Looking for anti-racism resources for my 5-year-old is way messier than I expected
Last Tuesday at the neighborhood playground, my 5-year-old Mia did the thing every parent dreads. She pointed across the slide at a Black mom waiting for her kid, yelled across the whole playground “MOM, WHY IS HER HAIR ALL TWISTY LIKE LITTLE ROPES?” and I wanted to sink into the wood mulch right then and there. The mom was actually really nice—she laughed and lifted a braid to show Mia the little blue beads on the end, said they were for her wedding next week. I apologized profusely, and we moved on to pushing Mia on the swing, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after. I didn’t shush her, which I’m proud of, but I also didn’t really know what to say after that. So that night I sat down on the couch with my laptop to look for stuff—books, activities, anything that makes this make sense for a kid who still thinks broccoli is a personal attack and can’t remember to put her socks in the hamper.
First I searched “anti-racism books for 5 year olds” and got a million results. Half of them were these big hardcover books about Martin Luther King Jr. and the civil rights movement, which is important, obviously. But when I flipped through the preview of one, there was a picture of protestors holding signs, and I just… how do I explain “people were mean to other people just because of their skin color” to a kid who thinks any rule that doesn’t let her have extra cookies is unfair and mean? I tried reading a picture book about segregation to her once for Black History Month last year, and she stopped me halfway through to ask if that was before dinosaurs, because all old things are dinosaur times to her. That tracks, I guess.
I went to our local library a couple days later, talked to the children’s librarian. She was super helpful, pulled a stack of eight books for me. I didn’t even think to specify I wanted stuff for a 5-year-old brain, so half of them were way too heavy anyway. The one I had highest hopes for was all about celebrating differences, but when I opened it at home, half the pages just said “we are all the same on the inside!” and Mia looked at me and said “no we’re not. Sofia has freckles and I don’t.” And she’s right! She notices differences! That’s how kids work! Why are we pretending we don’t see skin or hair or anything? That felt weird, like we’re teaching her it’s rude to notice, which isn’t what I want at all. I want her to ask questions, not be quiet about it because she thinks it’s a bad thing to talk about.
I saw this cute little anti-racism activity kit on someone’s Instagram feed once, so I ordered it for twelve bucks. It came with little paint pots in different skin tones, paper handprint cutouts, all that. It turned out three of the brown paints were basically the same color, one was weirdly orange, and Mia got paint all over my good linen throw pillow and then decided she’d rather paint a unicorn than do the “all different hands” thing. It’s now sitting under the kitchen sink with all the other half-used craft projects I bought that I don’t need.
My mom saw me stacking the library books on the coffee table and asked why I’m making such a big deal out of it. Said when I was 5, we didn’t talk about all this, we just played. I get where she’s coming from, I don’t think she’s being mean, but… when your kid yells a question across a playground, you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, right? Not talking about it just tells her it’s a taboo subject, not that it’s fine to ask and differences are okay. That feels like the opposite of what I want to teach her.
I did find one book I actually love, it’s called Hair Love, it’s about a Black dad doing his daughter’s hair for the first time. Mia asks to read it at bedtime two or three times a week. She loves the part where the dad messes up the hair at first, laughs so hard she snorts. After we read it last week, she said “I wish I had twisty hair like Zuri” and I said “your hair is curly and soft just like your grandma’s, that’s your special hair. Zuri’s is special too, right?” and she nodded, that was that. I didn’t have to give a big speech. It just… worked.
I still don’t have the perfect stack of resources. I still fumble when she asks questions that catch me off guard. Last week we ran into our neighbor Mr. Garcia, who’s Mexican, and Mia asked why his accent sounds different than ours. I stood there for a second, brain completely blank, before I fumbled out “he grew up in a different country where people speak a little different, just like how your cousin has a little lisp when she talks, it’s just how his voice works.” Mr. Garcia laughed and gave her a lollipop, that was it.
Part of me was looking for some perfect guide that tells me exactly what to do, exactly what to say, so I don’t mess this up. But I’m starting to think it doesn’t work that way. 5-year-olds don’t need a textbook. They just need to see different people living their regular, happy, messy lives, right? They just need to know it’s okay to ask questions, and that differences are cool, not scary. I’m still looking, though. If you have a book your 5-year-old actually likes that isn’t just “we all like ice cream!”, hit me up. I’ve got a bookshelf half full of duds, and a kid who begs for extra bedtime stories every night, so I’m all ears.
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