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Thursday, Jan. 15, 2026
The Daily Pennsylvanian

A culture frozen in fabric

A Philadelphia collector has amassed more than 300 black dolls that collectively tell her culture's story. A ballerina raises her cocoa-colored arms to perfect a pirouette, almost touching the porcelain complexion of a toddler dressed in 1950s-era clothing. To her right, Nelson Mandela leans against a wire stand, a determined expression caught in the puckered fabric of his face. Meet the colorful cast of the Philadelphia Doll Museum. From beaded dolls crafted in Africa to figurines dating to the Reconstruction to modern-day plastic portraits of famous African Americans, Philadelphia resident Barbara Whiteman has amassed a collection of more than 300 black dolls. Part of the diverse collection was on display at the Annenberg Center Wednesday night, accompanying a film on Whiteman and her museum created for a final film project by Communications graduate students Nicole Keating and Linus Abraham. During the film and the reception that followed, Whiteman explained the nature of her work. Over the last 15 years, she and her husband have traveled up and down the eastern seaboard and as far west as Chicago to comb doll shows and antique conventions for black dolls that "have a history or reflect the black culture." "I am a collector at heart," she said. "And finding these dolls was a natural outgrowth of my interest in my people's story." Such interest had led her to countries like Senegal and Gambia to look for African art, but after talking to her mother and others who played with and were shaped by black dolls as children, she learned there was a rich history waiting to unfold back home in America. Not simply playthings or craftsmanship to be admired, each doll has a story to tell. For example, one "topsy turvy" doll from before the Civil War is, at first glance, a white woman. Yet, with a flip of her skirts, she is quickly transformed into a black woman. When enslaved black children were playing with the forbidden white doll, they could easily pretend to be playing with a black doll should an overseer happen to pass by, Whiteman explained. Additionally, the dolls speak to how various cultures perceived the black people. While the fine features and well-made bodies of dolls crafted in Europe reflect a general respect for Africans, poorly made American dolls -- labeled "darkies and pickaninnies" -- speak to a myth of black inferiority that prevailed during much of America's past. Whiteman is an expert on such stories, explaining that a good deal of research into books, company catalogues and magazines accompanies the acquisition of each doll. This knowledge enables her to present parts of her collection to various schools and organizations in hopes of fulfilling the museum's primary mission -- education. While she said some collectors like to keep their collections private, her hope is to create a "museum without walls," and allow everyone to "share in the dolls and their histories." Often her audience is made up of children, and Whiteman is able to use her dolls to explore deeper racial issues with them. She said they are almost always uncomfortable with one particular doll that, with almost ebony features, is the darkest of the collection. Usually, they'll say "she's too black," or "her lips are too big," she explained. Whiteman said such comments are symptoms of growing up in a society that equates blackness with ugliness. She tries to counter the stereotypes by telling the children this is her favorite doll and explaining it's okay to be black. Whiteman hopes to reach a greater slice of the community through the establishment of a more permanent museum. The dolls are now housed at her home at 7257 N. 18th Street, and after overspilling her daughter's old room, occupy more than six cases in the living room. Yet such an arrangement has its limitations -- especially since she wants to expand the museum to include dolls of other cultures and ethnicities. Judging from the enormous enthusiasm of the guests Wednesday night, who raved that Whiteman's work was of the "highest importance to Philadelphia," and "an amazing vehicle for education," such a museum would likely be warmly welcomed by the community.