When COVID-19 struck in March 2020, I, like many adults living with anxiety and depression, was a wreck. My appetite and sleeping routine were thrown into chaos. Leaving the house felt like walking into the apocalypse—especially given the risk of contagion with my husband and three-year-old son at home, so errands like the library and even grocery shopping came to a halt. As the days turned into weeks, my anxiety intensified and I keenly felt the weight of being in a confined space with my family. To help ease my frantic state and to escape my hellish reality, I decided to return to a childhood activity I loved—playing with dolls. I turned to my American Girl doll, Addy Walker, and the fictional story of her family’s escape from enslavement to start a new life in Philadelphia.
In the 1990s, my mom had bought me the doll, several of her outfits, and some of the furniture that accompanied Addy. Long after I stopped playing with my doll, my mom saved it because of its historical value, since Addy was the first black American Girl doll. When my mom downsized and moved into a smaller house, my Addy Walker doll became my possession. At first, I was ambivalent about having Addy and parts of her clothing, accessories, and furniture collection in my home. However, as I searched for ways to distract myself from the grim news of the COVID-19 pandemic, I decided to revisit the world of Addy Walker by dressing my doll in her clothes and accessories, and posing her on the furniture. Also, I reread the first book in the six-part series about Addy’s life, Meet Addy: An American Girl.
The synopsis of Meet Addy: An American Girl on Goodreads reads, “Addy Walker’s family is planning a dangerous escape from slavery in the summer of 1864. But before they can make the escape, the worst happens—Master Stevens decides to sell some of his slaves, including Poppa and Addy’s brother, Sam. Addy and Momma take the terrible risk of escaping by themselves, hoping that the family eventually will be together again in Philadelphia. Set during America’s own struggle over slavery, the Civil War, Addy’s story is one of great courage and love—love of family and love of freedom.”
Now, you may be wondering, isn’t Addy the slave doll? How did her depressing story help you cope through the first year of the pandemic? My answer for you is this: Addy’s story embodies perseverance, hope, and family. Reconnecting with her story helped me put the pandemic and lockdown into perspective, rely more on my faith, and better appreciate my own family. Addy’s resilience throughout her six books motivated me to discuss my heightened anxiety and panic attacks with my doctor, who then prescribed a higher dose of my anti-anxiety medication. I also became more comfortable discussing my anxiety with my husband and asking for support in caring for our son while his daycare was closed.
Now, I didn’t see any of this coming when I pulled Addy down from storage. I was simply looking for an escape, a distraction from the way the lockdown was affecting my anxiety. Addy and her family’s story provided me with the courage to seek help from my husband and doctor, entertainment as I dressed my doll in outfits and accessories from her books, and the fortitude to navigate the changes this decade has brought to our lives.