“What is Wrong With You?”

Hey Buddy! Can I ask you a question? Why do you wear those things on your legs? What happened to you? What is wrong with you?

It takes a lot to shock me. But those words shocked me.

Time stood still for what seemed like an hour. The thoughts in my mind would not come out of my mouth. I was literally speechless.

Prior to this moment, my son, Caleb, and I were at the grocery store picking up our weekly “provisions” (as my husband likes to call them).

Our shopping excursion had been a bit bumpy.

When we started in the produce section, Caleb attempted to eat the apples and bananas before they had been weighed, paid and washed.

After making it out of that part of the store, Caleb continued to need lots of reminders about grocery store behavior and I had to redirect him frequently.

Near the end of our trip, Caleb literally froze in the frozen food aisle. At times, Caleb’s anxiety becomes so overwhelming that he freezes. (This is a common stress response associated with anxiety, similar to “fight” or “flight.”) The frozen pizzas became our companions for several minutes before Caleb was able to move and we were able to make our way to the check out line.

During this particular trip, the checkout lines were packed since it was a holiday weekend. I decided that it was probably best to use the self check out.

Typically, Caleb’s loves scanning and bagging items. In fact, he often talks about his desire to work at Wal-Mart one day!

Caleb scanned some items, but was quickly distracted by all the items we all want to splurge on during check out . . . mints, M&M’s, Kinder Joy eggs, etc.

I could feel all eyes on me. I redirected Caleb over and over to keep him on task. I said “no” each time he requested to purchase the extra stuff. I could feel sweat dripping down my back as I tried to stay calm and consistent.

Truly, I had never been so happy to scan the last item and see the receipt print out.

“We made it!” I thought.

Unfortunately, being inside the store was only the beginning.

In the parking lot, Caleb became more agitated. Inside the store, I had allowed him to push the cart independently. But, in the middle of the parking lot, I needed to keep my hand on the cart for safety reasons. Caleb did not want me touching the cart. His frustration escalated and he loudly yelled “NO!” a few times.

More stares from strangers followed.

We we finally approached my minivan, a man approached us.

I was relieved and honestly thought he was going to offer to take the cart or help in some way.

Instead he looked at Caleb and said . . .

“Hey Buddy! Can I ask you a question? Why do you wear those things on your legs? What happened to you? What is wrong with you?”

Caleb did not respond. Neither did I.

All I could do was stare a hole through him. I had many thoughts in my head. His words shook me. But, I couldn’t get anything out.

Caleb was also silent. He just looked at me.

After a few moments, the man said, “Am I being too forward?”

Again, I had so many words I wanted to say, but the only word that came out was “yes.”

I climbed into my minivan and I cried. I kept hearing “What is wrong with him?” playing over and over in my head.

I silently prayed for the courage and strength to drive home.

That truth was just what I needed to make it home.

Allison and I have both had other similar experiences. We have also heard similar stories from many other individuals with disabilities and families. Sometimes we have the words to responds. Sometimes we don’t.

But this story isn’t about the right or wrong thing to say or do in those moments. This is about how others’ view disability.

Curiosity is natural. But, curiosity does not have precedence over respect. Respect is essential.

Disability isn’t “wrong”—it’s just one part of someone.

Caleb is fearfully and wonderfully made.

All individuals, those with and without disabilities, are fearfully and wonderfully made.

Conversations about disability and these ideas are essential for developing respect for individuals with disabilities.

Those conversations should start early with young kids. It should continue through the awkward middle school years. It needs to happen in high school and college when young adults are beginning to develop their own philosophy of the world and others. And it needs to continue among adults.

Conversations lead to further education and experience, which can take someone’s curiosity and grow it into understanding, empathy and respect.

At BRIDGED, we offer resources for adults to start conversations with children about disability. To start, we recommend that you check out a book list of our favorites here. Later this year, we will have our newest resource, which includes talking points for parents, available for our newsletter subscribers. (You can sign up for our newsletter at the bottom of this page.)

In addition, we equip K-12 schools with programming to start the conversations about disability. We use empathy to build a bridge between students with and without disabilities. You can learn more about our school programming by clicking here.