MY BARBIE
MY SELF

Okay, before I start, I'd like to request that all card carrying, hard-core feminist who morally object to the concept of Barbie either open their minds, or get over themselves!!  Even as a five year old child, I could look at my size six, A-cup mother, and my brown eyes, brown hair, honey-toned skin and realize that I was never going to grow up and in any way resemble my blond haired, blue eyed, statuesque Barbie.  I had better sense than that.  I loved Barbie's glamorous wardrobe and lifestyle.  I loved her attitude.  I loved the sideglaced eyes that seem to say, "yes, this is me and I'm fabulous."  She reminded me of the most glamorous, real-life woman I knew:  Aunt Jackie. 

Picture Pam Greer or "Cleopatra Jones" with a slimmer build and cafe au lait skin, and you've got a mental image of Aunt Jackie.  It was the early, early '70's, and Aunt Jackie was, without a doubt, a foxy mama.  Remember those open toe slides/mules that Barbie sported with many of her outfits?  Aunt Jackie had them in every color.  She called them "whore shoes", and wore them with pride.  But Aunt Jackie was no "whore",  just a fashionable, trendy black woman enjoying herself in the '70's - as much as a career woman with a husband and three sons could.  Her curly afro could rival that of Angela Davis, and Jimi Hendrix would flail solos to the heavens if he could have just one of the multi-colored scarves that wrapped around Aunt Jackie's head and flowed down her back.  And I don't have the space to discuss Jackie's husband, Melvin, the black leather clad biker dude who could send Harley Davidson Ken running back to the land of pink Barbie Jeeps. 

My world consisted of Batman & Robin, the Jackson 5, and the Monkees.  But when I dressed and played with my Barbie dolls, I'd imagine a grown-up me and Aunt Jackie hanging out.  The clothes we sported were ever so fashionable, and our adventures were grand.  And, although I wished my dolls actually looked more like myself and my Aunt Jackie, I was content to let my imagination take over. 

Life in my Barbie world changed when I got my first black "friend of Barbie" - a Julia doll fashioned after Dianne Caroll's ground breaking television role of the same name.  Dianne Caroll was exquisite in the role of Julia, a divorced black career woman raising a young son.  She flawlessly juggled her roles as mother and nurse while still managing to look model perfect and date her handsome, football playing beau.  Julia was chic, Julia was sophisticated - Julia reminded me of...my mother.  Julia threw a big monkey wrench into the machine of my Barbie world. 

I loved my mother.  I admired my mother.  But I wanted to hang out with and be like Aunt Jackie.  My mother's world consisted of college degrees and sororities, social graces and social clubs, achievement and accomplishment.  It was a neat, orderly world of seriousness.  Aunt Jackie looked like she was having fun.  Don't get me wrong, Aunt Jackie was a college educated teacher.  But she was more like the students of "Room 222" than the staff.  She personified everything that was hip and trendy.  Mother was "Ebony" magazine, Aunt Jackie was "Cosmopolitan".  Get the picture?   

So the search for my Barbie self went on.  Through the years, Mattel produced many African American dolls, all beautiful, glamorous chocolate brown creatures that proudly graced my shelves.  Black Francie, Black Barbie, Cara, Christie - I loved them all.  They remained a big part of my life until one day during my 14th year when I decided I was too old for dolls.  Although I still took weekly trips to the toy store, my teen-aged pride would not allow me to purchase the dolls which I admired.  This remained so until after college.  Newly graduated (and newly married), a friend of mine showed me the book by Billy Boy entitled "Barbie - Her Life and Times".  The beautiful customized dolls and vintage photos sparked my interest in Barbie again.   

When Mattel produced Island Fun Miko, a "friend" of Barbie with a new, beautiful Asian face mold, I had to buy her.  Although, again, this doll did not quite have my features, I was enraptured with this beautiful, non-blond, ethnic doll.  I started buying Barbie again at the age of 23.  At the age of 24, Mattel made my two decade long dream come true.  They produced a doll which was targeted for the Hispanic market - California Dreams Teresa (her photo's at the top of the page).  She had the classic Steffie face mold, a rounded nose, honey-toned skin, and fuller lips.  Finally, a doll that looked like she could be one of my relatives.  I purchased her then and there (and she's still one of my favorites).  In the early '90's, it seems that Mattel finally realized that American people of African heritage come in a rainbow of skin tones from cafe au lait to dark chocolate.  They created the Shani line, featuring a coffee toned Shani, and her two friends, Asha (who's skin was the color of burnt amber) and Nichelle (who skin was the color of smooth dark chocolate).  These dolls were produced in addition to Barbie's long-time friend, Christie.  Finally, there were Barbie dolls that could be any member of my family, from my chic, sophisticated mother, to my hip, happening Aunt Jackie, to me. 

I think of today's little girls.  I know that the world in which they live is much tougher and faster than mine ever was.  They're faced with dilemmas that I never had to face.  But I do know that, if they like Barbie, they've got choices in trends, cultures, styles, and ethnicities that mirror their own lives.  And, for that, I think they're lucky.  I can only hope they're lucky enough to have a hip Aunt Jackie in their lives as well! 

HOME - GALLERY - SHOWCASE - ARTICLES
 
The name and image of "Barbie" is registered and copyrighted by Mattel.  This web site and it's employees are in no way affiliated with Mattel.