Category Archives: self-advocacy

The Insidiousness of Prejudice

A year ago, I would have gone to a parent/teacher conference and not thought twice about my daughter being in the same room while we spoke about her.  Six months ago, I knew enough to know that she understood what was being said even if she didn’t indicate that she did and would move to another room or arrange for child care during a conference so she would not be present.

This morning I received a passionate comment from someone who was responding to another comment about parent/teacher conferences.   You can see the whole comment by going to yesterday’s post, but she ended with this:

“These things can ONLY happen in context of a culture of acceptance of the exclusion of Autistic people from discussions about our own lives, and of acceptance of the ‘need’ to speak of us in negative inaccurate terms because that supposedly fulfills some ‘need’ that will bring us help and support. It doesn’t EVER bring us the support we actually need because negative inaccurate information ‘about’ us means any support is founded in untruth and therefore is not help and support of US as the ACTUAL human beings we are.

PLEASE, if you truly want to help Autistic people, stand up for our right to be part of the conversation about our own lives from a VERY young age. Advocating FOR us is GREAT, but ONLY if the purpose of that is to support us in our SELF-advocacy… and to put pressure on professionals to accept OUR voices and OUR choices as the determining forces in OUR lives.”

My initial reaction was a defensive one.  My first thought was – but children are never present at parent/teacher conferences.  And then I realized that isn’t true.  My son Nic is asked to attend our parent/teacher conferences and has been required to attend them since he entered middle school (the fifth grade, the age Emma is now).  My second thought was, but what if one of her teachers or an aide said something awful about Emma in front of her, what if they spoke of her in language that would be hurtful?  I can’t control how others speak.  But then I realized that were this to happen in my son’s presence I would not hesitate in saying something in front of him to that person.  I would correct them and tell them why it was unacceptable and he would hear this and understand that this person was wrong in speaking this way about him.  Then I thought, but wait, we might need to discuss topics that might make her sad, things about self-injurious behaviors or how she ran out into the hallway and it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to hear these kinds of conversations, but again I thought of my son and realized how we would include him in the conversation.  As I went through the various reasons why I couldn’t do what the commenter suggested, I saw quickly just how insidious the ingrained prejudices regarding autism are.  I saw how I still have so much more to learn.  And so I continue to and I tweak my thinking and my behavior and then someone else tells me something and I have to think about their words and then I have to tweak my behavior some more.

Directly after reading this thought-provoking comment (I am so grateful to the writer for having sent it) I received an email from someone I care deeply about.  I do not have explicit permission to write about the specifics so I will not, but it was about where these kinds of ingrained beliefs can lead.  It was about abuse.  It was a story I am becoming more and more familiar with.  It was about someone I know.  It was about a defenseless, nonverbal child.  It was about more than one event.  It was about many, many abuses occurring over and over by many, many different people.  My horror is never lessened no matter how many times I hear of this.  In fact my horror increases.  What I used to believe, what I used to console myself with, that these were unusual, isolated instances of horrible people behaving in heinous way, is not something I can cling to any more.  These stories are everywhere and I am hearing them all the time now.  I cannot console myself that they are unusual.  I can no longer wrap myself in a cocoon of optimistic assurances that this hasn’t happened and will never happen to my daughter, because even if we are lucky enough that they do not happen to our specific child, they are occurring constantly to other people’s children.  How is that any better?  How is that any different?

The abuse of people who are considered “less than” and “incompetent”.  The physical, sexual and emotional abuse that Autistic people and children are having to endure at the hands of people ALL THE TIME that they come into contact with, at school, their care givers, the people they are suppose to be able to trust, their relatives, neighbors, the list goes on and on.  This is going on around us and to those we love and care about.  This is about people who are hurting, not just our children, but people all over the world who are deemed “less than”.  This is so much bigger than “our children”.

Em’s “self-portrait” – 2011

SpyGear, Flamingos, Freedom Tower And My Handsome Husband

Update:  Emma arrived safely at her new school via the school bus this morning!  The tracking device, surveillance cameras, James Bond style secret pen with microphone hidden in her backpack, spy cam disguised as trendy sunglasses and stress relieving songs of the humpback Whale downloaded (for me) worked wonders…  (Just kidding)

I encouraged Emma to rehearse with me this morning what she might say if the bus didn’t take her to the correct school again and Em, never one to pass up an opportunity to perform, said in a loud, clear voice, while dramatically gesticulating, “You’re going the wrong way!  You have to go this way!  I go to new school..  I go to ______  (name of her new school)!”  Then she beamed at me as I applauded and cheered.

Yay Emma!

Emma in her favorite Flamingo costume last night on the roof

Playing with Daddy who donned Emma’s hat as though it were a feathered pith helmet.  Can we all just gasp in appreciation at Emma’s magenta tail feathers! 

The light was so beautiful last night – A glimpse of the Empire State Building

And to the South, Construction of Freedom Tower Continues..

And finally my handsome husband…  who was engaged in an animated conversation with our son, Nic (off camera) about his, just released and new favorite, video game – Borderlands2

Emma Refuses To Get Off the Bus and A Self Advocate is Born!

Monday morning Richard and I awaited Emma’s school bus.  I had prepped Em the night before.  ”Okay, so Em.  The bus is going to come and it’ll pick you up and take you to your new school, okay?”
Em nodded her head.
“When the bus gets to your new school, it’s going to let you off in the front and there will be someone to meet you.  They’ll take you into the auditorium where your teacher will be waiting for you.”
“Go see Katie!”
“Yeah and Katie will take you upstairs to your classroom.”
“Go with Mommy!”
“No, Em.  I can’t go on the bus with you.  They won’t let me.  But I’ll wait for it with you, okay?”
“Okay.”

Emma bounded back and forth on the sidewalk in front of us as we waited.  When the bus pulled up Em ran up the steps, we spoke with the driver, who reassured us we had the correct contact info for her and as the bus pulled away I waved, remarking to Richard how nice it was to have such a friendly driver.

Forty five minutes later the bus driver called, saying Emma was very upset and refused to get off the bus.  ”What?”  I heard Richard say.  ”Well that’s because you’ve taken her to the wrong school!” There was a pause.  ”Uh-huh.  Yeah, well it’s good she didn’t get off because that’s not her school.” Meanwhile I began talking to Richard as though the driver could hear me.  ”They have to bring her home and they need to tell her what they’re doing.  She’s probably really upset and confused.  They need to tell her…”  Richard thrust the phone at me.

To the apologetic driver I said, “I’m sure Emma is upset.  May I speak to her?”

I could hear the driver, who was clearly upset herself say to someone, “hand my phone to her. No it’s okay.  Give her the phone, it’s her Mom.”  And in the background I could hear Emma’s anxiety laced voice repeating, “No I don’t want to get off the bus.  Emma goes to new school!”
“Your mommy’s on the phone, honey.  Here…”
Then I could hear breathing and Em’s voice very quietly said, “Mommy?”
“Emmy, Emmy!  The driver made a mistake.  They’re going to take you back home now.  I’m waiting for you.  Okay?”
“They go wrong way.  Emma said, no!  NO!  I don’t want to go to old school.  I want to go to new school!  I don’t want to get off the bus!”
“That’s right Em.  You did the right thing.  You told them they were going the wrong way.  They’re going to take you home now.”
“Go home, see Mommy!  I’m going to be right back!”
“Yes, Em.  I’ll see you in a few minutes.  I’m waiting for you.”

When I got off the phone I looked at Richard and said, “Wow.”  We looked at each other.  ”She advocated for herself.  She totally advocated for herself.  Wow!”

When the bus arrived, returning Emma to me, I gathered her in my arms and said, “Em!  I am so proud of you!”
“No not this way!”  Emma pointed east toward her old school.  ”You go wrong way.  You have to go this way!”  Emma said, pointing west, toward her new school.
“You are so awesome, Em.  If they had listened to you, you could have directed them to your school!  You advocated for yourself!  You told them they were going the wrong way.”
Emma beamed.
“You did the right thing!  You refused to get off the bus.  I’m so proud of you!”

By the time we got upstairs Emma was smiling and laughing.  Richard congratulated her on standing up for herself and for trying to make them understand.  With each compliment Emma’s smile grew wider.

By the time Richard had gathered his things to take her to her new school, Emma was happy, repeating the things she’d said to the bus driver.  It wasn’t until she came to say good-bye that I saw the teeth marks on her hand.

“Hey Emmy, I said, holding her close.  ”Did you bite yourself?”
Emma nodded her head.  ”Emma screamed.  Emma was frustrated!”
“I bet you were.  You were trying to tell them they were going to the wrong school and they didn’t listen.”  I stroked her head.
“Emma goes to new school now!”

“Yeah, Em.  You’re awesome. I am so, so proud of you!”

As she and Richard left, I thought about all our children who are trying so hard to communicate and yet aren’t being heard.  I imagined Emma sitting on that bus trying to make them understand that they were going the wrong way.  Using the right words, but not being understood. And finally, because no one was listening, no one was considering that she actually knew what she was talking about, she began to scream and bite herself.

My dream for Emma is that she be able to advocate for herself.

Now she is and I could not be prouder.

Em and the School Bus

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