“Almost all the kids match,” my daughter announced proudly.
I felt a slight tension in my chair as I gripped my chai more tightly, curious to see if she would elaborate. Around the preschool snack table, a dozen tiny bodies were absorbed in their collections of raisins and crackers, paying her little mind.
“Almost all” is a tricky idea for these little ones. Their brains are developing at lightning speed, absorbing complexities of the world like yeast in dough. “Almost all the kids are peach momma. We match. And Jamie matches Teacher Emma.”
Jamie piped up, “I match mommy’s eyes!”
This has become a frequent topic in our home over the last few weeks. As their awareness of colors and features grows, they start to explore concepts of similarity and difference. They notice that our skin tones vary, but our eyes sometimes align. Jamie has a “tummy mommy,” while I do not.
Her desire to match me tugs at my heartstrings. We’ve invested three long years in building our family bond. My identity as her mother is strong, yet they are still so young and focused on the tangible. Jamie craves that visible connection—something she can see and touch. Words aren’t enough. They want proof. Jamie’s hair is like her dad’s, and her eyes resemble mine.
I encourage her exploration, masking my concerns. My adult fears whisper that she needs to embrace her identity, which includes her Haitian roots and beautiful brown skin. I worry that her desire to match me, a white mother, instead of her African American teacher may signal that I haven’t done enough to counter society’s damaging belief that white equates to beauty. But for now, I feel assured. She confidently tells me she’s pretty, grinning as I style her hair. This four-year-old is simply navigating how she fits into our family, not rejecting her own appearance.
The preschoolers glanced at me, sticky fingers reaching for their raisins.
“I don’t match,” I reminded my daughter, “my skin is olive. Jamie’s eyes are like mine, but her skin is rich chocolate, just like Teacher Emma’s. We’re all unique. Who else has brown eyes?”
Four tiny hands shot up. “I have blue eyes,” an adorable little blonde chimed in.
“You do! Who else has blue eyes?” I encouraged, inviting further comparisons. Liam, another classmate, boasted green eyes like Jamie’s dad.
“But you’re the only one with red hair,” I pointed out. “We’re all different, yet we all match in our own ways.”
As quickly as it started, their attention shifted to a spilled cup, their dwindling raisin supply. Teacher Ellen then led them to the Craft Room, where Jamie’s Uncle Mike, an entomologist, was set to showcase his incredible Australian leaf bugs. They were massive and fascinating! The kids buzzed with excitement, but I knew the topic of matching would resurface. It’s a theme that bubbles up and down in our conversations—about our skin, our eyes, and how we relate to one another.
For now, their inquiries are simple, but I know deeper questions are just around the corner. I want to pour my heart into Jamie, to tell her: “You are stunning, unique. Don’t let the world tell you otherwise.” I wish for her to understand that beauty isn’t about conforming to narrow standards of perfection. True happiness stems from a loving family, friends to share laughter with, and passions that ignite your spirit. It’s about the joy found in small moments, like feeling your grandma’s warmth when she meets your little one.
Happiness is fluid and requires effort. If one tries to artificially create beauty through trends or societal pressures, it will always slip away.
I know she’s too young for all these words now, but I write them down for the future. Remember, darling, you cannot measure someone’s worth by appearance alone. There are countless little blondes who cry themselves to sleep, and redheads who struggle under the weight of twisted beauty ideals.
We are all different, yet we all share common threads.
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Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, a mother navigates her child’s growing awareness of identity and appearance, contemplating the complexities of matching and uniqueness within their family. She balances encouragement with concerns about societal beauty standards, emphasizing the importance of love, acceptance, and self-worth beyond physical traits.