Netflix + Shondaland + Juneteenth = "Black Barbie"

Director Lagueria Davis spoke with me about what "Black Barbie" symbolizes

Dearest Gentle Reader: “Black Barbie” is finally here! Today is the day Lagueria Davis’s much anticipated film about her aunt’s role in creating a Black Barbie debuts on Netflix. Truly, the Netflix + Shondaland + Juneteenth stars have aligned to bring audiences this award-winning film at just the right moment: on a federal holiday.

And if you’ve ever binged “Bridgerton” or seen “Grey’s Anatomy,” you already have a passport stamp from Shondaland. Chances are you thoroughly enjoyed the ride and went back for more.

Shonda Rhimes’s producing prowess has this effect. Her loving embrace of “Black Barbie” after a successful run at SXSW last summer will also ease you over hump day this week, which happens to be Juneteenth.

Of course filmmaker Lagueria Davis took her time working on this project, which tells the story of her Aunt Beulah Mae Mitchell and two Black women co-workers at Mattel. Indeed, Davis discovers exactly how Aunt Mae and her colleagues convinced Ruth Handler to move forward with Black Barbie.

Davis graciously spoke with me last week during a press junket. I asked her about the importance of representation and visibility. I also inquired about who she’d cast if Netflix wanted to do a biopic about the inspiration for “Black Barbie.” Davis knew exactly who she’d choose to play her aunt: 93 yo Marla Gibbs, well-known for her role as Florence Johnston in The Jeffersons. Hear what else Davis shared:

As further context for the filmmaker’s thinking, Davis included this from her director’s statement:

I can recall having three dolls growing up. The first, a life-size doll of Krystle Carrington from the TV show DYNASTY. The second was a Black Cabbage Patch doll. The third, a Black Raggedy Ann doll that my mother had specially made for me, which she paid $150 for. We were not a rich family. For my mom to drop $150 per doll — she bought three, one for me and my two younger siblings — meant something more than I could have ever understood then. However, I thought my Krystle doll was beautiful and wanted to look like her. But Black Raggedy Ann and the Cabbage Patch looked more like me, and as a child, I found some comfort in that. Within that comfort lived competing ideas and conflicting emotions, because unfortunately, I didn’t find my Black Cabbage Patch or Black Raggedy Ann to be beautiful dolls. That being said, I think it’s worth exploring the story behind that comfort zone, and how that zone constructs or deconstructs one’s identity.

That Ms. Davis is so willing and able to share this deeply personal story warms my heart. As someone who is not Black and never really played with dolls, Davis’s keen observations would never have occurred to me.

(Okay, I did have a doll. I named him “Thomas” because he looked like a boy. Curiously, he never had a stitch of clothing, ever. He also resembled and felt more like an infant CPR manikin than a doll. I think he weighed about 20 pounds. He was so heavy I dragged him by the arm everywhere I went until I finally ditched him. Perhaps this explains how I morphed into a little tomboy and why I never had children. Who knows?)

Still, “Black Barbie” should be the toast of the town this Juneteenth. And Lagueria Davis’s candor about herself and her family ought to help viewers consider what it means to develop a secure, confident racial and cultural identity.