In December 2009, we traveled to Ethiopia and welcomed our son Noah on Christmas Day. This little boy has transformed my perspective on life in ways I never anticipated. He brings laughter, keeps me alert, and constantly challenges my thinking.
Some of our best conversations unfold during the ten-minute drive to school, typically between 7:30 and 7:40 AM. Noah uses this time to express his opinions, ask questions, and share stories. I absorb so much information in those fleeting minutes.
However, today’s discussion caught me off guard. I had taken Noah to the dermatologist the day before for his annual eczema check and to examine some pigmentation marks. It was a routine appointment, lasting only a few minutes. I explained to him that sometimes his skin gets a little rash when it’s dry, just like mine, and that the doctor would check it. “You look great!” she had said.
So, I was taken aback when I heard his voice from the backseat this morning:
“Mommy, why did I go to the dermatologist yesterday?”
“Just to check your eczema. Lots of people have it, and you looked great! We just need to keep using your cream.”
“I don’t like my skin.”
“What?”
“It’s too dark.”
My heart sank. I wanted to pull over right then. This was a conversation I had dreaded, anticipating it would come at some point, but I hadn’t expected it to arise so soon. Noah was not even four years old yet.
“Noah, I love your skin. You have beautiful brown skin.”
“Well, I don’t like brown skin. I don’t want it.”
“Many of your friends have brown skin too.” (I quickly listed them off in a moment of panic)
“Yeah, they do.”
“What kind of skin do you want?” I braced myself for the answer.
“Skin like yours.”
That moment was overwhelming for me—sitting alone in the car at 7:30 AM. I felt stumped, saddened, and taken aback. I never wanted him to feel this way. Clearly, this was something he had been carrying with him for a while. I thought we had done everything right to prevent these feelings, but I realized how naive I was. Conversations like this are inevitable.
“Noah, your skin is beautiful. We all have different skin tones. Imagine how dull we would all look if we were the same! You loved learning about rainbows in school and all the different colors, right? People are like rainbows: each of us is unique, but all are beautiful. I want you to understand that your brown skin is just as lovely as mine, even if it’s not the same. There’s no such thing as too dark or too light.”
“OK.”
As we arrived at school, he asked if he would be going to Pre-K today. This conversation is far from finished; in fact, it’s just the beginning. I called my partner, Jake, on my way to work to share what had happened, and I could hear the same sadness in his voice as he processed this moment. Later, I spoke with a colleague who provided a listening ear and valuable insights. Her perspective was incredibly helpful.
I wish we didn’t have to confront these issues with Noah—not because it’s challenging for us, but because I can see the pain and confusion it brings to my little boy. I would do anything to shield him from that. Yet, I know I can’t.
I would appreciate any advice, book recommendations, or personal stories from those who have more experience than I do. I seek guidance and reassurance that we are making the right choices and saying the right things. Above all, I wish I could ensure that he will always embrace and love himself, even if he is different from us. Our best course of action is to show him countless reasons why we adore him and help him build his own identity and self-love.
That night, I asked Noah if he wanted to read his book about Ethiopia. We looked at pictures of his birth parents. “Your birth mom and dad have brown skin just like you! Their skin is beautiful!”
He smiled and nodded, “Yep!”
In summary, navigating the complexities of identity and self-image with children, particularly regarding skin color, is a challenging yet essential conversation. By opening up these dialogues, we can help our children embrace their uniqueness and foster self-love.