You never quite know what it’ll feel like until you’re living it. That moment you realise you’re the only Black family at the school gate. Or that your daughter is one of two Black girls in her entire year group. Suddenly, raising a confident Black girl feels a lot less like reading positive affirmations at bedtime and more like a daily mission of emotional and cultural reinforcement.
But here we are. And let me tell you. While it’s not always easy, it is possible to help your Black child thrive confidently in a predominantly white school. This is how I’m doing it, what I’ve learned and what might help you if you’re on a similar journey.
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1. We celebrate her Blackness loudly (and often)
Our home is loud with Black joy. Bookshelves packed with stories where little girls look like her. Haircare nights with YouTube aunties who know how to care for 4C curls. Afrobeats playing on Saturday mornings while we tidy up together.
I don’t wait for Black History Month to talk about Black inventors, artists or world-changers. We talk about them all year. She needs to know her culture isn’t just important in February. It’s important every day.
Some of our favourites
- “Hair Love” by Matthew A. Cherry
- “Little Leaders: Bold Women in Black History” by Vashti Harrison
- Any chance to learn about Josephine Baker or Katherine Johnson? We take it.
2. I talk to her (a lot) about what she’s experiencing
Every question she asks, I treat like a doorway to confidence. Sometimes it’s a short chat. Other times, it’s a full-blown heart-to-heart. Either way, I make sure she always knows her feelings are valid and that her identity is not up for negotiation.
GET: Black Girl Magic Wall Art: Digital Affirmations for Young Black Girls
3. I affirm her identity before anyone else gets a say
Before the world has a chance to tell her who she should be, I tell her who she is.
- “You are beautiful, full stop.”
- “Your hair is magic.”
- “Your skin is a masterpiece.”
- “You’re allowed to be brilliant and bold.”
I say it so often that sometimes she rolls her eyes but that’s fine by me. It means it’s sinking in.
4. We choose representation intentionally
When it came to choosing dolls, TV shows or even colouring books, I had to put in the work because let’s be real. The default isn’t us.
She has:
- A Black teacher Barbie
- Posters of Misty Copeland and Simone Biles
- An entire playlist of Black girl music power anthems
Because when she looks around, I want her to see possibilities not limitations.
READ: Why black cartoon shows are important (+ the best 5!)
5. I advocate at school (even when it’s awkward)
The first time I brought up the lack of diversity in the curriculum, I felt like that parent. You know the one.
But I did it anyway.
Now, I’d advise anyone gently (and repeatedly) ask:
- Are Black authors included in reading lists?
- Is the school library reflecting all students?
- What are they doing for cultural inclusion outside Black History Month?
And when something feels off I address it. Kindly. Firmly. Directly. No mincing words.
Confidence grows when our kids see us stand up for them even in small ways.
6. We build a village (even if it’s a virtual one)
Finding other parents who get it has been essential.
We join playdates with other Black families when we can. We follow mummy bloggers and parenting YouTubers who reflect our values and experience. We share wins, vent frustrations and swap advice.
She gets to see that she’s not the only one and that her experience is shared, understood and valid.
7. I let her be soft and silly
It’s tempting to raise a “strong Black girl” because the world can be hard. But I want her to know she can also be gentle. Playful. Sensitive. Curious.
Strength isn’t just about surviving. It’s about thriving. And part of thriving is being free to express all the sides of herself not just the parts that can handle pressure.
So yes, we cry at sad movies, laugh way too loud at TikToks and snuggle up in fluffy onesies on Sundays. Her softness is strength too.
8. We talk hair. A lot.
Because in predominantly white schools, hair can become a thing.
We talk about:
- Why shrinkage is normal
- Why her afro is not “wild”
- How protective styles are powerful and beautiful
She knows how to speak up if someone touches her hair without asking. And she knows how to walk into any room like her crown is exactly where it should be.
9. We celebrate her wins (loudly!)
When she brings home a gold star, reads a new book or stands up for herself, we make a fuss.
Why? Because confidence grows when children feel seen. Especially in environments where their wins might be overlooked, we make sure she knows that what she does matters.
10. I check in with myself, too
This one’s for us, mamas.
Because raising a confident Black child in a white space also means checking our own insecurities, triggers and fears. I constantly ask myself:
- Am I projecting my own school experiences onto her?
- Am I letting fear make decisions for us?
- Am I speaking confidence into her, or worry over her?
Her confidence starts with my own.
Your turn.
Are you raising a Black child in a predominantly white school? What’s worked for you? What’s been hard?
Drop your thoughts in the comments.
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