“Oh, come on Ryk, you’re being so persnickety with language again. Why don’t you just lighten up and hear what we mean, and not worry so much about how we say it?”
Why, thank you for being brave and vulnerable, and for speaking up when you feel the need arise. Here’s the thing: there are a lot, lot, lot of brave and vulnerable people who would speak up just like you did, if they had the language for it. Kids with autism. Neurodivergent kids. Trans kids. Immigrant kids. Kids with trauma. Grieving kids. All kids, really, but especially these kids. Kids whose experience on the inside doesn’t match the words they hear thrown around on the outside.
These kids cannot advocate for themselves, and often asking them to do so results in a painful cascade of expectations that can be paralyzing. Because they want to advocate for themselves. Believe me every part of their nervous system is doing its best to connect in nurturing ways.
If you’ve ever had the experience of “Yes!” upon hearing something expressed in a new way that aligns with your experience, you may be able to recognize the power of language to make one feel connected, in an instant. Like the whole world was waiting for this moment of connection of body, mind, and consciousness. A lot, lot, lot of these kids, our kids, have been waiting for a moment like this for their whole lives.
As we approach the end of Pride month, I recognize that I’ve been awash in a sea of colorful and descriptive language about identity from many angles, and I recognize that so little of it directly connects with my experience. Male is good enough, but only because I’m shy with my self-advocacy around gender. I don’t connect with enby or trans or agender inside, but you know who’s team I’ll be on in a bar fight. I just don’t want to take up all of the oxygen by claiming that space from someone who does feel that “yes” when they hear it.
And I know I’m not straight (damn straight), but bi, gay, queer, aromantic, pansexual (sorry if I left anyone out)–not quite feeling it on the inside, but definitely who I’m hanging with on the outside. And, not having that big “yes” experience when I hear them, I may seem like I’m not coming when I’m called to advocate or celebrate. It’s not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t always recognize myself.
And ‘othering’ is like that. A lot, lot, lot of people, not just kids, have a big loneliness inside, because as humanity is lining up for it’s various functions, they are not 100% sure about which line is theirs. Maybe they’d rather divide themselves up and be in all the lines. Because they want want want to connect, but the lines of connection are not always clear.
So, in being responsive with my language, I’m being brave and vulnerable, and advocating for that little kid inside who is experiencing life boiling and freezing and rumbling and flowing and ouching and aahhing inside, but hasn’t found the right words to express it. And is waiting waiting waiting waiting endlessly waiting for that moment of “yes.”
Happy Pride
Every day is neurodiversity awareness day.