I got inspired to write about American Girl dolls when "Kit Kittredge," the first feature film about an American Girl Doll character, was released a year ago just when the stock market began to plunge — an ironic coincidence since Kit lives in Cincinnati during the Great Depression. Her father loses his car dealership and must leave town to look for work. To help make ends meet, Mrs. Kittredge raises chickens, grows vegetables and takes in boarders, while 10-year-old Kit, who has pluck and determination, decides to become a journalist and succeeds in solving a crime through her investigative research. I also found it ironic that a girl like Kit in today's economy would not be able to afford an American Girl Doll with its price tag of $100.
The reason for the film's success had little to do with its relevance to present-day social and economic concerns. Known as the "anti-Barbie," Kit, and her sister doll-characters, are among a very few positive role models in toyland for girls, and despite their price tag, they enjoy an almost cult-like following, Pleasant T. Rowland started marketing the dolls through a mail-order company in 1986 as an alternative to dolls that sell sexiness and precocity. Since then, over 14 million dolls have been sold, as have more than 125 million copies of the books that tell each girl-doll's story.
The characters are the 21st century equivalent of Nancy Drew — girls
Some day, there might be a woman nominee for the Supreme Court who will acknowledge the influence of Kit Kittredge on her career choice — that is, if she can afford the doll. An American Girl Doll and her accessories can only be purchased through the company's catalogue or in one of its flagship American Girl doll stores. Kit and her caboodle, which includes her tree house, her reporter dress and accessories, holiday dress, holiday baking set and dog Gracie, cost close to $400. You can buy Malibu Barbie at Target for $39.99. You can buy a copy of The Nancy Drew Sleuth Book in a bookstore for $6.94.
American Girl dolls have been lauded for their history lessons, their real girl bodies, their commitment to social change — qualities you can't attribute to Bratz dolls with their thongs and diamonds. There is Addy, an African-American who grows up during the Civil War; Josephina, who lives in New Mexico in the 1820s; Kaya, a Nez Perce girl growing up in 1764. Then there is Julia, who lives in San Francisco in the 1970s and her best friend Ivy, who is Asian-American. The latest in the historical/diversity line-up is a Jewish-American girl, nine-year-old Rebecca Rubin, who lives on the Lower East Side in 1914 with her Russian-Jewish immigrant parents, siblings and "Bubbie," her grandmother.
According to the Mattell-owned American Girl Doll Company, its mission is to "create girls of strong character." For the last seven years, it has offered a Girl of the Year contemporary character. Chrissa, the doll of 2009, has had to move with her family to live with her grandmother. When Chrissa starts her new school, she is given the cold shoulder by the "Mean Bees," and in response becomes the school's anti-bullying spokesperson. Chrissa has her own feature film, "An American Girl: Chrissa Stands Strong," and the company supports the Stop the Bullying campaign.
I applaud Chrissa's work to stamp out bullying but I will have to spend $178 to buy her "Starter Collection." I am hoping my granddaughter will be satisfied with the two American Girl dolls she already owns. I have watched her circle items in the catalogue the way I dog-ear pages in the Neiman Marcus catalogue. In a New York Times article last year, A.O. Scott wondered, "Is the brand reflecting tastes or enforcing norms of behavior? Is it teaching girls to be independent spirits or devoted shoppers?" He guesses, "Probably all those things and more."
There are those who condemn American Girl dolls for being elitist and expensive. No one would deny we live in an age where marketing and materialism make us consumers early in life. But some realities hold true throughout the ages — girls and dolls have a special bond. If I were a little girl today, I would certainly identify with and want to own Kit, who hoped to be a writer and make a difference in the world.
Michelle Gillett is a regular Eagle contributor.
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