autistic and unsafe

“If I had a gun I’d shoot you”

-some guy at the local gas station

She knocked on the window and asked, “Did you see what your son did? He snatched that man’s hat off his head!”.

I snapped out of my daydream, as the gravity of my son’s actions quickly sunk in. I forgot all about the long day and constant fussing with my autistic son as I thought about how that scenario could have ended. Up until now, my son had managed to keep himself right outside of harm’s way with his antics, but deep down I knew the day would come when he would cross the line. My son… my teenage son…my black son…was blissfully unaware of how dangerous his playful gesture was in this social climate. He laughed uncontrollably, ignoring me as I tried desperately to explain that other people have been unalived for less.

I opened my car door and apologized to the man, an overweight white man with a trucker cap on his head and a dirty t-shirt, and watched him sneer as he hurried into his older model sedan and drove off.

The next day, my neighbor told me that the man had threatened my son before he left. “If I had a gun I’d shoot you”, he yelled in a fit of rage.

I was livid. Why didn’t my neighbor tell me at that moment that this grown man had threatened my 14-year-old with a gun? Why was she trying harder to understand the actions of some man than that of my child? I was pissed off with myself for apologizing to that man. He didn’t deserve it- once you start threatening lives for small infractions all apologies are out the window. I was glad the guy wasn’t around when I found out- I probably wouldn’t be writing this if he had been.

Autistic teens, much like their neurotypical counterparts, undergo a period in their lives that I like to call growing pains. They become driven by hormonal changes, which reveal themselves in many ways. My son, for example, had become dysregulated and aggressive quite often. This is common with autistic individuals- especially those with disorders in communication. The frustration of not being heard can be too much to handle and can lead to meltdowns and more. The lack of impulse control can sometimes lead to dangerous confrontations.

Being black and autistic in Frederick MD was a different type of monster. Frederick, an area in Western Maryland that sits snugly between the borders of Pennsylvania and West Virginia, is known for its conservative atmosphere and lack of racial progress. Being black in Frederick is enough- being black and autistic in Frederick is a whole new can of worms. Lack of patience and understanding is the norm; even though Frederick has a large prevalence of individuals with special needs, some residents appear close-minded when they see a large black teen gleefully laughing at himself in the grocery store or having a meltdown in public.

On the flip side, areas like Frederick are sometimes chock full of resources, and despite my ramblings, I realize that my son has managed to find himself. He’s made friends with most of our neighbors and he enjoys our walks near Carroll Creek. He found the strength to stand up for himself and I’m very proud of him. He is still growing, physically and mentally. Next year he will be attending a new school in another part of Maryland.

I’m looking forward to seeing how his new environment benefits him.

It’s Time To Tell Our Story

Being a parent is rough. It’s as if overnight, our lifestyles change and we are thrust into an entirely new phase in our lives. There’s no preparation- only the knowledge that a child is coming.

But once that baby gets there, nothing else exists. There’s no fighting it- that baby is everything, and all we want to do is watch him (or her) grow happy and healthy.

This was my story.

So naturally, hearing the specialist diagnose my son with autism was jarring- I kept wondering if there was something I could have done differently. Well if hearing the diagnosis was difficult, then the road ahead would be the toughest challenge yet.

This blog is for the parents and families that have been affected by autism.

This blog is for the beautiful souls who had been blessed with a different ability.

This is our story.

 Black and Autistic; A Mom’s Perspective

“Why is everyone so loud? The lights are too bright!!!” 

                                   -possibly any autistic child at some point in his ot her life

A child hops on the school bus- happy and hopeful about the upcoming school year. Today is his first day of kindergarten, and though this year he is entering a new environment, he is looking forward to making new friends. When he arrives at his new school, he is met by a woman who introduces herself as his 1-on-1; an aid who stays with and assists him throughout his school day. She takes his hand and together, they embark on a new adventure. He quickly finds his new environment overcrowded and overwhelming. Coming from a class with a 5:4(?) child-to-teacher ratio, he has a difficult time adjusting to the hustle and bustle of a general education setting; as a child who is diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder and speech/language expressive/receptive disorder, he expresses his dissatisfaction the only way he knows how- by stimming, a common reaction of autistic individuals when they experience sensory overload. To offer a bit of clarity, stimming can present itself as repetitive behaviors, like scripting- repeating the lines from movies and TV shows, or rocking back and forth. School officials frown on this behavior- this is not conducive to a general learning environment. In an effort to suppress the child’s stimming, they give way to a more destructive behavior- meltdowns, which look more like a temper tantrum than a sensory response. 

Over the year, Mom notices a change in her son’s behaviour; he’s having more and more meltdowns and his disposition has changed. Mom frequently shows up at school unannounced (working as a substitute teacher has afforded her the ability to take time off when necessary), and notices a disturbing pattern- he’s always with the principal; always separated from his classroom; sometimes he sits in a room alone with just a desk. When he is in the classroom, he sits at a desk facing the window, with his back toward his classmates. She witnesses incidents in which he is physically restrained, but receives no report of it. Mom advocates- to no avail. The school looks at the black, single mother as more of a category than a person with thoughts and feelings. When she expresses her displeasure, school administrators compliment her on her ability to articulate herself, which only furthers her annoyance. School officials create a behavioral intervention plan, and in the written correspondence, describe a child whom the mother does not recognize. She teams up with local organizations to attend IEP meetings with her. They dont find anything wrong. The frustrated mom waits for her opportunity; she is afraid that if she speaks too early, the school might retaliate by further mistreating her son. When she has gathered enough evidence to thoroughly confront school administrators with what she believes is unfair harassment of her child, he is labelled physically aggressive. School administrators claim the other children are afraid of him, but mother has been to the school, has eaten lunch with her son and watched the children happily play tag with him during recess. Mom feels alone in this fight. 

If this story sounds familiar, you are not alone.  

We live in an environment where a great deal of our black children are mistreated in institutions that are supposed to aid in the practice of guiding them through their formative years- we call this unwritten rule the preschool-to-prison pipeline. We are familiar with the practice, but most of us have not experienced the displeasure of learning that our most vulnerable populations are not exempt. 

I’m gonna just put it out there-I never chose to live in a predominately white area (there- I said it). We just kind of landed here. We stayed for the resources, which I’ve noticed are plentiful and very necessary considering the circumstances (as a single autism mom who was diagnosed with chronic leukemia, depression, ADD it’s hard to find the resources that would keep us from sinking in an uncaring world). I oftentimes wonder why it’s so hard to find the same resources in predominately black areas- why isn’t there more government funding in urban areas geared toward keeping families housed, happy and healthy? 

For our black autistic “kiddoes”, Frederick County, Maryland presents its plethora of resources as more of a double-edged sword than a helpful haven. Resources for the growing community of individuals with special needs have demonstrated a genuine lack of understanding about what would truly benefit (our) populace. Resources, while plentiful, are subpar- and I can’t write that confidently because given the racial tension here I know my black son has experienced access discrimination, which means that perhaps the services aren’t subpar; perhaps the services available to us are just mediocre. A history of racial inequality coupled with a general reluctance toward understanding black culture places our children at an even greater disadvantage. Add autism and stir; Voila(!) you have a black male who, without advocacy, will be ostracized with little to no consequences.

This blog is a clarion call to those of us who want to change the direction that our society is headed. We often want to see change, but we only feel compelled to fight for the causes that personally affect us, and I understand- guilty as charged. We all are. We love to quote those who inspire us to do better, but realistically, the closest we are to doing better is posting up quotes on twitter. Do we really believe that our society is “only as strong as its most vulnerable member”? Do we even care? Why aren't we talking about this more? Perhaps it’s time we ask ourselves these questions.

As for the kindergartener at the beginning of this passage. He’s doing great. He’s 13 now and he’s headed toward his eighth grade year. He was taken out of the Frederick County Public School system and homeschooled after fourth grade. While he’s had some hiccups, he has grown emotionally and intellectually. The meltdowns have slowed down. He stopped asking if he’s “ugly” or “dumb”. He’s thriving in most areas but could benefit from more opportunities to be around his peers. As a teenager, he’s experiencing the normal growing pains that come with puberty but he’s a cool kid. He’s my son, and that stressed-out mom- you guessed it-that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.

We’ve become complacent with this realization.