Little Black Girl Asks Stephen Curry: ‘Does God Care About People Like Me?’ – His Reply Touched Many
.
.
.
play video:
Does God Care About People Like Me?
The Little Girl, the NBA Superstar, and the Question That Changed Lives
On an autumn afternoon in Oakland, California, the golden leaves danced in the wind as nine-year-old Zoe Williams walked slowly through the halls of Lincoln Heights Elementary School. Her notebook pressed tightly to her chest, Zoe kept her head down, her colorful braids swaying with each uncertain step. Since her mother’s passing two years earlier, Zoe had lived with her grandmother, Gloria, who did everything she could to fill the gaps left behind.
“Hey, Zoe!” called her teacher, Miss Martinez, from down the hall. “Don’t forget your field trip permission slip!” Zoe nodded, quietly taking the paper. It was just one more thing for her grandmother to sign, one more thing for Gloria to juggle between her jobs as a nursing assistant and a house cleaner.
At the bus stop, Zoe sat alone on the bench, watching as Lily and her friends handed out birthday party invitations. When Lily reached Zoe, she hesitated. “Sorry, Zoe, my mom said I can only invite twelve people,” she said, not meeting Zoe’s eyes. But Zoe had counted sixteen invitations given out. Later, on the bus, she overheard another girl whisper, “My mom said we shouldn’t go to the house of people like her. You know, they’re different.” The words stung. At just nine years old, Zoe was already learning the weight her skin carried in the world.
That evening, Zoe returned to the small apartment she shared with Gloria. The comforting aroma of dinner greeted her as Gloria stirred a pot on the stove. “How was school today, sweetheart?” Gloria asked, her eyes tired but gentle.
“Normal,” Zoe replied, her code for “something happened, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
Gloria didn’t push. “We have Bible study tonight. Want to come with me?” Zoe nodded. Church was one of the few places she felt safe, though even there, questions lingered.
That night, sitting in a wooden pew at New Dawn Baptist Church, Zoe gazed at the stained glass windows. All the angels, the saints, even Jesus, were depicted as white. Zoe glanced down at her own dark hands and wondered why. Pastor Mike, a middle-aged Black man with a warm smile, began his sermon on God’s unconditional love. Zoe tried to listen, but her mind kept drifting back to the words from the bus: “People like her.” If people made such distinctions, did God do the same?
After the service, Pastor Mike made an announcement: “We’re honored to welcome Steph Curry, star of the Golden State Warriors, to our charity event next Saturday at the East Oakland Community Center!” Excitement rippled through the congregation. Steph Curry wasn’t just a superstar; he was known for his faith. Zoe’s eyes lit up for the first time in weeks. “Grandma, can we go?” she asked.
“Of course, my love,” Gloria smiled, grateful to see her granddaughter excited.
On the way home, Zoe asked quietly, “Grandma, why are all the pictures of Jesus white?” Gloria squeezed her hand. “People imagine Jesus looks like them. But he was born in the Middle East, so he probably had brown skin. God doesn’t look like a specific race. He loves us all the same.”
That night, lying in bed, Zoe whispered to the star she believed her mother sent to watch over her. “God, does Mom send me that star? And if you can hear Mom, can you hear me too? Does God care about people like me?” Tears rolled down her cheeks as the question lingered in the darkness.
Saturday arrived, and the community center buzzed with anticipation. Volunteers set up tables of donated sneakers, uniforms, and school supplies. Basketball hoops were installed at different heights for kids of all ages. Gloria volunteered to help, and Zoe was assigned to organize sneakers by size. She kept glancing at the door, hoping for a glimpse of Steph Curry.
Suddenly, a murmur swept through the gym. Steph Curry had arrived, dressed simply in jeans and an event T-shirt, his smile warm and genuine. He greeted the crowd from the stage. “This event isn’t about me—it’s about you, about our community, and about how we can serve one another.”
After his speech, Curry moved through the gym, talking to every child, asking about their dreams. When he reached Zoe’s table, he knelt down to her level. “Hello, sneaker team!” he joked. “How are you all doing today?”
Zoe hesitated, then whispered, “I’m Zoe Williams.”
“That’s a beautiful name. Do you like basketball, Zoe?”
She nodded. “I watch all the Warriors games with my grandma.”
Curry smiled. “Your grandma must be a special lady.”
“She is,” Zoe replied softly. “She’s been taking care of me since my mom went to heaven.”
Curry’s expression softened, not with pity, but with understanding. “My mom is special to me too. I’m sure your mom is very proud of you.”
Soon after, the event’s coordinator announced a question-and-answer session. Children lined up at the microphone. Zoe stayed back, her question too big, too personal for a public setting. “Does God care about people like me?” she wondered.
Marcus, one of the volunteers, noticed her hesitation. “I’m sure Steph would love to hear your question,” he encouraged. Zoe shook her head. “I think he’s busy.”
As the session neared its end, Marcus raised his hand. “Actually, I have a young lady here with an important question, but she’s too shy to come forward.” All eyes turned to Zoe. Curry smiled gently. “Come on, Zoe, I’d love to hear your question.”
Trembling, Zoe approached the microphone. The gym grew silent. “Mr. Curry,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I have a question. It’s about God.”
Curry nodded, his face attentive.
“Do you think God cares about people like me—people who are Black?”
The silence deepened. Curry’s eyes widened with emotion. He stood, walked over, and knelt before Zoe, so they were eye to eye.
“Zoe,” he said softly, “when I was little, I asked myself similar questions. Even though my dad played in the NBA, there were times when people only saw the color of my skin, not my heart.”
He paused, the gym hanging on every word. “One night, my mom took me outside and pointed at the stars. She said, ‘Steph, each of those stars was created by God, each one different, but God knows each by name. In the same way, He knows you—not by your skin, but by your heart.’”
Curry smiled gently. “Have you read the Bible, Zoe?”
“My grandma reads it with me sometimes,” she replied.
“Then maybe you know this verse: ‘Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’ God doesn’t care about the color of our skin, Zoe. He cares about who we are inside.”
Curry removed a black wristband from his arm, showing Zoe the words: “I can do all things.” He slipped it onto her wrist. “This reminds me every day that with God, I can overcome anything. I want you to have it.”
Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes.
“Let me answer your question directly,” Curry continued. “God doesn’t just care about people like you—He created you exactly as you are, with your beautiful hair, your beautiful skin, your beautiful heart. Your skin color is not an accident. It’s part of God’s perfect plan.”
A tear rolled down Zoe’s cheek. Curry wiped it away. “Whenever you feel doubt, look at this bracelet and remember: you can do all things through Christ who strengthens you. And if anyone says God doesn’t love people like you, you tell them Steph Curry disagrees.”
He hugged Zoe, and the gym erupted in applause. Gloria wept openly from the sidelines. The moment was caught on video by a local journalist and quickly went viral, spreading across the country.
Soon, Zoe and Gloria were fielding calls from TV stations, churches, and schools. Steph Curry himself called, inviting Zoe to be the first participant in a new mentoring program, “Loved by God,” for children struggling with racial identity and faith. His foundation even offered Zoe a full scholarship to any school she chose.
New Dawn Baptist Church began displaying more diverse images in their stained glass. Pastor Mike preached sermons on the image of God in all people. At Zoe’s school, a new club called “Valued by God” was started, with Zoe as its first president.
A month later, Zoe and Gloria attended a Warriors game as special guests. Before tip-off, Curry presented Zoe with a team-signed basketball at center court. The crowd gave a standing ovation as Zoe smiled confidently, her “I can do all things” bracelet shining under the arena lights.
Afterward, NBA players like LeBron James approached her. “Your question changed many lives, including mine,” he said.
A year passed. The “Loved by God” program expanded to twelve states, helping thousands of children. Zoe, now ten, helped teach Sunday school at her church. One day, a younger girl named Aaliyah approached her. “Miss Zoe, does God care about people like me?”
Zoe knelt down, just as Steph Curry had done for her. “God doesn’t just care about people like us. He made us exactly as we are for a special purpose.” She showed Aaliyah her bracelet. “You can do all things through Him who strengthens you. And you know what else? Your skin is beautiful, your hair is beautiful, and your heart is even more beautiful.”
From the back of the room, Gloria watched with tears in her eyes. She could never have imagined that her granddaughter’s question would spark such change—not just for Zoe, but for countless others.
That night, Zoe looked at the photo of herself with Steph Curry at center court. Underneath, she had written, “God cares about me, and I care about others.” As Gloria tucked her in, Zoe smiled at the single star in the sky.
“Yes, Grandma. I’m happy. And now I know that Mom and God are watching over me always.”
The city of Oakland continued its night, but something fundamental had changed. In churches, schools, and arenas across the country, children wore bracelets that reminded them: In God’s eyes, all are equally loved—all because a little girl had the courage to ask, and a man with a basketball had the wisdom to answer from the heart.
