For many years, I had to deal with the stares, the snide remarks, the cruel comments, and the unbelievable acts of ignorance towards my sweet son– alone. It was awful. I remember having to be on the defensive all the time, asking people to excuse my son’s behavior, or apologizing for his confusing or seemingly frightening movements. It was so important to me that Richie was involved in community activities, and that he was accepted and always included in family activities. Still, it was challenging, because I could always count on the insensitivity and cruelty from many people, which was always ripe and plentiful.
I remember taking Richie to the park when he was three-years-old. He loved the swings and going down the slide, but he would need help with waiting for his turn, so I would stand by him making sure he did. While on line for the slide, Richie would start to engage in self-stimulatory behavior, the way many people with Autism do. He began to flap his hands, moan (happily), and rock back and forth. Of course, I expected the kids to stare on curiously. I would explain to them that he has autism and that he does these things because they make him feel better when he gets nervous. The children nodded (I’m sure they were still confused, but didn’t ask anything further). However, the mom’s waiting by the bench weren’t as understanding as their children.
I remember one mom said loudly, “Why would anyone bring a sick child like that to a public park?” The other moms sitting or standing nearby were in agreement.
“I know," another mom standing nearby said, "he clearly has issues being around other kids. She’s not doing him any favors by bringing him here.”
There were many other cruel things said, but we had already left. Richie and I didn’t need to hear the rest of their malicious commentary. That incident took place during the early years when I still got emotional after hearing these types of remarks. These days, I aim to educate, and the diplomatic language I use usually ignites shame (if the person has half a heart).
I remember one mom said loudly, “Why would anyone bring a sick child like that to a public park?” The other moms sitting or standing nearby were in agreement.
“I know," another mom standing nearby said, "he clearly has issues being around other kids. She’s not doing him any favors by bringing him here.”
There were many other cruel things said, but we had already left. Richie and I didn’t need to hear the rest of their malicious commentary. That incident took place during the early years when I still got emotional after hearing these types of remarks. These days, I aim to educate, and the diplomatic language I use usually ignites shame (if the person has half a heart).
This past weekend, we were at the park watching my step-son, Tiki, play football. Before the start of the game, it was time for all of us to stand for the recital of the national anthem. I always make Richie stand and try to get him to put his hand over his heart, but at this time, he’s great with just standing silently. The game started and Richie was sitting quietly snacking on crackers, drinking water, and watching his ipad. This woman, wearing sunglasses (she was maybe in her sixties), came over and tapped Richie on the shoulder. Richie turned to look at her for a second, and then went back to watching his ipad with his headphones on.
Angrily, she stated, “You should have been holding your hand to your heart and honoring the anthem. If you want to be in this country, that’s what you need to do.”
I was surprised. She glared at me as she was walking away, and all I could say was, “Ma'am, he has autism, and…” before I could finish my sentence, my husband came to our rescue.
“He has autism. Who do you think you are coming over here making comments like that?”
“I’m so sorry,” she replied. “I had no idea. He looks so normal. I have a grandson with autism and he’s not as good as your son. I also teach children with disabilities.”
“Then you should know better,” Kirk retorted. He let her have it. “Next time, make sure you inquire before making unwanted comments like that.”
She looked at me and apologized again. “Your husband is right. I should know better. I’m sorry,” and she walked away.
Angrily, she stated, “You should have been holding your hand to your heart and honoring the anthem. If you want to be in this country, that’s what you need to do.”
I was surprised. She glared at me as she was walking away, and all I could say was, “Ma'am, he has autism, and…” before I could finish my sentence, my husband came to our rescue.
“He has autism. Who do you think you are coming over here making comments like that?”
“I’m so sorry,” she replied. “I had no idea. He looks so normal. I have a grandson with autism and he’s not as good as your son. I also teach children with disabilities.”
“Then you should know better,” Kirk retorted. He let her have it. “Next time, make sure you inquire before making unwanted comments like that.”
She looked at me and apologized again. “Your husband is right. I should know better. I’m sorry,” and she walked away.
I just stood there smiling, staring at my husband while he stood infuriated. All these years, I never had anyone stick up for my Richie like that before. For me, it was an absolute epic act of heroism.
“What?” my husband asked when he caught me staring. “I just love you is all. Thank you,” I said.
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Thank you for what?” He went on about how he better not see that woman again, and he continued to carry on about her insensitivity to our friends. I just sat smiling to myself. Never had he been more handsome or sexier to me than at that moment. Kirk is a wonderful step-dad to Richie, but it moved me to see the advocate in him spring into action.
Everyone is entitled to having an opinion. We’re always going to see something we don’t approve of or dislike. But that doesn’t give us the right to comment and announce our uninvited opinions. Situations like these are a perfect example of how we might only know part of the story. I hope that woman learned a valuable lesson. I hope she puts that old adage into practice: “If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.”
“What?” my husband asked when he caught me staring. “I just love you is all. Thank you,” I said.
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Thank you for what?” He went on about how he better not see that woman again, and he continued to carry on about her insensitivity to our friends. I just sat smiling to myself. Never had he been more handsome or sexier to me than at that moment. Kirk is a wonderful step-dad to Richie, but it moved me to see the advocate in him spring into action.
Everyone is entitled to having an opinion. We’re always going to see something we don’t approve of or dislike. But that doesn’t give us the right to comment and announce our uninvited opinions. Situations like these are a perfect example of how we might only know part of the story. I hope that woman learned a valuable lesson. I hope she puts that old adage into practice: “If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all.”
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