
As a patron of Pleasant Company (now known as American Girl and owned by Mattel, Inc.) since the tender age of somewhere around five or six, one could certainly say I grew up with the American Girl dolls. My parents allowed me to choose one doll, and it was given to me the Christmas after I turned seven years old. To this day, I still own, cherish, and collect items to go with my vintage Molly MacIntire doll, the glasses-wearing World War II era girl, because I chose her with the knowledge of what she'd "been" through. Her story interested me the most--growing up while her father was away at war with a crop of siblings and a busy mother--but before I chose this doll, I read every other American Girl's story first. There was Felicity, the colonial-era doll struggling with her own family's Patriot beliefs while her best friend was a Loyalist. There was Addy, an escaped slave (who escaped in the first book of her series). There was Kirsten, a young Swedish immigrant whose closest friend died on the boat to America, and there was Samantha, a Victorian-era mischievous girl whose closest friend was a 9-year-old factory worker during the industrial revolution.
Nowadays, Samantha has been impermanently retired and there are many more dolls, including a 1970's era girl, a Native American, and Kit, a girl who grew up during the Great Depression. American Girl has recently started putting out limited-edition dolls, modern-day American Girls, each year. Girl of the Year 2009, Chrissa, recently dealt with her family's move to a new town and bullies at her new school. Gwen, the doll this year, is homeless after her father's leaving and her mother's loss of a job (seems like it will be because of the recession).
First of all, good for you, American Girl! I know that the number of homeless children in the United States has risen dramatically increased since the recession began, and I also know that these children will need something to relate to. At the same time, critics are complaining that perhaps, this doll will glorify homelessness.
My first response: what the hell, critics. I mean, seriously. When I read Kit, the Great Depression doll’s, story, I remember her fear of becoming homeless when she had to start working, at the tender age of nine, after her father lost his job. He lied to the family that they had money left over and she found him waiting in a bread line to bring them food. In Samantha’s story, her friend describes watching a young girl getting scalped by one of the machines in her factory, while in Kirsten’s the nine-year-old watches her friend buried after watching her die of cholera. These books are serious and touch on issues that children need to learn but may not ever learn in the comfort of grade school classrooms. At the end of each book is a five or so page spread, nonfiction, about the topics discussed in the books. I used to refer to those last few pages of the books for schoolwork up until mid high school. Each doll has a series of five books and I read every one of them at a very young age. My friends, male and female, and I discussed them and we learned a lot about history, and were able to relate to it.
Nowadays, however, I find myself talking to the grade school youngsters about one of the best parts of my past and learning that they have no idea what I’m talking about. “I have five of the dolls!” one youngster tells me. Another discusses her plans to get others as gifts. If they have read the books, they’ve only read the first book in a doll’s series, and only because a copy of the book comes with the doll. Some girls haven’t even read that.
So I guess, to one of these young “collectors” (these dolls cost $95 apiece, by the way…way to teach kids the value of a dollar) a homeless doll would glorify homelessness. I mean, if somebody had given me a Molly doll in 1997 without having me read her story, I would’ve been happy-go-lucky to dress her in the cute clothes. I never would have learned about the bombings in London and how they made other children homeless.
I guess that’s another thing—Gwen’s story isn’t the first to discuss homelessness. In fact, she isn’t the first homeless doll. Kirsten was homeless when she first came to the United States, and her family doesn’t get their own home until the last book of the series (she stays with family after the first book). Addy was homeless after she escaped slavery for a few books. Kit nearly loses her home and Molly ‘s family takes in a young British refugee after she loses her home during World War II.
Hey critics…you don’t know what you’re critiquing.
As for complaining parents, how about you stop buying your kids dolls for a moment and bring them to the library. There, you can teach them about history for free, and the American Girl books are a great resource.
Source: TIME Report
