My Son Is Not a Monster

Let me say it again: My son is not a monster. You know that as well as I do.

But, on the NYC subway Saturday night, after Charlie---two hoods (parka and sweatshirt) pulled over his head---boarded and made his way over to a seat beside a young woman in spike-heeled boots, a shopping bag from a fancy yoga clothing shop on her wrist, the young woman glanced at the woman beside her. The second woman wasted no time in moving to the end of the row of seats, and her friend slid quickly down and crossed her legs. Jim had already taken a seat opposite Charlie and shot me a look; I raised my eyebrows back and sat in between Charlie and the two women (who were now showing an amazing fascination about the anti-drug-ads posted near the ceiling). I gave Charlie a quick hug.

Call me over-sensitive. But, even if I wasn't Charlie's mother, I'd say that someone didn't want to sit next to him. Now that Charlie's older and taller, people seem to notice that he's "different." This has certainly made going out in public more (euphemism) interesting. I like to think the best of people but too often I suspect, they see Charlie as---ok, I'm just gonna say it---"too bad," "kind of slow," "a tragedy," "that must be very hard for you," "what a burden," "I feel very sorry for you." Etc., etc..

Anyone who gets to know my son knows that's all not the case. His teacher isn't saying "he is really smart" to make me feel better (she tells it to us like it is and we've told her, keep doing so, please). Charlie's a kid with a long long list struggles and challenges. He's the most social kid in his class, the only one who'd rather be doing things with the teachers and aides than plopping himself in front of a TV set to watch a video or play on the computer. He's affectionate and loves affection.

And if that's what you heard about autism and individuals on the autism spectrum, what would be your image of autism? Your understanding? Autism is not a death sentence. There is a lot on Charlie's life and our lives that is not easy, but there is so, so much hope, and I know this most when I'm with Charlie.

My son is not a monster. But a recent ad campaign by the British charity Action for Children depicts autism as a monster that controls children.

Professor Simon Baron-Cohen has issued a statement disagreeing with the campaign. You can read it on The Voyage blog by Sharon Fennell. And there's more about the campaign on The New Republic, and on Action for Autism, and on Asperger Square 8 (which tells the real story). Most of all, you can do something by

1. Signing this action alert and petition.
2. Make a complaint directly to the Advertising Standards Committee. See the action alert Tell ASA No More Monstrous Messages for suggestions for your message.
3. Spreading the word on a blog if you blog, via Facebook or Twitter or Ning or good old-fashioned email or even really old-fashioned word o' mouth: Pass it on.

No more monstrous messages.

Because monstrous messages, monstrous words, can make people see monsters or, rather, think they're seeing monsters, and not the real people standing before and sitting right here beside them.

Graphic by AspergerSquare8.