"But we'd never have to look at the white side of it"

Papertrix's King Kong post, a focus on crazy ethnic violence in my town and abroad, and the aftertaste of the crusade against "them" who would destroy Christmas have all pushed me to post about this book: Buy Golly. Check it out, I say.

I've been itching to talk about it ever since I thumbed through the freaky find in the new book section of a nearby library. A little over ten years ago, blackface collectables made the news as high fashion tchotchkies here in the United States. Buy Golly illustrates these products in the U.K., where the Brits took them to mind-screwing new dimensions. In many instances of American blackface imagery, the hate practically smacks me in the face, but the stuff in Buy Golly confronts me with total weirdness. Yes, they present a few of the usual negative stereotypes and bizarrely white lipped masks, but often with twisted affection. They've managed to make dehumanization pretty. Talk about bamboozling!

For example, a beautiful group of black children grace the cover a book, painted in a naturalistic, yet vibrant style. It looks like Caledcott Medal worthy stuff. What's the book called? "Ten Little Niggers"!

Strangest of all is the Golliwogg himself. If there was a Raggedy Amos N' Andy, he'd be the star. He's a protean critter Like the tadpole he's named for. Like Aunt Jemima, he's gone through many makeovers. In the 80's, Golliwogg appeared in a series of Smurf like action poses. Football Golliwogg, Surfing Golliwogg, etc.

When I was a kid, I remember seeing a button-eyed, dark skinned doll in an upscale suburban store and begging my mom to buy it. Since black dolls were hard to find, Mom was ordinarily happy to buy them, but that one wasn't worth it to her. She refused in disgust. It was one of those reversible dolls. Depending on how you pulled the skirt, you would see a white doll in a lacy dress with painted blue eyes or a black doll with button eyes in some kind of homely plaid. But we'd never have to look at the white side of it, I said. No, she said. I rode a churning swell of anger, shame and disappointment as we left the store. Why couldn't the people make the doll the right way? Why couldn't I have it anyway?

Years latter, I still don't know exactly what to say about Golliwogg, but he's definitely one doll that will never stuff any kid's Christmas stockings in my family.