Barbie and the column that never ran

"For the newest Barbie Fashionista, Mattel said it closely worked with the National Down Syndrome Society on the doll's shape, features, clothing, accessory, and packaging to ensure that it accurately represents a person with Down syndrome," CNN reported Tuesday. "The genetic condition affects cognitive ability, causing mild to severe learning disabilities and distinctive facial characteristics."

A Mattel executive told reporters that the doll reflects the company's mission "to enable all children to see themselves in Barbie, while also encouraging children to play with dolls who do not look like themselves." It has created an array of dolls with disabilities of one kind or another. There is a Barbie with a prosthetic leg, one with hearing aids, one that comes with a wheelchair, and even a doll with vitiligo, a disease that causes skin discoloration.

CNN quoted Curt Decker, executive director of the National Disability Rights Network, who rejoiced that "a big icon of society like Barbie now demonstrates or shows that there are different types of people . . . [who] can be attractive and something kids want to play with." Ideally, he added, the new dolls can remove stigmas surrounding disabilities so that children will know there is "nothing wrong" with people who have them.

I'm not sure I agree that children need to "see themselves in Barbie" or any other toy. Girls and boys have played forever with dolls and action figures that look nothing like them (or in some cases like anyone): Raggedy Ann and Andy, Kewpie Dolls, Cabbage Patch Kids, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Tickle Me Elmos, and countless others. On the other hand, if diversifying the look of dolls can help give children a more realistic view of the varieties of human appearance, why not do so? Considering the bigotry that Down syndrome triggers even in many highly educated people, anything that helps destigmatize the condition is to the good.

The new doll approximates the look of a young woman with Down syndrome, including a shorter frame and a longer torso. In CNN's description, "the face features a rounder shape, smaller ears, a flat nasal bridge, while the eyes are slightly slanted in an almond shape." There are pink orthotics to support the feet and ankles and the single crease across the palm that is often found in people with Down syndrome. Even Barbie's necklace has significance. It features three pink chevrons, representing three copies of the 21st chromosome. Most babies inherit 23 chromosomes from each parent, for a total of 46, but babies with Down syndrome have an extra chromosome at position 21. It's that genetic abnormality that triggers the development of the condition.

Which takes me back to 1997.

In May of that year, Mattel attempted its first foray into the realm of dolls with disabilities. It introduced "Share a Smile" Becky, a Barbie-like fashion doll in a wheelchair.

"Becky's bright pink wheelchair has purple shiny Mylar around the wheels and a white backpack that fits on the back of the wheelchair," the Chicago Tribune reported. "Becky sports a turquoise skirt and vest set with matching shoes, pink capri pants, and a necklace." Then as now, Mattel said its purpose was to help dispel stereotypes and teach children that someone can have a disability and still be beautiful.

But I had my doubts. Barbie had always embodied roles that girls might dream of for themselves — Ballet Barbie, Astronaut Barbie, Parisian Barbie, Miss America Barbie, Eskimo Barbie, even President Barbie. Putting Barbie in a wheelchair, I thought, amounted to treating infirmity as a source of entertainment.

But what really dismayed me was the company's press conference introducing the new doll: It was held in a room filled with girls in wheelchairs. I thought that was incredibly tasteless and exploitive. It provoked me to compose a satirical column in the form of a "confidential memo" to Mattel's board of directors from the head of the marketing division.

"The introduction of Mattel's new Wheelchair Barbie was a fantastic success," I wrote.

At the press conference on Wednesday, we hit a home run! Media coverage of the doll was glowing. ... Filling the room with children in wheelchairs was a masterstroke. Great visuals for the TV cameras. Handicapped girls playing with our dolls — irresistible! Inviting James Brady, the former press secretary to Ronald Reagan who was shot and paralyzed during an assassination attempt, was another deft touch. Result: a tremendous PR coup for Mattel.

The "memo" went on to suggest that the company use the success of the wheelchair doll to launch other Barbies with other forms of disability or affliction.

That column never ran. It was edited and laid out for publication as usual, but when it crossed the desk of Editorial Page Editor H.D.S. Greenway, who oversaw the entire opinion section, he spiked it. "I'm killing this column," he told me, not unkindly. "Too many readers will think it's in bad taste and it will cause you more trouble than it's worth." He said the time would come when I would thank him for his decision. I groused, but I had reason to trust his good judgment. After all, he had hired me.

As it turned out, Mattel ran into problems with "Share a Smile" Becky. The wheelchair was too big to fit through the doors or onto the elevator of the Barbie Dreamhouse, the giant dollhouse that was the focal point of the Barbie universe. Rather than modify the dollhouse to accommodate the wheelchair, Mattel discontinued the Becky line altogether. It would be more than 22 years before the company would try again. In 2019, Mattel introduced a new Barbie in a wheelchair, which it said had become one of the most requested accessories from Barbie fans. This time it included a ramp compatible with the Dreamhouse. Mattel had learned from its mistake.

And I learned from mine. I still think that filling a room with disabled children to promote a new doll was disrespectful and in poor taste, but perhaps my own leap to mock Mattel's efforts was off base too. In retrospect, I recognize the benefit in producing dolls that depict disability as just another of the varieties in which humans appear.

That is especially true of the newest Barbie.

In Europe and the United States today, a prenatal Down syndrome diagnosis nearly always leads to abortion, even though the overwhelming majority of people with Down syndrome express contentment. Researchers at Boston Children's Hospital reported in 2011 that "the experience of Down syndrome is a positive one for most parents, siblings, and people with Down syndrome." In three linked surveys, the research team found that 79 percent of parents of a child with Down syndrome reported that their outlook on life was enhanced because of their child, while 94 percent of brothers and sisters of someone with Down syndrome expressed pride in their sibling. As for the Down syndrome respondents themselves, an astonishing 99 percent said they were happy with their lives.

Perhaps if more children, while still young enough to play with dolls, absorb the lesson that individuals with Down syndrome — or in wheelchairs — can be a source of joy and radiance, the popular prejudice against them will diminish. I'm not sure I grasped that 26 years ago.

I know better now.

Jeff Jacoby is a columnist for The Boston Globe, from which this is reprinted with permission."