What I Learned Looking for Anti-Racism Resources for My 5-Year-Old
Last week, my daughter and I were reading a book about a little girl who goes to art class. On one page, the girl mixes paints to make her skin color. She held up the brush and asked, “Why is my paint lighter than Jada’s?” I paused. Jada is her best friend at preschool. For a moment, I wanted to just say, “Because you have different skin colors” and move on. But the question wasn’t really about paint. It was about the first time she had truly noticed that people’s skin comes in different shades. She wasn’t upset or confused. She was just comparing.
We talked about how skin colors are like eye colors or hair colors, and how each one is beautiful. Then she asked if we could mix paint to match her arm. I helped her, and she said, “I’m the color of toast.” Then she wanted to mix one for Jada. We didn’t have the right brown, so she decided we would need “more brown paint.” That honest little moment stuck with me.
Later that night, I opened my phone and typed “anti-racism resources for 5 year olds” into the search bar. I knew the conversation couldn’t stop at paint. I wanted to be ready for the bigger questions. But what came up was overwhelming. There were article after article, posters, podcasts, and reading lists. Some were perfect for teenagers. Some were written in language I barely understood myself. I wanted something that matched my daughter’s world, not a social studies curriculum.
I started asking around. A teacher friend sent me a list of picture books. I ordered four from the library: Antiracist Baby by Ibram X. Kendi, Sulwe by Lupita Nyong’o, The Colors of Us by Karen Katz, and All Are Welcome by Alexandra Penfold.
They came with different results. Antiracist Baby was colorful, but my daughter lost interest by page three. The language about “policies” and “hierarchy” meant nothing to her. I didn’t want to translate it into preschool terms because honestly, I didn’t know how. All Are Welcome was lovely for showing a diverse school, but it didn’t really talk about race at all. It showed diversity without explaining why anyone might be treated differently.
But The Colors of Us was a hit. It follows a little girl whose mother shows her all the brown skin tones among their friends and family—cinnamon, chocolate, honey, and in my daughter’s words, “toast.” The book felt like an extension of our own conversation. She asked me to read it three nights in a row. Then she asked if we could mix a whole chart of “skin colors” and hang it in her room. So we did. We used paint swatches from the hardware store and painted them with our own mixes.
Sulwe was also good, but it’s longer and more complex. It tells the story of a girl who wishes her skin were lighter. My daughter liked the illustrations but kept asking why Sulwe was sad. We didn’t get through it in one sitting. I think it’s a better book for when she’s six or seven. It’s not wrong, just ahead of where she is.
That first round taught me something: for a 5-year-old, the best resource is not a single book or program. It’s a set of small, repeated conversations anchored in real life. A book works when it gives you permission to talk about skin color in a calm, factual way. When it uses simple comparisons to food, nature, or animals, a child can hold onto that. When it starts with abstract ideas like fairness or justice, it loses them.
Still, I wanted a better map. I eventually found a few things I actually recommend to other parents. Sesame Street has a free section on their website called “ABCs of Racial Justice.” It’s not perfect, but it has short videos and printable pages that explain things like “racism is when someone is treated unfairly because of the color of their skin.” That definition works with a 5-year-old because it’s concrete and doesn’t use words like “institutional” or “oppression.” At this age, those words don’t teach anything—they just shut down the conversation.
Another resource that surprised me was the picture book Something Happened in Our Town: A Child’s Story About Racial Injustice. It’s about police violence, so I was hesitant. But at this age, my daughter hasn’t seen the news. The book frames it as a story about a family talking about why a police officer hurt a Black man. It explains in gentle terms that sometimes people are treated badly because of their skin color, and that it’s wrong. I skipped parts of it, but it opened a door.
The real learning doesn’t stop with books. I’ve noticed that my daughter watches how I react. When we see a news story where a Black family is being treated badly, I don’t let her watch the whole thing. But I say, “That isn’t fair. It’s wrong that someone is being treated badly because of their skin color.” That’s enough. Later, when we’re playing with her dolls, she might say, “This one has brown skin and someone is being mean to her.” She’s testing out the idea. I let her play it out and ask questions.
She also goes to a preschool that talks about skin color openly. They have pictures of children from many backgrounds and books that show families with two moms, two dads, grandparents raising kids, and different skin tones. I think environment matters more than any single resource. So I’ve started paying attention to whether her classroom reflects the world. I talk to her teacher about what they’re doing for Black History Month. I ask if there are other kids from different backgrounds in her group.
At one point, I found a “diversity and inclusion” activity where kids sort colored stickers by skin tone. It was meant to teach that skin color is just another attribute, like hair or eyes. When I tried it at home, my daughter got bored after a minute. She wanted to wear the stickers, not sort them. I put the activity away. It wasn’t a failure—it just wasn’t needed. She’s young. She learns through repetition and play, not through worksheets.
One evening, we were drawing a family portrait. She drew herself with a brown marker. I noticed she was using the color “brown” for her skin, even though her skin is lighter than that. I asked her why. She said, “Because I want to be brown like Jada.” I didn’t jump in to correct her. We just kept drawing. After a minute, she said, “Actually, I’m more like peach.” And she switched markers.
That moment stayed with me. She wasn’t confused. She was exploring. She loves Jada and wanted her own skin to match. That’s not racism. That’s a child trying to make sense of the world through connection.
So after all this searching, I don’t have a perfect shelf of books or a scripted set of answers. What works for us is a combination of a few good picture books, direct and gentle answers to her questions, and letting her know that skin color is something we notice and celebrate, not something we pretend doesn’t exist. I’ve also learned to listen more than I explain. When she says something that sounds strange or even slightly off, I give her a beat. Often she works it out herself.
We’ll get through the bigger concepts as she grows. For now, the foundation is simple: everyone has a color, every color is a part of who they are, and it’s wrong to treat anyone badly because of it. That’s not profound, but it’s honest. And it’s enough for a 5-year-old.
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