early lessons in diversity...

I caught the scent of baby powder in the breeze today and it made me think of Grace Betty.



Grace Betty was my first Cabbage Patch Kid. It was Christmas, 1983, and I was five years old. Coleco had mass-marketed the Cabbage Patch Kid as the "it" toy for every little girl. There were riots in toy stores, akin to the 1996 Tickle Me Elmo craze. My parents were always strapped for cash and shopped last minute, but tried to get us kids what we most wanted each year. And what I most wanted was to adopt a Cabbage Patch Kid.

In smalltown ohio, the population was 99.99999% caucasian and .00001% hispanic/asian. And by the time Santa my mom made it out to the toystore to purchase the doll of my every five-year-old desire, the only dolls left on the shelf were African American. and so - Grace Betty came to me through a quite progressive inter-racial adoption. Her cloth skin, yarn hair and painted eyes were brown and her bulbus plastic head smelled - oddly - of baby powder. She didn't look anything like me... but she was mine. ...and no power in the universe, not even a cheeky older brother - could sever my love for her. (note, also - I quickly discovered that the large plastic head attached to the soft cloth body made Grace Betty an apt weapon against my brother's various torments.) Grace Betty didn't seem to mind this - and so she was my baby, my heroine and the bruiser of my annoying older brother.

I don't know if this simple happenstance made it easier for me to adapt as my smalltown grew and accepted its first African American families. I'm not certain of the impact of Grace Betty on my views on racial equality and social justice. But I think maybe in some small way - she's always been there as a reminder... a reminder of my parents' love and courage, and their refusal to sway to social stereotypes. ...and it makes me think that one day I will buy my own daughter baby dolls of different races - so she can learn to love all people.