My family identifies as Black. Or, one might say we are Black-American, African-American, or of African ancestry. We live in a community where the schools my children attend have student populations that are fairly diverse with respect to race or ethnicity, but the faculty is not nearly as diverse as the student body. As a matter of fact, at the last school event I noticed that most of the faculty was White. I could be wrong and/or may have missed something, but that’s what I remember. As a parent, it reminded me – whether intentional or not – of my difference…my otherness.
I’m also the dad of a special needs son with a form of autism. I continue to confront the reality that my guy has and will continue to develop differently than many of his peers. His sensitivities to sound, smell, touch, and taste are different. His attention to detail and capacity to memorize is different. And, his ability to connect deeply with others can sometimes be different. And, I am again, reminded of my family’s otherness. That otherness can be highlighted in specific contexts like athletic events, the barbershop, or at a ballet performance (I just got real personal there). Have you ever been othered? Yes, I did make that a verb. Can you recall experiences where someone or some group has intentionally or unintentionally reminded you how DIFFERENT you are from everyone else? If so, I challenge you to consider whether the folks who othered you were authorities who could influence your experience with them? It could have been a teacher or a coach. It could have even been a clergy member or a family member. Did you then have to rely on them to keep their word or fulfill a promise? Did you have faith that they could then meet your needs? As a parent of a special needs child, there is a vulnerability I experience that can be as pervasive as my son’s autism symptoms on a bad day. I’m vulnerable because I’m relying on professionals to administer care, make recommendations, and support the development of my kid in ways that I otherwise would not even consider. I have to exercise a fair amount of trust – and faith – to be confident that the folks who say they are there to help actually DO want to help. This has been especially true for me when it comes to my son and his vaccinations. I’ve tried to convince his doctors about my reservations about continuing his vaccination regimen because of the relationship between one set of vaccinations and when I remember the onset of Avery’s symptoms. And I’ve tried to convey those ideas respectfully and honestly. And even in conveying them respectfully and honestly I still remember feeling unheard… Othered. I’m grateful I have additional forms of capital (social, educational, professional) that position us to have access to quality care for my son with autism. And, I need to say that the large majority of folks who have administered medical care to my kids have presented nothing less than professional, caring, and sincere. But, I shudder when I consider folks who don’t have those forms of capital and have to TRUST people who might contribute to their feeling othered for care and services for their child with a disability. I encourage parents – of special needs children and of typically developing children – to be confident that while they may feel inadequate to make decisions about their child’s care in the shadow of the experts, that they cannot forsake their own convictions and instincts, even when that comes at the risk of being othered. While being othered can feel isolating, it has the wonderful potential to deepen our connections when we risk sharing those experiences with each other.
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Students enrolled in counseling programs today are taught, very intentionally, about the importance of advocacy. It was, and has remained, a hallmark of the counseling profession and many other mental health and helping professions (e.g., psychology, social work, etc.).
Advocacy efforts can take a number of forms. They can be regional or national in scope, like a letter writing campaign to one's congressman or congresswoman. Or, the advocacy can be done at a very local level, such as high school parents organizing their efforts for more rigorous course offering for their students. The best definition of advocacy I've heard in my (relatively short) life was offered by a faculty mentor, Keith Wilson. He said, and I'm paraphrasing, that advocacy is fighting for the rights of a group of whom you are NOT a member. (insert "a-ha" moment here). Nile came home earlier this week and told me she had something to share with me. I was in the regular routine of running the kids to their respective activities and asked if she could tell me when we got home. She agreed, reluctantly. So, while fixing their dinner (if that's what you'd call chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and broccoli), she recalled that during the day there were kids who were being mean to the boy in her class who was on the autism spectrum. She was bothered because the kids were making fun of him, while he thought they were meaningfully engaging with him. He called them his friends even though their behavior was not really friendly. The young man was verbal, she said, and from what I could interpret, sounded A LOT like her brother. He was in a mainstream class, generally enjoyed social interactions, but had some trouble interpreting social cues and nuances. Her feelings ranged from anger, sympathy, and empathy toward the students being mean and for the student with autism. As we talked about it, Nile discussed one girl who she thought was particularly mean, and it bothered Nile. I tried to connect with her as she conveyed those emotions, saying things like: I understand why you would think that's mean. I'm not sure why some folks would be that insensitive. What is it that makes you so angry about how they're treating him? *You know I had to throw a "counseling" question in there! Don't judge me!* Lo and behold, I think we got the answer to that question. The girl Nile perceived as most insensitive... has a younger sibling with a form of autism. As Ni and I continued to talk through her frustration, I tried to convey the risks and rewards of speaking out against things that she believes to be unfair or unjust and advocting for those who may be targets of such actions. I shared that we ALL can either take the risk of speaking out and being ostracized by our peers and others OR not speaking out and having to confront the guilt that can sometimes accompany silent consent. I told her that she already knew the right thing to do, even if it was having a 1:1 conversation with the girl because we both acknowledged we wouldn't want anybody treating her brother like that. Of course, after saying that her mom and I would support her in any way we could, my final question was: So, what's gonna happen next time you see your friend? I thank God for reminding me of how important it is to be an advocate. Peace, -mike I’m coming off the heels of having an awesome celebration last night of my sister-in-law’s most recent birthday. If you can imagine around 35 people within about 1000 square feet – eating, drinking, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company – it’s just a glimpse of how much fun we had. The parameters for the party were simple: if you showed up, you had to sing a karaoke song to the birthday girl OR you had to play an instrument. Now, imagine a bunch of young (mostly early 30s to early 40s), primarily African-American men and women who ARE members of the hip-hop and soul music generations and you can guess the music being…performed. Yeah, that’s what we’ll call them. Peformances.
Good times, indeed. As you see friends from near and far, it’s typical for those who are parents to ask about each other’s children. No surprise there. Well, as folks ask about Avery, much of the conversation in recent months has been about his martial arts experience. I like talking about Avery and martial arts. I like talking about the success he’s had and the great instructors and mentors with whom he’s connected over the last 2 years. Why else do I like it? Well, because it can be competitive and…can be perceived as masculine. Avery’s got another set of physical skills and strengths that kind of set him apart, which I’ve mentioned before but not in detail. My boy can dance his tail off. Line dances, salsa, merengue, Zumba instruction, WHATEVER. He can just move. Well. So, just the other day LaChan asks the question I KNOW has been on the burner for some time: Can Avery take a dance class at Nile’s ballet company? *deeeeeeep sigh* I was trying to monitor both my nonverbal/body language AND my verbal response. In my head I want to say, “Nah, man”, but I don’t have any good reason to say no. My reason is essentially that I, at times, perceive dance or formal dance instruction, as primarily feminine. Now, I enjoy ballet, modern, and African dance forms. And, because of my relationship with LaChan, I’ve seen some awesome male dancers. But, that has not translated into wanting MY SON to perform any of those forms. I’d much rather have him participate in a team, competitive sport (you know, soccer, baseball, SOMETHING!). What I’ve been learning in the context of raising a special needs guy is to make a conscious decision to celebrate strengths and differences in folks. I’m learning to challenge myself to spend less time talking primarily about my kid’s challenges and more time talking about his strengths. I’m learning not to “pathologize” his differences from other kids (e.g., his intellectual development, social development, etc.) and just acknowledging them as different: not wrong or bad. I’m not one of those folks who doesn’t realize how larger social systems and preferences work. We’d be doing my kids, and especially my son, a disservice if we didn’t work on Avery’s social skills, reading and comprehension skills, and/or his ability to start and complete a task. But, I’m also learning that regardless of what behaviors and attitudes are interpreted as appropriate, masculine, feminine, etc. by broader social standards, they have to be checked at my door when they don’t facilitate my boy’s development, confidence, and self-esteem. And, I might need to be just as critical for those that stand in the way of my own development, too. Peace, -mike I hope anyone reading this blog had an opportunity to enjoy the winter holidays and get some form of rest and relaxation. Our family celebrated Christmas with loved ones locally and brought in the New Year with dear friends in Pennsylvania. The woman actually was married on New Year’s Eve and children were invited to the celebration, which made it especially nice. But, you know, that there are some things that happened causing me to be reflective of fathering and parenting that are WAAAAY too good to not share with you.
In my blog entry on 11/3/12, entitled PDAs (http://mdhannon.weebly.com/2/post/2012/11/pdas-public-displays-of-affection-because-pubertys-definitely-arriving.html), I began sharing about my daughter’s advent into becoming a young lady and how I’ve been making sense of it. I wrote/shared pretty openly about how she and I have begun to talk about “who’s cute” and “weird behavior”. The thing is, the other evidence of puberty was pretty clear (little more attitude, outfits a little more sassy, and my favorite…the bras). But never had SHE shown us…well, me (not sure if she’s talked to mom about this stuff in any great detail…but it’s likely) any behavior that said to me: YES, I THINK THAT PERSON IS CUTE AND I WANT TO CONNECT WITH HIM (OR HER). Well, forget that now. At our friend’s wedding reception on NYE, Nile and I had danced together to a mid-tempo song (“All My Love” by Luther Vandross, party favorite by soul music lovers everywhere!). I want you to picture this…furreal. As we danced, I talked with her, saying “This is how you dance with someone who wants to dance with you”. We were doing the simple “Two-Step” about a body length apart, but holding hands. I remember saying something like: “And if the person wants to get to close and it feels weird or uncomfortable, just say very clearly, ‘Hey man, back on up. You’re too close’”. I felt good about it. We laughed as we danced. Then a slow song came on (can’t remember what it was). So, I pulled her just a bit closer to me and placed my one hand in the mid-part of her back and placed her other hand in mine and we slow-danced. Her other hand was on my back. It was another teaching/learning moment for the both of us. Our exchange this time was something like: Me: Now, this is how you slow dance with someone. I want you to keep your head up and not look at my feet, but follow my lead, based on where my feet go. Nile: Okay. Me: (as I’m highlighting the distance between our bodies) Don’t get ANY CLOSER THAN THIS when you are slow-dancing (we’re now just a little bit closer than our earlier two-step). And, you know the deal. If it gets weird, tell that fool to BACK UP! We laugh. The song ends and she retreats to grab some food and I find my wife. And, about 10 minutes later, I got my evidence. Someone directs my attention to the dance floor, and AS SURE AS I’M BLACK (and proud), I see my daughter and some handsome young middle school brutha SLOW DANCING WITH NILE!!! What the what?! Wait, what’s happening? No, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?! Thankfully, I didn't panic so much to make a scene or draw attention to myself. I knew the boy’s aunt and cousin (the bride) and clearly, I know members of his family really well so I don’t have questions about the kind of folks to whom he’s connected. And, more importantly, I JUST HAD this conversation with Ni and I didn't want to alarm or embarrass her. However, that WAS NOT a license to go practice. Or was it? Her distance was good. She clearly listened to me and heeded my instructions. So, as the night ended, some 20 minutes after they danced together (and it was only one song), I asked her about the guy. Me: So, that guy asked you to dance, huh? Nile: Yeah. Me: What did he say to you? Nile: He just came up to me and said, “Hey, do you want to dance?” It wasn’t rude or anything so I said yes. Me: Did it ever get…”weird”? Nile: Nope. It was fine. Me: Okay. Cool. PDA, my friends: Puberty’s Definitely Arrived. #prayforabrutha Wishing you a great weekend! -mike |
AuthorI'm Mike. If you have an interest in mental health, family functioning, and disability advocacy, this blog may be of interest to you. Archives
January 2016
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