Joanna: Queen of the Toys

 JOANNA: QUEEN OF THE TOYS
A Story of Survival and Grit

Dear Queen Joanna

Protector in plush and bows

Help me disappear

~ A haiku by Crystal Sosa

[DEER PARK, TX, January 29, 2025—] Joanna appeared in a child’s stroller like a fairy godmother. Or, more likely, due to a child’s grabby hands committing grand theft lion. It was either at a Walmart or Kmart. Definitely not a Target. That specific part of the lore has been lost to time, but it does not truly matter. What’s important was the adventures Joanna and I would go on. She would become a faithful companion and trusted confidant. Also, my valiant savior.

 

Joanna is a lion with a mane, but most definitely not a boy (because boys were icky). She eventually dawned blue bows and a pink baby bottle. She became a member of the family. Over the years, she was burned, stitched, cut, and stitched again. Joanna earned her permanent place as Queen of the Toys. She survived three hurricanes and became etched in family folklore, told in stories around the dinner table.

 

I gave speeches and told stories about Joanna. Sometimes, my classmates could relate. Other times they would taunt me. But though I distanced myself from her, I would always have her in my view, only to inevitably gravitate towards her again. I gave her a little sister and, even as I got older, I would sometimes hold her in my arms. She was the only thing allowed to see me cry as I started breaking inside. She offered me comfort when no one else did.

 

In some ways, my childhood died when I was twelve years old. In others, it died when I was ten. As I was nineteen and sitting in a therapist’s office, all I could think about was how I needed to grow up and leave childish things behind. That is what I had always been told to do. The internet would later call it parentification, among other things. However, in my therapist office, when I told her I didn’t want my little sisters to grow up like me, she told me “Would that be such a bad thing?”. My therapist was the first person to tell me it was vital to keep the child inside us alive. It was not a sign of immaturity. In fact, it was a sign that I knew compassion.

 

I still have a wall of stuffed animals. My collection has slowly grown. I collect action figures and dolls and Funko pops. However, it is Joanna who I still turn to when I feel overwhelmed or anxious or empty. Though I have found other beloved companions, even some of the living variety, I never let her forget I love her. Long may she reign.

About Crystal Sosa

Crystal Sosa is a PhD student at Texas Woman’s University. She is also a professor at San Jacinto College and a native to Houston. She spends her free time writing fantasy novels or talking about the queer agenda. You can contact her at csosa6@twu.edu. You can find more of her work here.