Cracking the Code of Silence

By Kami-Leigh Agard

Here is a throwback to 2019.

My daughter on the autism spectrum is nonverbal. However, I sometimes envy her “silence.” As a person, who is constantly engaging, communicating and well, talking, sometimes I wonder if talking is overrated. A famous Rumi quote is, “Listen to silence, it has so much to say.” I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “Empty vessels make the most noise,” (a favorite of my grandmother’s). However, talking is how we primarily communicate our feelings, wants and needs. With my daughter it’s a constant guessing game, and oftentimes I wish she was a “chatty Kathy.”

I recently did a tour of a special-needs school in Manhattan and observed the spectrum of autism. There was one adorable little girl, who wouldn’t stop talking. In one minute, she gave me the whole breakdown of what she had for breakfast, her besties in the classroom and why she was looking forward to art class. There was another girl, who was fascinated by my name. She kept repeating, “Hello Kami. My friend?” She wasn’t talking in complete sentences, but I was fascinated by her fixation on my name, thinking she liked the letters on the name tag or maybe it rhymed with something she liked. Maybe “Kami,” sounded like, “Mami?” Then there were other children, who like my daughter are nonverbal, but were gleefully shrieking or making other sounds. As I observed them, I wondered—what makes communication meaningful. A string of artfully crafted words? A fascination with a phonetical sound, or squeals of joy?

When on the bus or train, you won’t see me plugged into headphones or fixated on my phone. I love just gazing, looking at people, or just daydreaming. It’s my chance to be silent, and I love what they call white noise—sounds emanating from the engine of the bus or a plane zooming above. As I gazed into oblivion on my commute back from the school to Rockaway, I wondered about my daughter. She can’t give me a breakdown of her day at school, if she has a tummy ache or if someone was mean to her. I constantly talk to her. “Soa, how was your day?” “What do you feel like having for dinner?” What’s so funny about that Baby Shark song that has you giggling uncontrollably? “Why do you insist on sometimes only listening to songs in Spanish?” I’m so fascinated by what captures her interest, but of course the conversation is always one-sided. Me being the “chatty Kathy,” and her being the silent, perhaps wiser vessel. Just her eyes sometimes light up, like a computer screen depicting a story. It’s like watching a silent movie. In the early days, I used to think her lack of verbosity came from her dad. Talk about a fella, you can have a one-sided conversation with!

According to the Oxford dictionary, talking is defined as, “engaging in speech.” Communication is “the imparting or exchanging of information by speaking, writing, or using some other medium.” My daughter communicates with her eyes, facial expressions and body movements. What I appreciated about the school is their belief that children don’t necessarily have to be grouped based on a grade or age level, but their abilities. The admissions director said, “Just because a child is nonverbal, doesn’t mean they are low functioning. We see children who are quite chatty, but can’t follow directions, and the inverse are nonverbal children, who despite their lack of speech, are very astute in understanding very complicated concepts.”

I sometimes think my daughter is like the ocean. Deep, mysterious, untamable; communicating through waves and currents. However, I wish I possessed the Morse code to reveal her thoughts and desires. Like the Jamaicans say, “Dat day soon come.” I just need to keep praying and waiting.

As I re-read this column, I couldn’t help but think how six years later, life with my daughter is starkly the same, yet different. She is still nonverbal, bionically strong, however, at 16 years old, she’s both a child and blossoming young lady. I still haven’t cracked her code of silence. I’m still praying.

Share your thoughts by emailing kami@rockawaybeachautismfamilies.org. 

Rockaway Beach Autism Families 7th Annual Dance Under The Stars for Autism is next Thursday, July 17, 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. at Caracas, Beach 106th Concession. For more info, visit Rockaway Beach Autism Families on Facebook/Instagram.