 |
Photo Taken by Daria Lapp. August 2009. |
Meet Zoe. We adopted her 6 years ago from my mom. She was bought, most likely at Costco, along with a stroller and carrier for my niece. My niece, however, was not as excited about her as my mom probably was. My son, however, the same age as my niece, had an instant connection with Zoe upon their first meeting. He pushed her around my mom’s house in her stroller and instantly showed signs of being a loving, caring boy. At the end of our trip we asked to take Zoe home to Wisconsin with us. My mom denied our request. (She had hopes of my niece bonding with her). After our second visit we began our adoption petition, explaining the benefits of our son having a doll to care for in preparation of soon becoming a big brother. It wasn’t that he was a boy that my mom struggled with, it was that she bought the doll for her granddaughter who was at her house daily. Our request was finally accepted.
Looking back I wish I knew the exact day we brought Zoe home, because on that day she became a part of our family. She appears in many family photos and has many times passed as a real baby to strangers. Once in an airport my husband was carrying her in his backpack with just her head sticking out. We were going down an escalator when a group of twenty-something year olds began pointing and gasping thinking she was a real baby stuffed in a backpack.
She wears newborn clothes and has received presents under the Christmas tree with her name on them. It took years for Zoe to transition from my daughter’s bed to her own crib, lovingly placed next to her bed. Zoe doesn’t come everywhere with us anymore, but she is still loved more than any other doll.
My mom claims that she knew the moment that it became clear to her that I was not going to grow up to be racist, despite having moved me out of a diverse city outside New York City to a 99% Caucasian Connecticut suburb when I was nearly two years old. We went back to the city to buy my first pair of shoes and as we were walking down the street we walked by two Asian women with several children when I stared wide-eyed and said to my mom, “I like those eyes. I want those eyes.”
My children’s love for Zoe assures me that I am doing something right for my children and for all children who are fortunate enough to meet them.
Watch the clip below to learn more about a historical experiment, White Doll Black Doll, that was performed by Kenneth and Mamie Clark, two African-American psychologists. “It was her work on the way black children seemed to prefer white dolls to black ones that particularly impressed the Supreme Court justices.” (http://c250.columbia.edu/c250_celebrates/remarkable_columbians/kenneth_mamie_clark.html)
Being familiar with this experiment makes me a proud mother of white babies who love their black baby doll and also saddens me for all the mothers of black babies who choose white dolls. Children are beautiful for who they are and if only all children found a doll that looked like them beautiful. I also wish that black dolls didn’t just look like white dolls painted darker. If you don’t understand what I mean walk down the doll aisle in a store, but first be warned that it may, unfortunately, be difficult to find a black doll.
 | |
|
Then again, why doesn't it bother me that my daughter prefers a doll that is different than her? Race is a cumbersome topic, this post is an expression of a mother's love for all children and for striving to raise respectful children.
