Compassion

When I see someone with Down Syndrome wearing gangsta clothes, it sorta puts my heart at ease. Perhaps my able-ist centricities have me couple Down Syndrome with tragedy, so when I see someone with Down Syndrome wearing gnagsta clothes, I assume that someone, like a hip older brother, is looking out for them. Either that or it takes the edge off of the gangsta fashion and my mind is put at ease knowing that I will probably survive any gangsta-like attack upon me or my personal belongings.

Anyhow, now you might understand why- when I saw these:









I went, "Awwwww."










It's so benign- and reeks of TLC!!!!






I'm pretty confident in the fact that if either (or both) of those two above tried to front I could just yell "Watch out! Medicine that looks like Candy!!!!" then turn and run away.


I wish I could say that I found those pictures while browsing ultra hip and/or prestigious web venues like npr.org- but really- I just googled "Dolls with Down Syndrome" and it turned out to be a slam dunk.

What I've learned today is:

How to spot a crappy homemade Down Syndrome doll like this ==>

And how to spot the genuine article.






Most of them have their tongue's sticking out, along with the "trademark" flat bridge nose and almond shaped eyes.







Also, it's not a down syndrome doll without the spaced big toe







And check the soft-sculpt
Down Syndrome dolls
for an embroydered crease
on the back of the hands.

This one's a tough one,

but look closely and you'll agree-

She's down syndromey.====>

These dolls seemed to be geered towards that audience of well do to, well intentioned parents with imaginations exceeding any sort of piagetian theory.

Once while teaching preschool I got punched in the balls by a kid, infront of the whole classroom.

All the kids laughed at me, and the Director of the school huffed when I demanded relief while my pain subsided.

She took that little fucker into her office and "had a nice long talk." Returning him to the classroom she asked "Is there anything else you need?" in a snide tone.

Perhaps an apology?" I replied while I refrained from adjusting my nuts.

"I don't see what good that will do." She then addressed my look of surprised dissapointment in her- with,,"They don't learn empathy until age 7 so it won't mean anything."

Where proggressive parents havn't read enough (boring) books, that bitch had read too many, but that does not negate her point.

Just because a doll is thuroughly retarded does not mean the kid is going to learn anything about compassion or caring for different/special people.

My mom had the similar intentions when she got me a Black cabage patch doll named Graham Garnette.

And even if COLECO had made their dolls as gratuitously "correct," as one could to fully encompass The African American-

(sans the gang colors flying from Graham's pocket====>)

I don't think it would have done anything to change how I still, sorta find hanging out with black people to be...

kind of a novelty.