A Wednesday View From A Pew: “When the Stories We Tell Shape the Souls We Raise”

Let’s slow down for a moment and deal with something we don’t talk about nearly enough—the quiet power of the stories, images, and words that shaped us long before we ever understood what they meant. Some lessons didn’t come from school or sermons… they came from the subtle things we absorbed without questioning them.

From childhood, many of us were handed “cute little stories” that weren’t cute at all once you learned how deeply they carved themselves into our minds.

Think about it: Santa? White. The tooth fairy? White. The leprechaun with the gold? White. Cupid—this little baby with wings deciding who gets to fall in love? White again.

So, what does a Black child learn before they can read? That love, blessings, magic, money, and joy all come packaged in whiteness. That the giver is white. The miracle is white. The rescuer is white.

Then language joins the conspiracy.

Look up “black” in the dictionary and it’s drenched in negativity—over a hundred negative definitions. Darkness, evil, dirty, wicked, harmful. Look up “white” and you’ll find purity, innocence, goodness, safety, holiness—over a hundred positive associations.

We grew up being taught without being taught: A “little white lie” is harmless. Black clothes mean death; white clothes mean celebration. White cake is “angel food”; chocolate cake is “devil’s food.” Good guys wear white. Bad guys wear black.

Even the games we played reinforced the message. On a pool table, the Black ball is the one that ends the game if you touch it too early. But the white cue ball? It’s the one controlling everything—bigger, heavier, knocking every other ball into its designated place.

These aren’t just coincidences. These are coded messages. Quiet programming.

And when you add the images we saw growing up—every prophet, angel, savior, disciple, and holy figure painted white—then you get the full picture: A system that begins shaping self-esteem before a child knows the meaning of the word “self.”

By the time we became adults, we were wrestling with something we didn’t even know had been planted inside us:

A subtle but powerful belief that Blackness is less. Less holy. Less beautiful. Less worthy.

And yet here’s the part they never wanted us to understand:

Black is not a mistake. Black is not inferior. Black is not something to apologize for or tone down.

Black is strength. Black is divine design. Black is brilliance, resilience, beauty, and power wrapped in the deepest form of creation.

So now the work begins—not in blaming, but in reclaiming. Reclaiming our self-worth. Reclaiming our identity. Reclaiming our right to tell our own stories and define our own beauty.

Because once you break the old programming… Once you wake up to the truth behind the imagery and the language…
Once you teach your children new stories—stories rooted in pride, truth, history, and dignity…

Then you break the cycle.

And a new generation grows up knowing this without hesitation: Their greatness does not need validation. Their Blackness is not a burden. Their identity is not a stain. It is a blessing. A gift. A crown.

And this time, it won’t be a story that diminishes them—it’ll be a story that builds them.

Right here. Right now. Starting with us.