When I began fostering, I didn’t expect one of my biggest lessons to be about race and identity. I thought racism was straightforward — name calling, making people feel inferior, or judging someone purely on the colour of their skin. And yes, there were moments when we faced that.
But I quickly realised racism is more complicated. It isn’t just about direct insults; sometimes it shows up in unexpected comments and assumptions — not only directed at my foster child, but at me too.
One moment that has stayed with me was when, within a Black community, I was told it was wrong for me to care for a child who didn’t look like me. That I could never truly understand what it was like to be Black. Those words didn’t sit right with me. Not because I denied the truth that I will never walk in my child’s shoes, but because neither of us believed that love has limits like that.
My foster son describes himself as “light skinned.” With parents from two different heritages, he has always felt the pressure to “choose a side.” People often ask if he identifies as Black or White. His answer is simple: he is light skinned. That’s his truth. And I respect that.
The weight of history
I can never ignore the history of Black people — the struggles, the injustice, the resilience through generations of pain and prejudice. It matters, because it shapes how society still responds today. And yet, while the past is heavy, I believe the future can be bright. A future built on love, understanding, and unity — but it has to come from all of us, together.
The everyday challenges
Fostering across cultures isn’t just about big issues like racism. Sometimes it’s about very practical challenges. For me, the biggest was hair.
Living with someone who has Afro-Caribbean hair was a steep learning curve. I made many mistakes at the start, simply because I didn’t understand. I often opted for the high top, until I realised it had to be styled every three weeks, and the cost was far more than I expected.
In , the availability of barbers who truly understood different hair textures was limited. Sometimes we had to travel all the way to London. That meant hairstyles couldn’t happen as often as we would’ve liked. Looking back, I wish there had been more guidance to prepare carers for this. Something so small on the surface can carry huge weight for a young person’s identity, confidence, and sense of belonging.
What I’ve learned is that heritage and identity matter deeply but so does recognising each young person as an individual. When a child comes into your home, whether they share your culture or not, they bring their own history, their own life world, and their own mix of experiences. You can adapt, you can celebrate their heritage, and you can grow together.
For me, love isn’t colourblind, I see my foster child’s heritage, and I honour it. But I also believe love runs deeper than colour. It is about valuing the person, the soul, the whole human being in front of you.
This Black Heritage Week, my hope is that we remember to celebrate not only culture and identity, but also the individuality of every child. Heritage shapes us, but it doesn’t define us entirely. Every person is more than a label, more than a shade.
Because in the end, it’s never about the vessel we’re born in. It’s about the chemistry we share and the love we create.
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