I Wish I Had a Barbie Like the Aaliyah Doll Growing Up

Get the Full StoryGrowing up, I, like many girls, had a Barbie doll. From her spunky outfits and fun hairstyles to her various professions, the iconic toy was as much of a source of empowerment as it was enjoyment. The doll's manufacturer, Mattel, has created many different versions of Barbie over the years, but the latest is one I wish I could've personally experienced growing up. On Jan. 16, Mattel released a new Barbie honoring the late R&B princess, Aaliyah. Seeing this creation immediately filled me with a sense of happiness - but I also felt a great longing for a doll like this during my formative years.

The now-sold-out Aaliyah Barbie - which came out on what would have been the singer's 46th birthday - is the latest in Mattel's Music Series, made in collaboration with the singer's brother, Rashad Haughton. Since Aaliyah lost her life in a horrific plane crash in 2001 at only 22 years old, Haughton has remained steadfast in preserving his sister's legacy, especially through many major collaborations including one with MAC in 2018 , but this one with Mattel hit me differently.

Although I was only three years old when the singer passed, I was always inspired by her, especially as I entered my high school years. I loved her style, her effortless yet distinct approach to beauty through side parts and inner winged eyeliner - her whole elan.

From Bratz to Barbies, I loved playing with my dolls, giving them different roles, putting them in my toy cars, sliding them down my grandmother's stairs, and imagining my own little world. Trips to the toy aisles of Target and Toys R US were also part of the childhood escapades I highly anticipated. In hindsight, I realize that the majority of the dolls I owned and saw in stores did not look like me - an experience many Black girls can relate to.

Image Source: Getty Photo by Sal Idriss Redferns

When I was younger, many of Barbie's collections were exclusionary to Black people, with most of these dolls being white with either blond or brunette hair. There were exceptions here and there, but even many of those dolls tokenized Black people and garnered significant criticism a particular Oreo-themed Black Barbie made in the '90s comes to mind. . . . While I loved all of my Barbies equally, none were a true reflection of me or the woman I would become. I grew up in Brooklyn, which was a melting pot of different cultures and particularly welcoming for my migrant Jamaican family, so I wasn't aware that there was a world that didn't always embrace my people. Confidence and pride in identity were always pushed in my home environment, so I didn't experience racial stereotyping or prejudice as a child. My family and friends didn't make me feel unpretty or that my Blackness was an inferior alternative, but the toy shelves did.

Our relationship with beauty doesn't just begin when we put on our mother's red lipstick for the first time. It begins from the moment we enter the world, with the people we're around, the places we see, and the conversations we hear influencing the way we look at ourselves. The young mind is sharper than we think, with many experiences having a lasting impact, which is why having a Black doll like Aaliyah would have been so monumental to grow up with. While her beauty is awe-inspiring, it's bigger than her physicality. Aaliyah was a Black woman who succeeded simply by being herself and showing up fearlessly, and it's gratifying to see Mattel release her doll, not just to preserve her legacy, but for young Black girls to see their beauty is also valued.

Naomi Parris she her is a New York-based fashion and beauty writer with over seven years of experience. She served as an editorial operations associate at PS, specializing in all things fashion. Obsessed with telling stories that merge fashion and culture, her areas of expertise include Fashion Week coverage, daily news, high-profile interviews, shopping roundups, and beauty stories.

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