Raising a Black Child in a White Family: A Practical Guide for White Parents Raising Black Children When Love Doesn't Feel Like Enough

Growing up in Lincoln, Nebraska in a white family meant white neighborhoods, a white school, and white church every Sunday morning. I was the only Black face everywhere I went, and I used to look in the mirror when I was in elementary school and cry because I didn't understand my own reflection. Nobody around me looked like me and nobody in my house ever explained why, or what that might mean as I got older. They loved me without question, but love and understanding are two different things, and the one I needed most never showed up.

I found my biological family when I was 49. Standing there looking at them, I felt something I had waited my whole life to feel, and when I saw myself in someone else's face for the first time, I understood what had been missing. I'm still working through what that means. That's the honest truth about where I am, and it's exactly why I wrote this guide, because the parents reading it right now are raising a child who is living the experience I lived, and they deserve to understand what it actually feels like from the inside.

What's inside is not theory. It comes from the specific places where my childhood hurt, written plainly so you can understand what your child may be carrying that they haven't told you about yet, what your silence around race has been teaching them, and how to start doing things differently before it becomes too late to matter.

This is the guide I wish somebody had put in my parents' hands.

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