Our Beauty: Defined By Us, Not For Us
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As the mother of two girls, it’s difficult to resist a book titled “Five Conversations You Must Have with Your Daughter.” But I haven’t finished Vicki Courtney’s book yet, because it’s something you’re never really done with. I find myself stuck in the chapter that focuses on beauty and self-image. It encourages parents to teach their daughters to shun society’s view of beauty.
That’s easier said than done, particularly for African-American girls. Our beauty is rarely the standard gracing magazine covers. We’ve made strides, but our beauty isn’t the status quo. My dear friend Darla Davenport-Powell – a mother, author and producer – has worked hard to broaden society’s definition of beauty for nearly 20 years. She created the “Niya” doll in 1991, named after her lovely daughter. “All children deserve to see themselves reflected in a positive light,” Darla says. “All children are brilliant and beautiful. I wanted to make sure that our children had the proper images that would affirm their greatness.”
Darla’s first child provided the inspiration for what has become a world of multicultural, multilingual dolls. The original Niya doll spoke Spanish, English and Swahili, as Darla recognized that language is one of the first steps to understanding another person’s culture. Darla knew that Spanish was fast becomong our second language, and she also wanted to introduce children to an African language. Today, there are nine dolls in the line: Niya (African-American); Alopay (Native American); Luis (Hispanic); Michiko (Japanese); LeAnne (Biracial); Karen (Caucasian); Yoliswa (South African); Amira (Egyptian); and Ife (Nigerian).
“I think somewhere, deep in my psyche, I never forgot how I felt after watching some of my favorite children’s TV shows,” Darla says. “I used to love to get up early Saturday morning to watch my favorite cartoons, and I remember watching Mr. Rogers, Captain Kangaroo, Kukla Fran & Ollie and Romper Room during the week.
“I would sit waiting for the “Magic Mirror” hostess to hold up her beautiful mirror and look out into TV land to call the names of the good little boys and girls watching the show,” she says. “Each day I would watch and each day I would feel sad because ‘Miss Beverly’ never called my name. I vowed when I grew up and had a daughter, I would change things.”
Like Darla, we should do our part to change the world’s definition of beauty. And it can be as simple as telling our daughters how beautiful they are … over and over again.
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