In our house, we never say "let me fix your hair." There is nothing to fix. We say, "let's touch up your beautiful coils." When skin gets dry in the winter, we do not announce a problem to be solved. We say, "your skin looks thirsty, let's give it a big old drink of love," and out comes the All Over Balm or the Glow Hydrating Oil. It might sound like a small thing, a matter of phrasing. I would argue it is one of the biggest things we do as parents, and it costs nothing.
Words become the voice in their head
Children build their inner voice from ours. Long before they can explain it, they are recording how the people who love them talk about their bodies, their hair, and their skin. If hair time is framed as a problem, a chore, or something that needs fixing, that is the story they will carry. If it is framed as something beautiful to be tended and celebrated, they carry that instead. The words we use in the bathroom mirror in the morning are the words they will one day use about themselves when we are not in the room.
What intentionality sounds like
Being intentional with our words does not mean being performative or gushing praise all day. It means choosing language that tells the truth: that our children's hair and skin are wonderful as they are, and that caring for them is an act of love, not correction.
- "Let's touch up your beautiful coils" instead of "let me fix your hair." Care, not correction.
- "Your skin looks thirsty, let's give it a big old drink of love" instead of "your skin is so dry." Hydration framed as an act of care, not a flaw to hide.
- "Look how healthy and strong your hair is getting" instead of comments about taming or managing it.
- "Take your time, we've got all morning" instead of sighing through detangling. Patience is a love language.
Why this matters even more in a transracial family
In families like ours, where a white parent is raising Black children, the stakes of our word choices are higher. Our children live in a world that still sends mixed messages about Black hair and skin. Home should be the loudest, clearest, most consistent voice they hear. When a parent speaks about coils with admiration, and treats skin care as celebration, the child learns early that the way they are made is not a puzzle to solve but a gift to care for.
And here is the part I love: the language works on us too. It is hard to feel burdened by hair time when you call it touching up beautiful coils. The words change the mood in the room, for the child and for the parent. What could have felt like a task starts to feel like a ritual, and rituals are where belonging lives.
Try it this week
Pick one phrase and swap it. Instead of fixing, touch up. Instead of dry and damaged, thirsty and ready for a big old drink of love. Keep the All Over Balm and the Glow Hydrating Oil nearby, not because the products are the point, but because the ritual is, and a jar of love on the counter makes the ritual easy to keep. Then watch what happens over weeks and months. Children do not just hear our words. They become them.
