Super Powers are Real

Superpowers are real:  Written By Victoria Williams

“I think that people with autism are born outside the regime of civilization. Sure, this is just my own made-up theory, but I think that, as a result of all the killings in the world and the selfish planet-wrecking that humanity has committed, a deep sense of crisis exists. Autism has somehow arisen out of this. Although people with autism look like other people physically, we are in fact very different in many ways. We are more like travelers from the distant, distant past. And if, by our being here, we could help the people of the world remember what truly matters for the Earth, that would give us a quiet pleasure.”

― Naoki Higashida, The Reason I Jump: The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism

One time, when my youngest son, Luke was in the 1st grade, I went to his school for his teacher conference. Seated at his desk with him and his teacher, as we began to look at samples of his school work, I noticed that there was a sticker on his desk that read, “don’t forget your glasses!” I shot Luke a funny look and pointed at the sticker. He looked away and his teacher quickly interjected, explaining that indeed, Luke was constantly forgetting them.  Sometimes, the teacher added with an exasperated sigh, she noticed that Luke even came in from recess wearing his glasses, but then took them off and hid them inside his desk as class started. It had taken a considerable amount of follow through, on her part, but she finally had him “trained” to wear his glasses during class time. I looked at Luke and he looked at me, then he said, with his unique prose, “I towd her vese are just my Cwark Kent gwasses.” I nodded and giggled, delighted by his honesty and cuteness. With his little boy head, oversized for his body, his green eyes, his lisp, he could not have been more adorable.  In contrast, his teacher did not laugh, or even smile, so I cleared my throat and explained that, yes, they were indeed costume glasses that Luke wore everywhere because he liked looking like Clark Kent; he had no need for eye glasses in terms of his vision.  

A little backstory: at the time Luke had been obsessed with Superman and wore many different, creative, homemade costume interpretations of the character, but that fall he had taken to a very specific version of Clark Kent.  At home, around the farm, at the grocery store or running errands with me, to doctor’s appointments and at playdates, his favorite outfit was a white dress shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the top of the Superman “S” on the t-shirt underneath, as if he was looking for a phone booth to peel off his suit before he flew off faster than a speeding bullet. Of course, essential to the look were his Clark Kent eye glasses. When school had started that fall, I had asked him to make sure to take them off during class because, as costume glasses tend to be, the lenses were scratched and dirty and would probably make it hard for him to see important school stuff.  Luke, a natural rule follower, was doing exactly what I had asked, much to the chagrin of his teacher.  

It was an honest misunderstanding, that should have been laughed off as a cute, harmless, totally typical, 1st grader situation, but there was a hard edge to this teacher and it was clear that, not only had she not seen the humor in it, she was not a fan of Luke’s brand of imagination or creativity. This realization surprised me; our school was considered by many, to be one of the best in an area that was chocked full of really good schools, and this particular teacher was a thirty year veteran. It hadn’t donned on me in the least that Luke’s Clark Kent glasses would be a problem at school; I don’t think they should have been a problem at school. It was unfortunate that the teacher hadn’t simply listened to Luke. He had communicated that the glasses were not for seeing. He had self-advocated in the moment but was flatly disregarded. 

But, what really bothered me was that I felt like Luke was made to feel than there was a problem. I cannot and should not tell Luke’s story, so I won’t. I will tell mine and from my perspective, for the first time, it had been made very clear that in this environment, according to the adults in charge, there may be something wrong with how Luke presented himself to the world. His neuro-divergent perspective was not only dismissed by his teacher, but it was actually unwanted. In that moment, a crack had been formed between reality and the expectations of school and teachers. The teacher’s lack of empathy, her cool, humorless expression, her inability or unwillingness to admit that she had made a silly mistake, that she failed to recognize and nurture Luke’s creativity, that she had missed an opportunity to encourage imagination in a first grader, sowed the early seeds of self-doubt. None of this could possibly reconcile as a rich learning environment for any child.  

Let me be clear. I realize that teachers are tasked with what can be an impossible job, and I don’t mean to criticize teachers or even this particular teacher. I have no idea what she may have been going through that day that caused her apparent  blindspot in that moment.  Moreover, I do know that she was entrenched within an institutionalized system that doesn’t have the time or the space to meet every student where they happen to be.

Nonetheless, there was harm done, a distinguishing of a spark. Never before had we had any reason to believe that there was anything odd or out of place. Costumes and imagining one was a superhero was awesome and interesting and entertaining but in that instant we were effectively schooled in the ways of the typical, of what was expected, of what was acceptable and therefore, maybe even what was considered by the rest of the world to be truly good.  

A year later, Luke was diagnosed by the school and his doctors with Autism Spectrum Disorder and AdHD. It was a confirmation of sorts; his steadfast perspective regarding fairness, his intense interest in all things epic, his passion for superheroes and other larger than life characters, his creative perspective, his sensitivity to certain sensory experiences, were all characteristics that qualified his diagnosis. What were charming quirks and habits before, now had pathologized names, like stimming and echolalia. Before the diagnosis, before the labels were attached, these had been the things that made Luke really interesting and uniquely human. 

It is hard, but important for me to admit that the diagnosis was given and received as a qualifier for my son’s deficits as compared to his peers.  At first, I was ignorant and uninformed about autism, and because the diagnosis was presented as a problem by folks who were supposedly the experts, I was very afraid, and I grieved what I assumed Luke would be losing because he was autistic.  As a result, Luke was introduced to many self-limiting beliefs, thanks impart, to my reaction to his diagnosis. Like the Clark Kent/glasses incident, it was a missed opportunity for what it really was: a celebration of insight into Luke’s distinctness and imagination. I am deeply ashamed by this, by my reactions, by my ignorance, and by my contribution to my family’s own misguided, damaging, hurtful understanding of autism, early on. 

Mercifully, that was just the beginning, and like all beginnings of epic tales, there is always a problem, or a conflict, a seemingly insurmountable struggle or misunderstanding that must be overcome by the heroes. Faith, hope, grit and a willingness to partake in a harrowing adventure propelled Luke and the rest of our family to embrace and cherish neuro-diversity, even when we don’t understand it, and even when it challenges us. His diagnosis marked the beginning of a heart wrenching, heart opening journey for our family. The adventure has taken me far away from the inaccurate and damaging belief that autism is something that my son has to overcome. Autism is not something that has been inflicted upon him; he didn’t catch it, he didn’t get it from a toxic vaccine, or by watching too much tv, or eating too much gluten, or any of the countless other noxious narratives floating around the internet either.  

I know now, probably always knew, that autism is just one of Luke’s many distinguishable and extraordinary attributes. Sadly, the tsunami that is the dominant culture may not always recognize his gifts, and that will make some things harder for him, but his ability to transcend harmful, institutionalized norms will only strengthen his resilience and further widen his perspective. Like any superhero story arc, when ordinary people find themselves with unwieldy super-powers, perseverance and love guide their transformation into full fledged heroes. Superman isn’t always fully understood by those around him, but that’s ok, he’s still Superman. 

I believe that many kids, actually I would venture to guess that most kids, have lived through the same sort of watershed moment in which a teacher or a family member, a stranger or even a friend, first introduces them to the notion that they ought to stuff their true self, way down deep, keep it hidden, so that they will better fit into the typical status quo.  Autism exists on a spectrum, on which I have come to believe, we all - every last one of us - has our very own spot.  Perhaps where we land on the spectrum is partly based on our ability or adherence to societal assimilation. 

Speaking from my own experience, I remember many times over the course of my childhood, and adulthood for that matter, when it was made clear to me by the powers that be, or my peers, that I was expected to behave within specific parameters of a predetermined box. This box became the space in which I accepted certain labels that were prescribed by society's expectations of me. Enter here: psychological defense mechanisms and phony personas created to shield us from the discomfort of being different or feeling alone. To feel belonging, sometimes we assimilate - perfectionism and people pleasing happen to be two of my most well-worn armors. Ironically, true belonging is impossible if we hide our realness.  

The older I get and the more personal work I do, the more I think about all of the missed opportunities for creative, uninhibited problem solving that I could have applied to the sticky situations and hard moments of my youth. If I hadn’t felt suppressed and censored by the labels I was compelled to adopt, I may have come up with more novel and healthier ways to deal with peer pressure, family conflict and personal turmoil. If I hadn’t spent so much energy adhering to “supposed to” or “in order to be successful” or “what’s cool”, perhaps I could have changed some of the stories that created toxic, myopic loops that limited my world view. Certainly, I always feel better when I shed those layers, so that I can focus on the now and stay aligned with my inner knowing - my real self.  My autistic son is gifted in this regard; he walks through the world from a perspective that seems unchanged by societal pressures.  In a world often structured around cynicism and ego, in which sarcasm and phony personas are primary communicative modes, that is refreshing.     

Which brings me to the horses, for me where everything always comes back to. My saving grace, my touchstone, my grounding practice has always been with horses, because horses do not tolerate phoniness and they have no use for labels of any sort. My love for horses and my lifelong horsemanship practice has continually steered me to the realm of what is absolutely true. Admittingly, there have been countless times over the course of my life that I have veered far off course, but thankfully I have always found my way back. I am grateful for that. 

Horses live in a universe that is constantly grounding, which reinforces the supreme importance of authenticity.  If I walk into the barn with a chip on my shoulder, or an ego that needs to be fed or an agenda that must be followed, I will likely leave the barn with a bruised ego, maybe even a bruised body, humbled, and reminded of what matters. Hopefully, if I’m learning anything, I’ll come out more resilient, re-aligned with my real self, ego diminished. 

Which brings me back to my family. Whether I’m talking about parenting my two typical(ish) kids or my neuro-diverse kid, I owe Luke a lot. He is one of my wisest teachers. He tought me, among other things, to be real, embrace the power that each moment holds, ignore worldly expectations, trust your gut, believe in magic and laugh a lot.  

Not incidentally, this is also an excellent mantra for working with horses.  Also, not incidentally, this is an excellent mantra for navigating life.