aWEARness

I often find myself in the world outside our cozy, accepting, petri dish of a home surrounded by those regular folks that can’t see what seems so very obvious to me. My kids are different. Different for a reason, not just shrieking, running, chewing, misbehaved little monsters. Mind you, they can be all that too, but most of the time they are just autistic. I have always been very open about the boy’s diagnosis and when we are out I will often share that information with a stranger when it seems like an appropriate thing to do. As an educator, I am pulled into those teaching moments like a magnet to the pole. But many times I am running through the store, out on a playground, or in a crowd where making some “don’t mind him, he has autism" statement seems rather bizarre. And in those moments, it occurs to me that the behaviors the outside world observes could be so easily explained with an ‘A’.

As I began to design a t-shirt that would both identify their autism and celebrate who they are, I couldn’t help but think about The Scarlet Letter and the implication of wearing one’s sin pinned on your chest. In the classic novel, that ‘A’ shed light upon one’s secret, forcing the public judgment that might otherwise be unseen.  Would I be doing the same to my children? Am I pinning their ‘A’ on them as an identifier of their private diagnosis? Or does the ability to display their brand of ‘A’ do the exact opposite – ending a judgment before it even begins? Delivering some sense of understanding.

Autism has never, and will never, be a whispered or shameful word in our house. I wish for them to grow up in the knowledge that autism is part of who they are, as inseparable as the wild curly hair and big bright smile. So maybe, just maybe, those people on the outside will glance at us for all those reasons and read a t-shirt… and the teaching moment is quietly complete.