The strength of a mother is in the ears and on the lips.
~Mali Proverb

We walked into the auditorium for meet-the-teacher night for kindergarten. Both of us were feeling nervous and a little excited. I scanned the auditorium full of parents and their children and saw no one who looked like us. This had become an all too familiar theme living in Utah.

I got in line to sign up for the PTA, thinking that was one way to add some diversity and different perspectives. As I stood in the line, other mothers were greeted by the ladies working the table, asking if they would like to volunteer. When my son and I made it to the table, I was neither greeted nor offered the opportunity to sign up. Frustrated, I got out of line and tried to find a seat before the orientation started.

As Jeremiah and I sat down, we began to get stares. The discomfort began to get to me, so I called my husband and told him how out of place I felt. He validated my feelings, encouraged me to stay a little longer, and said he would be praying.

I hung up the phone and in came this little Latino boy and his father. Jeremiah and the boy were excited to see each other and hugged. I asked Jeremiah if he knew him and he said that the boy went to his daycare. His father came over and introduced himself and they were a breath of fresh air. We learned the boys would have the same teacher, which eased my mama heart.

After some remarks and introductions by the principal we were released to go and see our children’s classrooms and meet the teacher. Jeremiah and his friend were inseparable, so the Dad and I continued making small talk while waiting in line to speak with the teacher. When Jeremiah and I got to the front, the teacher looked at Jeremiah and loudly said, “Oh my goodness! Look at your hair. I love your curls.”

The first day of school, I was standing in line outside the classroom holding Jeremiah’s hand. A father and his little girl came and stood beside us and said hello. The father then put his hands in Jeremiah’s curly hair. I looked at him and Jeremiah looked at him uncomfortably; and he removed his hand. The teacher came out to greet all the kids and when she saw Jeremiah that same loud squeal and comment about his hair followed.

This, unfortunately, became commonplace. Every interaction I had with her resulted in a comment about Jeremiah’s hair, including on a field trip.

The last straw was when we had parent/teacher/student conferences. The teacher went over Jeremiah’s progress and then asked me to check his registration card. I noticed they had his race marked as white, so I showed her the mistake and she replied, “Oh we know he’s not white; you can tell by looking at his hair.” I stared at her blankly, not wanting to make a scene or show any disrespect to my son’s teacher in front of him. So, we left and when I received Jeremiah’s report card, in the comment section was yet another remark about his hair.

One night, after I washed his hair, Jeremiah was looking in the mirror as I brushed his hair back. He said, “Mommy, I look so cool.” And then told me his hair looked like a friend’s. The next morning, when his curls were back, he looked in the mirror and said, “I don’t like my hair; it doesn’t look straight anymore.”

I teared up over that. My young son disliked his beautiful crown of curls. He had loved them when we lived in Texas. There he would get comments, but it was different. They were compliments, not remarks that highlighted his difference. I’d had my own experience with this in Utah, when an older woman commented on my curls and then asked me if they were real. When I told her yes, she put her hands right in my hair to see for herself. I couldn’t shake how violated I felt that day. So I could only imagine how Jeremiah had been feeling.

I scheduled a meeting with Jeremiah’s teacher. I explained that Jeremiah had begun to dislike his curls, and I walked her through all the times she’d talked about them, including on the report card. I asked if she’d made any comments about the other children’s hair on their report cards and she said no. She apologized and stated that it was not her intention to hurt Jeremiah or make him feel uncomfortable. I accepted and told her I believed her, because I did. But I shared that intention does not eliminate the impact. The comments from his teacher about his hair stopped after that meeting.

I ordered some new books and the one that resonated for him was What I Like About Me! by Allia Zobel Nolan. I also made up a silly song just for him: “Jeremiah’s got the best curls in the world!” I sang it to him every day as I did his hair. Our neighbors told him about Lenny Kravitz and showed him pictures.

After a few days, success! Jeremiah said, “Mommy, I like my hair and I don’t want to change it.”

— Shawntae Chase —