There are few moments in life more powerful than seeing your child’s face light up because she sees herself in something. As a mom, I’ve longed for that moment. And now, thanks to American Girl’s 2026 “Girl of the Year,” I feel like finally — I do.
A Legacy of Representation and What’s Changed
Since the American Girl franchise introduced the “Girl of the Year” line 25 years ago, each year marks a chance for a girl (and the family that supports her) to find someone to look up to. These dolls offer more than just toys: they carry stories, values, identity, culture, and a sense of belonging. Over time, American Girl has increasingly diversified its characters — across race, ethnicity, interests, socioeconomic background — but the representation hasn’t always felt quite personal, at least not for every child who wasn’t seeing her exact story reflected.
Meet Raquel Reyes
Introducing Raquel Reyes, the 2026 American Girl of the Year. She’s a vibrant, 10-year-old girl with a story that’s deeply rooted in both Mexican-American culture and American Girl’s historical world. Her dad is Mexican-American, her mother is a descendant of Samantha Parkington (one of American Girl’s original historical characters). Raquel lives in Kansas City, and she helps run her family’s shop of paletas (those joyful, fruit-based Mexican popsicles). She has a rescue dog (“Luzita”), a little brother, and loves things like pickleball, the beach, DJ-ing, and animal rescue.
Her story even connects back through generations: she goes on a journey (literally and emotionally) to New England for a family reunion where she visits Samantha’s old home, discovers Samantha’s diary from when she was 12, and realizes that many of the worries and hopes that Samantha had long ago are still relevant in Raquel’s life today. Identity. Belonging. Family. Kindness. Cultural pride.
Why It Feels So Personal
When I was a little girl in an elementary school where the majority of students were Mexican, I would spend hours in our small, cramped library, often in one particular corner. The American Girl books were there. I read them, loved them, but most of the characters didn’t look like me, didn’t share my family dinners, my language at home, my traditions. Still, I turned the pages finding something familiar, something affirming.
As a mom now, I want more for my daughters. I want them to know that their skin tone, their culture, their mixed heritage, their love of both tacos and picnics, their stories of travel, family, music, tradition—all of it—is seen, valued, worthy of center stage. To see Raquel Reyes announced as this year’s Girl of the Year — a character with Mexican-American roots, family, culture, fun and modern struggles — makes me feel hopeful that the stories we tell our children will be richer, more inclusive, more true.
The Power of Story & Representation
Representation isn’t just about seeing someone who looks like you. It’s about being able to believe, to dream, to feel that your story matters. When children see themselves in books, dolls, media, they internalize the message: I belong here. I matter here. For Latina girls, girls with mixed heritage, girls who speak more than one language, whose family recipes fill the air with smells their friends have never known — that mattering is everything.
Raquel’s story does more than give one more doll in the line; it weaves together culture, history, family, modern challenges, and optimism. It invites conversations: “What does heritage mean to us?” “How is my story part of a larger story?” “What do I want to carry forward?” And in those conversations, identity builds confidence, love, and pride.
What This Means Moving Forward
I hope that Raquel Reyes as the 2026 American Girl of the Year is only the beginning of an even more expansive representation in children’s media. I hope for more characters who straddle cultures, who grow up between worlds, who speak two languages or more, who cook traditional foods and listen to modern music, who sometimes struggle with identity and sometimes feel like the main character in a fairytale.
I hope my daughters understand that their full selves — every part — deserve to have stories, dolls, books, and spaces that reflect them.
