Platform Heels & Personality: How Bratz Dolls Shaped My View of Friendship, Style, and Attitude
The Girls with a Passion for Fashion
Before I had words like “self-expression,” “identity,” or “representation” in my vocabulary, I had Bratz dolls.
Their glittery eyeshadow, glossy lips, and dangerously tall boots weren’t just plastic accessories — they were portals. Each time I brushed Yasmin’s hair or picked out an outfit for Sasha, I wasn’t just playing. I was dreaming. I was building tiny storylines about friendship, freedom, and being that girl — the one who wasn’t afraid to stand out.
Bratz weren’t like any dolls I had seen before. And honestly, neither was I.
Seeing Myself in a Doll Was Revolutionary
Let’s be real — before Bratz, “diversity” in dolls was...limited. When I looked at Bratz, I saw brown skin, bold features, curly hair, and clothes that weren’t afraid to speak before I could. I saw girls that looked like my friends. I saw a doll that could maybe be me.
Sasha, the Black Bratz doll, wasn’t just the token sidekick — she had edge. She was the DJ, the one with the rhythm, the one who brought energy into every outfit and every storyline. She wasn’t just allowed to be in the room, she owned the room.
For a little Black girl trying to understand her place in a world that often asked her to tone it down — Sasha was everything.
Fashion Wasn’t Just Fabric — It Was a Feeling
You couldn’t dress a Bratz doll in a basic outfit and not feel like you were doing her wrong. Every look had to say something. There was something rebellious about it — mixing prints, pairing faux fur with cargo pants, sunglasses at night.
Even now, when I dress myself, I think back to those tiny thigh-high boots and micro mini skirts. Not because I’m chasing the exact look, but because I’m chasing that energy. That fearless, expressive, “I’m gonna show up how I want to” kind of confidence.
Bratz taught me that fashion wasn’t about pleasing others. It was about declaring who you are without apology.
Friendship Was the Real Glow-Up