A lifelong student at Monster High
How a doll line made me who I am today
Written by Sol Vandeman
Growing up, I was not your typical “boy.” With my baggy clothes and a strawberry blonde buzzcut, I fit in with most boys physically. But my feminine interests and flashy personality always shined through to tell the world that I was different.
Looking back now and having more language to describe my experiences, I was a queer, gender-nonconforming kid. So I grew up with a constant feeling of isolation, knowing that in almost any room I walked into, I would be the only kid like me. This is why when something new came up on my parent’s bulky CRT TV one day, I was captivated.
As a child, every Saturday evening I loved watching reruns of “iCarly” and “Victorious” on Nickelodeon. During one of these Saturday evenings, I came across a commercial that perfectly brought together my forbidden interests: horror and all things “girly.”
“Monster High. The perfect learning environment for teen children of legendary monsters like new student Frankie Stein,” the commercial voiceover first said.
Images of animated, fashionable teenage monsters flashed on the screen, each being introduced. From Frankie’s cheerful yet clumsy self to Cleo De Nile’s popular girl archetype, all of them showed their unique personalities through their wardrobe and adlibs. The commercial ended by inviting viewers to visit their website, where you could “enroll” in the school for monsters.
I ran to my parents, asking if I could play on our family computer. After a quick approval, I ran upstairs and sat at the family computer. My nine-year-old body leaned towards the desktop as I individually pressed the keys to spell out “M-o-n-s-t-e-r-H-i-g-h-.-c-o-m” in the search bar.
From then on, I would never leave the fangtabulous world of Monster High.
In 2010, Mattel launched Monster High, a fashion doll franchise featuring characters inspired by famous movie monsters. Each character was unique and had flaws they embraced, such as being afraid of the dark or having dry skin. At the time, Monster High was dubbed “Goth Barbie” for its edgier style that deviated from other popular fashion dolls at the time.
But what made Monster High stand out — especially for me — was its messaging. Starting in 2011, the back of the packaging of every Monster High doll had the phrase “Be Yourself. Be Unique. Be A Monster.” This slogan was about celebrating differences and letting people be who they are.
This affirming messaging was exactly what I needed at the time. It was a counternarrative to all the negative “you’re weird” or “you’re too girly” comments I’d get. For once, I was told that who I am is just fine, no matter how different I was.
Nine-year-old me was hooked. I wanted to be a part of the brand in any way I could, even if it meant breaking one of the most classic rules of the gender binary: boys can’t play with dolls.
During a trip to Target with my mom, I asked to browse the toy aisles. Usually, I would look for a new Lego set, but this time, I decided to explore the pink isles I rarely stepped foot in.
“I just want to look at something,” I told my mom as I approached the doll aisle.
I walked close to my mom as I feared weird looks and judgment from other kids and parents. After browsing through sections of Barbies and baby dolls, I made my voltageous discovery. Displays of Monster High’s “Signature” and “Dawn of the Dance” series were lined up on the shelf. Out of all the dolls, one stood out to me.
Frankie Stein, daughter of Frankenstein, was positioned inside cyan and black packaging. She had black and white streaked hair and wore a black, blue and white plaid dress with a studded belt. Amongst her mint green skin were silver stitches and bolts on her neck.
“Mom, can you get this for me?” I asked her.
She looked at the doll and hesitated for a moment.
“Fine,” she simply said, which prompted me to take a Frankie doll off the shelf and rush to check out.
Frankie was and still is my favorite character. In Monster High’s first movie, “Monster High: New Ghoul at School,” Frankie was introduced as the new kid who struggled to fit in with the other monsters. She would try being someone she’s not and dramatically fail at it.
By the end of the film, she learned that the best way to fit in was to be yourself. Frankie’s character arc and values were the ones I resonated with the most out of all the characters. Because at the end of the day, she was always willing to help her friends and wanted to bring people together (she also had killer style).
I came home from that Target trip just giddy. I would hug the thin, 11-inch doll, happy to have a piece of media that inspired me.
Over the following years, my Monster High doll collection would grow. From a steampunk robot to a mermaid-ghost hybrid, I admired each doll’s unique style and story. By the time I stopped collecting, I had over 100 dolls in my collection.
Every time I would sit down on the carpeted floor of my room to play with my dolls, I was transported to a new world. A world where I could imagine people of different backgrounds and appearances coming together. A world where your difference doesn’t exclude you, but includes you. A world that was possible.
As I grew older and my identities shifted, I was able to accept and celebrate what made me different. Monster High gave me the tools to live life as myself. I am now able to take on a world that tries to take me down because of my trans and queer identities.
Now, I’m living up to the values I learned from a group of teenage monsters.
