girls and dolls

[march.12.2008.5:53pm]

"welcome to the dollhouse"
-danity kane


dolls were made, in my opinion, as tangible objects for the young developing mind[s] of the female gender to conform to her role in society.

you know, the role of domestication; rubbish if you ask me. rubbish due to part of my feminism and part common sense.

but,
I remember my first doll...

I was eight. she was a "Kenya" doll. I doubt was even made in the country of Kenya, but I loved her. she was equipped with the faux kente cloth. the long and thick synthetic hair; she had brown skin like mine and the cutest golden slippers were painted onto her feet.

I can't recall naming her; at the time, I wasn't clever enough to select a suiting name. she was a gift of some sort from my aunt geneva and I cared for her. my sister who is three years my senior had one as well. her "kenya" doll was light skinned like she was and everything of the sort.

my sister and I were bathing partners. bathing together proved to be less time consuming for my aunt and the fun factor was doubled. we'd both bring our "kenya" dolls to bathtime yet at the time, I didn't understand that her functionability was limited: she wasn't suited for water activities.

when I dunked her under water, her eye lashes would be seen floating in the water here and there
and gradually, she'd have less and less lashes. her kente cloth wasn't removable so I'd have to do some major towel drying to soak the water out of her get up. the most tedious consequence for putting her in the tub [and even washing her up with soap most times] was having to deal with her thick hair that took more days than one to dry [until I got smooth and began to sneak my aunt's blowdryer to dry her weave out].

most of my memorable good times began with her. she guided my juvenile belief in female domestication blah blah blah.

she slept with me and swung by my side for I always held her hand: for our security. I consulted with her about what cereal to eat for breakfast, trusted her judgement about whether or not allowing my female cousins to play with her was a good idea or not and respected her taste in "men" very highly and regarded her morals when she and I decided that she "needed" a Ken doll in her life.

and this transitions me into my message at hand:

women who can relate to this relationship that's made between girl and doll know the strength of the connection she individually had with her physical manifestation of her pure conscious.

these dolls, these miniature representations of women distorted to appear as mature-looking life-like infants and most times toddler-sized daughters were an extention of our girlhood in its purest existence. this is applicable to the girl who had that cabbage patch kid, or that feminine carebear, or baby tumbling surprise, the "kenya" doll, the female teddy bear or even that emaciated stick figure barbie and her friends.

when did we lose sight of the doll in us all?? that innocent yet youthfully honest inner being of self?? did we not feel secure with our first experience of trusting ourselves??

when we stopped consulting with her about something as simple as which cereal to devour, we slipped and lost sight of how we need to lean on her judgement to guide us in choosing not perfect mates, but those that weren't "settle deeds", you know, those men children we settled for, the ones we subjected our inner dolls to be played with like the lastest new hotwheel model, only to be traded with the low value of a few pokémon cards...

let's close our hands around her small hand and clamp tight to the future of our emotional sanity; let's respect her judgement when it comes to who "plays" with her and most importantly, let's recognize that we women have options yet, we don't have to exercise any and all options; we have the power to choose yet, we have the ability to be chosen.

so unless you've never had a doll, or yours is one of chucky's brides, let's travel back to our girlhood, let's reach into the rooms of the dollhouse to rescue, nurture and protect our dolls.