Childhood of black dolls spawns love for collecting

As a child, Deborah Johnson’s mother had a Topsy-style doll that she did not love. In fact, she hated it, Jennie Butler would later tell her daughter. Topsy was typically a dark brown-complexioned doll whose hair was strands of black thread in patches on a bald head painted black. She was named for the enslaved black girl in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” by Harriet Beecher Stowe.

So, when Deborah was a little girl, her mother bought beautiful black dolls for her. “She wanted her daughter to see herself in her doll,” Deborah said.

Deborah tells the story of her growing-up years in the neighborhood of Cherry Hill in Baltimore, of having black dolls and assuming that all other little black girls did, too, and amassing a collection of black dolls with which she’s now comfortably parting.

Here is her story:

Whenever someone asks me how long I have been a doll collector, my response is always the same – since I was born. For as long as I can remember, I have had a love affair with dolls. When I was little I would dress and undress them. I would see that all of them had some type of bed, and at night I would tuck them in before I went to bed.

I chose one doll to sleep with me. Sometimes I rotated the dolls so that they wouldn’t get too jealous.

Growing up in Baltimore

I grew up in a community named Cherry Hill in Baltimore, MD. It is in the southwest part of Baltimore and because of the shape of the land that makes up the community, it was somewhat isolated from the rest of the city. Cherry Hill was originally built for returning African American World War II vets.

There were still farms when my family moved there in the late 1940s. I grew up as the community grew in a very suburban atmosphere. At the center of the community was the shopping center. Here were all of the businesses that were owned or run by mostly Jews and a few African Americans.

One of the most important shops (I don’t remember if it was black-owned or not. I only remember men and boys from the community working there) was “The Hardware Store.” It was the Home Depot of the day. This was in the ’50s. Our fathers could get everything there they needed. We kids could get replacement wheels for our street skates and the always-needed skate keys.

Her earliest dolls

Christmas time was when the store was transformed into a Christmas wonderland. And the dolls. Oh my. That store had all the latest black dolls! They were beautiful!

I can remember having the baby dolls with the crier in them. They had a mohair-type of wig that was glued over molded hair. I hated the “hair” because I couldn’t comb or wash it.

The early dolls were painted-over white dolls. They were pretty at first, but not great for play if you wanted to wash their face. I remember the “saran” wigs. They were much prettier and were put on some walkers – much better.

I remember my mother complaining that one of my first walking dolls did not walk as good as it did in the store. No matter, she was gorgeous. She had two thick plaits and bangs. She was wearing a dress with a white pinafore. I don’t know what color her dress was. I loved her.

I recall getting my first doll with rooted hair. She was also a hard plastic walking doll. Oh my goodness. I washed that hair and combed and styled that hair within an inch of that poor doll’s life.

From mom, dolls that she could love

And so my mother continued through the years to buy fantastic, beautiful black dolls for me until I was no longer a child. Seeing that I received such lovely dolls was a priority for her. My mother was a dwarf. She was only 4 feet tall. She had to withstand stares from people all of her life, because she was “different.”

My mother told me once that she had a doll as a child that she never liked. From her description, I believe it was a Topsy-type doll with the three tufts of hair. She hated that doll. So when she grew up and had me, she wanted me to have a beautiful doll that I could love. She wanted her daughter to see herself in her doll.

It wasn’t until much later, after I connected with other black doll collectors, that I came to appreciate how fortunate I was to have access to black dolls as a child. I just took for granted that we all had at least one for Christmas. The Hardware Store was a magical place in my childhood.

My father Aaron Butler used to give me little 8-inch dolls on candy boxes for holidays. These dolls only came in white dolls. I didn’t care. I lo-o-o-ved dolls. When I became an adult, I worked at an urban hospital in the clinical laboratory as a laboratory technician. I eventually became over the years a medical technologist. I worked with people from all over the world. My dolling instincts hit me, and I found myself asking my co-workers to bring me back a doll when they would go home for a vacation.

Joining a doll club

Next thing I knew, I had an international collection. However, I knew nothing about doll clubs or that anyone else liked dolls like I did. I found out about a workshop on doll collecting from an article in our local paper. Wow! The teacher told us about doll clubs. Huh? Doll clubs? Well, I called up several clubs, but no one was accepting members. About six months later, the Lady Baltimore Doll Study Club contacted me and invited me to a meeting.

A whole new chapter of my life unfolded. There were all of these crazy people like myself. Wonderful. There were 50 members and only two of them were black. These two ladies and I eventually went together to the first Black Doll Convention in Philly held by Barbara Whiteman (who founded the Philadelphia Doll Museum).

The doll club taught me so-o-o much about doll collecting. Meeting Barbara and attending the black doll conventions year after year recharged my passion for black dolls. I made friends that I still see today at the UFDC (United Federation of Doll Clubs) conventions and other doll shows. Barbara was a fantastic mentor during those early years of my collecting, not only to me but countless other collectors.

Over the years, more black collectors joined the Lady Baltimore Doll Study Club. We got together and decided to put on a doll luncheon for little girls and their moms, aunts, grams, etc. It was called “My Dolly, My Mommy and Me Doll Luncheon.”

There were only five of us and we had no idea how much work would be involved. However, it was a huge success! We enjoyed it so much that we decided to form a doll club, and that’s how Charm City Dolling Club of Maryland was formed. The name Charm City is from the name that Baltimore has taken as its nickname. It is called Charm City.

The kinds of dolls she collects

My doll collection has different categories. I have had hundreds of dolls, but I have been downsizing my collection so I only have about 100 dolls.

My dolls fall into several groups: advertising, celebrity, artist, cloth, play. I am very passionate about cloth dolls. I just love them dearly. I find them to be warm and charming, and I appreciate the hands that created them when they are a handmade doll. I am very interested in very old cloth dolls, and I think when I look at them in shows or exhibits, what was their creator thinking? How much was this doll loved? I have slowed down on buying dolls.

The cloth doll that got away

I am starting to buy an occasional old black cloth doll now and then. I don’t have any really old (as in 1800s) dolls. My oldest is probably more like 75-80 years old. It’s a cloth doll. I saw a doll I wanted so bad at a black doll convention in Boston a few years ago. This show had a fantastic exhibit of antique black dolls. There were also antiques on sale. Oh my. I looked around and found the Holy Grail of doll collecting.

There before me was an antique, pre-Civil War black mammy doll with all of her original clothes. She was about 16 inches in height, and she had papers with her that told who she was made by, who she was made for, and her whole history, written by a family member. Wow! I wanted her so ba-a-a-d. But I couldn’t afford her.

One of my most cherished dolls was less than 50 dollars. It was made especially for me by a 15-year-old teenager named Arriel Turner. She had turned to doll-making to make money to help support her family. Her family had huge medical obstacles: Ariel had a brain tumor, her brother was autistic, her dad had prostate cancer, and her mom had lupus. Arriel’s story was on the local TV news and I knew right away that I had to meet her.

I met with her and her mother and it was wonderful. She was a talented and extraordinary young lady. She made cloth dolls, and dressed and accessorized them with whatever she had access to. I just love the doll she made for me. It is about 24 inches tall and has clothes made from a woman’s blouse, a pair of baby sandals and press-on nails. Her work is a classic example of folk art. There were other personal touches, such as little notes to me in the form of jewelry with my name and stitching with my youngest daughter’s name (my daughter had originally ordered the doll for a Christmas gift for me).

Telling the story of black dolls and their significance

I have done doll talks, exhibits either with friends or on my own, or with my doll club. I enjoy sharing my love of dolls with children and adults. Our club is a member of the United Federation of Doll Clubs and we have enjoyed the conventions and meeting up with other clubs. When I first attended a UFDC convention, you could count on one hand the number of black conventioneers. Now there are many more black attendees, and we try to connect and keep in touch with each other and our clubs.

Most people think of dolls as just playthings. I like to let people know that dolls are a reflection of our society. They show the dress style of the day, the attitudes of society towards different groups of people, and tell a story about our history. This is true of dolls in any culture, not just ours. However, in the case of blacks living in America, the story that dolls and in particular black dolls tell is both devastating and heroic.

The earliest dolls show our journey from Africa to the Americas. We see the dolls that portray our enslavement and then our struggles after freedom. Even the ugly stereotypical dolls show us just how white society saw us and tried to dehumanize our people. As we look at the dolls through the ’60s on, we can see us rise from the ashes like the phoenix and proclaim “I’m Black and I’m Proud.” More and more beautiful black dolls that truly showcase us as a people (and made by) by creative black artists – wonderful!

How she chooses her dolls

A doll has to speak to me for me to want to buy it. I never thought that I could part with any of my dolls, but I have come to a place in my life now where I am fine with parting with them. Those dolls understood. They were ready to move on. I plan on keeping a core group for my collection. I will never sell them. They will go to my granddaughter who is also a collector.

I am a collector, and there is no getting away from it. If I didn’t control myself, I would be collecting toys, plates and many other things. I would end up on that show “Hoarding: Buried Alive.” You would see me on TV walking among small narrow paths of boxes piled to the ceiling, trying to make my way to the door.

A new kind of collection

I realized too late that I now am a collector of pop-up books, cards, anything pop-up. I knew I liked them, but I didn’t know that I had bought several books. I have a dear friend in my doll club who is shamelessly supplying my habit. My late husband was a collector, too. He collected cameras and other things having to do with photography. Fortunately, because he was a collector, he understood me during my crazy doll-collecting phases. I’d bring those boxes home from some show or the UPS man showed up with boxes. No problem.

I am retired now and I am enjoying life. I travel and visit places with my grandkids or friends. I am president of my doll club and that is very enjoyable. Doll collecting has been an important part of my life. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Here are other blog posts in the black dolls and their collectors series:

Barbara Whiteman and the Philadelphia Doll Museum

Aunt Sarah’s Dolls

Memories of a special doll and a love for baby dolls

My chance meeting of a black doll collector

A surprising mix of black dolls at convention

When black dolls talk, Debbie Garrett listens

Baby dolls don’t ‘eat, cry, or grow up & sass’

There’s more to Barbie than just good looks

An unabashed ‘dollaholic’ – and very proud of it

A genealogist intrigued by what she didn’t know about black dolls