When I started my children’s books supply business seven years ago, I had no idea how much the landscape of kids’ literature was shifting. Back then, my main focus was on sourcing books that were visually engaging and age-appropriate—bright illustrations, simple plots, stories that made kids laugh. But over time, I started getting emails from parents, teachers, and librarians asking a question that stopped me in my tracks: “Do you have books with characters who look like my child?” That question wasn’t just a request for representation; it was a recognition that children’s books don’t just entertain—they mirror, validate, and expand a kid’s sense of the world. Today, as someone who curates a collection for classrooms, libraries, and family homes, answering “can you suggest children’s books with diverse characters?” is at the heart of what I do. And the answer isn’t just about checking a box—it’s about building a collection that feels like every kid who picks up a book sees themselves in its pages, while also giving them a window into lives different from their own. Children’s Books
Let me start with what “diverse characters” actually means, because it’s not a one-size-fits-all term. When we talk about diversity in children’s books, it’s about more than just skin color. It’s about characters with disabilities, LGBTQ+ identities, neurodivergent experiences, low-income backgrounds, rural vs. urban upbringings, religious differences, and even kids who are part of multiple cultural backgrounds. For too long, many kids’ books centered on a narrow set of experiences: white, able-bodied, middle-class, cisgender kids. That not only made marginalized kids feel invisible—it also taught majority kids that there’s only one way to be a kid. My job as a supplier is to avoid that. I don’t just look for books that feature a Black protagonist or a disabled character; I look for books where that diversity is integral to the story, not a afterthought. A book about a Latinx kid whose abuela teaches them to make tamales is diverse because it’s about their family, their culture, and the ways that shapes who they are—not because it includes a single line about their heritage.
Take one of my go-to recommendations for young readers (ages 4–7): The Kindest Red by Regina M. Hernández. It’s a follow-up to The First Strawberries, and it follows a little girl named Lupe who’s excited to join her abuela’s neighborhood parade. Lupe uses a wheelchair, and her disability is never framed as a “challenge”—instead, she uses her wheelchair to lead a drum line, and her creativity (she paints her wheelchair with bright flowers) is the heart of the story. I’ve seen this book spark such beautiful moments in classrooms: a student with cerebral palsy told me they’d never seen a character who used a wheelchair and loved dancing, and a classmate whose family didn’t celebrate parades asked so many questions that the teacher ended up doing a unit on cultural holidays. That’s the magic of diverse books: they create conversation. Another favorite for this age group is I Am Every Good Thing by Derrick Barnes, illustrated by Gordon C. James. It’s a poem celebrating Black boyhood, full of lines about being “a rainbow in skin” and “a wild, unapologetic thing.” Kids who pick this up don’t just read a story—they see themselves in every word. A teacher from a rural school told me last year that her students, many of whom are white, hung posters of the book’s illustrations in their classroom and started calling each other “every good thing” when someone did something kind. That’s representation working.
For elementary readers (ages 8–12), the choices are endless, and I focus on books that let characters drive their own stories, not just their diversity. Front Desk by Kelly Yang is a perfect example. It’s about Mia Tang, a Chinese-American girl who helps her parents run a motel in California. Mia is hardworking, loves writing, and navigates being the new kid at school while also dealing with the stress of her parents working long hours. Her experience as an immigrant isn’t just a plot point—it’s how she solves problems: she uses her job at the motel to help a homeless family, stands up to a boss who treats her parents unfairly, and writes stories about the guests to make their lives feel seen. This book resonates with so many kids: immigrant kids who recognize the struggle of making a new home, kids who love reading about someone who uses their creativity to stand up for others, and kids who might not have experienced that kind of life but learn what it means to belong. Another great pick here is The Girl Who Speaks Bear by Sophie Anderson. It’s a fantasy story about Yanka, a Uralic girl who has a bear’s leg and is ostracized in her village. Yanka’s identity as someone who’s different is the core of the book—she doesn’t just “overcome” being different; she learns to embrace her heritage (her grandmother was a witch) and uses her unique traits to save her village. I’ve had librarians tell me that this book gets kids who usually shy away from diverse stories hooked because it’s an adventure, not a “lesson” about diversity. That’s key: diverse books should feel like stories first, representation second.
When I talk about diversity, I also make sure to include characters with disabilities that aren’t always front and center in kids’ books. Too often, disability representation is limited to characters in wheelchairs or with obvious physical differences, but neurodivergent characters are just as important. All My Stripes by Shaina Rudolph and Danielle Royer is a board book perfect for younger kids, about a zebra named Zane who has autism. Zane talks about how his stripes make him unique—some stripes mean he loves quiet spaces, others mean he gets excited about spinning, and all of them make him who he is. For kids (and parents) who might not be familiar with autism, this book explains it in gentle, relatable terms, and for autistic kids, it’s a way to see their own experiences reflected. For older elementary kids, Mockingbird by Kathryn Erskine is a powerful novel about Caitlin, an 11-year-old with Asperger’s, who’s dealing with her brother’s death. Caitlin’s way of processing grief—through drawings, lists, and a focus on “being kind”—is so authentic that many parents have told me it helped their own neurotypical kids understand a sibling or classmate who thinks differently. I always stock these books because I know they fill a gap: so many families are looking for books that explain neurodiversity without making the character’s identity a tragedy.
LGBTQ+ representation is another area I prioritize, and again, it’s about stories that are rooted in identity, not tokenism. Julian Is a Mermaid by Jessica Love is a beloved picture book about a little boy named Julian who, after seeing a group of women in mermaid costumes on the subway, decides to dress up as a mermaid for a parade. His abuela initially worries, but she comes around and helps him finish his costume. This book is gentle, joyful, and focuses on Julian’s creativity and self-expression, not on his abuela learning to accept his identity. It’s one of those books that works for every kid: whether they’re a kid who loves dressing up, a kid with two moms (or two dads), a kid who’s exploring their own gender, or a kid who just loves a beautiful story. For elementary readers, George by Alex Gino is about a trans girl named George who wants to play Charlotte in her school’s production of Charlotte’s Web. Her friends and teacher initially don’t get it, but George proves that she’s the right person for the role. This book sparked so many important conversations when it came out, and I still get requests for it from schools looking to teach empathy. What I love most about these books is that they don’t make LGBTQ+ characters “special”—they’re just kids who have feelings, friends, and adventures, like everyone else.
Now, you might be wondering: why does this matter? I’ve heard from customers that they used to worry that diverse books would “limit” their collections, that parents would only buy books if their kid saw themselves in them. But the opposite is true. A recent study by the Cooperative Children’s Book Center found that when kids see diverse characters in books, they’re more likely to develop empathy, to feel connected to people who are different, and to see themselves as capable of being any kind of person. For children who are marginalized, these books can be lifelines: a kid who’s shy and Korean might read The Name Jar by Yangsook Choi and realize it’s okay to take time to make friends, just like Unhei does. A kid whose family lives in poverty might read Last Stop on Market Street by Matt de la Peña, where a boy and his grandmother take a bus through the city, and learn that joy can be found in small moments, even when life is hard. These books don’t just tell stories—they help kids feel less alone.
As a supplier, my job isn’t just to stock these books—it’s to curate them. I spend time talking to authors, reading reviews from teachers, and testing books with kids to make sure they’re authentic. I’ve turned down books that feature diverse characters because they felt exploitative, or because the stories treated diversity as a plot twist instead of a part of the character’s life. I also make sure to have books across all age groups, from board books to young adult novels, because diversity shouldn’t be only for older kids. Recently, I added a series of early readers about Muslim kids going to school and playing with friends, after a teacher told me her Muslim students were too young for chapter books but wanted something they could relate to. Small, targeted collections like that make a big difference.
If you’re a parent, teacher, or librarian looking to build a diverse collection, start with the basics: look for books by BIPOC authors, disabled authors, LGBTQ+ authors. When an author writes a story from their own identity, it’s more authentic. Ask kids what they want to read—they’ll tell you if a character feels real. And don’t shy away from books that tackle hard topics, like poverty or grief, as long as they’re rooted in hope and humanity.
At the end of the day, children’s books are about giving kids the chance to imagine, to feel, and to understand. When we include diverse characters, we’re not just adding more stories—we’re helping every kid see that they belong, and that every story has a place. If you’re interested in building a diverse collection for your home, school, or library, I’d be happy to discuss how I can help you select the right books.
Puzzle Reference:
Cooperative Children’s Book Center. (2022). The State of Children’s Book Diversity. University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Rudolph, S., & Royer, D. (2014). All My Stripes. Magination Press.
Hernández, R. M. (2021). The Kindest Red. Arthur A. Levine Books.
Barnes, D., & James, G. C. (2018). I Am Every Good Thing. Nancy Paulsen Books.
Yang, K. (2018). Front Desk. Arthur A. Levine Books.
Anderson, S. (2019). The Girl Who Speaks Bear. Chicken House.
Love, J. (2018). Julian Is a Mermaid. Candlewick Press.
Gino, A. (2015). George. Scholastic Press.
Choi, Y. (2001). The Name Jar. Delacorte Press.
de la Peña, M. (2015). Last Stop on Market Street. Putnam Books for Young Readers.
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