The police were called on my autistic brother a few years ago. Carter, who is 31 years old, loves the holiday season. He carries notebooks and magic markers around to work on his Christmas list much of the year. On one shopping trip with my sister and me, he sat in a chair at the front of a boutique to refine his list. My sister and I browsed for a few minutes, occasionally glancing over to Carter. The store was otherwise empty, and the salesperson left us alone.
I selected a Christmas stocking shaped like a German Shepherd’s head. It looked like my dog, and I held it up to show Carter, who smiled. We paid and then walked over to Carter to exit. The salesperson stopped us. “He’s with you?” she asked. We told her yes. She said, “But I’ve already called the police. I didn’t think that someone like him should be here alone.”
Carter is different. He has autism and intellectual disabilities related to a genetic disorder called Fragile X syndrome. His writing skills mirror those of a kindergartener. He does not reliably make eye contact or answer yes or no questions appropriately. He adheres to a rigid routine. He lives with my parents and attends an adult day program instead of working.
Carter is also a dynamic individual with many abilities. He is the most joyful person I know. He requests a dinner party with his friends every Friday night. He can imitate any animal sound accurately, though I am partial to his horse noise. He loves bright colors and sometimes dresses in head-to-toe red. He has memorized the movie “Cars.” He soothes my toddler when she cries, cooing “don’t worry little baby.”
He likes to meet new people. He asks everyone he passes how they are doing. He lights up when attending parties, dances or sporting events. His kindness draws people in, and he is generally welcomed wherever he goes. He is a celebrated part of the Fourth of July children’s parade in my parents’ Rehoboth neighborhood. He rides an adaptive tricycle decked out with flags. He looks forward to this event all year, and proudly displays the flags for the rest of the summer.
This shopping incident has stuck with me because it was unusually exclusive and harsh. We left before the police arrived, sparing my brother a potentially distressing confrontation. The salesperson never checked to see if my sister and I, the only other patrons in the store, were with Carter. Instead, she assumed we were not. She reasoned that someone “like him,” with obvious neurodevelopmental disabilities, would not have come shopping with two typically appearing women. She interpreted his quiet presence as an emergency.
April is Autism Acceptance Month. I tell this story now to draw attention to the varied challenges and gifts of individuals living with autism. Autism (or autism spectrum disorder) describes a broad range of symptoms affecting communication, social skills and behavior. About 1 in 44 children has been diagnosed with autism. While some individuals with autism, like my brother, have below average intellectual abilities, others have average or above average intelligence. Some have obvious disabilities, extraordinary abilities, or a mix of both. All are complex individuals with personalities beyond their diagnoses.
As a function of being different, children and adults with autism face difficulties in finding acceptance. These challenges affect things as important as securing employment and as small as a shopping trip.
This month, if you meet someone with autism or even someone who just seems unusual to you, avoid making assumptions. Try to get to know them. Including individuals with autism will enrich their lives, and yours too.