The A Word?

Super sibling Maddie used today's 30-minute car ride to enlighten me about a disturbing trend.

(No, not Juuling. She and I have covered that before. Parents: Inspect any unfamiliar flash drives that find their way into your house.)

Apparently a few of my twins' high school classmates are quite comfortable using 'autistic' in the same way my generation used the word 'retarded.' I had multiple friends in my tween and teen years – even into my early adulthood – for whom 'retarded' equaled anything they didn't like. Ugly shirt? Retarded. Annoying homework assignment? Either it was retarded, or the teacher was, for assigning it. Someone puts their foot in their mouth? You guessed it – they were retarded.

Not a proud moment for Generation X, or the Baby Boomers before us, or anyone who followed those generations and continued to freely use 'retarded' as a pejorative.

The R-word

For decades, 'retarded' was also half of the phrase 'mentally retarded,' which was accepted professional and legislative terminology for someone with an intellectual disability. Advocates for intellectually and developmentally disabled people regularly pointed out the demeaning nature of the R-word and campaigned for its end. It wasn't until 2010 that President Obama signed Rosa's Law, requiring the federal government to replace 'mental retardation' with 'intellectual disability.' Changes to the DSM-5 followed in 2013. It took seven years after the passage of Rosa's Law, until 2017, for federal disability and special education law to catch up.

As a parent of a daughter with a developmental disability, I wholeheartedly support descriptive terms that don't double as insults. We don't have to refer to 'intellectually disabled' as the ID-word, because fortunately it has not been co-opted by people looking for new ways to talk trash. When our culture turns a term for a vulnerable population into a punch line, it's time to take a hard look at whether that term is acceptable anymore. The retirement of 'retarded' was decades overdue.

Replacement?

Fast forward to this morning, at the end of a month dedicated to autism and the end of a week in which the CDC reported another rise in the autism rate, and imagine my emotions when my teenage daughter told me that she'd heard the word 'autistic' used in the same disparaging way that people have said the R-word.

In addition to their own sister, Lauren and Maddie have regular interactions with kids on the spectrum in their classes, their extracurricular activities, and in our community. The autism rate is now estimated at 1 in 59; their experiences are probably more the norm than the exception. Chances are high that their classmates who turned 'autistic' into an insult have tossed off that word in front of people who either have autism themselves or love someone who does.

While I hope that the use of 'autistic' as a derogatory term is confined to a few teenage fools at my twins' high school, the reality is that today we have more tools than ever to spread ideas rapidly, both good and bad. It's far more likely that their classmates' behavior isn't isolated. It took a lot of work, and too much time, for our nation to acknowledge that we needed a new, more respectful description for people with intellectual disabilities. If all we've done is taken one insulting term off the table and substituted another, then we haven't been wholly successful.

I've taught my kids plenty in almost 18 years of parenting, by word and deed. Not all of it has been perfect. Since Leah's diagnosis, I've definitely become more aware of the realities of prejudice and the impact of words, and I have talked with Lauren and Maddie about both. I've also imparted to them that happiness does not come from tearing others down because of differences, or by celebrating their misfortunes. Maddie's story, while frustrating, also had an upside. Leah's sisters have internalized those lessons. Maddie was offended and told them so. As a teen and a young adult, I was never short on convictions, but at times I was afraid to verbalize them. I am thrilled to discover that Maddie doesn't have that problem.

And both twins have expressed their displeasure in a move that most teens, who often measure worth by followers and likes, probably find even more devastating: They blocked the offenders on social media. Sticks and stones may break bones, but an 'unfollow' cuts to the quick.