Age-Appropriate Anti-Racism Resources for 5 Year Olds: What I Found That Actually Works
I was halfway through a lukewarm sip of iced coffee last month when my 5-year-old, Lila, lifted her pointing finger and asked, loud enough for the whole playground climbing structure to hear: “Why is that girl’s skin darker than mine?” I spilled coffee on my jeans. The girl’s mom smiled, like she’d heard it a hundred times, and I mumbled something quick about everyone being made different before herding Lila to the slide. Later, when we were driving home, I replayed the moment. I hadn’t messed up the immediate interaction, I don’t think, but I knew I wanted more than that for Lila. I wanted to give her gentle, clear words to talk about difference, instead of making her feel like asking is rude. So I went looking for anti-racism resources made for 5 year olds. And wow, was that a needle in a haystack.
Most of what popped up first was either way too heavy—children’s books about civil rights that focused on violence and segregation, content that would give a 5 year old nightmares for no reason—or far too vague. There were a dozen “we are all friends” posters and generic activity packs that boiled down to “color a rainbow,” which didn’t actually answer any of the questions Lila was already asking. I even downloaded one set of printable worksheets that asked kids to match skin tones to crayons, which felt forced and awkward, and Lila lost interest after two minutes of coloring. I called my sister, who’s a lead preschool teacher, to vent, and she said something that changed how I thought about this whole thing: 5 year olds think in stories and everyday moments, not speeches. They notice difference on their own, so your job isn’t to teach them some big abstract concept. It’s just to help them talk about it nicely, and show them difference isn’t something to be scared of or avoid mentioning.
She pointed me toward a handful of small, low-effort resources that have actually stuck with Lila, and I’ve added a few of my own that work just as well. The first big hit was Hair Love by Matthew Cherry. It’s a short picture book with big, bright illustrations, about a Black dad learning to style his daughter’s curly hair for her first day of school. There’s no big lecture about racism, no sad history bits—just a sweet, funny story about a dad trying his best and a kid who loves her hair. Lila laughed out loud at the part where the dad’s ponytail falls apart, and oohed at the final braid topped with pink beads. After we finished the first read, she asked if we could order colored beads for her own hair, and that turned into a 10 minute conversation about how some people have curly hair, some have straight, some have dark skin, some have light skin, and all of it is just different, not better or worse. That’s way more meaningful than any pre-planned lesson I could have forced.
Another book that works is Last Stop on Market Street by Matt de la Peña. It follows a young Black boy riding the bus with his grandma, and he notices all kinds of people along the route—people in wheelchairs, people with different jobs, people who don’t have a car like his friend does. His grandma points out all the good, beautiful things in their life, without ever sounding preachy. Lila just loves pointing out all the different details in the illustrations, and it naturally leads to small questions about why people do things differently, which I answer simply.
Beyond books, the best changes I’ve made are tiny, low-effort adjustments to our everyday life, no fancy resources required. I looked through Lila’s toy bin a few weeks back and realized all three of her baby dolls had blonde hair and light skin. I ordered a $15 doll with 4c hair and dark brown skin from Target, that’s it. She now puts that doll to bed every night, and one night she told me, “Her hair is so soft, different than my doll Lulu’s.” I just said, “Yeah, it is, isn’t that cool?” That’s all the conversation that was needed. No big talk, just normalizing difference in play.
I also stopped shushing Lila when she asks questions about people in public, as long as we keep our voice quiet enough not to embarrass anyone. If she asks why a man is wearing a turban, I say, “That’s part of his religion, just like you wear your sparkly soccer cleats to every game because they’re important to you.” If she asks why a kid’s eyes look different than hers, I say, “Lots of people’s eyes look different, just like how your nose is different from mine.” Simple, honest, no fuss.
I still don’t have all the answers. Last week, I turned down a preschool classroom activity that asked kids to color a “friend of every color” page, because it felt forced and tokenizing to me, but I’m still not sure if that was the right call. I went looking for resources thinking I’d find a perfect step-by-step plan that would do all the work for me, but it turns out the best anti-racism work with a 5 year old is just small, everyday moments. There’s no test at the end, no perfect way to do this. I’m just trying to raise a kid who asks questions instead of staring, who’s kind instead of awkward, one story and one conversation at a time.
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