“Most of the kids match,” my daughter announced proudly.
I felt a little flutter of tension as I settled into my small chair, clutching my chai a bit tighter, waiting to see if she would elaborate. Around the preschool snack table, a group of fourteen little ones were absorbed in their treasures of raisins and wheat crackers, giving my daughter varying degrees of attention.
“Most of” is a nuanced idea, I thought. Their brains are like sponges, soaking up complexities and growing rapidly. It’s fascinating to observe their evolving understanding, almost like watching dough rise.
“Most of the kids have matching shirts. We match! And Lily matches Mrs. Thompson.”
Lily chimed in enthusiastically, “I match mommy’s eyes!”
This has been a recurring theme in our home for the past few weeks. As their awareness of colors and similarities develops, they are piecing together their identities. They notice differences in skin tones and hair textures. My daughter, Lily, has a mommy with light skin, while her own is rich and brown—a vivid reminder of her heritage.
It’s a bittersweet moment for me. We’ve worked diligently over the past three years to foster a strong family bond. My role as her mother feels deeply rooted, yet Lily’s simple, physical needs for connection are evident. She seeks tangible proof of our bond through colors and looks. Words like love or belonging don’t seem enough for her. She wants to see it, to touch it. “Your hair is like Daddy’s,” she says, “and my eyes are like Mommy’s.”
I encourage her gently, masking my concerns. My fears are those of an adult. I recognize the importance of her developing a strong identity that embraces her Haitian roots and her beautiful brown skin. I know that, as she grows, a desire to mirror my white features instead of honoring her own could reflect societal pressures I dread. In a world that often equates beauty with whiteness, I want to ensure she feels valued and celebrated for who she is.
For now, I hold onto the innocence of her exploration. She beams when I style her hair and proudly declares herself pretty. At four years old, she is simply discovering how to fit into her family, not rejecting her own beauty.
As I watched them munch on their snacks, I reminded Lily, “I don’t match either—my skin is olive-toned. Your eyes may be like mine, but your skin is beautiful like Ms. Priscilla’s. We are all unique. Who else here has brown eyes?”
Four little hands shot up. “I have blue eyes!” a cute little boy piped up.
“That’s right! Who else?” I continued. And soon, we were comparing eye colors, with some children proudly declaring their green eyes, while I pointed out that we all have our own special traits.
Just like that, the conversation shifted. Their attention turned to a spilled cup of water and dwindling snacks. Teacher Sarah guided them to the Science Room, where Mr. Davis, an entomologist, was excited to show them fascinating Australian leaf bugs. The excitement in the room was palpable, and I knew this topic would captivate them for days. But I also understood that the conversations about matching and identity would return.
These discussions might be simple for now, but deeper questions linger, waiting for us just around the corner.
I want to fill Lily with affirmations. You are stunning. You are one-of-a-kind. Resist the urge to conform to societal standards that dictate beauty with airbrushed images and unattainable ideals. Remember, true happiness isn’t found in a specific look, hair color, or size. It lies in a loving family, joyful friendships, passionate pursuits, and the warmth of a hug.
She’s too young to grasp the weight of these ideas fully, so I’ll save them for her for later. You can’t measure the worth of a person by their appearance, sweetheart. Many individuals, regardless of their looks, face struggles behind closed doors.
We are all distinct, yet we share the same human experience.
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