Talking to Children About Race

Your guide for raising anti-racist kids

Loretta Andrews, Ruth Hill

• Publisher: SPCK Publishing
• Year: 2022
• Print ISBN: 9780281086825
• eBook ISBN: 9780281086832
• Edition: 1
• Subtopic: Discrimination & Race Relations

"It's easier to build strong children than repair broken men and women. This book provides an incredible opportunity for parents and guardians to start important conversations early on." – Guvna B, rapper, author and broadcaster

"Books like this are essential, the more children are comfortable talking about race the less barriers there will be between us." - Naomi and Natalie from Everydayracism

Do you want to raise anti-racist children? Do you long to learn but are too scared of saying or doing the wrong thing?

Then Talking to Children about Race is for you.

But before we start talking to our children, we must start chatting honestly with one another.

Broadcaster Loretta Andrews and the educator Ruth Hill had been friends for years before the shocking death of George Floyd made it impossible not to dig deeper into the topic of race and how to explain racism to their children.

Drawing on the very real conversations that ensued, this book invites you into the dialogue to better equip you to bring up anti-racist children.

With warmth and approachability, the authors provide a history of race and explore white privilege, unconscious bias and systematic racism. They offer practical tips, ideas and activities to help you to educate, empower and raise anti-racist children today.

"Loretta and Ruth have given us a treasure: a non-judgemental, open-hearted manual on ways to tackle the subject of race with our little ones." - Sarah Clarke (Disastersofathirtysomething)

"What I love the most is that you are part of change – a lasting change tribe. Ruth and Loretta have not only used their platform but their honest voices in sharing their experiences and research to be the conversation opener for children and families on anti-racism." - Dina Maktabi, Founded of Kensington Mums www.kensingtonmums.co.uk

"This is an incredibly helpful and well-written guide that I will go back to time and time again throughout raising my son!" – Emma Borquaye, author and founder of Girl Got Faith

"I really wanted to skim through this book, picking out little nuggets of wisdom, but paragraph after paragraph, chapter after chapter, I was engrossed!!" - Nana-Adwoa Mbeutcha, Co-Founder of Black Mums Upfront

1
Exploring our own prejudices

Race is a human-invented, shorthand term used to describe and categorize people into various social groups based on characteristics like skin color, physical features, and genetic heredity. Race, while not a valid biological concept, is a real social construction that gives or denies benefits and privileges.1

Before we talk to children about race, we have to do the hard work of facing, learning and wrestling with some of these questions and topics ourselves.

There is much debate over whether it’s possible for a black person, for example, to be racist. The main thinking behind this is that power must come into play for racism to exist, and the fact that white privilege exists means that the person of colour, at least when it comes to racial discrimination, is always going to be at a disadvantage. There can of course be other prejudices and privileges, such as class and gender, that may put a black or brown person in a more powerful pos­ition than a white person. However, when it comes to race, white people are still at an advantage. They may be discriminated against in all kinds of circumstances or scenarios, but those hardships will not be because of their race. This is an important distinction to make if we are to understand the fact that a non-white person, simply because of the colour of his or her skin, will walk through life at a disadvantage and will face difficulties that white people never encounter. Equally, white people enjoy privileges simply because of their skin colour, whether they like it or not and whether they realize it or not.

This is not to dismiss the additional numerous, often complex areas of privilege that exist. For example, I (Loretta) am a brown woman. I am mixed-race and my skin is light brown. I experience light-skinned privilege: ‘colourism’ refers to the favour given to lighter-skinned black people or brown people over their dark-skinned counterparts. This colourism can even be felt within black communities, in which ‘good’ hair (meaning less Afro and more European) and possessing facial features that resemble European ones are deemed more beautiful or desirable. It’s hugely problematic and unhelpful and does nothing to further the anti-racism cause and conversation. I wanted to highlight this issue because I know many white people baulk at the suggestion that they are privileged, either because they are against racism and don’t think they’re ra­cist or because they experience very real struggles in their own lives. However, my intention is not to make a person feel bad or shameful in a spiteful and demeaning way – white privilege is simply a fact. I don’t have any trouble identifying and owning my light-skinned privilege. I believe it is an important acknowledgement for me to make for the sake of those who are oppressed in a more distinct way than I am. If I’m to be a true ally, it is important for me to recognize and admit this.

The anti-racism journey is very much about acknowledging and identifying (as much as it is possible for us to) with the experience of those oppressed in areas and ways that we are not. We need to be more than sympathetic; we have to be empathetic; we have to be outraged, disgusted and determined to be part of change and not just wish for change. Ignoring racism and the difference that skin-­colour makes is not a privilege or option that black and brown children have. It goes without saying that this book is for talking primarily to white children, and there’s a reason for that: the parents of children of colour don’t need a book to know this information. They are already acutely aware of how important it is to talk about these things from very early on in their children’s lives.

None of us likes to admit our less attractive traits but, if you’re reading this book, we assume that you are a person who wants to know better – and do better – for you and for your children. We need to know what we’re getting wrong before we can get things right, and that we’re being honest about where bias may exist within us, which is a good place to start.

You can challenge yourself once you get used to identifying bias. Think about a few scenarios and perhaps question your motives: have you ever found yourself feeling nervous when you’re walking on a quiet street and a black person is walking towards you? Have you crossed to the other side of the street? If so, why do you think you were uncomfortable? Have you ever found yourself watching a black person in a shop, subconsciously suspicious of what he or she might do? Perhaps you’ve seen a group of young, black boys and expected them to be troublesome or up to no good? We first have to recognize these thoughts in ourselves, acknowledge them, challenge them and dismantle them, and then we can work on changing them:

recognize → acknowledge → challenge → dismantle →
change

The Equalities Act (2010) recognizes nine ‘protected characteristics’ – categories against which, by law, we are prohibited from discriminating. They are age, disability, gender reassignment, marriage and civil partnership, pregnancy and maternity, race, religion or belief, sex (gender), and sexual orientation. For me (Ruth), a forty-something, able-bodied, cisgender, married, white, atheist, straight woman and mother (I’m trying to make sure you can see into which of the protected characteristics I fit), I have personally experienced prejudice in only a few ways. For example, I was once told that I was ‘over the top’ when I requested that I be referred to as the ‘chair’ or ‘chairperson’, not ‘chairman’, of a committee. I’ve also encountered many experiences of ‘mansplaining’ that were clear ex­amples of sexism. In most situations, however, I have argued with these things and moved past them. This doesn’t mean that those prejudices do not exist or that others do not experience them as more detrimental. Nor does experiencing prejudice mean that I am free from it in my own judgements, or that I don’t hold unconscious biases.

I am comfortable talking about gender equality with my children. I am comfortable explaining that, for centuries, women have not had the same privileges as men and, in many ways, still don’t. I am comfortable explaining that history. I am comfortable challenging sexism when I see it. I want to be able to approach racial inequality and racism in the same way I do gender inequality and sexism but, if I’m honest, I still feel less comfortable explaining the centuries of in­equality surrounding race; I’m less sure of the history and less able to challenge incidents of racism. One of the reasons I can identify for being less able to discuss race is that I was brought up in a world in which it is thought that the best thing you can do to create a fairer world is to be ‘colour-blind’: just don’t mention skin colour or even acknowledge it, then it won’t be a problem.

My first experience of racism occurred when I was in a tiny, village primary school. There were seven children in my year group. I was the only girl. In rural Wiltshire, you can imagine that there were very few non-white families in the area – that is, until a girl of Malaysian heritage joined us. She had the most amazing long, dark plaits and we shared a birthday. She was a few years younger than I am but, in a school that small, we didn’t end up segregated by age. There were only three classrooms and we all played outside at the same times. I remember the girl’s mum coming on to the school bus and telling off my year group for calling her daughter ‘Toffee Drops’. I had ­never called her that, so I was baffled – not because I was in some way anti-racist at that age but because, despite being envious of her beautiful plaits, I hadn’t thought her different skin colour of note. At that age, I wasn’t really bothered by differences.

Another reason I’m uncomfortable talking about racial in­equality is because of my own family history. While one side of my family has impoverished Jewish immigrant roots in the East End of London, the other side is very different. My great-grandfather was a rubber-plantation manager in what was Malaya (now Malaysia). My grandfather, although I never knew him, was a captain in the British Army in India. My grandmother, who was a big figure in my childhood, was with him in India. They were part of the British Raj.2 She told me about spending summers in Shimla, a place which, when I visited in 2005, I was shocked to find had oper­ated literally on two levels. There was an upper level, which looks bizarrely like a British seaside town with a colonial twist, and a lower level of tunnels through which the ‘natives’ used to travel about the town so as not to mix with those in power, except to serve. I therefore admit that I find it difficult to talk about race because my family has definitely profited from racial inequalities. My privilege is, in part, built on all that and, in truth, I feel awkward and embarrassed about it.

But, if I am going to move from feeling awkward and embarrassed towards being an ally and an anti-racist, I have to follow Loretta’s advice:

recognize → acknowledge → challenge → dismantle →
change

I therefore have to acknowledge both the conscious and unconscious prejudices I hold because of my family history, my upbringing and my experience of the world.

Unconscious biases and prejudices are (by their nature) very difficult to identify in ourselves. But to move successfully past prejudice, we all have to acknowledge those we carry. I would be lying if I were to say that I had never looked at someone I didn’t know and mentally formed a stereotypical judgement. And, yes, that may well have been based on skin colour. After the 7 July terrorist attacks in London in 2005, I was keen not to be scared off the Tube by terrorists, so I travelled into London. I remember getting on the train and actively noticing every brown-skinned man with a rucksack. I forcefully had to remind myself that none of them was likely to be a terrorist.

When these sorts of judgement pass into my mind, I catch ­myself and tell myself that they are wrong and inappropriate. But, if I’m being totally honest, sometimes the stereotype, prejudice or fear sticks no matter how much I know it to be untrue and illogical. It’s a hard thing to admit but I have to do so to be able to move forward.

Before you begin to talk to your children about race, make sure that you have considered what assumptions you make about ­people. These may not even be particularly negative; they might just be stereotypes: for example, that black people have natural rhythm or are great at athletics; that Jews are ‘good with money’ or have high IQs; or that East Asians are inherently gifted at maths or playing classical music. We all hold on to assumptions that we have imbibed from the surrounding culture and which often have little or no ­scientific basis. These are attitudes that we have to acknowledge to enable us to become not just ‘not racist’ but also ‘anti-racist’.

As Dr Maya Angelou said, ‘Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.’3 We all need to keep trying to do better.

2
How do I start talking to my children about race?

Parenthood

Nothing prepared me (Loretta) for the many questions and worries that come with parenthood. During my pregnancy, I suddenly felt the weight of responsibility for the new life I was carrying. As I thought about how I wanted to present all sorts of issues to my son, from faith to racial heritage, I was challenged about my own opinions on them all. I wanted my child to have choices that I hadn’t necessarily had, while being informed in a thorough and balanced way – again, in a way that I probably hadn’t. I wanted my son to know and be proud of his heritage; I knew that this was important to me.

There is a joke that my friends and I made up about mixed-race children, based on the famous Forrest Gump quote: ‘Having a mixed-race baby is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get!’1 There are interracial families in which all the siblings have the same parents and yet the children have different shades of skin ranging from very light to very dark, and hair textures that vary from straight to Afro. The way a child will look can be an unknown that you anticipate discovering almost more than the sex of the baby. This curiosity is not to be confused with underlying ra­cist connotations similar to those revealed when Prince Harry was asked by an unnamed member of the royal family what the skin colour might be of his (then unborn) son with Meghan Markle. I knew my son would have light skin because his dad is white. As it turned out, he is ‘white-passing’, which means that he looks white. Although he has a slight curl to his hair, the texture would never be described as Afro, like mine, and he doesn’t really have any facial features characteristic of his West Indian heritage. My twin sister (who is married to a white man) has two boys who look more mixed-race in their features and yet one has blond, tight curls and blue eyes! You really don’t know what your mixed-race baby is going to look like, and it’s interesting and exciting to anticipate.

As muc...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Contents
• Preface
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• 1 Exploring our own prejudices
• 2 How do I start talking to my children about race?
• 3 How the world has changed in our lifetimes
• 4 A history of race and racism
• 5 Should we teach our children to be colour-blind?
• 6 Addressing white privilege
• 7 Talking about structural and institutionalized racism
• 8 Explaining allyship
• 9 What is anti-racism?
• 10 How do I equip my children to talk about race?
• 11 Continuing the conversation about race with your children
• Glossary
• Notes
• Selected references
• Recommended reading