Cameron Tyler is scampering around the living room, talking a mile a minute about sports, dinosaurs and “The Incredibles.”
The 5-year-old momentarily is silenced when he spots the collection of dolls lined up on the sofa.
“That’s my favorite one,” he says, running to a doll with light brown skin, curly hair, blue pants, a light blue shirt and red sneakers.
“Know why?” he asks, eyes twinkling. “Cause it’s me!” Although the doll’s “official” name is Goodwin, there’s no doubt it’s Cameron.
“It looks like me when I was little,” Cameron explains, “but now I’m older it doesn’t look as much as me, but it’s still me … and I love me.”
For Cameron’s aunt, Courtney Helm, there couldn’t be any higher praise. Five years ago, when Cameron was born, Helm went looking for “just the right” gift for her nephew.
She was disappointed.
“There weren’t any dolls out there that looked like Cameron,” she recalls. “My sister is white, and my brother-in-law is black, and I quickly realized that there were no biracial dolls on the market.”
At the same time, Helm began to realize there were many biracial children in her Brooklyn, N.J., neighborhood who didn’t have a doll that looked like them, either.
“Children are the greatest gift in the world,” says Helm, who studied toy design at the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York City, “and all children should have dolls that look like them.”
Inspiration led to innovation and, ultimately, the creation of Molloy Toys and the Real Kidz line of dolls.
Real Kidz, like the real-life offspring of mixed-race relationships, come in a variety of combinations. Currently there are five dolls in the line and more are expected by the end of the year.
Goodwin, the sole boy in the line, is the son of a white mother and a black father.
“Cameron’s been the inspiration from the start,” says Helm, who founded Molloy Toys with her husband, David. “I wanted Cameron to feel comfortable in whatever situation he’s in. I want to teach tolerance. I want kids to celebrate their heritage.”
From the start, Caroline and Danny Tyler, Helm’s sister and brother-in-law, were behind the idea.
“I thought it was a great concept,” says Caroline Tyler, mom to a 2-year-old son, Reese, and a third baby due this summer. “There wasn’t anything like it on the market and there was such a need. And that it was going to be my son – well, that was just so wonderful,” she says.
Danny Tyler agrees.
“Courtney loves Cameron and she wanted to do something for him,” he says. “But these dolls go beyond Cameron … They’re for children from biracial families and they’re for all kids, regardless of race.”
It was important, says Helm, for each of the dolls, which are named after streets in Helm’s neighborhood, to have his or her own personality.
“Everyone is not alike,” says Helm, mother of 2-year-old Campbell, “and we should all embrace what makes us special and unique.”
For that reason, Helm says, each of the dolls comes with a hangtag that reads, “My parents are from two different ethnic backgrounds. They created me out of love and I’m a perfect mixture of both.”
Standing about 17 inches tall, the dolls are soft, with no detachable parts. They’re dressed in clothing just right for the playground and feature hair that represents the doll’s racial heritage.
Priced at $15.99 each, they can be ordered online at the Molloy Toys website (molloytoy.com).
They’re being targeted to the toddler-preschool market, Helm says, “because they’re the ones who have no preconceived notions about race.” Since the launch last year, the response to the dolls has been overwhelmingly positive, Helm says.
“We’ve been getting a lot of requests from children and parents of all different backgrounds for dolls who look like them,” she says.
In response, Molloy Toys is working on a new line that hopefully will be out by the end of the year. Among the biracial combinations likely to be included in the new line are black-Hispanic and Hispanic-Asian.
“Real Kidz accurately reflects the world we – and our children – live in,” Helm says. “It’s a great way to celebrate our different ethnic backgrounds.”
Giving “his” Goodwin a big hug, Cameron agrees. “I’m great just the way I am” he says, smiling. “I’m the best.”
