Wanted: Doll house for 5,000 or more

Growing up, sisters Debra Britt and Felicia Walker loved dolls, especially fashion-plate Barbies and their glamorous accessories. But their grandmother also wanted them to have black dolls, so she dyed several dolls a darker shade. By cuddling and caring for a cherished plaything that looked like them, the children learned to see themselves in a better light.

Britt and Walker, both of Mansfield, still have those dyed plastic dolls today, part of their collection of more than 5,000 black dolls that may well rank among the largest in the world. And, as their grandmother did, they still believe black dolls help African-American children like what they see when they look in the mirror.

"Black children really need black dolls," Walker said. "She wanted us to know there was nothing wrong with the way we looked, that we were just as beautiful as the blonde-haired, blue-eyed dolls."

Today, Britt, 51, and Walker, 43, display their stunning array of porcelain and pinwheel-eyed figures in schools, day-care centers, and libraries throughout Boston and its suburbs. They are now working to establish the world's largest museum of black dolls, ideally near their homes in Mansfield. A permanent home for the dolls, they say, would not only showcase the collection's artistry and historical importance, but also promote racial acceptance and boost black children's self-image.

The "doll sisters," as Britt and Walker are known in the doll-collecting world, now store their treasures in a large shed and an above-garage attic that is filled to the rafters, not to mention a separate 8-by-10-foot storage unit. Among the thousands, no two dolls are alike.

There are Barbies by the bushel, dozens of homemade African wrap dolls their grandmother taught them to make, and scores of designer collectibles still in their original packing. Celebrity dolls include Harriet Tubman, Halle Berry, Marcus Garvey, and Tupac Shakur. Porcelain dolls with luxuriant fur coats lean against rag dolls with frayed sundresses.

The dolls come from high and lowly stations -- some are shipped straight from designers' workshops overseas, or won in limited-edition auctions; others are rescued from dusty attics and moldy basements, or stumbled across in a thrift-store bin or yard-sale table. The sisters have paid as much as $2,700 for a rare Annette Himstedt, and $1,800 for a 1910 doll made of bisque porcelain, but hold equal affection for their "twice-loved" dolls from Goodwill.

"Like mothers, we love our babies the same," Britt said.

Britt and Walker, who grew up in Dorchester, loved dolls from a young age, and picked up the collecting impulse from their father, a connoisseur of coins, stamps, and World War II memorabilia.

But they trace their collecting fervor to a decade ago, when their sister Kareema suffered a stroke at 28. Kareema refused to walk or leave the house. But knowing their younger sister's love of Barbies, Britt and Walker suggested a trip to find the new "Limelight" Barbie, which they had seen in a magazine. That did the trick.

"It was the thrill of the hunt," Walker said. "That's what got her out of the house."

Soon the sisters were looking all over for African-American dolls. As their collection grew, Britt and Walker began brainstorming ways to share it with others. Three years ago, they began crisscrossing the suburbs to display some of their collection, teach visitors to make wrap dolls, and tell African folk stories. There began a waiting list for their exhibit, which they dubbed the Doll E Daze project.

The project has since expanded to the point at which it deserves a permanent home, the sisters said. Currently, the Philadelphia Doll Museum is the nation's only black doll museum, featuring 300 African-American dolls. The sisters envision their museum as a tourist destination and a perfect way to while away a weekend afternoon. Tours would be complemented with doll-making workshops and history classes, they said. They are now scouting out potential sites and are in preliminary discussions with property owners and town officials.

A museum as ambitious as the sisters envision certainly would add to the region's growing status as a destination location, said Tricia White, executive director of the Tri-Town Chamber of Commerce, which covers Foxborough, Mansfield, and Norton. With the Tweeter Center, Gillette Stadium, and the TPC Boston golf course already drawing streams of visitors, the museum would provide another distinctive draw, she said.

"It brings a uniqueness to the area," White said. "These types of attractions are very welcome."

Britt and Walker, who live next door to each other, acknowledge that their fascination with dolls knows few bounds. They chat online about collectibles for hours, scan eBay and garage sales for finds, and attend nearly every major convention. Friends and family are supportive, though their husbands occasionally grumble at the pricier purchases.

The sisters know their hobby is a significant expense, but say it's worth cutting back on clothes, even food, and running up some credit-card debt to add another gem to their collection. And though the collection is valuable, worth at least $50,000, they vow never to sell.

"I could buy a new car if I did," said Britt, whose 1999 Durango is nearing the 200,000-mile mark. "But I'm not interested in cars. These dolls are our legacy."

When they began collecting, the sisters consulted a research book titled, "The Definitive Guide to Collecting Black Dolls," and later met the author, Debbie Garrett, at a convention.

Garrett's story was similar to their own, and immediately struck a chord.

As a girl growing up in Texas in the 1950s, Garrett owned only white dolls. When she became a mother, she searched far and wide for black dolls for her daughter. Loving a doll that looked like her, she hoped, would help her daughter learn to love herself.

"I didn't want her to grow up thinking there was anything wrong with being African-American," Garrett, who owns some 1,500 black dolls and runs an Internet news group for collectors, said in a recent phone interview.

The Dallas resident likes the idea of a museum, saying black dolls can help promote racial diversity and tolerance.

Britt and Walker said that, while grandmothers today no longer have to use dye to create black dolls, the playthings are still relatively rare -- typically just one out of every 100 dolls made.

And the sisters believe some African-American children continue to suffer from low self-image. In the 1940s, psychologists Kenneth and Mamie Clark showed young black children a group of baby dolls -- some white, some black -- and asked them which ones they liked better. Most chose the white ones. Asked to pick which ones were bad, most chose the black ones.

It was a damning indictment of segregation's degrading impact, one used by Thurgood Marshall before the US Supreme Court in the landmark Brown v. Board of Education case that abolished segregated public schools.

But a recent reenactment of the Clarks' doll test, conducted by a teenage film student in Harlem, found that similar feelings of racial inferiority among black children still linger.

"They need to understand," Britt said, "that they are beautiful, too."

Peter Schworm can be reached at schworm@globe.com.