Diverse dolls help children 'appreciate themselves as they are'

By Louise Kinross

Winnie Mak is part of a multicultural family. She is Chinese, from Hong Kong, and her husband Rafael is French and Greek. They live in London, U.K., and after their son Alex, now 4, was born, Winnie learned that the vast majority of dolls were white, girls and able-bodied.

She wanted to create soft dolls targeted to boys and girls that “reflect the diversity of the world.” So she launched One Dear World with four dolls that represent children from Ghana, Mumbai, Norway and Hong Kong. This fall she's adding six new dolls that have disabilities (including the boy doll with Down syndrome, above. Scroll down to see the five others).

“Each doll has an identity and comes with a story, and can be used as a tool to help children build a positive self-image and a respect for each other’s differences,” she says. 

BLOOM: Why did you decide to create dolls with disabilities?

Winnie Mak: When I first launched the company I wanted to include all kinds of diversity. But I decided to start with cultural diversity, because I was just one person starting the company at the dining room table.

Last summer my story got featured on BBC, and I got some messages from parents asking for dolls with disabilities. For example, one mother who had a daughter with Down syndrome wanted me to consider creating dolls with Down syndrome. I contacted different charities in London and messaged with parents of children with disabilities through Instagram, and I found them very welcoming to my idea, and willing to have a chat with me. That gave me the confidence to think this was something I should try.

BLOOM: How did you choose which conditions to include?

Winnie Mak: I wanted to show a range of visible and non-visible disabilities. My nephew had been diagnosed with autism, so I had become more knowledgeable about that. There’s a doll with autism, a doll with an amputation, a doll with Down syndrome, a wheelchair user, and dolls with visual and hearing impairment.

I was speaking with a consultant in London who gives advice to big corporations on disability policy, and she mentioned that mental [illness] has been classified as a disability. One of my dolls has anxiety. I think young children should learn about mental health and wellbeing.

BLOOM: How are the disabilities conveyed?

Winnie Mak: The doll with hearing loss has a pink hearing aid. The doll with vision impairment is wearing glasses and has a guiding cane. When I was designing the doll with Down syndrome, I met with some family support groups to get feedback on the facial features. I wanted things to be subtle, not exaggerated.

Each doll comes with a booklet which gives their name, place of birth and a short story about themselves. For example, one doll is Irish and she’s experiencing anxiety after she learns that her parents are getting separated. She finds she likes hiking and drawing, and these two activities give her some peace of mind and help with her anxiety.

Each doll has a hero. The role model of the doll whose right leg was amputated after a car accident is Sudha Chandran, an amputee and also a famous Indian dancer. The booklet also has a section called ‘Do you know?’ about the doll’s disability. 

BLOOM: I know Barbie just introduced a black doll who uses a wheelchair, and American Girl has dolls that come with accessories like hearing aids. What makes yours different?

Winnie Mak: What makes my brand unique is that each doll comes with a story, which is a guide for parents or educators to start the conversation about differences. My plan is to develop more stories and content around the doll characters. For example, if I exceed my crowdfunding target, I will write a story that includes all of the dolls, or create a card game that can be played with the dolls. The mission of my company is to nurture future global citizens.

BLOOM: What message do you hope the dolls give children?

Winnie Mak: For children with disabilities, my message is that there are people like them, and they’re not alone. We want all children to grow up having a secure self-image, and appreciating themselves as they are.

I want non-disabled children to learn about disabilities and embrace differences. My son is of the age where he’s very interested in dinosaurs. There are so many dinosaurs and they have difficult to pronounce names, and lots of different features, like running speed. My message is that if young children can learn about all of these complicated dinosaurs, and remember all of the names of the Pokemon monsters, there’s no reason they can’t learn about different disabilities.

BLOOM: How do you make the dolls?

Winnie Mak: I’m not a doll maker myself. I started with some sketches in a notebook and then did a digital drawing on the computer. I’m originally from Hong Kong and used to travel a lot to China when I worked for an electronics manufacturing company. I found a doll-making factory there that is helping me develop the six new dolls.

BLOOM: What ages are they targeted to?

Winnie Mak: Because they are cuddly and soft, they are targeted to children from one to two years old, up to five to six years old.

BLOOM: What do the dolls cost?

Winnie Mak: The new dolls will cost between $40 and $50, because they are more detailed than my first dolls, and more resources were put into developing the booklets that come with them. For each doll sold, 10 per cent of sales will go back to a charity that supports that particular disability. For example, the dolls with visual impairment will support Sightsavers. They work in some of the poorest parts of the world to prevent avoidable blindness and to promote disability rights.

Winnie’s new dolls will be launched in early September through a crowdfunding campaign. You can sign up for more information here. They will be shipped internationally. The wheelchair below comes separately, and can be used for play with any of the dolls.

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Ho ho, humbug? Toy shopping is hard for special-needs parents

By Julie Brocklehurst

There's a natural desire to pass family traditions down to the next generation, and I always thought I would… until my son, Brennen, came along, rocked my world, and changed how we do things, including the Christmas holidays, entirely.

For the first couple of years of Brennen’s life, I would dread going to toy stores. Who am I kidding? I still do. I avoid them at all costs, knowing that there is very little available that Brennen can “play” with.

Christmas shopping has become a challenge, and though I try to resist it, every year I inevitably find myself in a toy aisle, tears streaming down my face with the realization, once again, that I am living in a starkly different world. While I dream of wrapping up the one thing my child will adore, the one thing that will attract his attention, ignite his creativity and give him opportunities to play and learn and grow, it is unfortunately not that easy. 

Finding products and toys that will work for Brennen is difficult. I look at items, analyze their potential, and ultimately decide that they are not suitable—that he can’t physically manipulate them on his own, and will be a complete waste of money. Sometimes I will purchase the toy anyway, in hopes that some miracle will happen and his skills will improve. 

Sometimes I just want to feel like any other parent shopping at Toys R Us, who can pick out a present for their child without having to stress about whether or not it will be used for its intended purpose, or be added to the pile of stuff that goes into a closet and never comes out.

Christmas is different with a child with special needs. Brennen can’t write a letter to Santa. He can’t tell me anything that he would like to ask for, or what he hopes to find underneath the tree on Christmas morning. He can’t get up in the middle of the night to exclaim his excitement that Santa has come, and he can’t unwrap his own gifts. 

I don’t even know how much he understands about Christmas or Santa Claus or traditions or magic, but we do it anyway. We bring Christmas into our home and we celebrate with all of the things that a little boy should have around him—love and light and wonder and joy. We do it for him, and we do it for us, as a family. 

It is important for Andrew and I to carry on with some of the things that meant a lot to us growing up. We love Christmas! I still get giddy thinking about my favourite Christmas songs (so many I can’t pick just one!), favourite Christmas movie (It’s a Wonderful Life), and favourite Christmas treats (my Mom’s (used to be Nan’s) apricot raisin cake).

My most cherished Christmas memories from when I was a child are never related to a present. They are memories of going to mass on Christmas Eve with my father and grandfather, Dad reading The Night Before Christmas to my sister and I no matter how late it was (every year until we moved out), having turkey dinner on Christmas Day with my Mom’s family, and a sing-along at my parents’ annual blow-out Boxing Day party (that is still a tradition today!). My favourite memories revolve around people, family, spending time with loved ones and celebrating the holidays together. This is what matters most to me, and this is something that I can continue with my own little family. 

Brennen enjoys the sights and sounds of Christmas. He loves to look at the twinkly lights on the tree, and we have Christmas music playing constantly. He is happy when he is surrounded by people, and he certainly knows that he is loved.

We have also started some new traditions. On Christmas Eve, instead of going out, our family and friends now come to our house to see Brennen before he gets tucked into bed for the night. Our schedule of events now includes the Janeway Children’s Hospital Christmas party, Easter Seals Breakfast with Santa, and the Rainbow Riders Live Nativity. These have quickly become our favourite and most anticipated events of the season!

We don’t go overboard with gifts. On Christmas morning, we take time to help Brennen unwrap each one, enjoying the sound of ripping paper, and the anticipation of what’s coming next! We focus on the importance of what the holidays are truly about—family and togetherness, kindness and giving, magic and wonder. 

 
If I were to give advice to parents of children with special needs this Christmas, I would have to say not to put too much pressure on yourself, and don’t expect things to be ‘perfect.’ 

The holidays are stressful for all parents, but our children’s special needs add an extra degree of difficulty. Try not to get caught up in the details, and just enjoy the time with your family. It may not look the way you had envisioned it, and it may not run as smoothly as you had hoped, but it can still be special. Focus on the positive things, and think of all the things you are thankful for. Find happiness in your child! 

Bruce Templeton, who has visited with 1,500 children dressed up as St. Nick, writes in The Man in the Red Suit: "It's your presence with your family that matters a whole lot more than anything that's under the tree. It's your presence, not presents that counts."

Julie Brocklehurst is a writer, an advocate and a mother to a little boy with cerebral palsy. She created her blog Tiptoeing Through as a place to share some of her thoughts and feelings about life, love and the unexpected journey that is raising a child with special needs. Every month in her Tulip Tales series, Julie features a child with special needs from Newfoundland and Labrador and shares their amazing story. Julie is a director on the board of the Cerebral Palsy Association of Newfoundland and she runs a child care program for children with disabilities.

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'I wish [disabled] dolls existed when I was a kid'

By Jessica Geboers

When I was little I pushed my red and blue kitchen booster seat around the floor on my tall knees, pretending it was a wheelchair for my doll. Like many kids, I played house with dolls, often pretending I was the mom and they were my children. I can’t remember if using the booster as a wheelchair was my way of compensating for the lack of disability representation in my toys. But maybe it was. Kids act out what they know. It was perfectly normal for me, a child with cerebral palsy, to pretend I was the mother of child with cerebral palsy. And, for lack of a more accurate option, I had to use my imagination.

There aren’t many toys that depict the story of a person with a disability. However, all minorities have struggled to get representation from the toy industry.

There was Share A Smile Becky, a Barbie I had in my vast 1990s collection with a pink and purple wheelchair with sparkly wheels.

Her unfortunate title aside, I remember thinking it was cool to have a Barbie that reflected at least part of my reality. However, her time on store shelves  was short lived and she’s since been discontinued.

Some progress in diversity is being made. Mattel announced last month that they’re introducing 23 Barbies with different eye colours, hair colours, skin tones and face shapes. Until now, most Barbies were blonde. Unfortunately Barbie’s skinny body shape, which has been shown to be anatomically impossible, remains unchanged. Most girls and women, including those with a spectrum of body sizes and abilities, don't see themselves reflected in these dolls.

Cue the Toy Like Me campaign, which debuted in April. This Facebook and Twitter initiative was started by three British women: journalist Rebecca Atkinson, who’s deaf and visually impaired; Melissa Mostyn, a deaf writer whose daughter has cerebral palsy; and Karen Newell, a former play consultant whose son is blind. They're asking social media users to join the campaign by sharing images of toys, often handmade or altered, “that reflect disability positively,” as well as letters from children asking the toy industry to create “toys like them” using the hashtag #ToysLikeMe.

“When I was growing up, I never saw a doll like me,” Atkinson said. “I had two hearing aids. In the real world, there were people like me. In the doll world, I didn’t exist. What does that say to deaf and disabled children? That they aren’t worth it? That they’re invisible in the toys they play with? That they’re invisible in society?”

A month later Makie Lab, a 3D printed, made-to-order doll manufacturer out of London, England, answered the call by creating three dolls with visible disabilities or differences: one has vision loss and uses a cane, another comes with hearing aids or a cochlear implant, and the final one has a red facial birthmark. “It’s a pretty even race between the three, but Hetty (with hot pink hearing aids) is leading [sales] right now,” the lab told me in an e-mail.

“It’s fantastic that our supercharged design and manufacturing process means we can respond to a need that’s not met by traditional toy companies,” said Matthew Wiggins, chief technology officer of Makie Lab. “We’re hoping to make some kids—and their parents—really happy with these inclusive accessories.”

Judging by consumer comments on the Makie website, many are happy with the dolls that include disability storylines. I'm also happy. I wish these dolls had existed when I was a kid.

An argument can be made that it’s up to parents—not a toy—to help a child with a disability feel comfortable and confident. But I think these dolls are a helpful tool. And they’ll broaden the awareness of other children and families, too. After all, you can’t adjust to something you’ve never seen or played with.

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Can a robotic bear help kids in hospital feel better?

This video today on The New York Times looks at whether a teddy bear robot can help reduce anxiety, pain and loneliness in kids who are hospitalized.

The prototype, called Huggable, is being developed by Boston Children's Hospital and M.I.T.'s Media Lab. The hospital is financing a 90-person study to see if the robot, currently controlled by a remote worker, can capture a child's emotions by tracking physiological changes in a bracelet the child wears.

According to the related article, the robot, which will eventually operate on its own, "could be a soothing distraction and simultaneously capture data and information from patients, which would be fed to hospital staff, improving the continuity of care."

When I read about the research measuring physiological changes in hospitalized kids I immediately thought of this study done at Holland Bloorview several years ago. It found that children with severe disabilities, including some who can't communicate physically or verbally, react physiologically when watching a performance by our therapeutic clowns.

I understand that no hospital can afford to have therapeutic clowns or child life specialists available in the way that a robot bear could potentially be placed in each child's room.

I know robots are seen as the future, for example, in assisting seniors with physical tasks and keeping them company.

But I couldn't help feeling sad when I thought of the robot companion for our inpatient kids.

There is an interesting discussion going on at our Parent Voices at Holland Bloorview Facebook group with some very good points about the value of such a high-tech bear. If you haven't joined our group, please hop over and consider joining. Parent Voices is a place for parents to share practical advice and resources on parenting kids with disabilities.

What do you think of Huggable?

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Why I don't believe 'disabled' dolls invoke pity

By Louise Kinross

I was so psyched when I heard that British toy company Makies was creating dolls with disabilities and differences, like a birthmark on the face, in response to the #ToyLikeMe campaign run by parents of kids with disabilities.

So when I saw this New York Post piece by Kirsten Fleming criticizing the move, I was puzzled.

Kirsten writes that she has a "massive birthmark" on the left side of her face. Growing up with a doll that looked like her would have "magnified the very thing I learned not to focus on," she writes. And more than that, she argues that creating dolls with disabilities or "quirks" that set them apart is "code for condescending pity."  

I think Kirsten is wrong.

When our family adopted two children from Haiti 10 years ago, it was painful to take them into a mainstream toy store and find only white dolls. What does it say to a child when they don't see themselves mirrored in the culture around them?

Creating dolls that look like real kids, whether it's different races or abilities or with birthmarks, doesn't generate "pity" for those kids. It allows those kids to see themselves reflected back, and it allows their peers to make kids with differences part of their imaginative play. 

Last year 10-year-old Melissa Shang and her sister Eva got almost 150,000 people to sign a petition asking American Girl to release a doll with a disability storyline. Melissa has a rare form of muscular dystrophy and is the only student in her class who uses a wheelchair. "I hope they learn how it feels to be in a wheelchair and how it feels to be such an outsider in middle school," she told BLOOM in an interview. "Most importantly, I want them to know I'm just like them."

American Girl declined, missing what appeared to be a slam-dunk marketing opportunity.

I think Kirsten Fleming is a lone voice. And there's something mean-spirited about her words, as if she's really never gotten over being singled out for her own birthmark. 

In her piece she recounts the story of a family with a toddler with red birthmarks covering her legs in this way: "They complained that when they went out, her splotchy legs drew persistent stares. How inconvenient for them."

What do you think?

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I want a doll (or toy) like me

Here are some example of dolls and stuffies adapted to include stomach tubes, braces, wheelchairs and more. A number of you sent photos in. We couldn't include them all, but hopefully these will give you some ideas for your own dolls and toys.

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A doll like me

By Louise Kinross

This is Katie Hebert with her doll with a stomach feeding tube and brother Nathan. "We heated up a skewer and used it to melt a hole in the doll's stomach and then just placed the tube as usual," says mom Kyla. "The kids thought the 'operation' was so cool."

Katie has suspected mitochondrial disease and her family in Texas has adapted her dolls to be like her. I received Katie's photos, and many from other families, after our story about Melissa Shang and her petition to have American Girl release a doll with a disability. We'll share more pictures in the BLOOM print magazine later this month. And...I am interviewing Melissa and her older sister Eva tomorrow about their campaign to see kids with disabilities represented in dolls and books and media.

Below is a picture of Katie with a monkey with a g-tube made for her by Tubie Friends, a non-profit that adapts toys free of charge so that they have medical equipment or features like their owners. "They do all kinds of modifications, feeding tubes and traches and ports and even heart-surgery scars," Kyla says.

And below that is Katie with an American Girl doll who has a wheelchair, glasses and a sock-monkey hat like her.

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Disability is part of their doll's story

By Louise Kinross

In January I wrote about Melissa Shang, a girl who at age 10 got 150,000 people to sign a petition asking American Girl to release a doll with a disability. Melissa has a form of muscular dystrophy. The company hasn't.

Then I heard from the Pots family in St. Catharines, outside Toronto. Pictured above are Emily, Sophia, Rachel and Janneke. Rachel and Janneke both use wheelchairs now and have global developmental delay with no diagnosis.

Their mom Sara sent me a photo (below) of an American Girl doll that Emily and Sophie had adapted to reflect their family's experience. They purchased the wheelchair from American Girl. But "the hand splint, g-tube, tinted glasses (for vision clarity) and ankle-foot orthoses were modified by 'Pot Home Health Supplies,'" Sara says, aka Emily and Sophia. "My kids get more satisfaction out of making the pieces.

"From the very beginning Emily and Sophia insisted we save money for Rachel and Janneke to have a doll in a wheelchair," Sara says. "As they began to visit the American Girl stores and website, they were frustrated to see there were little to no props for girls with disability. What I love about that frustration is that it comes from their own hearts. My hope is that they will continue to see places and things that need representation of all, not just in the doll world, but beyond."

Do your kids adapt their dolls in this way? Please send your pics to lkinross@hollandbloorview.ca and we'll share them. 

Photo by Elma Regnerus

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Imagine...a doll with pink hearing aids!

A fuscia pink wheelchair and hearing aids are part of a new American Girl line of accessories that includes purple sunglasses, earrings in the shape of pets and a flower-power purse.

Brilliant!

But after noting that these items allow kids with disabilities to see themselves in their toys, and help normalize differences for all children, Jezebel writer Dodai Stewart questions whether the company isn't focusing too much on "ultra-customization" -- instead of allowing girls to imagine themselves in a different time and culture.

"Does it put too much emphasis on the individual?" Stewart writes. "Is it all connected to this new selfishness, the kind of parenting that insists every child is a special snowflake, worthy of praise just for existing?

Huh?!! wrote Ellen at Love That Max this morning, which is where I heard about the story.

Stewart continues: "It seems like, with the original history-oriented American Girl Dolls, the doll was a time-machine friend, the book taught a lesson, and you didn't have to be black to learn from Addy, the girl who escapes slavery during the Civil War."

Yup, that makes sense.

But Stewart then questions whether the custom dolls mean "there's less interest in exploring different cultures."

Whoa!

News flash: Disability is a culture, an identity, a minority group that is devalued. Why does Stewart assume that only a girl who wears hearing aids or uses a wheelchair is going to purchase these accessories?

What about the girl who hears fine but want to imagine, through her doll, what it's like to wear pink hearing aids and speak with her hands and her mouth?

Isn't that the same as pretending you're the girl escaping slavery in the Civil War?

How is it any different?

For the first time millions of little girls (and boys) are going to be able to use their play in a way that opens up their minds to greater diversity.

Every child is a snowflake, and the more we encourage kids to create stories and play about all variations of those intricately-patterned crystals, the better. There isn't anything selfish about that.

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