Her discount daughter

She walks into the toy store, pet sitting money burning a hole in her pocket. She has been begging me to drive her down here all week. The moment has finally arrived. Striding through the aisles of this upscale wonderland, she begins to make selections. "That one costs ninety dollars," I say. Or, "You don't have quite enough money for this." I can see the sparkle fading from her eyes. I quickly change tactics. "Do you want me to show you some things in your price range?" She is clearly relieved. Until I start showing her the options. I admit to feeling a bit disappointed myself. The affordable options are lousy in this wealthy suburban toy store. I would hate to see my daughter spend her hard earned money on a trinket that wouldn't last until bedtime. This is shaping up to be one of those teachable moments where everyone ends up in tears. I begin orchestrating our escape to somewhere less soul crushing, when the sale table catches my eye.

 

"Let's see what's over here," I say, leading her to the discount bins. "These toys are on sale so they might be in your price range." The sparkle comes back as she beelines for the vanilla scented French doll, with shiny silver shoes. I try to break the bad news gently as I tell her that, even on sale, those dolls are very expensive. She sets the doll back down on the table and I notice two things. The first is the big 75% off sticker on the box. I do a quick calculation in my head. I tell her she can buy the doll!

 

The second thing I notice is that this doll is black. There is another doll in the discount bin. She is Asian. I look over my shoulder at the regularly priced dolls on the shelves behind me. White. My daughter is already crooning to the doll she has swept back up off the table and is rushing to the register with. She is thrilled. I am a bit jealous of her oblivious joy. The minority dolls cost 75% less than their white counterparts.

 

I have a bit of a queasy feeling as I help my little girl release her "daughter" from the box. Is it the overpowering scent of vanilla, the strange racial inequality I just encountered or the fact that I have suddenly become a grandma?