-
lore provides an excellent index of what young people are really 
thinking and feeling. Barney songs and mock-beatings have delighted 
many people; they may prove to have educational value as well. 

WORKS CITED 

Abrahams, Roger D. Jump-rope Rhymes: A Dictionary. Austin: U of 
Texas P, 1969.  

Alt.tv.teletubbies. April 11, 1999.  
Beresin, Ann Richman. '''Sui' Generis: Mock Violence in an Urban School 
 Yard." Children’s Folklore Review. 18.2 (1996): 25-35. 
Chambers, Joseph R. "Barney: An Abomination Unto the Lord." Harper’s. 
 288 (1994): 30-31. 
Ferguson, Andrew. "Barney Backlash." National Review. 45 (Nov. 29, 
 1993): 80. 
Fitzpatrick, Jackie. "Who's Barney? Ask Any 4- Year-Old, Silly." New 
 York Times. 25 Apr. 1993, sec. 13: 21. 
Forest, Stephanie Anderson. "Wouldn't You Like to Knock the Stuffing 
 Out of Barney?" Business Week. 19 Aug. 1993: 34. 
Gorman, James. "Of All Dinosaurs, Why Must This One Thrive?" New 
 York Times. 11 Apr. 1993, sec. 2: 14. 
Knapp, Mary, and Herbert Knapp. One Potato, Two Potato: The Secret 
 Education of American Children. New York: Norton, 1976. 
Knott, Blanche. Truly Tasteless Jokes IV. New York: Pinnacle Books, 
 1984. 

32 



 

"I HATE YOU, YOU HATE ME" 

Lawson, Carol" Why Young Children Scream." New York Times. 3 Dec. 
 1992: CIO. 
Mitchell, W.J.T. "Dino-Mite." University of Chicago Magazine. Feb. 
 1998: 20. 
Opie, Iona, and Peter Opie. Lore and Language of Schoolchildren. Oxford: 

Oxford UP, 1959. 
"Pacifier." The New Yorker. 3 May 1993: 37. 
"Regarding Barney." New York Times. 15 Sept. 1993: A26. 
"The Secret of Barney's Appeal." Working Mother. Mar. 1995: 22. 

33 




