Many a caregiver of autistic kids will proudly declare that they don’t treat their child any differently than they would if they weren’t autistic. Especially if they have more than 1 child, at least one of whom is neurotypical, they will often provide several examples of how they will put the same expectations on all of their children, including those with disabilities. It sounds admirable. It also shows a lack of pity or mourning for the child they got versus the child they may have expected, which is definitely a step in the right direction.
However, many with disabilities and different neurotypes, including myself, see this as akin to when well-intentioned white people say “I don’t see color.”
In case you’re not aware, the problems with “not seeing color” are a much longer discussion and outside of the realm of this blog. Since I am not a POC (possum of color), I would strongly encourage you to seek information from those communities instead. But for the sake of helping you follow this argument, refusing to acknowledge “color” is a refusal to acknowledge entire aspects of a person’s identity, including their culture and the societal consequences that come with it. Saying you only see a person and not the color of their skin also allows you to dismiss your responsibility and privilege.
Also, it’s just plain dishonest. It is literally impossible not to notice a person’s skin color. Even very young children who have not yet been taught the cultural complexities of race can still point out when their friend’s skin appears drastically different from their own, even if it is just that: A simple observation without further context or opinion.
The goal is to avoid the implicit biases that come with these observations and associate the cultural differences that come with it with positive or neutral ideas rather than negative ones.
That is a gross oversimplification of the issue, but it’s the parallels you need to keep in mind as we’re applying this to disabilities.
There’s good intentions
As I mentioned earlier, there’s nothing but good intentions behind this thought process. Often caregivers are coming from a learning history in which they have observed disabled people being underestimated and infantilized. They watch others talk to their teenage or adult children as if they were toddlers, and watch even their teachers fail to adequately challenge them. So much of their disabled children’s time is spent being essentially babysat, even once they have graduated from school and perhaps moved into adult services.
Therefore, these caregivers are left with the sole responsibility of making sure their disabled children are seen and treated as the individuals they are. They may very well be the only ones in their children’s lives who talk to them as they would any other person their age.
Just to be clear: No amount of misguidance is going to diminish the importance of that role in that individual’s life. All students, including disabled ones, deserve to be treated with dignity. The only people who should be treated like toddlers are literal toddlers (with the exception of consenting adults in an established lifestyle).
… but your kid isn’t like everyone else
The thing is, disabled kids aren’t like every other kid, and sometimes these good intentions can be taken a little too far. Like “I don’t see color” fails to acknowledge a person’s cultural heritage and history, “I don’t see disability” fails to acknowledge the very real needs and limitations that person may have.
Look on disabled Twitter and you will see thousands of ways people have been invalidated.
“You just have to try harder”
“Don’t let your disability slow you down.”
“Just have faith in yourself.”
“Keep trying, you’ll get it, I believe in you.”
Put someone with a severed spinal cord in front of a flight of steps, and no amount of hope and faith and positive thinking is going to get them to be able to walk up them.
That sounds obvious and oversimplified, but somehow people don’t see the ridiculousness when the disability is invisible (or even not, this shit has been said to literal wheelchair users).
The thing is, when you refuse to see your autistic child as any different, you also refuse to see executive dysfunction, sensory sensitivities, emotional dysregulation, and communication difficulties. If you don’t see them, that means you can’t ever understand them or learn how to accommodate them.
It also means you can’t teach your loved one how to understand and cope with them, and how to advocate for themselves and communicate those needs.
I’ve seen this fail learners before. Well-meaning caregivers and providers end up placing unrealistic expectations on them in the interest of “treating them like they’re normal,” and “age-appropriateness.” For example, they may make drastic changes to their loved one’s routine without taking the time to prepare them, expecting them to “learn to deal with it, because that’s how the real world is,” or they may be expected to learn in environments where there is certain sensory input making that impossible. If you don’t understand heightened sensory sensitivity due to differences in brain structure, all you can see is “it’s not that bad, just deal with it.” Sure, that sounds crue and probably far less considerate than most people feel they are being, but it’s not different than “tolerance training,” “exposure therapy,” or “trying to pair the overwhelming stimuli with reinforcement as if that will rewire the person’s entire brain structure.
Expectations for emotional regulation also change based on the person’s age, but not their neurotype, setting them up for failure and blocking them from accommodations and education they need to meet these expectations in the first place. Treating a person with dignity and interacting with them as you would anyone their same age is not the same thing as ignoring actual needs.
When it’s good and when it’s not
It’s possible to acknowledge a person’s needs without infantilizing or underestimating them. It’s a matter of paying attention so you can understand their needs. Once you understand them, you can help teach your learner to understand them. Once your learner understands them, they can start advocating for them (to the best of their ability).
Treating a person with dignity is not blocking stimming, enforcing “age-appropriate interests,” and forcing them to “just deal” with limitations because “that’s how the real world is.” Treating a person with dignity is talking to a teenager about their love of Sesame Street the same way you would talk to a typical teenager about their love of whatever the kids are into these days.
Setting expectations for respecting others’ boundaries and tolerating not getting their way is definitely better than allowing someone to inappropriately touch other people or hit them when they can’t have a candy bar right now, but acknowledging a disability’s impact on emotional dysregulation and providing support in improving that skill is even better.
Also the difference between crying because you can’t have a candy bar right now and crying because you truly don’t understand why you can’t have a candy bar right now and that “not right now” is not the same thing as “not ever” is also an underappreciated but very real distinction. I’ve seen many learners labeled as “spoiled” and “manipulative” who upon closer interaction were actually just genuinely confused about the expectations of the world around them.
Can we measure that? No, not specifically, but we can make inferences when we find this behavior decreasing once we find a more effective way to communicate what these changes mean to the person. Also, there are various devices out there that can be used to label private events such as anxiety. It’s worth considering: If we’re not using these, how we can make such assumptions as “manipulative” or “spoiled.” Those are no more measurable or specifically defined than “not understanding.”
But I digress…
I would challenge you to, instead of “treating your kid just like everyone else,” try seeing your whole kid, disability and all, and respecting them as you would any other kid, with or without a disability. Acknowledge when behaviors are inappropriate, but also consider the best way to work on them for that child. Simply ignoring tantrums and teaching someone to tolerate not getting their way isn’t going to work as well for someone whose brain literally cannot regulate emotions. While typical brains may develop the ability to regulate emotions by a certain age, disabled brains may take longer. As such, the environment is going to need to be set up a little differently.
Disabilities are not inherently bad. Choosing to ignore them implies that though. See the whole person and everything that comes with them.