When I say, “I am a doll maker” it feels empty,
half-hearted, and superficial. I am not just a doll maker; I am an African
American Doll Maker. I am a Black Doll Maker. I need to tell you why this label
is so important to me. I grew up in the mid -1960s and early 1970’s primarily
playing with White dolls envying their tiny noses, blue eyes, and long straight
hair. Even though James Brown sang, “I am Black and I am Proud,” most African
Americans knew that this was an affirmation that every Black American wanted to
be true. We sang and we chanted, “I am Black and I am proud say it out loud,”--
although we didn’t believe it—but my God-- we wanted to believe it. We wanted
this to be true, while we permed our heads bald.
Michael Jackson had supernatural talent as a singer, dancer,
and performer—yet he did everything he could to downsize his broad, African
featured Black nose. As a kid, we made fun of other Black kids who had what we
called big noses—myself included. Growing up in a culture where I have been socialized
to hate my African heritage, and severed psychologically from my ancestor’s roots
has altered my consciousness as a human being. Learning how to make dolls is my
way of healing my psyche and putting back the pieces of my broken soul.
When I first started making cloth dolls, I combed the
Internet and bought every cloth doll making book, I could find to help me
create a cloth doll pattern that reflected my culture. As a child, I did not
have the cognitive ability to understand race, culture, and ethnicity. I simply
played with White dolls that did not resemble me or the people in my family or
community. As a fifty-something-old Black Woman—my soul will not allow me to
dismiss, ignore, and minimize the spiritual, psychological, and physical experience
of being a Black woman in a world dominated by White people.
It was very, very, very important to me—to figure out how to
sculpt a broad, African, featured nose for my black handmade cloth dolls to
honor my ancestors, and to heal the little girl inside of me—who wanted to be
anything but Black. I begged my daddy to paint me White when I was a little
girl—and he cried and asked me why. And I said, “Daddy, can’t you see that
everybody hate Black people.” I was 5 or
6 years old at the time.
I hope no one is offended by this—but I think one of the
biggest lessons that I have learned in this Dark Brown Earth Suit is that it is
not White people’s responsibility to make Black dolls that reflect the African
American experience. It would be like asking an elephant to help squirrels
cross the street. A doll is always more
than a plaything—it is a representation of a version of reality that conditions
the imagination to accept and ultimately act out—it’s creator’s truth.
This YouTube video on
How to sculpt a cloth doll’s nose is 35 minutes long—because it took years for
me to figure out how to make my doll’s nose look Afrocentric, broad, and
beautiful like Oprah Winfrey’s Serena William’s, and the comedienne Monique. I
wanted to do my best and take my time sharing this doll making technique on how
to make African American handmade cloth doll noses for other people like me.
This is also my apology and atonement for making fun of all of the Black people
whom I criticized for having Afrocentric features.
For the complete doll pattern visit my Authentik Beauty Magazine Website
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