“Most of the kids look alike,” my son proclaimed.
I felt a slight stir of anxiety as I sat in my small chair, clutching my chai tightly, and waited to see if he would elaborate. Around the preschool snack table, fourteen little ones were engrossed in their clusters of raisins and wheat crackers, offering him varying degrees of attention.
It crossed my mind that the phrase “most of the kids” holds a complex meaning. Their cognitive abilities are developing at a rapid pace, and they seem to absorb sophistication effortlessly. I can observe their thought processes evolving much like dough rising.
“Most of the kids have peach skin, just like me. We match. And look, Saige matches Teacher Maddie.”
Saige interrupted, echoing a thought I anticipated, “I match Mommy’s eyes.”
This theme has become a frequent topic in our home over the past month or so. As their awareness of color and features matures, they begin to categorize similarities and differences. Our skin tones diverge, yet our eyes align. Saige identifies with her “tummy mommy,” while I have a distinct identity.
Her desire to match me creates a sense of conflict within me. We’ve invested three years in building our family bond. My connection to her as a mother is profound, yet I recognize that they are still simple, tangible beings. She seeks evidence of belonging through colors, fibers, and names. Words alone don’t suffice. Concepts such as love and connection are abstract; they crave the physicality of identity. Garrett has hair like Daddy’s, and Saige’s eyes resemble mine.
I gently support this exploration, concealing my concerns. My fears are rooted in adult experiences. I understand the importance of her developing an identity that embraces her Haitian heritage and brown skin. I worry that her inclination to match her white mother rather than her African American teacher could reflect a societal message equating beauty with whiteness. That princesses must be blonde. That differences are undesirable.
But for now, I feel a sense of reassurance. She expresses pride in her appearance, beams when I style her hair, and eagerly asks to see the results. At four years old, she is merely a child navigating her sense of belonging within our family, not a child rejecting her unique beauty.
The preschoolers turned to me, their tiny hands filled with raisins poised midway to their mouths. “I don’t match,” I reminded my son, “My skin is olive, while Saige’s eyes match mine, yet her skin is rich like Teacher Priscilla’s. We all have our uniqueness. Who else has brown eyes?”
Four small hands shot up. “I have blue eyes,” chirped an adorable little girl with golden locks.
“That’s right! Who else has blue eyes?” I encouraged, prompting further comparisons. Liam chimed in, “I have green eyes like Garrett.”
“But you’re the only one with red hair,” I pointed out, “We are all different, yet we all match in our own way.”
Just as quickly as the conversation began, it shifted to more pressing matters—a spilled cup of water and the dwindling raisin supply. Teacher Lila signaled for them to join the Rainbow Room, where Ryan’s Grandpa, an entomologist, was ready to introduce them to his fascinating Australian leaf bugs. They were enormous! They were captivating! The largest had even laid an egg on his hand! Our discussions about bugs consumed us for days, yet I know this topic will resurface. The idea of matching—our skin, our eyes—is still lingering in their minds.
This phase is relatively simple for them; their curiosity is easily satisfied. However, the more profound questions lie ahead.
I desire to impart my heart to her. You are remarkable. You are beautiful. You are one of a kind. Resist the allure of airbrushed perfection, chemical enhancements, and the fabricated lives of others. Understand that beauty is not synonymous with a particular look, hair color, weight, or wardrobe. True happiness stems from a loving family, friends to share laughter with, a thriving passion, and the joy of new experiences—it’s traced in ancient carvings, found in a close finish, or felt in a warm embrace. It shines in your grandmother’s eyes when she meets your child.
Happiness is fleeting. It requires effort.
If you pursue it through superficial means—bleaching, tanning, extreme dieting, or other misguided attempts—it will always remain just out of reach.
She is still too young to grasp these concepts. I know this. Yet, I pen these thoughts for her future. You cannot gauge the depth of someone’s heart by their appearance, my dear. There are countless blondes who cry themselves to sleep, just as there are redheads who suffer under warped standards of beauty.
We are all distinct, yet we are all the same.
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In summary, this reflection highlights the intricate relationship between identity, belonging, and self-perception in early childhood. As children navigate their understanding of differences and similarities, it is essential to foster a sense of uniqueness while also embracing their heritage. Encouraging conversations about beauty and self-worth can help lay the foundation for a healthy self-image as they grow.
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