A couple of months ago, my sisters and I waited in line for an hour and a half so we could get up close to a huge television celebrity. The line snaked endlessly through the hallway outside the special room set up for this rising star, and when she left for her breaks every half-hour she was surrounded by three people who can only be described as body guards, plus a managerial figure who made sure her legions of fans wouldn’t trample her as she fled. The fans, wearing her T-shirts and her backpacks, and carrying dolls and stuffed toys dedicated to her show, stretched their arms pleadingly towards her. “Dora! Dora!” they screamed. But she turned away, her face fixed in a permanent, almost cruel smile.
As you’ve probably guessed by now, I was waiting in line to see an adult dressed up as Dora the Explorer, complete with her friend Boots the monkey. My three-year-old sister, Shangi, had been waiting for this day with a kind of palpable excitement Dora, a cartoon character who walks across a landscape on a new mission every day, and talks to singing maps, backpacks and trolls on a regular basis, has become the ultimate toddler celebrity. Celebrities really have invaded every part of our lives. They are entertainers, criminals, and even politicians. But most of all they are idols, and every age group has one. Where did this come from? Since when do toddlers have idols outside of their families?
I’ll be the first to admit that Dora’s sweet yet courageous character makes her perfect for the role of heroine, if my sister wants one. But I can’t get over the fact that she does want one, and one created by media conglomerates. I can’t believe she has already bought into the heroine-worshipping, brand-name consumerist craze that I once thought belonged solely to the preteens I pity and despise, or even to my own generation.
My three-year-old sister wants a Dora backpack. And it scares me.
Cuspidor, February 2004
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