Remember all of those dolls and doll parts I’ve found running on back roads and country byways in Colorado, Michigan, and Maine? Well, here they are–you can’t see it very well, but there’s a blue-haired doll in the mint pot on the left that looks like it was designed to be a dog’s chew toy, too. Naked Barbie-like doll, doll in the homemade dress, and creepy doll head are all standing guard over my mint, parsley, sage, catnip, and lavender. (The garden looks pretty scrubby, I must admit: the sage is a re-plant just introduced, the mint leaped around the pots that were to contain it, the chives are totally overgrown, and the parsley needs to be decapitated and revived somehow.)
Here’s a view of more of the beds. In the top left bed is garlic and brussels sprouts, and in the right foreground is yarrow and a just-starting-to-bloom red hollyhock. (What’s eating the hollyhock leaves? It seems to happen to every hollyhock in my neighborhood lately. They still seem to bloom and come back every year nevertheless.)
Truthfully, most of you didn’t really buy my argument in this post about the significance of finding discarded or even dismembered dolls on the roadside. But, I still wonder if the toleration of the abuse of (mostly female) dolls is symbolic of the abuse of real live women’s and girls’ bodies. Dolls speak to me of the condition of being female, in every way.
Oh, yeah: you knew this was irresistable: