It’s hard to look back on life and not blame yourself for certain choices/decisions you make, or choices others make on your behalf. It’s also hard to put yourself in someone’s shoes or see the world through an adult lens when you are the child and not the parent.

Illustration by Selina Alko (c) 2027 This Is My Family, NorthSouth Books Inc.

A few years ago, I was asked to provide a photo of myself as a child to share with the attendees at an event I was speaking at. Immediately, that ask triggered something in me. I became extremely uncomfortable; I did not have a photo to share. I knew none existed. I thought of ways not to respond to that ask. For weeks, I buried the idea, just hoping it would go away and everyone would forget ever asking.  I blamed my parents; yes, that was selfish of me. And at the same time, I did not blame them at all. I was left with a haunting and lingering question. How can they not have baby photos of their children?

My parents were not fortunate enough to have a camera. And they did not have the extra money to be able to purchase the film and pay for processing it. Every penny they had was accounted for. The choice was clear: the basics or luxury. They chose the basics and not the wants. The tough life meant that only the basic needs were provided for. Life as a child felt complete. I never compared myself to others. I knew I grew up without access, and that was my normal.

Illustration by Selina Alko (c) 2027 This Is My Family, NorthSouth Books Inc.

Looking back, I have a profound level of respect for my parents. My parents were not perfect at all—just like your parents. When my mom became a mother, she was in her late teens. And as a child, she was robbed of an education by an indentured servitude system. Given that all those cards were stacked against her, she went on to raise ten educated children on a tight-to-non-existent budget.  Life was just tough—Period.

Illustration by Selina Alko (c) 2027 This Is My Family, NorthSouth Books Inc.

I once heard that when difficult moments arise, we tend to shine the brightest. Although I tried to shield myself from providing a photo, I reached out to the organizers and informed them that I did not have a photo due to life circumstances. It was in that moment, in that uncomfortable place, that the idea to write my book This Is My Family was born. I went from being uncomfortable to being creative. Question after question kept popping up. What about those kids who flee war-torn countries? What about those kids whose homes were destroyed by natural disasters? What about those kids who grew up poor, just like me? What about those kids who have to change their identity because of domestic issues? What about kids experiencing death, sudden or not? I also thought about kids like me who have been asked to present photos of themselves as babies for an assignment or fun activity at school, and how it made them feel. I also thought about how unfair and how uncomfortable an assignment like this could be.

And the more I thought about those questions, the clearer the picture became. I was not alone. And we, as a society, and we as educators, must make it our duty to see the whole child before we make a certain ask.