Age-Appropriate Anti-Racism Resources for 5 Year Olds: A Parent’s Tested Guide
I was crumpling an empty Goldfish cracker bag at the playground last April when my 5-year-old daughter, Mia, leaned forward and pointed at a Black woman pushing a toddler on the swing. “Mommy,” she yelled, loud enough for the whole sandbox to hear, “why is her hair all twisty and bumpy?” I froze. I’d spent months reading thinkpieces about talking to kids about race, but in that moment, my brain went blank. I mumbled an awkward apology to the woman, pulled Mia close, and whispered for her to not point. Later, as we walked to the car, I felt that familiar twinge: I’d gotten it wrong. Shushing her didn’t teach her anything—it just told her that asking about difference was rude. That night, I pulled out my laptop and started searching for actual anti-racism resources made for a 5-year-old’s brain, not a teenager or an adult.
I waded through dozens of blog posts and Pinterest boards first, and most of what I found fell into two unhelpful buckets. One bucket was full of heavy content that talked about systems and violence that a 5-year-old can’t possibly wrap their head around—they don’t even understand what a “system” is, let alone historical injustice that happened hundreds of years ago. The other bucket was the vague, “we are all friends” posters and board books that never actually name difference, just say everyone is special. That’s just as bad, I realized. Mia already notices difference. She points it out because she’s curious, not because she’s biased. If we act like difference doesn’t exist, we’re not helping—we’re just making her think any question she has is off-limits.
I started at our local library, checking out a half dozen books that other parents had recommended, and a couple actually worked for our age. First was Hair Love. It’s a short, sweet story about a Black dad learning to do his daughter’s curly hair for a school event. No lectures, no sad history, just a dad trying his best and a kid with cool hair. Mia wanted to read it three nights in a row. After the third time, she said, “Zara’s hair is curly like my friend Lila’s from preschool, right?” I said, “You’re right! Lots of people have curly hair, lots have straight, lots have hair that’s different colors, too. It’s okay to notice how people look, as long as you’re kind when you talk about it.” That’s it. That was the whole conversation, and it stuck. A week later, when she saw my cousin’s new locs, she just said “I like your braids,” no awkward pointing, no yelling. That worked way better than any lecture I could have given. The other book that stuck with us is The Skin You Live In, which uses simple rhymes to talk about all different skin shades, with pictures of kids playing that never feel preachy.
I didn’t stop at books, either. One of the best, cheapest things I got was a $10 pack of 12 different skin-tone crayons. Before that, Mia only had that one generic “peach” color that looks nothing like half her friends’ skin. Now when she draws our neighborhood, she can pick a deep brown for our mail carrier, a warm tan for her best friend, and pale pink for me. It’s such a small thing, but it gives her a way to represent the world the way it actually is, and we get casual, low-pressure conversations about how people’s skin comes in all different beautiful shades every time she sits down to draw. That’s way more consistent than one big talk once a year.
I also asked Mia’s preschool teacher what she uses in the classroom, and she gave me a free tip that I use all the time, no new materials required. When you’re reading an old picture book you already own that only has white people in it, just pause and say, “Huh, this story didn’t have anyone who looks like our neighbor Mr. Okonkwo. That’s kind of a bummer, isn’t it?” It doesn’t have to turn into a big lesson. It just teaches kids that all kinds of people should get to be in stories, not just one kind.
What about when your kid asks a question that catches you off guard? I used to panic and fumble for the perfect answer, but now I just follow a simple rule: answer it as simply as possible, then stop. When Mia asked why a Sikh man at the grocery store wore a scarf on his head, I just said, “That’s called a turban, and it’s part of his religion, which is something important he believes in. It’s special to him, just like your unicorn rain boots are special to you.” That’s all she needed. She said “oh cool” and went back to begging for a cookie. No need to drag in centuries of history, that’s just overwhelming for a kid her age.
It’s not perfect, of course. I still mess up all the time. Last week I was running late for a doctor’s appointment, Mia asked why one of her classmate’s mom uses a wheelchair and has different facial features than other moms, and I just said “we can talk about that later” and then completely forgot. I still haven’t found a good way to talk about unfairness that doesn’t scare her, and I know as she gets older I’ll need entirely different resources to meet her where she is. But for now, these small, low-effort things are working. We didn’t fix anything overnight, but Mia now knows it’s okay to ask questions, and that difference isn’t something to be scared of or quiet about. That’s enough for a 5 year old, I think.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » Age-Appropriate Anti-Racism Resources for 5 Year Olds: A Parent’s Tested Guide