Introduction
We don’t want to brag, but one day in 2019, we got a table at an exclusive café. While everyone we knew was at work, we sat midday drinking tea and eating finger sandwiches. We barely knew how to act. As we sat among little girls in dresses and tiaras, we were concerned we didn’t meet the dress code. Suddenly filled with doubt, we turned to ask our tablemates if we were fitting in, but they weren’t talking. Considering that we were surrounded by eighteen-inch dolls in booster seats, that wasn’t too much of a surprise.
Where were we? At the American Girl Café, of course.
We were just two adult women historians and podcast hosts casually spending a weekday wandering around the American Girl store with a photographer in tow. We were trying to give “it’s not a big deal” energy the entire trip, but the truth was, it was a big deal and we had zero chill.
We’d started a podcast that year to relive the American Girl series, book by book. What started out as a fun project to do together after finishing grad school hit the airwaves that February as content we truly thought only our friends and family might consume. Maybe our parents, strangers to technology, would respond with praise akin to their commentary on our childhood art projects. “That’s nice, girls,” they’d tell us. “I don’t know what a podcast is or what you’re doing, but I will put it right up here on the fridge.” The pride we’d feel would be overwhelming. Imagine our surprise when we found there were actually a lot of people who wanted to relive the books with us and talk about all things American Girl.
That’s how we scored a VIP invite to the American Girl store in New York City. Our college alumni magazine arranged a guided visit where their photographer could take pics of us for a story. Nothing says “take pride in your school” like a story on two historians who abandoned academia to make a doll podcast. We brought our recorder along to, as influencers might say, “create content.” Listening back on that day, all we can hear is our total state of wonder. We couldn’t believe our good fortune, and as people who had not visited the store often (Allison had been to one before) or ever (Mary had not), we were amazed by the sights and sounds of the store that some parents may describe as “sensory overload” and “expensive.” We saw a clinic for dolls needing what Goop might call “rejuvenation”; a hair salon for dolls needing an assist after getting some DIY haircuts; the café, where we could dine with dolls of our choice; and more.
As elder millennials, we had aged out of American Girl by the time stores popped up across the country, beginning in 1998 with the flagship Chicago store. Our access to American Girl came solely from its still legendary catalogue. Instead of having high tea in a café with trays and china (including a plate for Allison’s Molly doll), we had imaginary meals for our dolls at home or attended birthday parties with friends where we were invited to dress in historical costumes. We also loved the books, which were grouped into six formulaic titles per historic character. The pose of the characters walking across the cover and smiling out at us is iconic and will live in our minds forever.
Sitting in the café, we tried to explain to the photographer what American Girl was all about and what it had meant to us. So much of it is hard to explain to a newbie. How can you tell a stranger that imagining you, too, lived on the prairie in 1854 helped you navigate life as a nine-year-old in the 1990s? Or that some of your first lessons in friendship came from watching how fictional girls forged friendships with one another in the imagined pasts of the books? When we met as adults, just talking about these things instantly brought us closer and was important in our friendship. The relationship between these imaginary girls and our girlhoods felt so vital and obvious to people who’d lived it, but was harder to explain to people who hadn’t.
American Girl staff guided us around the store, where we checked out new (to us) characters and their accessories. The staff we met were lovely, but we panicked that they may bristle at some of our reactions to the new displays. On our show, it was not uncommon for us to offer real talk about American Girl, both the brand and the stories it tells. For example: Is the stuff expensive in a limiting way? Yes. Did the brand at one point create its first Black character and focus on an enslaved girl we were then invited to buy? Also yes. Was it “cruel and unusual” to offer dolls with perfect braids that invited restyling without the hope of ever returning them to the perfection of their factory setting? Absolutely.
We were worried the staff would judge us, especially when Mary started shooting hoops in Julie’s display and we wondered aloud if her love of basketball and rainbows, and the San Francisco setting of her books, was supposed to mean something.
We share all these hot takes and more on our show, and though we have and use PhDs in history, we also use the language of pop culture (perhaps our shared love language) to get at what is going on in the books and with the brand. With that in mind, it’s important to say, paraphrasing Julia Roberts in Notting Hill, we’re just two historians and friends, standing in front of you and asking what it means to be a fan of American Girl.
Yes, loving something can mean learning everything about it and stanning it to friends and family, embracing it over a lifetime in a completely uncritical way. That’s not what our fandom looks like. We’re not afraid to ask tough questions about it, because we’re capable of appreciating its impact on our lives while also acknowledging that it’s not perfect.
It’s like being a reality-TV fan. You may love Real Housewives, The Bachelor, 90 Day Fiancé, or any other premier programming and defend your viewing of it to anyone while also simultaneously screaming at its stars on-screen, “Make better choices!” It’s that imaginary space, where we can envision the things the brand might do differently, that leads to such great conversations on our show and with our listeners. For example, we couldn’t believe Josefina’s approach to grief (mostly, avoiding it), but it did lead us to talk to a therapist who helped us figure out how we should approach it ourselves. Talking about the kinds of stories we wish American Girl would tell (more inclusive and diverse stories in particular) also continues to inspire us to seek out these kinds of stories in other genres of books, shows, and movies. Will we still keep watching reality TV though its stars rarely “make good choices”? Yes. We contain multitudes.
We have had a lot of discussions with listeners over the past few years about what American Girl has meant to them. While the show was centered mainly on our lives and interpretations, we wanted to think about what it means to grow up with American Girl beyond just our own experiences. There are many ways to love American Girl and be a fan.
We wanted to study American Girl fandom in all its facets. Where did it come from? What was it like for other millennials growing up with the brand from its beginnings in 1986? Do other people our age also feel like it shaped them in big ways, and continues to? And where is the work that reinvents the stories of our childhoods in updated and inclusive ways?
We had to find out. We are going to take you on a journey through the wonderful and wild world of American Girl fandom. We’ll explore the history of what Pleasant Rowland hoped to create with American Girl and what a generation of people did with it. Some of these expeditions will take us to actual places, like Colonial Williamsburg, where Pleasant Rowland was inspired to invent American Girl; the Smithsonian; a doll museum; and more. Others are more metaphorical journeys through the memories of people who worked for the brand, whether helping to create Felicity, illustrate its books, or edit the American Girl magazine.
We wanted to hear from fellow fans about the memories they have of their childhood play and what they make of their fandom now as adults. This goal asked us to confront the true chaos of culture in the ’90s: the early internet (we refuse to disclose our AOL screen names at this time), childhood birthday parties, and backyard performances of American Girl plays. We also wanted to include amazing historical and pop culture interpretations happening on social media today. Together, these stories tell us a lot about histories of girlhood, friendship, and American Girl that help us to better understand why these dolls, books, and accessories meant, and continue to mean, so much.
We’ll be exploring this over six chapters, following the traditional arc of the historic characters’ books—in part because we’re in too deep and in part to remind us that this arc can (and should) be reimagined to tell more than just one girl’s story. Rather than have one woman’s—or, in our case, two women’s—stories stand in for all millennials and more, we wanted to emphasize how vast the American Girl universe is. We contain multitudes, and it does, too.
Before we set off to understand what exactly Pleasant Rowland was trying to do, we first want to share a bit of our history. No, we won’t be sharing our Venmo history, Gmail archives, or any other terrifying ways to know someone in a digital age. Instead, we’re going back to basics and sharing the only true intel you need on us: our American Girl stories.
Meet the Original-Generation American Girls (aka Our OGAGs)
American Girl has released dozens of historical characters since 1986.
The girls listed here are the six that we knew well in our childhoods. When we call them the “original generation” girls, that is a distinction we’ve totally made up. As Kit fans never hesitate to remind us, there are some really compelling stories that just happened to be released when we stopped reading new American Girl books.
Felicity—Felicity is a wealthy girl living in Virginia during the early years of the American Revolution. In a material world, she is happy to be an imperial girl, but war is coming. Felicity’s stories teach us about loyalty, education in the colonies, teatime etiquette, and, of course, the value of a beloved horse. In addition to Penny, the aforementioned horse, Felicity’s best friend is a girl named Elizabeth. Felicity is often singled out as the OG horse girl.
Josefina—Josefina’s stories begin in 1824. She lives on a rancho in present-day New Mexico. Struggling with the loss of her mother, Josefina tries to adjust to a new life, and the presence of a long-lost aunt (and later stepmother) named Tía Dolores. Josefina’s stories teach us about life in a borderland, how to make a good trade, and the support we can get (or not) from family. Mariana is marketed as Josefina’s best friend, though her sisters come in a close second. Josefina is best known for her kind heart. Tía D is best known (to us) as perhaps the only serial killer to appear in an American Girl book.
Kirsten—Kirsten is a Swedish immigrant who comes to the United States in the 1840s. While colonizing present-day Minnesota, Kirsten struggles with being the new girl at school, fire, bears, and much more. The Kirsten books are best known for their heartfelt moments, and Kirsten’s devotion to her friends, family, and the occasional raccoon. Until her tragic passing, Kirsten’s best friend is a fellow immigrant named Marta; later, Marta is replaced by Singing Bird. Lifelong fans are still reeling from Marta’s death, and even the most casual reader remembers Kirsten’s St. Lucia hair-braids-hot-buns moment.
Addy—Addy is a self-emancipated Black girl who comes north to Pennsylvania during the Civil War. At the start of the series, Addy claims her freedom along with her mother, and they work together to reunite the entire family in Philadelphia. Through Addy’s books, readers learn about slavery and racism, along with how to be a good friend and, in some sweeter moments, the importance of ice cream at one’s birthday. Addy’s best friend is Sarah, who is as loyal as she is smart. Addy is based on a real girl whose story is preserved at Historic Stagville in North Carolina.
Samantha—Samantha is a New Yorker living during the Edwardian era. Though she has everything a girl could dream of and lives in a mansion, Samantha is also an orphan still mourning the deaths of her parents. Through Samantha’s stories, we learn about class, poverty, child labor, how trauma lingers, and, in some lighter moments, how to dodge troublesome male neighbors. Her best friend is a girl named Nellie, but Uncle Gard and Aunt Cornelia come in a close second and third place, respectively. Samantha is often perceived to be the spoiled and posh American Girl, but she also has some surprising class-consciousness breakthroughs in her stories.
Molly—Molly is a midwestern girl living during World War II. In addition to a lot of sibling and friend drama, Molly has to navigate war rations, classmate jealousies, and a complex (if colorful and patriotic) dance routine. Her books are meant to inspire appreciation for the children who came of age in the Greatest Generation, or at least the girl bosses who drove local scrap metal drives forward in the 1940s. Molly’s best friend, supposedly, is a refugee from England named Emily. We have both long identified most with Molly. This is a lifelong process.
CHAPTER 1. Meet Us
In which we meet Molly, explore our friendship meet-cute, and create a podcast.
As the immortal Sophia Petrillo, the oldest and best Golden Girl, might say, we want to take you back in time. Picture it: The year is 1995. William “Bill” Clinton is president of the United States. Monica Lewinsky is not yet known for her purse empire. Young girls are often seen carrying backpacks that are far too tiny to be useful but also too adorable not to buy. The 1996 Olympics haven’t happened yet. In other international affairs, a second revolution and British invasion is brewing and building to the release of Spice World.
We are eight and nine years old, respectively. Both of us are in elementary school, growing our sticker collections and wearing overalls as often as possible. Our bookshelves are full, and we both love historical fiction, especially if it comes in an elaborate binding or contains a ribbon bookmark. We are hearing a cautionary tale about chasing waterfalls on the radio. (Note: TLC dropped “Waterfalls” in 1994 when we were far too young to understand it, though this didn’t stop us from wanting to wear an eyepatch like Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes #RIP.) We are also both reeling from the untimely death of Selena Quintanilla-Pérez #StillDreamingOfYou. While one of us is thriving in gym class and shooting hoops after school, another is panicking at the mere mention of Presidential Physical Fitness Test challenges (Bill, truly, why?). Tragically, we are not friends yet.
Maybe you’re reading this and thinking, “I, too, was dreaming about a spot on the Olympic team while also feeling victimized by the Presidential Fitness exams.” And maybe you also wished you had the visibility of the Olsen Twins wearing a stylish trench but felt as incognito as Carmen Sandiego (girl, where are you?). If you were old enough to understand what was really happening in the TLC music videos, you probably are from Gen X, and a bit older than us. If you didn’t get most of your music video knowledge from episodes of TRL, and can’t explain how we, as Americans, let Carson Daly happen, you’re probably younger than we are.
As millennials, we grew up in what some might call the Golden Age of Pleasant Company. Okay, so only we call the early 1990s this, but please go with us for a moment. During our childhoods, we both came to love a brand called American Girl, and we weren’t alone. These products gave us endless hours of entertainment as young people and, later, a language for connecting with new friends.
We were fortunate enough to be coming of age when the stories they were telling were just right for our age group and interest in history. As adults, we got serious about returning to the brand and its stories after some years away (call it our teenage rebellion), at a moment when podcasting offered an accessible path to revisit sources of childhood nostalgia for an audience of fellow fans. It would be like rereading our childhood diaries but less cringey, and we might learn something about ourselves in rereading books that meant so much to us as kids. As American Girl books taught us, we are all products of our time, but there’s also a lot we can learn by stepping into the past.
We didn’t become friends until we were adults, but we have learned a lot about each other by talking about our childhood interests. Something we probably all share is the challenge of making, maintaining, and caring for friends at any age. Now, when you meet someone new, and you’re trying to get to know them, you probably have your own shortcuts for learning about them. For us, it was a simple question: “Are you a Molly?”
We want to introduce ourselves by telling you about some of the pop culture we loved growing up that led us to American Girl, history, and, eventually, each other.
Meet Mary
Copyright © 2023 by Mary Mahoney and Allison Horrocks
