3.26.2018

#SaidNoMother: A Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy

“I will only dwell on what my #autistic child *can’t* do, #saidnomother 
[image: Leo, seen from behind, happily hiking on a verdant oak woodland trail.]
[Content warning for parents saying dehumanizing things to and about autistic people, including their own children. Also lots of autism pseudoscience.]

I haven't had to address the anti-vax Autism Mommy contingent for a long, satisfying while. After the 2015 Disneyland Measles outbreak, the world wised up to the fact that vaccine-preventable diseases were real and deadly, and that vaccines make them go away—and also that established science proves vaccines have nothing to do with autism. Which, no of course I didn't want diseases to resurge, but yes I am glad that I can focus on autism acceptance, education, and rights, instead of spending my time countering willfully, dangerously ignorant people who think having an autistic child like Leo is worse than having a child die from a preventable disease.

But there is still a small, angry, stewing knot of those awful autism-vaccine causation parents lurking on the social media fringes. And their latest effort is the loathsome #SaidNoMother campaign, bewailing all the ways in which the parents "suffer" by having "vaccine injured" kids. The pseudoscience bombs those parents lob about their children are dehumanizing, so dive in at your own risk; these people have no sense of their children as deserving, valuable human beings.

Because Twitter doesn't weight its hashtagged tweets, it may seem like this campaign is huge. But please know that, as an associate tipped me off, it only has one-seventh the impressions of a non-pseudoscience hashtag like #VaccinesWork. So, big hashtag/little pond. And many of those impressions are due to Autistic people and like-minded individuals taking on and infiltrating the hashtag, because even though #SaidNoMother is not trending that much, it's still really f***ing distressing and needs all the countering the Neurodiversity community can muster.

Since Twitter is so ephemeral and scattershot, it's hard to get a sense of how this scenario is playing out unless you experienced it in real time. Or, you know, unless you archive the tweets in a timeline. As I have below. Because so many of the people I countered blocked me, my responses might not make sense—but if they haven't blocked you, you can click through to their linked tweets for context.

If you care about autistic people like Leo and cannot stand to see autistic people used as collateral damage by pseudoscience-embracing martyr parents, please feel free to RT as many of the entries below as your clicker finger can stand. I included a LOT of links debunking just about any nonsense theory or concept they tried to throw at me, plus as many links to helpful resources as I could squeeze in. Because I hope that at least some of these parents, or the people who listen to these parents, will read what was shared, and consider what their children need from them, instead of waging a fruitless war against their own child's neurology.



















Blurring & anonymizing courtesy Jay Edidin
[image: Photo of a mom kissing her child, whose
face is blurred out. A superimposed white text box
reads, "I can't wait for my 8 year old's diapers to
be delivered, said no mother of a vaccine injured
child, ever. #SaidNoMother.]


















































[image: Screenshot of a tweet from @TannersDad, featuring
a man with a black eye looking at the camera. The tweet reads,
"Let's have a real discussion this April. #ABA Autism Beyond
April. New movement of Mothers Fathers Grandparents Siblings
Rising Up above the noise of Pharmaceutical Propaganda explore
the truth Revolution Breaking MSM Silence
#SaidNoMother #SaidNoFather.]
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3.01.2018

To Siri, With So Much Disappointment

To Siri With Love author Judith Newman and her son Gus
[image: A white woman with long curly dark hair, snuggling with her teen
son, who has short dark hair, next to an image of the book To Siri With Love.]
It took me a long time to read Judith Newman's autism parenting memoir To Siri With Love, despite the author herself courteously sending me a copy. I had to nudge myself to keep going, because I don't like reading books that treat autistic people as inscrutable annoyances. I also dragged my feet due to more personal preferences: books written in breezy airport-bookstore-ready voices are not my thing, plus Newman's sense of humor put me off: Getting a discount on a hotel room because a kid was recently eaten by an alligator onsite is not amusing to me, for instance.

Others, including autistic writer Max Sparrow, have written extensively about why To Siri With Love is flawed, and you should read what they have to say. Because I'm not alone in noticing that one of the primary problems with the book is that, when it talks about autism, it recycles outdated and stigmatizing cliches. Despite the two years since the award-winning neurodiversity explainer and history NeuroTribes was published, and despite Newman being a journalist, To Siri features common misconceptions, like insisting all autistic people lack theory of mind (long-established research clarifies that the issue is actually one of “double empathy,” in which negative assumptions from non-autistic people about autistic people are most of the problem).

I am also put off by how little respect Newman's shows for autistic people. She writes passionately about how much a specific autistic adult needs support and understanding and (correctly) how badly society and systems have mistreated him—yet reveals second-hand information about his bowel habit demonstrations of distress. This actual lack of theory of mind is even more confusing given that Newman wrote Siri in part to bring more attention to non-genius autistic kids like her son Gus (who seems like the most awesome young man ever), a group she considers underrepresented. But, as as comedian and filmmaker Hari Kondabolu says in talking about minority representation in general: it can’t just be about the stereotypes; it has to be about recognizing real-life diversity and humanity. Yet Newman does nothing to expand autism understanding, bust negative autism stereotypes, or further her son's humanity; if anything To Siri With Love mostly illustrates how much her son's autistic traits annoy her.

I think Newman has failed her son by writing this book. I think her book will make life harder, not easier, for autistic people including but not limited to both our sons. Because when it comes to the treatment of autistic people, the entire world is essentially bigoted bullies and complicit bystanders. Instead of defending her son, Newman has joined the side of the bullies in declaring, “Well yeah, I love him but I get your point and actually I agree that he’s weird.”

This deeply messed up attitude needs to be called out. While it’s common if not OK for parents to be ignorant and bigoted when they come from outside a community, once you find out your own kids are part of a margnialized community you are supposed to be like Amy Acker's mom in Marvel’s X-Men-adjacent series Gifted, and get 100% on your kid's side and do whatever is necessary to protect them. (I’m not recommending going on the lam, but allying with and learning from your kids’ community? Yes, that is actually a very good idea.)

And you certainly don’t join the world's bullies in smacking down all the other autistic people who come to your kid's aid because they are part of his community and get how much being bullied hurts. Instead, you ask your kid's people—who may not be exactly like your kid but surely understand what it is like to be constantly treated like subhumans yet survive—how they did it. You learn from them. Because you and those autistic people? That particular Venn diagram is all your kid has. It should be you, Autistics, and your kid against the fucking world.

This is why it is so infuriating and hurts so much to have a mainstream author like Newman choose the side of conventional shitty attitudes about autism and autistic people when her kid needs so much more from her. Yes, changing one's deeply ingrained negative assumptions about autism is hard. Yes, it's harder when society reinforces those assumptions. But if you’re the parent of a child from a minority group yet you yourself represent and have direct connections to high-profile media channels, and you not only shirk your power and waste the opportunity to change minds but then belittle and dismiss and sabotage your son's autistic community members for having opinions about your harmful book and the people it is hurting, including your own kid? You kind of suck.

People need to be aware that, despite Newman's insistence otherwise, autistic people generally don’t think they know autistic kids better than those kids' parents do. But autistic people assuredly do know what it’s like to be an autistic kid in a way non-autistic people never can. They have logical explanations for matters Newman considers autistic mysteries, like why autistic people have meltdowns over things that make no sense to outsiders, and why those meltdowns are not manipulative tantrums. They understand why Routine is Life. They understand that it's fully possible to have phenomenal skills in some areas while also having serious disabilities. They understand why training autistic kids like they're sea lions may result in some compliance and changed behavior, but it also results in kids being traumatized and not trusting their own right to say "no." They understand that when parents like Newman contradict autistic experience on these matters, and in doing so influence other parents to dismiss autistic insights, those parents' collective autistic children will suffer.

To Siri With Love also lacks informed empathy. If Newman had spent real time researching the history of reproductive rights for people with disabilities, she would have known that her blithely casual “maybe I will sterilize Gus, maybe I won’t” attitude reinforces the life-destroying notion that disabled people shouldn't have agency over their own bodies. Yes, she includes a few obligatory citations in related history. But her tone and sources omit the core histories of Black, disabled, and other marginalized communities, including why is it so inhumane to have had their reproductive rights forcibly stripped away. As Kerima Çevik writes, "Forced sterilization is part of a larger nightmare of systemic abuse of the black body we've survived but can't forget." Self-engaged and shallow approaches like Newman's, in my opinion, contribute to the ongoing atmosphere that allows the reproductive rights of people with disabilities to remain under attack.

People like Lydia Brown have already criticized how awful it is for Newman to muse about her son’s sex life, and equate it to a Benny Hill film, as though being autistic somehow turns sex farcical and fictional (she also once again disregards her son's privacy and dignity). I can't help but wonder: If she's so concerned about her son's sexuality, why she doesn’t include helpful information about sex ed for people with developmental disabilities, avoiding learned compliance, or the increased rates of sexual abuse of people with disabilities? Anyone who has ever read The World According to Garp is aware that that sexual abuse of people with disabilities is not limited to women.

Newman has heard most of these criticism before, and was not pleased by them. And here's my final disappointment: Instead of listening, she went on the attack against her son's autistic brethren and their allies. While of course we all want our friends to circle the wagons for us, there is no excuse for Newman and her defenders silencing marginalized disabled people, or making fun of how people who (by definition) have communication disabilities express themselves. I am horrified by her willful abuse of her privilege, just as I was horrified by some autistic people’s calls for Newman to die, or have her kids taken away.

Siri: Please delete the book "To Siri With Love" from my Kindle app. Thank you.
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1.25.2018

Realistic Evaluations of (My) Parental Stress Levels

Me and Leo goofing off
[image: Selfie of me and Leo. He is making
a goofy face; I am not.]
That damned flu hit our family last week. It sucked. It took out many nodes in our people network as well.

We didn't have as awful a time as many, possibly because we'd had our shots, possibly because luck. My mom, who works at a hospital, confirmed that this is not a flu to f**k with (I am paraphrasing), as her facility has already had several deaths. It is not too late to get your flu shot!

Besides being sick, the flu made me grumpy: Even though I prefer to be home, I resent having to stay home. So as soon as everyone else was well(ish) and back to their regularly scheduled, the-hell-out-of-my-space routines, I resumed my own routine. Which sometimes includes hikes. Which, the first time out, sparked a coughing fit that shut me down and almost sent me back home. Scary, but I was fine.

After that fit, though, I kept feeling light-headed. Like I couldn't get enough air in my lungs. I decided to sleep on it. I thought I felt better after a full night with my lovely new C-PAP machine stabilizing the air pressure in my head, but by mid-morning I was feeling light-headed and sub-oxygenated again, and finally went in to see a doctor just to be sure I wasn't traipsing around with pneumonia (as has happened before).

The doctor took all my vitals, even did an EKG (which, gaah, embarrassing; I just wanted my lungs listened to and my oxygen saturation pinged). All my everything was totally fine.

And then he asked me: How is your stress level? I told him I was fine, we were getting over the flu, I have been on Prozac for more than a year and it is useful ... and then I started laughing like a hyena.

He asked why, and I said, "Well, this is just my life, and you have to understand that no one is to blame and I'm used to it, but ... well my son hasn't really slept in ten days, though he's doing OK. And his respite workers were sick for all their sessions too. And his poor dad had a super-intense week at work and powered through even though he was sick, which had me worried. So yes, I guess I have been more stressed than usual lately."

To his credit, the doctor's eyes only widened for a moment before he snapped back into professionalism, and suggested that I focus on full-diaphragm breathing, and also on paying attention to whether or not I was holding my breath (I was), and finally consider exploring other stress reduction techniques. It may be that the wee dose of Prozac I currently take needs adjusting. It may be that it will take a few more days for me to be 100%.

I think a lot of us parents whose kids need significant support have a hard time talking about our own support needs in a reasonable way. While we do not and cannot blame our kids for matters over which they have no control, it is tricky to talk about why we might need extra space or help without people assuming our kids are the problem, or feeling like we're going for a pity grab. Which, that's all rooted in society's shitty shallow attitudes towards disability, so f**k society for making yet another aspect of living our lives that much more difficult for us.

Mostly I'm telling you about my inability to recognize my own physical stress symptoms to remind you to take extra good care of, and go easy on, yourself when things are harder than usual. Because while there are bucketloads of research underscoring how acceptance and understanding reduce stress levels in parents of kids with disabilities, a positive or pragmatic "I got it" attitude isn't always going to be enough when the entire family's support needs intensify. If we're going to be the parent our family needs and also make it through these tough times ourselves, we need recognize when it's time to readjust.

We need to be aware of how being stressed out affects our bodies, how that stress can manifest in weird or seemingly unrelated physical ways, and be mindful of that weirdness not just in ourselves but in other family members, too.

The factors leading to my not-pneumonia can be considered bad luck only insofar as this country doesn't have a social support network that recognizes and properly provides respite for our families. As I noted to a friend, I have a daydream that Sweden's legendary social fabric provides night time respite workers who hang out with people with disabilities as needed, so that both they and their families get the care they deserve. And if the Swedes have no such program, I don't want to know about that.

(We're all much better now.)

(Remember to breathe from your diaphragm.)
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1.16.2018

IACC Meeting Tomorrow, January 17

The NIH's Interagency Autism Coordinating Committee, or IACC, will be meeting all day tomorrow, Wednesday, January 17th, 9AM to 5 PM East Coast time. What happens at the IACC meetings? From the site:
"The purpose of the IACC meeting is to discuss business, agency updates, and issues related to autism spectrum disorder (ASD) research and services activities. The meeting will be open to the public and will be accessible by webcast and conference call."
So, if you can't attend in person, you can watch the webcast. If don't have all day to watch the webcast, you can choose sessions from the agenda.

The IACC also accepts both in-person and written public comments, which need to be submitted seven business days before the meetings. Below is the comment I submitted for this meeting. Once of these days I'll make it in person.

If you're thinking to yourself, "Oh my comments won't make a difference," then perhaps you should take a look at the wildly varying ... quality of the submitted comments for this session, and also how few they are. Thoughtful, well-reasoned, non-profane, non-pseudoscience, non-self-loathing comments, both public and oral, are in short supply.
I am the parent of a 17-year-old high-support autistic son, and am writing regarding my concerns about his near-future integrated housing options. Those concerns are twofold: 1) I want my son to be part of his community, and 2) I am worried about ongoing efforts to erode existing civil rights safeguards that protect and guarantee integration for people with disabilities. 
As this committee must be aware of the body of research supporting integrated housing options for people with disabilities, in terms of both improved quality of life and wider community disability acceptance, I will instead emphasize the basic decency factor: My son and his adult soon-to-be peers are part of their local communities, and they deserve whatever supports they need to live the lives they want to live—in those communities. I urge the committee to redouble efforts to make those options more readily available, and to identify attempts at segregated housing, veiled or outright, farm-based or "neo-institutional," as the isolating and dehumanizing options that they are. 
I also urge the committee to exercise vigilance and demonstrate opposition to recent Department of Justice rollbacks on disability protections. We cannot allow civil rights for autistic people, including those integration protections upheld by Olmstead, to be decided by business interests (e.g., the sheltered workshop industry suspected to have lobbied for last month's disappointing DOJ actions). My son's housing options need to be determined by what he needs and deserves, and not by the calculations of a profit-minded entity.
I would like to thank the Committee members for both their time, and their hard work.
I may not be able to watch much of it as we're all down with the flu. But I'll try. And I hope you will, if you can, too.

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12.01.2017

#BoycottToSiri Needed To Happen Because Ableist Autism Parenting Memoirs Need to Stop Happening

It's gratifying to see the autistic-led #BoycottToSiri furor over Judith Newman's dangerously ableist autism parenting memoir To Siri With Love. Yet, despite the current zeitgeist of "you don't get to get away with that shit any more," Newman's treatment of autistic critics so far seems no different than any other called-out perpetrator's denial of both harm and responsibility.

I'm also frustrated that publishing-enabled bigotry remains the dominant theme of the autism parenting literary realm, with authors like Newman continuing to get kudos for their "honesty." This is doubly angering as a parent who has been pushing for better autism coverage in progressive media outlets and better autism parenting role models for years, and who was, until this point, cautiously optimistic that public tolerance of exploitative autism parenting behavior was on the wane.

Nope. Publishers still don't seem to grok the problem with parents violating autistic children's privacy for their rubbernecking readers. Fellow autism parent Ron Suskind (who wrote the New York Times book review of To Siri that sparked the outrage) is, like Newman, the kind of dangerous autism double agent we see too much of these days: nimble users of neurodiversity-friendly code words and phrases—Newman makes the case for "autistic" versus "with autism"—who nevertheless undermine their children's rights by endorsing classically indefensible themes like forced sterilization.

I get that the journey towards best practices is not always the easiest for parents of autistic kids, having myself learned many hard and heartbreaking lessons about what my son does and does not deserve, since he was first diagnosed 14 years ago. But I also know that, while I would gut a fire-breathing dragon to get my son what he needs, autistic people will always be my son's greatest champions, in terms of fighting for his rights and basic dignity, now and forever. When it comes to autism, I am required to listen to autistic people If I want to do right by my son.

With autistic primacy in autism topics in mind, here are a few examples of autistic commentary from the #BoycottToSiri Twittersphere that both you, dear Reader, and Newman need to absorb:







I hope Newman realizes that her son may well read her book as well as the reaction from his own autistic community one day, and that she'll need to have both an explanation and an apology ready when that happens (if he even tells her).

And if she needs guidance on any of these matters: I'm actually a friendly person who happens to have an active BS-meter. I would be happy to provide advice or conversation.
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11.28.2017

A #GivingTuesday Silicon Valley Call Out

Photo © Misko | Flickr/Creative Commons
[image: The donations receptacle at the British Museum.]
It's #GivingTuesday everywhere, including right here in Silicon Valley. And while I'm sure the drivers of all those brand-new Teslas, BMWs, and other shiny cars whizzing around my local streets are being extra-philanthropic today in keeping with the Valley's ethos of social service, mindful giving, and finding the Very Best Charity for one's donationeering, there's one area in which I see a big black financial hole coupled with a need for innovation: Championing of struggling autism non-profits, especially local or smaller-scale ones.

The reasons this gap exists are many, and mostly based in misconceptions and discomfort: Autism is not considered as sexy as other causes, so, being involved with a smaller-scale autism organization is perhaps not so shiny a cap-feather. Also, thanks to decades of pity-engorged campaigns like Jerry's Kids, disability-based charity efforts can be considered maudlin, or dehumanizing—approaches Silicon Valley types shun (rightfully so, in the latter case).

And then, frankly, there's the fact that just talking about, let alone being involved with, autism and disability makes many people uncomfortable, and the assumption that only family members get involved with autism causes. Even though autistic people found, run, and staff their own orgs. Even though autistic people are just people, and have always been here. Even though most of us will likely become disabled if we aren't already, and if live long enough. And even though, most significantly, Silicon Valley is an autism epicenter for autistic individuals both diagnosed and un-, who have a tendency to meet and mate and create more autistic individuals with diverse abilities and support needs.

My son Leo with NeuroTribes author Steve Silberman, 
whose article The Geek Syndrome discussed autism in SV.
[image: White teen boy and white man posing with each
other in Golden Gate Park.]
So how can Silicon Valley start participating and investing in more autism-oriented philanthropy, and taking care of its autistic own? Because autism philanthropy certainly can be done properly.

May I suggest that, the next time one of you exuberantly talented Silicon Valley balls-of-energy-and-brainpower decides to make the world a better place, and realizes that working with or donating to an autism org is a good way to do that, you follow this path:

1) Donate to, or get on or consult for the board of a local autism organization or school. Many (though not all) of these organizations are constantly scrambling for funds, and/or have boards that are underpowered, in terms of connections, energy, and influence. Levering your innovation savvy and connections to strategize new success pathways could Do. So. Much. Good. (As would coaxing other associates of yours to join or consult with those boards, or donate to related causes.)

2) Back up and do some research into how the autistic community tends to think about itself and its innate diversity, what are the most helpful ways to think about meeting autistic needs, what autistic people themselves actually want from life, where they want (and don't want) to live, what they would have wanted as kids, and what they want from autism research. Consider avoiding the mistakes well-meaning and progressive people tend to make when they support autism causes, how the Road to Hell is paved, all that. And please avoid supporting organizations that fundamentally disrespect autistic people (feel free to ask, if you are unsure).

3) Choose an organization to support, like these fine options (about which I am completely biased; the latter two are local, and all links are to their donation pages):
  • The Autistic Self-Advocacy Network: A-List autistic butt-kickers who fight for policy, law, and social change.
  • NOS Magazine: The only autistic-run media current events and topics magazine; features both snark and hard research enough for skeptics of all stripes.
  • The Morgan Autism Center: Leo's school, which still needs help to upgrade its new facilities.
  • Via West: Leo's camp, which in the wake of the recent regional fires wants to install even more safeguards to protect its campers.
Feel free to list additional worthy orgs in the comments. And please please PLEASE get involved, if you can!
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11.22.2017

Locals Who Love Storytelling and Social Justice: Come to A Night In Bold!

One week from today, the fabulous social awareness + justice storytelling project Listen For A Change is holding their first-ever gala: A Night In Bold! If you have the ability to swing it, you should come. I'll be attending, cool people are coming, and extra-cool people like founder Thai Chu (who, moons ago, used to work in Leo's classroom) will be speaking.

Thai Chu, Listen For A Change founder
[image: Photo of a Southeast Asian man
with short black hair and glasses, smiling.]
Plus the charismatic and entertaining Jennifer Myers, my frequent co-conspirator, will be co-emceeing.

Details
Wednesday, November 29
6:00-9:30PM
The Green Room
401 Van Ness Ave
San Francisco, CA 94102

There are only 18 tickets left, so I'd motor on getting yours. (You can even get $30 off with the code ListenRefer.)

If you want a preview of the kind of awesomeness that's in store for you, check out the past Listen For A Change event videos below. Storyteller Molly Maxwell will be performing at A Night in Bold!

Hope to see you there.

[Video description: Ayasha J. Tripp, a Black woman with long black braids up in a ponytail, tells her story, "Black Love Matters," on the journey of self-love, worth, acceptance, and how can’t talk about Black Lives if we don’t first address black love.]

[Video description: Lily Tapia, a Latinx woman with long wavy black hair, tells her story, "Sola, but Never Alone," about her experience as a first generation immigrant navigating East Side San Jose.]


[Video description: Molly Maxwell, a white woman with long straight light brown hair, tells her story, "Finding Grace," on her family's journey in raising a transgender child.]
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11.12.2017

The Way the World Should Look: Magical Bridge Playground Comes to Redwood City

Last week my town held the groundbreaking ceremony for its own Magical Bridge playground. This is a big deal, not just for Leo and our family, but for every local with a disability who has ever felt unwelcome at, or been unable to access, the casual, fun neighborhood playgrounds and parks experience that most other residents take for granted. This is inclusion done right.

If you're not familiar with Magical Bridge, you probably will be in the near future: The Magical Bridge Foundation is creating and deploying all-abilities-and-ages playgrounds right here in Silicon Valley. And when all goes according to plan, their ideals and examples and playgrounds will take over the world! (If you want to be part of this master plan, the best option right now is to help bringing Magical Bridge playgrounds to Sunnyvale and Morgan Hill.)

Since my crew and I are locals, the Magical Bridge power duo of founder Olenka Villareal and co-founder Jill Asher asked me to be one of the folks who gave short speeches during the ceremony. Here's what I had to say:

"Hi, I’m Shannon Des Roches Rosa. I’ve lived in Redwood City since 1994, and I’ve never wanted to live anyplace else in this region. My husband and I have three kids, all of whom went to Redwood City schools, and participated in the coin drives that helped make our Magical Bridge playground happen.

Actually giving this very speech. Photo © Elaine Park
[image: Me at a podium in a park, talking with my hands.]

My middle child, Leo, was diagnosed with autism when he was three years old. And, as he got older, it became really obvious that the parks that he loved, like Maddux Park—where his big sister has a tile with a print of her baby-sized foot in the wall, and Stafford Park, and all the other wonderful parks in Redwood City were no longer as welcoming as they used to be.

Leo at Magical Bridge in Palo Alto, with Jill (L) and Olenka (R)
[image: Leo happily sitting in a spinning playround pod, between two
blonde white women wearing blue Magical Bridge t-shirts.]

"It’s hard, when your kids are different, or you’re different: sometimes other people are uncomfortable around you. And nobody wants to be around people who make you feel bad. So after a while, we started to spend more time at home, or would only go to parks and playgrounds when we knew no one else would be there. My son is a high-support mostly non-speaking guy, but he is amazing—and amazingly physical, and he always wants to hang out, run around, and play. So imagine my surprise and delight in finding out about Magical Bridge.

My kids Leo and J. playing together (!) at Magical Bridge Palo Alto
[image: Small white girl pushing a conical merry-go-round on which
her brother is lying down. Both kids seen from behind.]

"The first time I visited the Magical Bridge Playground in Palo Alto with my kids, I almost couldn’t believe that a place like it existed. And that’s not just about its accessibility: It’s not about the fact that everybody can play; it’s about the everybody does play. It’s the fact that, when I’m there, there are kids who don’t have obvious disabilities like my son does—but they will talk to him. They will take turns with him. And sometimes, we’ll realize that a few of them are part of our autism community, because they’ll want to talk about every single category of Pokemon for five straight minutes—and that’s great, too!

Leo at the Magical Bridge 2017 Halloween Party. We would *never*
go to a playground this busy, if it wasn't Magical Bridge
[image: Leo, wearing an orange-and-black Fred Flintstone costume,
seen from behind, swinging on a disc swing, at a crowded playground.]
"So I’m really excited about having a Magical Bridge Playground here in Redwood City because inclusion really matters. Because my son, and all of our friends with disabilities, whether they’re here today or not—they are human beings. With hopes, dreams, fears, and likes (my son is 17 years old; he likes Deadpool), just like you.

"But the fact that, so often, other people let disability get in the way of recognizing our shared humanity—that’s a problem. And that’s not something that happens when you have a place like Magical Bridge in Palo Alto already is, and Magical Bridge in Redwood City is going to be: It’s not about pity, it’s not about charity; it’s about making the world look the way it’s supposed to look—for everybody. And that’s why I just can’t wait until we have Magical Bridge here in our own backyard.

"Thank you so much, Olenka and Jill."

[video description: The Magical Bridge Redwood City speech-givers, doing ceremonial ground-breaking
by wearing hard hats and happily shoveling some dirt, in unison.]
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11.09.2017

Seventeen

[video description: Leo at 23 months, seen from overhead, 
happily running across a field to hug my legs and look up at me.]

So, this cute little dude is seventeen years old today. I blame the space-time continuum.

Below his playlist of current favorite tunes so you can celebrate being Leo virtually, as most of you won't happen to be at his jump-fest of a birthday party today eating angel food cupcakes along with the rest of us (Leo wanted vanilla cupcakes, so vanilla cupcakes he gets).

Note that many of these songs are definitely for seventeen-year-olds, and not younger individuals. And that many of them have misogynistic and ableist language, because popular music. Sigh.

  1. Salt-N-Pepa • Shoop
  2. Eminem • Without Me
  3. BROCKHAMPTON • GOLD
  4. Glee Cast • Gold Digger [Glee Cast Version]
  5. Estelle  • American Boy (feat. Kanye West)
  6. MAC MILLER • Dang! (feat. Anderson .Paak) [Radio Edit]
  7. Chupacabras • Mueve el Esqueleto
  8. Tito Puente • Ran Kan Kan
  9. Machito and His Afro-Cubans • Bim Bam Bum
  10. Lord Kitchener • Jamaica Woman
  11. Harry Belafonte • Monkey
  12. Harry Belafonte • Zombie Jamboree
  13. Cab Calloway and His Orchestra • Some Of These Days
  14. Pokey LaFarge • Wanna Be Your Man
  15. Harry Connick, Jr. • Frosty the Snow Man
  16. Violent Femmes • Blister In the Sun
  17. Ella Mae Morse • Cow-Cow Boogie
  18. Cab Calloway • Blues In the Night
  19. Serge Gainsbourg • Pauvre Lola
  20. Danyel Gérard • Youpi ya tamouré
  21. Pernell Roberts • Early One Morning
  22. Benny Carter • Some of These Days
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MY DUDE.
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