When I was little, my parents took us to church every Sunday morning.  In my congregation, there was a very unique man.  He came every week and always sat alone.  When I say alone, I mean in his own pew.  He had an average face and an average body, but every inch of his face was covered in very large (I don't mean acne pimple sized either) bumps.  The front of his head, back of his neck, his entire face, completely covered in protruding, flesh-colored, giant bumps.  As a small child, I viewed this man not with disdain, but with curiosity.  He was very different from me and everyone around us, but somehow I admired him for his courage to come out into the congregation and feel a part of something bigger than himself.  In my eleven year old mind that is.  As an adult, I have thought about him, wondering what became of this man.  We know all too well that society shuns people who are different.  We look at them from a distance, not wanting to get too close, sometimes pitying the person, feeling sorry for their own personal Hell that they endure.  Many years later, I actually saw this man again, briefly, in a public setting.  I didn't have the opportunity, but if I had, I would have gone to him and asked him if he was the same man who sat "with" me in church all those years.  I never saw him again.  It's easy to wonder, did he ever get married and have children?  Did he work and if he did, what kind of life did he have?  Always on public view, taking in stares, gasps, whispers and the occasional sneaky look that someone thinks he doesn't notice.  Can you imagine this? 

Well, as an adult, I have psoriasis.  I have raw looking red patches on my forearms and part of my upper arms.  They are very noticeable and they itch constantly.  (Did I say they itched constantly?  Think fresh mosquito bites that never calm down)  When they first developed, my mom was suffering from terminal cancer (I don't see terminal cancer as an oxymoron anymore) and I was trying to work for a very nasty boss from Hell and parent two children with special needs.  As you can imagine, my stress level was off the charts at that point.  I usually wore long sleeves, even when it was too warm, to hide my psoriasis from the world.  One day, while out with my son and husband, we stopped at a local butcher.  A young girl was behind the counter, perhaps 19-22 years old.  It was SO hot that day, I decided to roll my sleeves up and "go for it", hoping that the world would be kind to me.  The VERY first thing this little princess said to me was, "OH MY GOD, what is wrong with your arms?!!!!!  Is that POISON?  (she didn't even bother to add ivy in there)"  I said that I have psoriasis and it's an auto-immune disorder.  She looked at me like I had leprosy and said, "Ew, is it contagious?"  My husband and son just looked at me, we were just speechless.  I almost called the store that day to speak with the owner.  I wanted to tell him or her about that little bitch and what she said to me, how she humiliated me.  I internalized what the girl did to me for months.  Ninety degrees outside?  Long sleeved shirt.  Period.  I still carry her nasty and hateful diatribe with me to this day, although it has softened some.  I still have the nasty rash, although this past Summer softened it some.  It's noticeable enough that when I'm in line, I know people see it.  I envision someone pointing to my arm and making a face with the person they are with, but I have short sleeves on now.  I think about that man and the lifetime of ridicule and shame he's put up with.  What can he do, put on a face mask?  There is no long-sleeved shirt for him, but there are plenty of young girls behind the counter who don't care what they say.

When I take my children out, which I don't do as often as I wish I could, there is almost always some sort of confrontation between them and me.  Most recently, I took my son to a local chain to get his hair cut.  As usual, he had his hand held game system with him, which if he could have it surgically implanted in him, he would.  I told him earlier that he would have to turn it off when it was time to go back and I didn't see the signs that we were next.  I told him abruptly that it was his turn and he was in the middle of a "battle".  He started with a high pitched, "NoooOOOoooooo!!!!"  when I told him it was time to go back and he started rocking a bit.  At around 5'7", his has a commanding presence for 13 years old and in this very small place, very large crowd, the stares began. One kid asks his mother, "What's wrong with that boy?" and I can feel my face getting hot from all the stares.  Finally, I get him calmed down and he hands the game system to me so he can get his hair cut.  The wonderful stylist took the time to add, "You know, I don't have all day to wait.  Is he going to get his hair cut or not?"  Why did I stay?  I don't have an answer for that.  Defeat perhaps.  I do sleep well every night though, knowing I did my very best as a parent every day. 

Out of the Mouth of Babes

I just realized how long it's been since I posted.  Truly, it wasn't from lack of material, but from a lack of how to approach this subject.  Today, I am approaching the subject of racism, coupled with the oftentimes inappropriately blurted statements that come from all children and in this case, my autistic son. 

I consider myself to be a person who enjoys a variety of humor.  I like everything from Chris Rock to Jeff Foxworthy.  I like white humor, black humor, Hispanic humor, redneck humor, jokes about marriage and children.  However, when it comes to racism, I tend to come to a screeching halt with the whole laughter thing.  Less than a generation ago, shows like "All in the Family" and "Good Times" filmed these sitcoms awash with racial undertones and America loved it.  Office jokes starting off with, "A black guy, an Hispanic lady and a Jew...." were met with roars of laughter.  Today?  Not so much.  I wonder if today's youth could even wrap themselves around the concept of blacks having to sit at the back of a bus, be lynched or beaten for even whistling at a white woman, let alone marrying her and giving her children.  However, there are many of us still around who remember it. 

Today, these things have changed in America.  Slowly, yes, but they have changed.  There is no lack of racism in existence, but there have been great strides towards equality.  In the doctor's office with A. this past week, we lost a bit of progress.

After his visit with the therapist, we went out to the check out counter to make our next appointment.  The lady at the check out and I were exchanging pleasant banter about how close the Thanksgiving holiday was.  I was remarking about how Black Friday was upon us and was hoping to find a deal on a TV.  A., without giving so much as a second's notice, blurted out, "What's Black Friday, when all the black people steal all the cars?"  You know those commercials for Twix candy bars when someone says something horribly inappropriate and they get to eat a Twix and think it over?  I can tell you firsthand that this is not an option in real life!  I just looked at the lady and said, "No he didn't".  I immediately turned to him and asked him where on God's green earth he would EVER get such an idea and he didn't have an answer.  I told him he most certainly did not get it from me and he agreed.  He did not know and I turned rather serious and told him that we were going to have a very long talk after leaving the office.  She said, "It's OK" and I said, "No it is not OK" (pleasantly to her)  I told her that I would never tolerate such feelings or ideals in my family and that she could rest assured that it would be addressed.  I realize that people slip and with a child with Autism, they may hear things and think that it's OK and blurt it out trying to make a "joke".  I don't think he even really understands the racism in his statement.  However, I did take the time to have a long talk, informing him that there are good and bad people within every race, religion and creed.  I explained that there are bad people who come from every walk of life and no single race or gender is responsible for the ways of this world.  I think he got it.

He showed remorse and embarrassment and for a child with extreme social deficiencies, this is a good thing, a great stride in his life.  I don't think he will be making any like statements in the future and I told him that if he ever hears something that he isn't sure about, that coming to me and telling me will not get him in trouble.  He may get a lesson or we may learn about something together, but I will never chastise him for asking. 

The next time we go to that office and we are checking out, I will make sure that A. takes the opportunity to apologize and let her know that he learned about people of all colors and that there is good (and bad) in all of us.  I would like to think that this world is changing for the better.