We exist in a world that wants to erase difference instead of embrace it.
I wrote that sentence last March, hands shaking between tears for Ryan Gainer, an African-American teenager (15 years old) shot by police in California, despite being in the midst of a mental health crisis. I close my eyes, and even now, see him - smiling, curly dark hair and deep cocoa brown skin. I hear his voice telling us “to be the spark and spread kindness.”
Kids like ours - neurodivergent and disabled - live in a world which refuses to understand them; instead of leaning into curiosity, and learning about their disabilities, they are frequently met with indifference, ridicule, and a refusal to acknowledge the fullness of their humanity.
And if those disabled children are African American and Hispanic, they are disproportionately impacted by police violence:
“In the United States, 50 percent of people killed by law enforcement are disabled, and more than half of disabled African Americans have been arrested by the time they turn 28—double the risk in comparison to their white disabled counterparts,” according to the Center for American Progress.
Autistic, non-verbal, and living with cerebral palsy, Victor Perez, a 17-year-old teenage boy, desperately needed support - instead, within a matter of seconds, police fired shots — despite his family pleading for them to stop. Someone called 911 to report an intoxicated man with a knife behind a fence; only Victor was not intoxicated, but walking in this way due to cerebral palsy. His family were working to calm him. But instead of attempting to de-escalate and ask questions - a pattern we see in these cases over and over again - police chose violent force.
“Prioritizing and demanding compliance has always hindered law enforcement’s ability to recognize a person’s disability over the course of an interaction…
Those with an awkward gait pattern due to cerebral palsy can be erroneously thought of as being under the influence and subjected to questioning or arrest. Autistic people who are not able to maintain eye contact or repeat the statements given to them may be perceived as displaying hostile or uncooperative behaviors.
Individuals in mental or physical crisis who are unable to communicate clearly or express themselves may be read as threatening or lacking self-control and, subsequently, may experience unnecessary force because they cannot understand or follow an officer’s orders.”
Disabled bodies are seen as disposable. Compassion is always conditional. We are a culture who prides itself on caring "for the children, but only if those "children" fit within the parameters of whiteness, wealth, and “typical” development.
I spent time reading about Victor, I did not want my only remembrance of his young life linked to this tragic ending: “Victor loved watching professional wrestling, eating fries and taking walks while holding his mother’s hand,” his aunt Ana Vazquez told AP News, “ Those police broke our family. There is no way to explain the pain that we are feeling right now. It’s like our hearts are kind of empty — it’s not full anymore.”
I thought of our Nai when reading about Victor’s love for fries and holding his mother’s hands, the tenderness of those moments, an intimacy beyond words. Mamas like us know our children’s love transcends language. We ache for those around us to recognize all the ways our kids communicate. And we are weary of clinging to hyper vigilance simply for our kids to have a chance of survival.
We know stimming can be misread as rebellion, an inability to read social cues, and follow commands could instantly end their lives when met by law enforcement. It is a reality no parent should face -particularly those of us whose families live at the intersection of race and disability.
It’s not lost on me that Victor died in April - Autism Awareness Month - an annual celebration of neurodiversity, designed to raise awareness. But, as we know within the neurodivergent community, awareness is not enough >>> acceptance, activism and advocacy, and unwavering support are required. It’s the kind of commitment which says not only am I aware of our existence, but I commit to standing in active and loving solidarity with you and your community. Because any advocacy and activism which refuses to see and resist the impact of racism, state violence and the prison industrial system on the disabled community is hollow.
I came across a post from @neurodivergent_advocacy which asked: “Whose Autism Are You Accepting?” -
“Too often, “acceptance” is reserved for those who are easiest to include: usually white, verbal, cis, and lower support needs. But Disability Justice (Sins Invalid) calls us to commit to cross-disability justice solidarity, (amongst other things) — to stand with all autistic people, especially those at the sharpest intersections of oppression.”
My Mama heart aches for Victor and his family, and for all of us who fight, with every breath, for the dignity of our children and loved ones within a society which weaponizes difference.
Quite often, these days, I think of Rumi’s words: “The wound is the place where the light enters you.”
May these wounds we carry as a collective light the way as we continue to speak up and advocate with our neurodivergent community.
Advocate Like a Mother:
Support Victor’s family in the days ahead by donating to their GoFundMe. We belong to each other.
Emelda “E” De Coteau is a certified mindfulness coach, trained in TSD Mindfulness and Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) and the founder ofWhen Motherhood Looks Different, LLC, a community-based small business helping Mamas of neurodivergent kids and Moms who are neurodivergent center mindfulness and connect in community by offering events, resources, and mindfulness coaching; this work is inspired by her beautiful neurodivergent daughter Nai.
Her writing, which focuses on social justice, anti-racism, neurodivergent parenting, well-being, and spiritual activism (within the progressive Christian tradition), has appeared in Good Faith Media, Spoken Black Girl Magazine, Good Life Detroit, Beautifully Said Magazine, The Baltimore Times, and on thePray with our Feetwebsite (a podcast & community she co-leads with her Mom, Trudy) where she blogs and shares devotionals on spiritual life and activism.
