Talking to kids about race

On the heels of 2020 in America, the topic of race is perhaps more charged than ever. We realize that you don’t know what you don’t know, so we invited a pair of other moms to the table to discuss the topic outright. How do white parents and black parents talk about this subject with their kids? Is it too much for them to digest?

In our experience, most white parents, if they raise the issue at all, do so in general, vague ways like “everyone is equal,” “Jesus loves us all,” or “we’re all the same.” We think by NOT pointing out race, we automatically teach our kids to not see color (what we call “being color-blind) and therefore racial distinctions/prejudices won’t form. Of course, we’re not overtly teaching racism (since we aren’t using ugly words or having hateful attitudes), so our kids naturally will see everyone as equal.

Turns out, this doesn’t work.

When children enter the world, their brains immediately make sense of things by creating categories: safe/not safe, same/not same. When they’re old enough to begin looking at picture books and listen to adult voices pointing out things (Look at the blue elephant. Isn’t he silly?), they are already forming a sense of identity and self. When parents don’t explicitly point out differences and diversity, they leave children’s developing brains to categorize on their own, and often the conclusions they reach are abhorrent and exactly the opposite of our values. Children are concrete little beings and need concrete examples to understand concepts. Next time you read a book with your child, try it: Look at the man’s brown skin–isn’t it beautiful? Look at the lady–she’s a scientist. People can be all kinds of things. Black people can be astronauts and white people can play basketball.

Ashley Golden, an electrical engineer and mom of two kids (Alex, age 8, and McKenna, age 4), has different, more pointed conversations about race with her children because Ashley, her husband, and their kids are black. Her son is the sole black child in his entire second grade, a fact that he is clearly aware of. Her name “sounds white,” so while she’d email with other engineers at her job about technical projects, when they finally met in a conference room, it wasn’t uncommon for her colleagues to dismissively shake hands, searching for the engineer they’d assumed they’d been corresponding with–the white one. She recounts many times her relatives and friends have had to think carefully and make pointed decisions to safeguard themselves–in ways that never occur to whites.

Ashley Golden and her family

Abby Rosser is a mom to four kids, three of them white and one, her youngest, Ezra, an adopted son from the Democratic Republic of Congo in Central Africa. The differences in her family are obvious, and, yes, they field rude and inappropriate questions from strangers in the grocery store. Abby relies on friends like Ashley to help her navigate what her youngest may face. She’s at a disadvantage because, she knows, her experiences (and those of her other son, Knox) are likely very different from what Ezra’s may be.

Abby Rosser and her family

Both moms admit to feeling anxious and sad at having to crack their sons’ shell of innocence as they grow. They will need to know, sooner rather than later, that people may perceive them as a threat and make assumptions about them just because of how they look. If they drive to a white friend’s house in a mostly white neighborhood, it will not be a carefree act. This is neither fair nor right, but over 50 years after the Civil Rights act was passed, it is still the case for Abby and Ashley’s black sons, while it is not for Renee’s and mine.

As moms, we are all fiercely protective of our kids. We all want the best for them and want them to believe they can do and be anything. We also want them to be kind, have empathy, and do what’s right. How do we teach this to our kids?

1. Talk to them. Be concrete and explicit. Let them ask questions and don’t shush them because it’s uncomfortable. You want to be a safe place, a trusted resource. Would you rather them learn about sex on the playground or from you? The same is true for race. When you think you’re done, circle back and have more conversations at a later date. Ask them questions. Why do you think that is? What did you think about that?

2. Start early. Don’t entrust their “race education” to the school system. Find books about famous black people in history or untold stories and read, read, read. Don’t hide the truth. Kids can process more than you think. If possible, visit history. Go see the Selma bridge near Birmingham or the places MLK preached in Atlanta. Read about and visit sites for the Underground Railroad and then engage their imaginations.

3. Make friends who are different from you/your family. If your neighborhood’s not diverse, reach out to other parents at school, church, scouts, or on your kid’s sports team. Engage. Explore. Ask questions and get to know each other as people with much in common.

4. Give each other grace! We don’t know what we don’t know, but as Maya Angelou famously said, when you know better, do better.

5. Be an ally. Teach your kids in concrete ways to stand up and speak up for others. Don’t let the racist comment slide (even if it’s from Grandma or old Uncle Joe). Respectfully explore it: Wow, why do you feel that way? You know, that makes me uncomfortable and isn’t super kind. A child’s comment to an adult can go a long way to change an ingrained perspective! If they don’t change their behavior, you’ve at least “marked it” for your child to circle back to later, and you’ve given them an example of moral courage.

6. Teach/model empathy. A solid tenant of the Christian faith is to do unto other as you’d have done to yourself. Ask: how would YOU feel if…, how would YOU want to be treated?

Books Mentioned/Recommended in the Podcast:

Who Were the Tuskegee Airmen

Race Cars

I Am Every Good Thing

Skin Like Mine

Free Born Slave

Little Leaders: Women in Black History

Little Legends: Men in Black History

Bud, Not Buddy

Freedom Train: the story of Harriet Tubman

A Glorious Age in Africa

Children Just Like Me