Before the World Speaks: Why I Am a Boy, and I Am a Girl Matter
There is a moment—quiet, almost invisible—when a child begins to understand who they are.
It doesn’t happen in middle school.
It doesn’t even wait for kindergarten.
It happens early.
In the tone of a voice.
In what is corrected.
In what is praised.
In what is left unsaid.
And sometimes, far too early, children begin to believe something about themselves that is not true.
That is where these books enter.
Lillian Turner’s I Am a Boy, and I Am a Girl are not simply children’s books. They are interventions. They are responses. They are, in many ways, quiet acts of resistance.
Lillian is a mother, a grandmother, and a childcare professional who has spent over twenty years caring for children from infancy through their earliest school years. She has lived at eye level with children long enough to recognize something many of us overlook: identity is formed early, and once it takes root, it is not easily undone.
She has seen preschoolers—babies, really—already speaking about themselves as if their futures were limited.
Let that sit for a moment.
No one formally taught them this.
And yet, somehow, they already knew.
So she wrote something different.
Language as Formation
Both books are structured as affirmations, but not in the performative, surface-level way we often see. These are not empty declarations. They are carefully chosen, rhythmically delivered truths meant to be spoken aloud, repeated, and absorbed.
In I Am a Boy, we encounter lines like:
I am strong and not weak
I turn my can’t into can and my dreams into plans
The language is simple enough for a child, but the implications are profound. Strength is not just physical. Determination is not just achievement. A boy is allowed to be emotional, thoughtful, and whole.
In I Am a Girl, the work is equally intentional, but the focus shifts. Here, the concern is not limitation alone—it is containment. The quiet, early pressure to shrink, to soften, to monitor.
And so the affirmations respond accordingly. They create space. They return voice. They restore wholeness.
Not Just for Children
If you are reading this as part of Rochelle’s Eclectic Book Club, you may be wondering what a children’s book is doing in this space.
The answer is simple: this is not just about children.
These books ask adult questions.
- When did you first become aware of how the world saw you?
- What did you begin to believe about yourself that was never spoken aloud?
- What messages did you absorb before you had the language to question them?
We do not outgrow these questions.
We carry them.
And that is why books like these matter—not just for the children who hear them now, but for the adults who recognize, perhaps for the first time, what was missing.
A Book as a Gift, A Book as a Tool
For parents, grandparents, aunties, educators, and caregivers, these books function as both gift and tool.
They are meant to be read aloud.
To be returned to.
To sit within reach.
They are not correcting children.
They are protecting them.
Because if we do not speak identity into children early, something else will.
Final Thoughts
There is a quiet power in simplicity.
Lillian Turner has not written complicated books. She has written clear ones. Intentional ones. Necessary ones.
And perhaps that is what makes them so effective.
They do not argue.
They do not explain.
They simply declare:
You are here.
You are enough.
You can become.
And for a child—hearing that early, hearing that often—that may make all the difference.
If you’ve read these books, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
- What stood out to you?
- What did they stir in you—not just as a reader, but as a person shaped by early messages?
- Who in your life needs these words now?
Let’s start a conversation.
Rochelle Brandon, MD