Age-Appropriate Anti-Racism Resources for 5 Year Olds: What I Found That Actually Works
Last Saturday, I was wiping sticky cherry popsicle juice off my 5-year-old Mia’s shorts when she tilted her head and asked, “Why did that lady at the grocery store call me ‘sweetie’ but just stared at Kai when he asked where the Granny Smith apples were?” Kai is her best friend from preschool, who is Black, and we see his family every weekend. I froze for a second, mumbled something about the lady probably having a bad day, and herded Mia to the car. But by the time we got home, I knew I’d messed up. My kid had noticed unfair treatment, and I’d brushed her question off instead of meeting it where she was. That night, I sat down to look for anti-racism resources made for a 5-year-old, and I quickly learned most of what’s out there doesn’t fit.
Most results fell into two buckets. One was fluffy board books that just said “all skin colors are beautiful” over and over. That’s true, but it didn’t answer Mia’s question about why people treat each other differently. The other bucket was dense reading lists and workbooks meant for middle schoolers, full of words Mia would never understand and concepts that are way too abstract for a kid who still argues with me about 10 more minutes of playtime before dinner. I ordered one of the popular board books anyway, just to check it out. Mia flipped through it once, pointed out that all the kids were smiling, then dumped it in the toy bin to make room for her new dinosaur collection. It didn’t stick. It never does, when it’s just affirmations without any connection to her actual life.
I texted my friend Jessa, who’s a lead preschool teacher at Mia’s school, and asked what she uses with her class. She told me the first mistake most parents make is trying to explain “racism” as a big, complicated concept to a 5-year-old. Five-year-olds only understand one big moral concept: fair vs. unfair. That’s the framework they use for everything, from turn taking on the slide to sharing cookies. So all resources need to meet them there. Then she gave me a few specific recommendations that actually ended up working.
First, the book that Mia asks to read three nights a week now is Hair Love by Matthew Cherry. It’s a short, simple story about a Black dad learning to do his daughter Zuri’s curly hair for the first time. There’s no big lecture, just a sweet family story that feels like any other bedtime story we have. After the third read, Mia got out her own doll and tried to braid its hair just like Zuri’s, and asked if we could go see Kai’s mom’s hair next time we’re at their house. That’s the point, right? It doesn’t force the lesson, it just shows a normal family that looks different from ours, and that makes it normal for Mia. Another book we love is Eyes That Kiss in the Corners by Joanna Ho, which is about a Chinese American girl noticing how her eyes are different from the ones she sees in most storybooks, and Mia connected it right away to our neighbor’s daughter, who she plays with after school.
It’s not just books, though. Jessa told me that the best “resources” are small changes you make to your everyday life, that don’t feel like school. For example, I realized all of Mia’s dolls and action figures were the same skin tone as her. I went on Amazon and ordered two new $6 dolls, one with brown skin and braids, one with dark skin and curly hair, for a total of less than $15. Now when Mia plays “family” or “preschool” with her toys, she naturally includes people who look different, and when she comments on how their hair feels different than her blonde straight hair, I just say “Yep, everyone’s hair is different, just like everyone likes different ice cream flavors.” I used to think we shouldn’t point out differences, that we should be “colorblind.” But Jessa said that if you act like differences don’t exist, kids get the idea that it’s rude or scary to talk about them. Now I just let Mia ask questions, and answer them simply, instead of changing the subject.
Another low-effort resource I found is the Sesame Street “Coming Together” short clips on YouTube. They’re 2 to 3 minutes long, perfect for a 5-year-old’s attention span, and they just show Elmo hanging out with different kinds of friends and families, talking about how everyone deserves to be treated nicely. Mia loves the one where Elmo helps his friend who uses a wheelchair get to the cookies, and it naturally leads into talking about how it’s fair to make sure everyone gets to join in, no matter what they look like or what they need.
I still don’t have it all figured out. Two weeks ago, Mia came home from preschool saying a boy told our classmate Aisha she couldn’t play tag because “she talks funny.” I fumbled a little before I remembered to tie it back to what she knows: “That’s really unfair, isn’t it? Aisha is fun to play with, and it’s not okay to leave someone out just because she sounds different. Let’s go ask her if she wants to play at the park tomorrow.” That worked, but I still don’t always get it right. I still panic a little when Mia asks a question I didn’t expect, and I’ve had to go back and correct myself after brushing something off the way I did at the grocery store.
I’m still looking for new small things to add, but what I’ve learned so far is that you don’t need a fancy expensive curriculum for a 5-year-old. The best resources are the ones that fit their world: simple stories about people, small conversations tied to what they already see, and small changes that help them see the diversity of the world they already live in. It’s not about turning a 5-year-old into an activist overnight. It’s just about giving them the words to talk about what they notice, and teaching them that everyone deserves to be treated fairly. That’s enough, for right now.
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