Dolls

By: Lucy San Chirico

I used to play with dolls a lot. We still have quite a few of them, but now they just sit on a shelf and stare blankly at the walls.

We used to have a whole world for them; intertwining stories – like a living, pulsing web that would pull any new doll securely into its own place in the network. Each doll had its own complex story, its own relationships with the others. We even had a hierarchy; the porcelain dolls were the royals, the plastic dolls the nobility, and the “soft dolls” were the peasants, who were discriminated against harshly. Occasionally the soft dolls would start a rebellion and fight against the oppressors, and then they would go to war. These were fun times because we got to weave more complicated stories, giving dramatic speeches and even more dramatic deaths (though they never stayed dead for long).

Eventually, the wars would end and new storylines were introduced. Each doll had variations, but certain dolls had common personalities. For example, I had an ingrained scorn for Barbies, so I would always make them villains, snobby, stuck-up, pretentious, and devious. Once I had them beat a dog to death (yes, they were that evil).

The Royal Family of Porcelain was full of intrigue as well. The Duchess and the Queen were sisters, but the Duchess constantly betrayed the Queen in attempts to overthrow her. Her sister was gracious and kept giving her chances to redeem herself, but she never did. And then there was the evil Duchess’ cohort, Lady Victoria. Lady Victoria was my favorite porcelain doll, and interestingly enough, my first antihero character. She was constantly having to choose sides and she was always conflicted. At first, she stayed with the Duchess for her own benefit, but later became a staunch ally of the “good” team.

As I grew, so did the dolls. They evolved with me, losing some parts of them and gaining others. Some were given away or lost. Still, my sisters and I continued to make them interact. Oftentimes Newcomers were directly adopted, and became the relatives of the Oldtimers. Lady Victoria soon had a sweet, selfless daughter named Melody, and through her the mother was able to experience true goodness.

My sister’s Disney Merida doll suddenly had a sister named Hermia, whom I had recently purchased. Hermia was my new favorite, and I lived through her in the stories. She was brave, kind, hopeful, loyal and strong. She was the best parts of me that I could find within myself. In the story of Hermia, (who I had named after my favorite character in a Midsummer Night’s Dream) she was half Barbie and half Disney doll. She had lived with her sister Merida all her life, but now was required by law to go and live with the Barbies. There she met many horrible characters, worst of all the terrifying Headless Barbie Leader, matriarch of the dollhouse (my sister had decapitated her in years past). But Hermia had found one friend there, and together they had run off, becoming fugitives and having adventures on the run, where they had to dodge the relentless Barbie attacks.

When we moved to Pennsylvania, though, I lost Hermia in the packaging. I never saw her again, though I searched and searched.

This was soon remedied by the arrival of another doll, one I’d gotten at Disneyland as a birthday present. I called her Disnette and I thought she was beautiful. I made her innocent, pure, curious. Soon I was living through her as she explored the world of the dolls, at the same time as I explored the new state I was living in. I promptly decided that she should be Queen of the Dolls. Of course, the current ruler, Empress Sophia, didn’t like that very much, and there was another battle. Things soon settled down, but I continued to play with Disnette. I never really lost her. I probably have her around somewhere.

Looking back on those times when the dolls were such a prominent part of my life, what I find interesting is our own relationships with them. Mostly, we would act things out as the dolls themselves, but we had roles in this world as well. My sister Brigid was the Oracle, the wise prophetess to consult when things seemed completely unclear. My youngest sister, Zuzu, who was hardly more than a baby in those times, we called The Monster, because of her tendency to lay waste to the dolls and their habitat. I myself was The Goddess, who overlooked the world and sometimes moved things along slightly with my semi-divine influence.

However, I wasn’t a wholly benevolent goddess. Sometimes my sisters and I would concoct “tortures” for the dolls. Our favorite was when we would tie a doll to the fan. We would watch them go round and round for a bit, then duck as they flew off, chuckling in sadistic glee. I suppose this was cruel of us, especially when we loved the dolls so much. But then we would go back to giving them stories, and our own characters were put aside for a while.

I think the Goddess, the Oracle, and the Monster are gathering as much dust as the dolls are, funnily enough. We have abandoned those characters just as much as we have abandoned the dolls, which is only fair really. I wonder, though, what it would be like if we brought them out again. Maybe we would find that we no longer recognize them.

Now I’m older, and I don’t play with the dolls anymore. I have new creative outlets. But I still am inspired by them and what they represent: both their, and my own, capacity for creation—for worlds to be made.