I didn’t expect looking for anti-racism resources for my 5-year-old would be this messy
It started two weeks ago at the neighborhood playground. My daughter, Mia, was cramming goldfish crackers into her mouth when she pointed at a Black grandma pushing her granddaughter’s stroller a few benches over and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Mom, why is her skin chocolate?”
I froze. I’ve read all the thinkpieces that say you shouldn’t shut down curiosity about difference, that you have to name it instead of pretending we don’t see skin color. But all I could spit out was “People come in all different skin colors, just like different colored bikes!” She nodded, crammed another cracker in, and ran off to climb the slide. But I stood there, my face hot, knowing that wasn’t enough. That answer just says difference exists, it doesn’t say that some people are treated badly because of that difference, and that we don’t do that.
So I went looking for resources. I figured someone smarter than me had already put together the perfect book, or activity, or something that would make this easy, right? First I searched Google, then Instagram, and every list was either full of books for middle schoolers, or super heavy stuff about segregation and protests that I can’t imagine reading to a kid who still cries if the barista gives her the wrong color cup.
I drove to the local library to ask the children’s librarian, who knows Mia’s taste in unicorn books better than I do. She was lovely, pulled three books off the shelf for me. One was a picture book about the 1960s marches, and when I flipped through it while Mia was yanking every Peppa Pig board book off the low shelf, I saw a full-page illustration of police dogs lunging at protestors. I stuffed it back on the shelf quick. Mia still sleeps with a nightlight because she’s scared of the wolf in the Three Little Pigs. How am I supposed to show her dogs attacking people for wanting to vote? That’s not age appropriate, no matter what the caption on the Instagram list said.
My older sister, who’s a 4th grade teacher, sent me a link to a free preschool anti-racism activity pack. One of the activities was mixing paint to match your own skin tone. I bought cheap tempera paint last Saturday, spread out newspaper on the kitchen table, and we did it. Mia had a great time, mixed a color she called “cupcake” for her skin, and then painted a portrait of our goldfish that was mostly purple. But when I cleaned up, I realized that was just… a fun art project. It taught us that people have different skin tones, sure, but that’s not anti-racism. That’s just diversity 101, the nice fluffy version that doesn’t ask anything of you. I need something that teaches Mia that it’s not okay to leave someone out because their skin is a different color, that you have to say something when you see someone being treated unfair.
I got so desperate I ended up awkwardly asking my neighbor, Jen, who has a 5-year-old son the same age as Mia and is Black, for recommendations. I was standing on her porch holding a plate of leftover chocolate chip cookies, and I was so nervous I tripped over her garden hose and dropped half the cookies on the grass. I babbled my whole question, expecting her to be annoyed that I was putting her on the spot, but she just laughed and helped me pick them up.
She lent me a beat-up copy of The Color of Us which I’d seen on a million lists, and then she said something I didn’t expect. She said she doesn’t bother with fancy resources for her son right now. “He’s five,” she said. “He gets fair and unfair. He doesn’t get systemic oppression. I just point it out when it happens. When a shop clerk follows me around the store when we’re together, I say ‘That’s rude, right? He did that just because my skin is brown, that’s not okay.’ That’s the lesson.”
I read The Color of Us to Mia that night. It’s fine, it’s sweet, it talks about all different skin colors. But it still doesn’t really get into the unfair part, not in a way a 5-year-old can grasp. And I still don’t have that perfect resource I was looking for. I still add books to my library hold list every other day, half-expecting each one to be the wrong fit. I still fumble when Mia asks questions. Last week she asked why the new Black kid in her preschool didn’t get to be line leader for the first two weeks like all the other kids who started on the first day. I mumbled something about the teacher probably forgetting, and that we can ask her about it tomorrow, but I didn’t say the quiet thing I was thinking – that it was probably unfair, that it was racism, small and stupid and everyday. I didn’t know how to say that to her without scaring her.
I get why people say to start early. But no one tells you that there’s not a one-size-fits-all resource that works for a kid who’s still learning to tie her shoes. Some days I think the best “resource” I’ve had was that random moment at the grocery store last week. Mia told the Black cashier her sparkly star earrings were the coolest thing she’d ever seen, and after we left, Mia said “Mom, your dance teacher has the exact same earrings!” I said “Yeah, right? Anyone can love sparkly earrings, no matter what color their skin is. And anyone can be a good cashier, or a good dance teacher, or a good anything.” That was it. No big speech, no activity. Just a little moment.
I’m still looking, though. I don’t think I’ll ever find the perfect resource, honestly. I think I’ll just keep fumbling, answering questions when they come, calling out unfairness when I can, and trying not to mess it up too bad. Some days that feels like enough. Most days it just feels like the best I can do right now.
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