There’s an invisible load that parents have to navigate when our Black children start school. This starts before our children even start school. When choosing schools. When hearing the messages shared at introductory talks – does the school have a stance on racism? Do they think about children’s sense of belonging? Are there any other children in the class who look like mine? Do they encourage parent-teacher communication? Do the school values they promote marry up to what I can see or have heard from others? Does the school seem like they’d be receptive to being challenged if I felt something wasn’t handled right? Are they willing to learn to do better? Are there any Black staff?
We pre-empt and worry about the first moment they may be made to experience their difference and that difference not being accepted, celebrated – walking around with a knot in our stomach waiting to drop any second. Will it be derogatory comments or inappropriate touching of their hair, stereotypes about their identity, stories or a curriculum that lack representation and diversity. Will it start to chip away at their confidence? Will it escalate to racism and racial bullying? Will the staff notice the signs or when my child is not okay? Will they understand why it’s harmful? Will they care enough to investigate or escalate? Are the staff equipped to support them through all this? Or will they be a part of the problem, maybe even make the problem worse? Have I spoken to my child enough about what is normal friendship issues and what they shouldn’t tolerate and must tell us about? These worries aren’t irrational fears or making ‘everything about race’. They are about lived experience and the additional mental load we carry as Black parents with school-aged children. Then comes the sheer dread of how to explain to your child why a friend/peer/teacher has been so unkind, why they have been treated unfairly, how it’s not personal to them but is a problem in every aspect of society that they will continue to experience and worse as they get older. Finding words that are sensitive, affirming, and age-appropriate all whilst holding back tears ourselves, all whilst trying not to vilify other people’s children (which is also unhelpful). Heart-breakingly having to shatter your child’s innocence a little more, every single time. Younger siblings overhearing the conversation or asking questions, learning about this at an even younger age than the eldest was, worrying they will become anxious about it inevitably happening to them too.
Navigating racialised experiences, unconscious bias or intentional harm is an ongoing reality and challenge our children shouldnt have to face. We need them to be seen for who they are and encouraged and empowered to shine, thrive and experience a joyful childhood.
We continue to live with this reality not just as professionals and personally, but also as mothers. Our children are our ‘why’ and all children’s well-being is at the heart of everything we do. We’ve both had moments when our children come home and have shared an experience of racism from their school day or someone else has observed an incident and told us about it. We have to take a deep breath, think about how to check-in with our child to see how they are without panicking them or making them feel worse, write to the school to report the incident, request a meeting and push to take up space. Then considering the next layer – we have to consider how we will be perceived. The nuisance, overly sensitive, aggressive Black mother ‘waving the race card’ …again. As professionals who are able to strongly advocate for our children with a deep understanding of the education system, we are able to do this effectively and we will never stop. We are well aware, not all children have someone who is able or willing to do this, knows how, or is given that seat in a meeting to explain what’s happened and be listened to. The actual responses received from reporting incidences of racism our children have endured at primary school have varied from:
- ‘Thanks for telling us. We will do an assembly on kindness’
- ‘I’ve checked and no member of staff observed it so I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do’
- ‘I’m just some white guy (also lead for behaviour and EDI), what would I know?’
- ‘I’m sorry to hear that happened. We do not tolerate that type of behaviour and it’s against our school values’
- ‘Do you mind if I ask what you do? You speak so well.’
- ‘I’m so sorry that happened, especially to your child, as he’s so lovely.’
- ‘We will investigate this incident, let you know the outcome, speak to the parents of the children involved and apply appropriate sanctions.
- “We did an investigation. It wasn’t a racist comment as it was a brown child who said it”
This is not us playing victims but highlighting firstly how further harm, offence and racial trauma can be caused when attempting to challenge the system, by the people in charge of our children’s wellbeing day to day. Moreover, it reignites our passionate view that all schools need to access continuous anti-racist training and psychological supervision for staff to reflect on their practice. We know there are teachers, support staff, and educational leaders who genuinely want to make their classrooms, playgrounds and corridors safe, inclusive, and affirming for Black children, but simply haven’t been given the tools, language, or confidence to do so.
In our work, we support education staff to move beyond good intentions into skilled, confident action. It means having an understanding the impact of racial trauma on children’s mental health and learning. It means knowing how to respond in ways that validate a child’s experience, protect their dignity, and restore their sense of safety.
Because for Black and other racialised children to thrive in school, they need more than academic support, they need educators who see them, affirm them, humanise them and stand up for them in the moments that matter most