Red just can’t seem to get it right. He tries as hard as all the other crayons, but every time he attempts to draw a strawberry, firetruck, or ant, it comes out all wrong.

Everyone is concerned about him and offers to help. His grandparents think he isn’t warm enough; the pencil thinks he isn’t sharp enough: and the tape thinks he is broken inside. His mother sends him on a playdate with Yellow and encourages them to play together to make a nice Orange orange, but it turns out Green instead.

Finally, a new friend asks him to draw an ocean for his boat. Red says that he can’t because he’s Red, but his new friend, Berry, encourages him to try. It’s perfect. Red discovers that he is actually Blue—a blue crayon that was mistakenly given a red label at the factory. (Readers, of course, knew this all along.) He begins to create blueberries, blue jeans, blue birds, and more. The book concludes with Blue reaching for the sky.

It’s a simple story with some clever, subtle humor: the grandparents, Silver and Gray, are tiny, worn-down crayons. I can almost hear Army Green as he barks out that Red should just try harder. Sunshine, on the other hand, aptly encourages everyone just to give Red more time.

I chose to review Red: A Crayon’s Story this month because Red’s struggle is so common: try as he might, Red can’t be what others expect him to be. They try to help him fit into their preconceived idea of what he should be—I mean, it says “Red” right on his label—but their “help” is a really thinly-disguised message that there is something wrong with him. Everyone wants to “fix” him, and each time they try to fix him, they’re telling him that he is Not Enough.

So often, we are paralyzed by the notion that our own authentic voices aren’t Enough. It’s a notion that, unfortunately, our society cultivates. (Be sure to tune into the podcast later this month, when poet Mia Wright describes her experience of stifling her own voice as she pursued her MFA.) Few of us escape the message that we should somehow change our voices to fit in—young children are told that they need to be quiet, school children learn to fit in with peers, and adults hold in emotions that might make others uncomfortable. We modify and change according to how we think we will be perceived, and sometimes we are left wondering how our own voices even sound.

But as in Red: A Crayon’s Story, all it takes is one other person who truly sees us to open us to all our possibilities. Red’s new friend Berry doesn’t try to tell him what to do or fix him in some way. She doesn’t analyze him or give him unsolicited advice. She gives him an invitation: to draw an ocean for her. When Red balks and says he can’t because he’s Red, Berry gently asks, “Will you try?”

Berry sees Red for who he is. She looks beyond his label and preconceived notions of who he “ought” to be, and she celebrates him exactly as he is. In so doing, she allows him to discover his own amazing ability—as Blue.

We all need that one friend who sees us, and whom we truly see. I hope you, Dear Reader, have at least one true friend who looks beyond your labels and sees you. I invite you to call her up today, or send her a handwritten note to say how grateful you are to have her love and support. Then I invite you to extend that same love and support to her and several others. Seeing another as she is and reflecting her back to herself is an incredible gift!

Until next time,