Ann Bauer of Salon.com wrote this piece about her autistic son Andrew.
The part that resonated most with me is this line: "I am not alone."
I've been thinking about public policy options that would help families with autistic children more. If any of you have ever seen mental illness or intellectual disabilities up-close, you know there is so little help out there. Doctors hardly understand it. But families have to cope with it.
My heart goes out to Ann and her family.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
I've been to the Special Olympics and I was proud to go
I don't want to make a big deal about President Obama's late night remarks about his bowling score. He apologized and it's important for the nation to accept his apology and move on. But I think it's important to clarify why people were upset it.
My sister is 22 years old. She'll never drive a car or go to college. She'll never take a trip to the mall by herself. She'll never get married or start a family of her own. And I cannot tell you how painful it is to watch someone struggle with basic tasks like reading or paying for a sandwich at a deli. My sister has autism and when she does something that seems minor to the rest of us, it's a big deal to my family. Each time she does something without prompting or reaches a milestone in her development it brings tears to my mother's eyes.
When my sister was younger she participated in the Special Olympics and she took the third place prize in a relay race and I was so proud of her I remember that day as if it was yesterday, even though it was about 10 years ago. The focus it took for her to run that race and do something other teenagers take for granted was heartbreaking. And she needed to do it. My sister doesn't understand everything but she knows she's different. She knows that even though there are only three years between us, life will always be a little harder for her than it is for me. Everything she does is tainted by her autism. Running in that race was important for her because it was something she could be proud of.
I heard a lot of people defend the president and I know he didn't mean anything by his remark, but the larger issue is this: everyone in that room laughed at his joke. Everyone in the room poked fun at the Special Olympics, as if it was a punchline. For me, that was the most disturbing part of the interview -- That my sister and the other athletes who compete in the Special Olympics are funny in some way.
My sister didn't choose to be born with a disability anymore than I chose to be born female and black. She didn't choose it. To laugh at people who train to do something that is supposed to be confidence-building is disturbing and beneath us as Americans. We laugh at things we don't understand, rather than trying to understand them. We take the low road, because it's easier than taking the high road.
I don't find anything funny about mental or physical disabilities and I doubt I ever will. Until you've fought those little battles and accepted the limitations of someone you love, you can never understand the courage it takes for someone with special needs to participate in something the rest of us mock.
And until you've seen the dedication the organizers, athletes and parents have with your own eyes, you cannot understand how wonderful this organization really is and how much it means to everyone involved.
My sister is 22 years old. She'll never drive a car or go to college. She'll never take a trip to the mall by herself. She'll never get married or start a family of her own. And I cannot tell you how painful it is to watch someone struggle with basic tasks like reading or paying for a sandwich at a deli. My sister has autism and when she does something that seems minor to the rest of us, it's a big deal to my family. Each time she does something without prompting or reaches a milestone in her development it brings tears to my mother's eyes.
When my sister was younger she participated in the Special Olympics and she took the third place prize in a relay race and I was so proud of her I remember that day as if it was yesterday, even though it was about 10 years ago. The focus it took for her to run that race and do something other teenagers take for granted was heartbreaking. And she needed to do it. My sister doesn't understand everything but she knows she's different. She knows that even though there are only three years between us, life will always be a little harder for her than it is for me. Everything she does is tainted by her autism. Running in that race was important for her because it was something she could be proud of.
I heard a lot of people defend the president and I know he didn't mean anything by his remark, but the larger issue is this: everyone in that room laughed at his joke. Everyone in the room poked fun at the Special Olympics, as if it was a punchline. For me, that was the most disturbing part of the interview -- That my sister and the other athletes who compete in the Special Olympics are funny in some way.
My sister didn't choose to be born with a disability anymore than I chose to be born female and black. She didn't choose it. To laugh at people who train to do something that is supposed to be confidence-building is disturbing and beneath us as Americans. We laugh at things we don't understand, rather than trying to understand them. We take the low road, because it's easier than taking the high road.
I don't find anything funny about mental or physical disabilities and I doubt I ever will. Until you've fought those little battles and accepted the limitations of someone you love, you can never understand the courage it takes for someone with special needs to participate in something the rest of us mock.
And until you've seen the dedication the organizers, athletes and parents have with your own eyes, you cannot understand how wonderful this organization really is and how much it means to everyone involved.
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