My friendship with an American Girl doll began when a black slave named Addy helped my 8-year-old daughter find her courage and define her values.

American Girl dolls wear period clothing from our country's history. Each doll also stars in her own series of books designed to teach girls about American history.

Ten years ago, many of my daughter's friends owned Samantha, the girl living with her wealthy grandmother in 1904, or bespectacled Molly, who was growing up during World War II. After reading one of Addy's books, though, my Caitlin was adamant.

"She's just like me," she said to her clueless mother. Understand, before she discovered tanning, my daughter was whiter than Styrofoam; Addy is creamy brown.

I have a favorite picture from that Christmas, my first as a single mother. Cait is holding Addy, cheek-to-cheek in matching nightgowns. I can't look at it without thinking of what she said, "Don't we look alike, Mom?"

One night, I was tucking Cait and Addy into bed when she mentioned yet again how she and Addy were so alike. "How so?" I asked. She reached up and touched my face. "Addy had to leave with her mom, just like you and me."

Ten years later, Addy still holds a special place in our home and in my heart, which is why I feel bruised from the latest swing of the conservatives' ax.

The American Family Association and the Pro-Life Action League have accused American Girl of promoting abortion and supporting lesbians because of their fund-raising campaign for Girls Inc. They are flaming over American Girl sales of the "I Can" wristband, meant as a symbol of girls' empowerment that sells for $1. Proceeds go to programs of Girls Inc. designed to build disadvantaged girls' skills in various fields, including science, math and technology.

Girls Inc., which is 141 years old and used to be called Girls Clubs of America, helps nearly 800,000 of the girls most at risk in this country. Seventy percent of them come from families making less than $25,000 a year; 74 percent of them are girls of color.

Forget all that. What these extremists don't like is that Girls Inc. also offers comprehensive sex education, supports women's right to reproductive freedom and urges tolerance toward lesbians.

For this, Addy and her friends must pay. The American Family Association said it's "considering" a boycott if American Doll doesn't withdraw its support. Pro-Life Action League Executive Director Ann Scheidler is guaranteeing one. Both say American Girl has betrayed families who trusted the doll company to embrace "family values." Their version of them, anyway.

Thankfully, American Girl spokeswoman Julie Parks said the company isn't backing down. Girls Inc. President Joyce Roche said the unexpected spotlight gives the group a chance to publicize its many good works. Let us hope.

Meanwhile, I did something I haven't done in a long while: I spent some time with Addy. I walked across our second-floor hallway to the bookcase full of children's books. The six Addy books were still in their burgundy box, the corners rubbed white from use. I pulled out Book One and read about the brave slave girl who reached across a century to bolster the fragile hope of my own little girl.

I read again about her anguish as she watches Papa and her brother Sam shackled and sold, her terror as she escapes the plantation with Momma a few days later. One passage after another reminded me of just how much Addy's story echoes our own family values.

In the final scene of the fifth book, Sam, now a Civil War veteran, finally finds Addy. She reaches for the empty sleeve pinned to his shoulder, but he tells her not to cry. They're together again. That's all that matters.

As she skips alongside him, Addy asks her brother a question. "Riddle me this, Sam," she says. "What holds a family together so tight that nothing can pull it apart?"

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