Nalina Moses

ARCHITECT, WRITER, CURATOR

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A friend just had a baby and the Little Guy, underweight, spent a few days in the neonatal intensive care unit.  Another friend suggested that she get him an Ookie Doll, a little ribbon-trimmed cotton blanket that’s tied at the corners to shap…

A friend just had a baby and the Little Guy, underweight, spent a few days in the neonatal intensive care unit.  Another friend suggested that she get him an Ookie Doll, a little ribbon-trimmed cotton blanket that’s tied at the corners to shape a head and hands.  A mother sleeps with it and then sets it in her baby’s crib so that he’ll have her scent.  It’s the loveliest idea, a simple, natural way to connect mothers and babies who can’t be together.  But the doll couldn’t have a more sinister aspect.  With its hooded face and cloaked body it looks like a little klansman.  Even its name, derived from the Dutch word for “little one,” is troubling; it sounds like baby-speak for the letter “K.”

In the 1950’s psychologist Harry Harlow carried out now-famous attachment experiments with baby monkeys, taking them away from their mothers and setting them in cages with surrogate mother dolls, some made from wire and some from towels.  Those macaques with the towel “mothers” cuddled with them frequently and turned to them when frightened.  These dolls were made simply, from rolled bath towels and golf-ball-sized plastic heads.  Their eyes, mouth and nose were rendered so crudely, with buttons, it’s hard to believe the monkeys recognized them as faces.  What, apparently, gave comfort was the soft bundle for them to cling to.  So there has got to be a better way to make a bonding device for babies than the Ookie Doll.  Give them a doll that looks likes like a real person, or just give them a scrap of cloth.

August 26, 2013 by Nalina Moses
August 26, 2013 /Nalina Moses
DOLLS, TOYS, Ookie Doll, Harry Harlow, macaques, PSYCHOLOGY
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I was honored when my two young nieces shared their favorite toy with me, a figurine of Princess Cadance (a unicorn from the My Little Pony stories) that flaps her wings and talks.  And I was horrified when I heard the three things that she says in …

I was honored when my two young nieces shared their favorite toy with me, a figurine of Princess Cadance (a unicorn from the My Little Pony stories) that flaps her wings and talks.  And I was horrified when I heard the three things that she says in an endless loop: “I’m happy because I’m getting married today!”,  “My dress is soooo pretty!”, and, finally, after a giggle fit, “Everybody, it’s time to dance now!”, at which point she plays a disco song and flashes bright lights.  Each time the music started my nieces squealed and bounced around her.  This figure is a cunning mash-up of all the things that little girls love: horses, unicorns, princesses, tiaras, pink, purple, rainbows and sparkles.  Its less like a toy than a sociologically engineered composite.

The unicorn’s chatter is mindlessly girlish, and I wondered how this was shaping my nieces’ unformed, agile young minds.  I remember when I was young my mother, to her great credit and my great annoyance, refused to buy me a Barbie doll, not because she was a feminist, but because she thought the doll was ridiculous.  Princess Cadence, a six-inch-high electrified pink plastic unicorn, is also ridiculous.  She has none of the surreal animal grace of a unicorn; she’s a cartoon.  I ended up acquiring a hand-me-down Barbie doll, and also a banged-up blonde Barbie styling head, from a sympathetic babysitter.  I can reveal here that I enjoyed them heartily, and also that they did nothing to shape my ideas about what a woman should look like and how a woman should behave.  Similarly, I’m confident that when my two nieces finally grow tired of playing with Princess Cadance, they will remember little of what she said.


Image courtesy of Hasbro.

March 27, 2013 by Nalina Moses
March 27, 2013 /Nalina Moses /Source
TOYS, Princess Cadence, My Little Pony, Barbie, FEMINISM, childhood
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