I’ll never forget the day Jordian came home from school, plopped her backpack down, and asked why none of her dolls “look like us.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. I mean, she had a whole row of dolls lined up in her room, but when I actually looked at them… yeah. Pale plastic faces staring back at her. Not a curl or a cocoa-brown cheek in sight.
As moms, we want our kids to see themselves everywhere—in books, in movies, in their classrooms—but sometimes we forget the simple stuff. Like the toys they carry around, sleep with, and dress up in 10 different outfits before breakfast. Those dolls aren’t just toys. They’re mirrors. And when the mirror doesn’t reflect who you are, what’s that teaching our babies?
I grew up in Jacksonville, and let me tell you, brown skin dolls were not exactly hanging out on every store shelf back then. I had one—ONE—and she looked more like a tanned Barbie than an actual Black girl. Her hair didn’t even move. It was this stiff, shiny mess that no comb on Earth could fix. So imagine me, a little girl with thick, beautiful curls, staring at this “brown” doll whose hair looked like a broom. Yeah, no thanks.
That’s why now, when I shop for Dray and Jordian, I make it a point to find dolls with skin like theirs, hair like theirs, and features that don’t scream “cookie cutter.” Jordian lights up when she braids her doll’s twists to match her own, and Dray—yes, my wild little dinosaur-loving boy—actually grabs his sister’s doll sometimes and insists it “comes on adventures too.” Watching him carry around a brown-skinned doll while roaring like a T-Rex is the kind of image that makes my heart melt and crack up at the same time.
Kids are sponges. They notice way more than we give them credit for. If all their dolls are blonde and blue-eyed, they start asking questions. “Why don’t I look like that?” “Is my hair wrong?” And let me tell you, those questions are knives straight to the gut. Brown skin dolls give them permission to say, “I’m beautiful just the way I am.” And honestly, that’s priceless.
And it’s not just about them either. Let me whisper this: every kid benefits from having dolls of all shades. Yep. When kids of every background play with brown skin dolls, it normalizes diversity in the simplest, most innocent way. Sharing a dollhouse suddenly becomes more than just play—it’s kids learning that beauty doesn’t come in just one box, one skin tone, or one hair texture.
Do my kids still want Elsa dolls? Of course. I mean, Frozen owns their souls. But tucked in right next to Elsa and Anna are dolls that look like Jordian, with coily curls and wide brown eyes. Dolls that look like Dray’s cousins. Dolls that look like me. And seeing that mix makes me feel like I’m giving them something I didn’t always have—the freedom to love their skin without hesitation.
So yes, sometimes I go out of my way, click through five online stores, or pay a couple extra bucks for the doll with kinky twists instead of straight blond hair. But when I see my daughter brushing those curls with so much care, or my son making his doll “jump off the couch into lava,” I know it’s worth every bit of it.
If you ever wonder whether it really matters—if a doll is just a doll—try watching your child’s face light up when they finally see themselves reflected in something they love. That joy is louder than any doubt.