Personal Narrative: My First Black Baby Doll

As a young girl, I spent the vast majority of my time sequestered in my room with my dolls. They helped me to escape my reality. They listened to me without judgement and gave voice to the conversations that I desperately wanted to have but could not. I remember vividly wanting a Barbie that had brown hair and green eyes. I wanted a doll that represented me, one that looked like me or at least seemed like the person I wanted to grow up to be. I don’t remember my age when I saw my first "black" baby doll, but I do remember my mother’s reaction to it. I thought the baby was beautiful and could not comprehend her aversion to the doll. It was after all just a doll. I was naive enough at that point to see the toy through the eyes of a little black girl and was quite jealous that they could have dolls with their skin color, eye color, and dark curly hair. My exposure to other ethnicities had been very minimal, so I failed to see the nuances of skin tone and hair types. Now, however, I have to …show more content…
In a way, I see now, that this added in my being a social outcast. I wasn’t allowed to watch most of the programs that peers were watching. I didn’t listen to the same types of music they did. As such I had little to nothing in common with them, and as a result, I was shunned by most of them. A result of this would be that my peers also had a slight effect on my interpretation of my role in society. I was unaware that movies such as Snow White and Cinderella were trying to teach me where I was supposed to fit into society. I never understood why the only accessories for my dolls were either pretty clothes or beautiful furniture. I chose instead to steal my brother’s G.I. Joe toys. Spaceships, jeeps, guns and mountain climbing equipment, was much more exciting than new pots and pans. My Barbie’s were never married or even dating; they were always off on grand