We've come a long way.

I don't have a wealth of memories of my ex-stepfather that could be construed as positive, but one of those few happened in the toy section of a department store. It wasn't one of the stores we regularly shopped at, and it wasn't a toy store...if I remember correctly, it was my cousin's birthday the next day, and we were wherever we were trying to find a cheap-ish gift to bring to her birthday party. There weren't very many Black dolls at the store, and while they were choosing between a few dolls, I pointed at another to ask why she wasn't being brought into consideration. 


This doll was a fabric doll, rather than one made of plastic. She had a very wide, very round face, with a pretty flat head. Her nose was puggish and also quite wide. Her hair was some knotty short thing that, to the best of my current understanding, was meant to represent what happens when you let your fro try to form locs naturally. She was wearing some kind of dowdy dress. In short, she was just not cute. But I was an inquisitive child like I am an inquisitive adult, and thus I asked, "What about this one?" 

My ex-stepfather stopped the conversation he was having with my mother. He looked from me to the doll and back again, and in a rare moment of actual parenting, decided to use this as a teaching moment rather than an excuse to beat my ass. He asked my mother if she had a mirror in her purse. She produced one, and he told me to look at myself. I did. He then said to look at the doll. I did. 


"Does that doll look anything like you?" he asked.
I hesitated. "...Not really?" 
"No. It doesn't look anything like you. But that's what They think you look like, and it's what They want you to think you look like. So no, we're not buying that doll."

I didn't really know who They were at the time, but I had the distinct understanding that They were bad people and I wanted nothing to do with Them, and that maybe They didn't like me (or my cousin) very much. We bought a different doll and went on home. 


I thought about that day when Mattel announced it was introducing new dolls in the Barbie line, who were varying shades of Black and had ethnic features, hair, and names. I bought one for my young cousin, to give her the cultural representations we struggled to find when I was her age. I thought about that day again last night, when I stumbled across this image on one of the blogs I read:

Meet Hearts for Hearts Girls' newest addition: Rahel from Ethiopia

My first thought was, 'Now there's a doll that looks like me.' Seriously, that's my hair on a good day sitting on her head right now. [There's this new trend amongst naturalistas to give their daughters' straight-haired dolls straw sets with pipe cleaners and hot water to induce the natural look, which is sooo creative and innovative and awesome, and I applaud it, but hers comes like this!] Her nose and lips are just slightly fuller than your average doll, and she comes with the outfit seen above and a more vibrant yellow top and red sarong. I think dollmakers are really starting to understand the versatility of the African diasporic experience and have started to produce representations that highlight the beauty and just accurately reflect those experiences. 

It just might be exciting when people I know start having kids and I won't have to fret about what buying a certain doll might make a certain little girl I care about think about herself.