The R-Word

By Kami-Leigh Agard

Question. How many of you have used the word, “retarded” to describe someone? Now, don’t get out of sorts, I’m sure many of us are guilty of this. I’m not the most politically correct individual; in fact, I just learned that it is not PC to say, “My autistic child.” The PC verbiage is, “My child with autism.” Or instead of saying “That midget actor,” the PC description is “The actor with dwarfism.” Personally, I think that it’s all a spot extra, but such is the world we live in.

However, I do cringe, when people say the word, “retarded,” especially when talking about people with autism or any other disability. I have been in many social settings where in conversation someone would remark, “It must be hard for you, to have a retarded child,” or better yet, “She’s so beautiful and athletic, too bad she is retarded.” I would just give a brave face and smile saying, “She is not retarded, she has autism.” Then, the individual with a red face, would awkwardly blurt out, “Sorry, I didn’t mean, she’s retarded, she’s just not well…normal.”

Hmmm…my daughter, Soanirina (“Soa) is pretty damn normal, when I would observe their children fixated on their IPads and throwing tantrums when it’s taken away.

One word I’ll condone is “special.” However, Soa is not “special” because she has autism, she is “special,” because she is my beautiful, giggly, amazon-like daughter.

When Soa’s dad and I went to visit a private school in Manhattan that caters to children with autism and other neurodevelopment delays, her dad, (who I refer to as “nutty professor”) insisted that we take her along, though I kept objecting, because most school tours usually bar children. Sure enough, we were told that she was not allowed. So, for the next hour, Soa and I sat in the lobby waiting for her dad, who went on the tour. I observed the children flitting in out of the lobby area, and folks, I saw for myself the spectrum of autism. One child communicated by clicking pictorial phrases on his iPad, another child, very verbal, drew his school bus route map home on the white board, insisting his was the most efficient route. One little girl, my daughter’s age, with some verbal capability, commenced to describe every species of fish in the school’s lobby aquarium. I wondered to myself, why would people describe these amazing beings as retarded?

And you know who I was most impressed with? My daughter! For an entire hour, she sat patiently observing the fish and the overall environment. As each minute ticked by, I prayed that she would not get up and start bolting for the door. I am a so-called “neurotypical” adult, and I was losing my marbles. Then I announced to Soa, “Daddy should be here soon, five more minutes.” Then, the receptionist remarked, “Sorry guys, the tour is actually two hours. Totally peeved, but laughing, I said, “Okay, Soa. We’re leaving. Let’s take the iron horse (the subway) home.” My pooh was an awesome trooper.

Now folks, how many “normal” children could have survived this long day? Instead of saying, “retarded,” please refer to individuals with autism as super human!

This antiquated saying still carries weight with all of us, touched by special-needs or not. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” Folks, words like “retarded” do.

And I will end with this Helen Keller quote, a trail-blazing American author and activist, who was both blind and deaf—“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they must be felt with the heart.”

Happening today—Thursday, August 1, 6 p.m. to 8 p.m.—join Rockaway Beach Autism Families at our 6th Annual “Dance Under the Stars for Autism” with DJ Mugsy Mugs at Caracas, Beach 106th Boardwalk Concession. Plus, photo booth, 50/50s and more. Free! Come out and bust a move with the autism community. For more information, email: kami@rockawaybeachautismfamilies.org or visit: Rockaway Beach Autism Families on Facebook/Instagram.