A dolly like me Kenyah Nyameche This article explores the importance and relevance of black dolls in the developmental stages of black children, their identity, and their relationship with others.
Context 141, October 2015
promoted as sexually desirable, Asian women as exotic, and black women of African decent sometimes as merely available. As a systemic psychotherapist and a practitioner of eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing, I also specialise in hair trauma therapy, with patients of African, Caribbean, Asian, and European origin, who experience hair-loss trauma and/or who struggle with their identity through having curly textured hair of different curl formations (tight kinky curls to loose wavy curls). For some women of African heritage, their first experience of hair play and experimentation has been on dolls with a white complexion and long silky hair. Their memory of growing up was of going on to request, in some cases, that their parents change the texture of their hair, and they have later, in adolescence through to adulthood, chosen chemical relaxers, weaved artificial hair extensions onto their own hair, and/or are addicted to blow-drying hair straight or flat ironing it. One particular woman shared that, during playtime with her doll in childhood, she would fantasise about having long blonde silky hair. Historically, the effects of slavery, colonialism, imperialism, black emancipation, and socialisation have all affected black people’s perception of their own beauty. I wonder how much these factors have been influenced by the mixed white and African heritage woman being elevated above the darker skinned black woman. For example, before the abolition of slavery,
the often-cited position of the dark skinned woman in the plantation fields, and fair skinned woman in the plantation house, is perhaps an example. There was an earlier appreciation of the intrinsic value of children being given dolls in their image. Hix (2013) shares evidence from her interviews with black-doll collectors that the story of doll making can be traced back to the 1800s when slaves on plantations in the the southern states of America used to make dolls using whatever scraps they could lay their hands on; e.g. broom handles and straw. Debbie Garret, a black-doll collector (cited in Hix, 2013), shared the attempts made to get black dolls manufactured and distributed. The attempts were short-lived due to slave masters sabotaging the effort, the high cost of materials, dolls viewed by some families as luxury items, and some parents’ preference for white dolls. Historically, there was a custom of having black dolls in the Caribbean and Africa but, during the migration oversees in search of work, some dolls did not make it across or, for those that did, there was the lack of skill base for refurbishing the black dolls’ wear and tear. I wonder what the picture would be like now for many children of African and Caribbean heritage if they could be educated in playing with dolls of colour. This also applies to children of dual heritage and Europeans with curly hair who were not given alternatives to blonde silky-haired 27
A dolly like me
I recently attended the 7th exhibition on black dolls, in Brixton, London (June 2015), hosted by Ama Gueye of Operation Sankofa (http://operationsankofa.com/home/). Gueye’s service has a mission and a passion to share knowledge and resources around access to black dolls in the UK, in addition to encouraging dialogue and networking among manufacturers, distributors, and sellers. The atmosphere was buzzing with joy, excitement and curiosity. While parents quizzed the exhibitors and shared stories triggered by the sight of some of the dolls, the children played excitedly in the children’s corner, which was set up with doll-making activities and story-telling. The dolls had travelled from around the UK, as well as from South Africa, Nigeria, and Senegal. Both genders were represented, including nongender-specific dolls. As a family therapist of African heritage, I see the need to introduce babies and young children to an image of themselves and let them play with black dolls of different shapes, colours, gender and textures. In the globalised and culturally diverse world we now live in, it is good to encourage a child to play with dolls of all colours, but not to the exclusion of their own colour. Such play enhances a child’s understanding, appreciation and acceptance of their heritage and sense of being. With hair being an integral part of a woman’s self-image, it is vital to teach female children (especially black children) to accept the beauty and differences found in different hair textures, particularly their own. It is also imperative they connect and are at ease with their colour, from a very early age. The historic significance of slavery is still in evidence today. The media perpetuates the assumption of European superiority, maintaining the ideal that European beauty is the epitome. Although the UK purports to be a multicultural society, the number of TV advertisements that show images of European beauty in comparison with images of other ethnic and racial groups, is alarming. The notion that European beauty is being exemplified as ideal is especially focused on females. European women are often