Reversible dolls: childhood memories and their fascinating history

Reversible dolls intrigue me, combining my personal memories with the depth of their history. Through these toys, which reveal different characters depending on how they are flipped, I’ve discovered an interesting journey across different eras and regions. In this post, I’ll start sharing the stories behind these dolls, their evolution, and what makes them so special in today’s world.

 

When I was a child, I had a reversible doll. On one side, it was Little Red Riding Hood, and when you flipped it over, it became the Big Bad Wolf. I remember it seemed like a very old doll, one of those that, no matter how much you scrub, never really gets clean. It was one of those "ugly but beautiful" objects. I don't recall playing with it much, but I do remember how special it made me feel. It was unlike any other doll I had seen, and that fascinated me.

I also remember a toy museum near my grandmother's house. It was an overcrowded, slightly dark and dusty building, with a damp and mothball smell. You could play with lots of things there: old bicycles with huge front wheels (I just found out they're called penny-farthing 😂) tiny market stalls with miniature products, and many many that amazed me. Among all of them, the reversible dolls were my absolute favourite.

 

Photo taken by me at the Figueres Toy Museum, 2022.

As I grew older, I lost track of my reversible doll. I don’t know what happened to it, and oddly, my mother doesn’t even remember me having one. Sometimes I wonder if it only existed in my imagination or if I loved it so much when I saw it in the museum that I created a memory around it.

When I started sewing, I began to create reversible dolls. I liked the idea of combining different characters, features, ages, and creating dolls that told unique stories. The dolls I grew up with were always very white, very blonde, very pretty, and they didn’t reflect the reality I saw around me.

After many attempts, I found a pattern that worked well, and it’s the one I use now for the dolls you can see around here.

Product photo from my website, Molli & Moai, 2024.

One day, a fellow artisan told me she knew about these dolls through an exhibition in Paris called "Black Dolls, The Deborah Neff Collection" (I really recommend checking out the link). As I researched more about these vintage dolls, I was blown away. The shapes, colours, and features were incredible, but what struck me most was the history behind them.

In particular, what Nora Philippe, the exhibition’s curator, explained about these "Topsy-Turvy Dolls" (reversible dolls with one white side and one black side, separated by a skirt or dress) caught my attention:

“These dolls symbolise a racially segregated world. Although we don’t know exactly how children played with them, it’s possible that for a white child, the doll represented their white mother and black nanny, while for a black child, it might have represented their white mistress and black mother. These dolls are both a symptom of the segregated society of the time and a tool to fight racism, proposing an alternative story in an unjust society.”

 

Left Photo: Ellen McDermott / Author unknown, Woman in Paisley Coat Dress, United States, circa first quarter of the 20th century, cotton.

Center Photo: Ellen McDermott / Photographer unknown, Cabinet Card, Burnham Studio, Norway, Maine, United States, circa 1870–1885.

Right Photo: Ellen McDermott / Author unknown, Minimal Topsy-Turvy, United States, circa 1920–1930, cotton.

The more I learned about these reversible dolls, the more uncomfortable I felt with what I was doing. These dolls were created in the context of racism and slavery, and I wondered if, by making reversible dolls, I was stepping into historical and cultural themes that I couldn’t fully grasp.

I felt stuck and stopped making reversible dolls.

One day, at a fair, a group of children approached my stall and played with some of the dolls. One of the girls picked up a black doll, and when she discovered that on the other side there was a white doll, she smiled shyly and shared it with her friend, because these dolls represented both of them. Another boy picked up a black doll with curly hair and smiled too, because they shared the same hair and skin.

That day, I realised something important: children simply enjoy themselves. They don’t complicate things like adults do. On my table were dolls of different skin tones and features, representing everyone who passed by.

 

Photo taken by me at the Figueres Toy Museum, 2022.

 

This helped me to unblock myself, and I became curious again, wanting to research further.

That same week, I visited a large toy store chain, and really, 40 years later, the dolls are still very white, very blonde, very pretty. While researching online, I discovered that throughout history and across the world, there are many types of reversible dolls: in Europe, during the Victorian era, they typically depicted traditional fairy tales; many grandmothers recall dolls that represented opposing emotions, like a sad face on one side and a happy face on the other. There are references from ancient Egypt, and in Brazil, Japan, and Africa also have their own versions of reversible dolls.

All this new wave of information helped me to unblock myself. I understood that I don’t make dolls to send a message or to be politically correct. I make dolls because I enjoy creating something that can become a child’s companion, their friend, or an object that gives them comfort. I want any child who sees my dolls to feel represented, because it’s only fair and natural.

The history behind reversible dolls is filled with stories waiting to be told. In future posts, I’ll be diving deeper into their origins and meanings. I hope you’ll follow along to discover more!