If I ever doubted the importance of ethnic and racial role models for children of color the events in my household yesterday was enough to change my mind forever!

I ordered my daughter-remember the girl born in China-a Karito Kids doll named Wan Ling. First of all the doll is simply beautiful and quite authentically Chinese. Secondly, the company donates a portion from the sale of each doll to a charity that kids choose and can follow. But enough about me! The real story is my daughter’s reaction.

My girl has never been much for dolls. When pushed she did get an American Girl Doll (Kaya, the American Eskimo) and she will pull her out occassionally, but she was way more interested in the horse that Kaya came with, so I was not anticipating that she would flip over Ling.

And flip she did. When she opened the package, she gasped and said, “she looks just like me.” She turned the doll over, looked at her again and began kissing her making her comfortable in her new ‘home’. She made Ling a bed, got pillows for her, changed her into pajamas. Ling even ate dinner with us last night. Shockingly, my daughter cleared out her beloved stuffed animals in her closet to make an apartment for Ling. All the while, my daughter kept looking at her and telling me how beautiful she was and how much Ling looked like her. My daughter played with that doll more in one night than she has played with any combination of dolls in seven years.

She just couldn’t get over that this doll looked like her. It really was amazing to see the reaction she had to this doll-and to reinforce how much children do need authentic-looking toys and books in their lives. The ‘look-alikes’ resonate with them and validates their images of themselves and other people of color.

Of course, that is not all of the story. When we were reading Ling’s story, my cerebral daughter noted that they were very much alike, they both loved pandas and zoos. However, when my daughter read that Ling had just relocated with her family from Chengdu to Shanghai she started to cry! Why? Because the doll and her story reminded my daughter of her life in China-one that is shrouded in mystery. She missed China. When Ling expressed her feelings of loss when her family moved, my daughter went back in time and space to a place that she can only imagine.

My daughter-while incredibly attuned to the sense of loss she feels for her birthparents and country of origin-has never quite had the same kind of reaction. It was as if Ling’s sadness somehow gave her permission to explore her own loss at a different level.

Wow, what a doll.

The importance of images of all kinds of people, places and things can not be downplayed for any children. Your children may not have the visceral reaction that my daughter did, but they will see a kid, with real issues and feeling and realize that they are more alike than different. Coupled with an authentic images and your attention to using ‘people-first’ and non-biased language, your children get a real lesson in diversity without the emotion that sometimes accompanies discussion of diversity, bias, and racism.

So, it is some doll. But without you subtly or not so subtly encouraging your children to look at the world from different points of view it might as well sit on the shelf.

Look around your home today and see what images-decor, toys, books, etc-are displayed and what isn’t displayed. Then see if you are willing to do something about it.
I know that I am constantly looking for ways to make diversity part of our lives rather than something we ‘do’. Frankly, it is easier that way.

With respect
Deb

We are well into day three of Asian Culture camp. It is about 80 degrees with 100 percent humidity. The weather was horrendous-a five mile drive took 2 1/2 hours.
It wasn’t pretty.

But all of the camper and their parents straggled in-all telling their own version of traffic hell. Little did they know-or care-that almost every one else had the exact same story.

Don’t get me wrong, it took me three hours to get here….but I didn’t feel the need to tell my story-it took everyone a long time, everyone was wet and everyone was sweaty. There was some comfort (although misery does love company, I suppose) in knowing we were all in the boat together.

Since we had plenty of time in the car to chat, I asked my daughter what she liked best at camp. She said, my friends, cooking and culture (she likes culture because the teacher always gives them candy). She didn’t mention that she felt comfortable in a group of Asian girls and boys, so I asked her if it felt good to have so many kids around her that looked like her.

After she stopped rolling her eyes and sighing she informed me that it didn’t matter that the kids were all from Asia, ‘what matters is that we all have fun.’

I wonder if by leveling the racial/ethnic playing field helped the kids simply relax and have fun.

What would happen if everyone felt the same way.

This week my daughter attends ‘culture camp’. Culture camp is a week long cultural immersion program for kids who joined their families through adoption from Asia. She has ‘camp’ friends-girls and boys she sees once a year-and they pick up from where they left off the year before.

Believe me, this is not a very glamorous camp. It takes place the third week of July-which is inevitably the hottest week of the year. The camp takes place in a church which is not air-conditioned and is a bit smelly. The kids go through seven or eight ‘periods’ each day. They cook, take language and dance classes, Tae Kwon Do, Arts and Crafts and music.

It is one of the few places that my daughter blends into the crowd. Frankly, I think the environment where all the kids have dark hair, almond-shaped eyes and joined their families throught adoption that is the appeal-and what keeps the kids coming year after year.

I have thought about how she must feel being one of the ‘onlies’-only child, only Asian, only adopted kid etc, but since I have not lived those feelings, I can only experience it intellectually.

Today, I was looking for her in the music class and got a more viceral experience.

The kids were sitting in the chapel with their backs to me and were all wearing yellow t-shirts (it was picture day). I had a moment of panic when I could not pick her out of the crowd. I couldn’t believe it. She is my child. I know what she looks like. But the pony-tailed, yellow shirted girls all looked alike.

I had to walk to the front of the room, to spot my daughter.

This experience made me wonder what my daughter sees when she is looking for me in a sea of Caucasians. It also reminded me what it feels like to be a minority-if only for a week.

Are you in situations where your kids are in the majority most of the time, or do they struggle to ‘fit in’ to our Caucasian standards.

It makes you think.

With Respect,
Deb