I have started and abandoned more blogs than I can possibly remember — on teaching, on yoga, on fat acceptance and life. Many of these had fewer entries than I have fingers before being abandoned and forgotten. I have had ideas for stories and books and essays that all seemed so clear at the time, but the words never even formed into sentence one.
Here I am, though, with a blog and a Facebook page. I started the first page of a memoir. I sometimes wonder if I write too much, or if there is meaning behind my words. I come back again and again, anyways, regardless of page insights or Google Analytics.
I have to.
It isn’t that I am important. It’s that they are. Not just Diva and Little Man, the loves of my life, but every child and person who is “different”. The world has pathologized difference, stigmatized mental illness, labeled kids as “unadoptable”, and attributed little skill or personality to disability.
I write because my children show me, all the time, how silly these stereotypes are. They shine with “can” and “will” and “you are wrong”.
I write so that other people can know the humanity, individuality, and sparkle of those we often forget.
I write because my children’s disabilities are part of who they are, something that can be erased no more than their humor or brown eyes. I write because “despite the autism” is not in my language.
I write for all the children who have been lost to the system and for families who don’t think they will make it through. I write because there is a possibility of light.
I write because days can be hard and overwhelming and painful and even scary — but that doesn’t mean that my children deserve less respect, less love, less understanding.
I write because we have forgotten what unconditional looks like, but my kids are teaching me everyday.
I write to go against the grain. I write to fight back against the stories of our day — disruptions, institutions, shame, hate, abuse. I write because I am disgusted when I hear these stories repeated, stories where children are blamed for family destruction and the world sympathizes with murder by parents. I write because it is not okay with me to stand idly by while the public continues to relegate those like my kids to the shadows.
I write for change. I write for hope. I write for humanity, equality, and love. I write because my children have the right to be seen.