#American Girl Josefina | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucythornwalter · 1 month ago

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In Greeting and Introduction:

In 1986, Pleasant Company unleashed the American Girls upon the world, and nothing has ever been the same. If you’re between the ages of 25 and 40 (sorry, Gen Z, but this is really a millennial phenomenon) and were at any point in your childhood aligned or identified as a ‘girl’, you probably have memories of decadently arranged extra-wide catalogues coming in the mail, or slim box sets of six books with names like Samantha Learns a Lesson or Changes for Kirsten, or visits to a toy store that was more like a luxury hotel, or – if you were especially lucky – unwrapping a long and heavy box on your birthday or on Christmas to reveal a much-anticipated new best friend. Even if you weren’t subjected to the rigors of late-twentieth-century girlhood, you probably knew something about this brand thanks to the way it took hold in the hearts and minds of an entire generation of – ha! – American girls who went to school with other American children and often brought dolls and books and catalogues and trip reports back with them.

So, what exactly was this brand?

1986 is a fascinating year in pop culture, and one I’ve been personally fixated on for over a decade. It’s the year of the (first) death of Optimus Prime in The Transformers: The Movie, the year of Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, the year of Phantom of the Opera’s spectacular West End debut, the year of Labyrinth, the year of Hellraiser. If you outgrew American Girl and trended toward the weird and darkly gothic, this is a year you’re intimately familiar with, whether you know it or not. Fitting, then, that it’s the year the dolls were born.

The story goes that educator Pleasant Rowland, in the process of attempting to buy dolls for her family, found herself frustrated by a perceived gap in the market. While baby dolls served as proxies for burgeoning parental instinct, and fashion dolls served as more mature aspirational figures (or, in many cases, adult stars of complicated child-crafted soap operas), there were no dolls that girls could look upon as peers. I find myself skeptical of this claim, largely because mythical doll origins are often hilariously selective and inaccurate – for one thing, Barbie was not even close to the first adolescent/adult fashion doll for little girls – but it is consistently cited as one of the concerns in developing the line. With that frustration to chew on, and inspired by a visit to Colonial Williamsburg (a living history museum focused on life in America in the immediate years preceding the Revolutionary War), Rowland developed the concept of the American Girls. These would be eighteen-inch cloth and vinyl dolls portraying distinct historical figures living in different eras of American history, each with their own name and family and backstory. She worked with author Valerie Tripp to develop the identities of each girl, and then launched the brand under her new company, Pleasant Company (which is such a clever idea for an instantly recognizable corporation) with three dolls ready to go.

Now, there are American Girl stores in multiple malls, and when I was a little girl there were near-mythical American Girl Places in Chicago and New York and I think somewhere in California, but when Rowland began her business model was entirely by mail with no brick-and-mortar location to visit. Little girls and their families became aware of the existence of these dolls and their stories when catalogues that quickly became iconic arrived in the mail once every few months, and despite the high prices of everything from the dolls themselves to the books telling their stories, they bought up everything Pleasant Company had to sell. Rowland had a bona fide hit on her hands.

She had launched the brand with three characters – Kirsten Larson, a Swedish immigrant and pioneer living in the Minnesota Territory in 1854, Samantha Parkington, an Edwardian girl from a rich family living in New York in 1904, and Molly McIntyre, a Scottish-descended girl from a solidly middle-class family living in Jefferson, Illinois in 1944. Each doll, when ordered, came with a book bearing their name, and there were two additional books available for purchase alongside the collections of themed accessories and furniture. This number quickly expanded to six, all bearing similar names and reflecting similar themes across multiple decades. In 1991, a fourth historical character joined the lineup – this was Felicity Merriman, a gentleman’s daughter from 1774 Williamsburg. After her was Addy Walker, introduced in 1993, a fugitive slave who escaped to Philadelphia with her mother and lived there in 1864. Next in 1997 came Josefina Montoya, a rancher’s daughter living near Santa Fe, New Mexico in 1824 with her father, sisters, and extended family. In 2000, Kit Kittredge of 1933’s Cincinnati, Ohio joined the lineup. And lastly, at least for this analysis of my own history with the brand, in 2002 we have my dearly beloved Kaya’aton’my of the Nez Perce, living with her tribe in pre-contact years in 1764.

There are other American Girls. Mattel bought out Pleasant Company and has slowly been hollowing out the brand’s credibility, but it persists. Other historical dolls have been introduced, and many of them sound just as brilliant as the ones I grew up with. But those eight, those “original” eight, were my American Girls, and it’s their stories I want to examine, and their impacts upon my life that are still felt. Kit’s resourcefulness and adaptability when her father lost her job helped me when I was twelve and my father lost his job, Felicity’s determination to find the right balance between gender nonconformity and gender conformity inspired me to never settle for being forced into a box I didn’t fit, Samantha’s fierce loyalty to her friend Nellie was a balm to my prepubescent closeted lesbianism, and Kaya’s connection to her tribe and their traditions and culture gave me something to cling to in the midst of my rootless, forcibly assimilated indigenous childhood. (Yes, I’m indigenous, no, I’m not really going to be making my writing and blogging about an #ownvoices kind of thing, because we should get to be nerds and have the same access to privacy that white people have, but it’s relevant here and it’s relevant in my original fiction because it’s part of me.)

Of course, growing up and getting an education means looking at your past again with a wiser, more critical eye. Historical education has changed a lot since 2002, and has changed even more since 1986. The stories of the American Girls are both narrative and informative, intended to capture realistic-feeling moments in time that are grounded in real historical events and practices. How do they hold up to the standards of 2024, nearly two decades since I grew into Brontë and McCaffrey and Hugo and Dumas and Homer? How do they feel to me as an actively reconnecting indigenous lesbian whose perspective on America is very different now than when I was a child and my family tried hard to pretend we fit in? Are their books and wider stories even any good?

These are the questions I’m seeking to answer in this series of blogs, which I’ll be calling The American Girls and Me. Each fortnight (that’s every two weeks) I’ll examine a different girl, starting with her main books and going forward from there. The first series of book blogs will be published simultaneously here and on my Patreon page, completely free to read and open to the public. After that, Patreon will get things a week before they’re published here, but I’m not looking to make a serious income, so if you pay me the exorbitant price of $1 you will get to see things whenever they’re posted or you can wait for seven days to catch up. There will be some Patreon-exclusive bonus content once every couple of months, though, plus when I start publishing my original fiction it will be there alongside here, so if that sounds interesting maybe consider giving me a click?

My cutoff year is 2005 – that was the last year I asked for and received an American Girl doll as a present from my grandmother, and that was the symbolic end of the American Girl era of my life. I may take a look at the two American Girl movies that came out in 2006 and 2008 and adapted the stories of Molly and Kit respectively, but I didn’t go to great lengths to watch either of them. I was too busy rewatching The Curse of the Black Pearl and Van Helsing and The Revenge of the Sith to care about people who were now three and four years younger than me, and my own visions of both girls’ lives were too precious to me to risk a bad or disappointing adaptation.

Okay, then, what exactly will I be covering?

Like I said above, I’ll start with the stories. All eight girls, all six books + their “Looking Back/A Peek Into the Past” chapters. I’ll talk about my childhood impressions, my connections with different narratives, how those have changed now that I’m in my thirties, and places where I think the books have aged particularly poorly or particularly well.

After that, we’ll look at their short stories pre-2005, and see what those add to or detract from the canon of core story beats. These were in some cases published over a decade after the books finished up, and the tonal or thematic differences should be interesting to note.

Once the fiction is finished up we’ll look at each doll. I’ll talk about my experiences with the ones I personally own, and examine their accessories and artifacts in-person, and if it’s a doll I don’t own we’ll be looking at the catalogues from 1998-2002, which can safely be considered something of a golden age for the brand. That’s how I experienced several of the dolls, and therefore that’s what I’ll be revisiting

Next, I’ll be taking a look at nonfiction books – each of the original eight girls got a Welcome to [Name]’s World book issued for their era in American history, taking the nonfiction historical context chapters and fleshing them out to give more detail and explain more about how the lives of our girls fit into the story of the country as a whole. These are apparently extremely high-quality for children’s history books, and while I never had them as a child I definitely want them now.

Finally, having finished up books entirely, we move on to crafts and ephemera. Each girl got a paper doll set, and most of them also received a craft book and cook book. There were theater kits for pretend play as well, but I’ll be excluding those for purely practical reasons – they’re often the hardest to find, and I was never interested in that kind of pretend play with these girls.

This will be a long, involved, organized blogging project unlike anything I’ve ever really done before, but I think it will be a rewarding one. These girls are like my sisters, even those with wildly different life experiences than my own. They were a fundamental part of my childhood. They deserve to be remembered and discussed, and this era in my life deserves to be loved.

After all, I, too, was once an American girl.

#american girl #american girl dolls #felicity merriman #josefina montoya #kirsten larson #addy walker #samantha parkington #kit kittredge #molly mcintyre #kaya’aton’my

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