TIB: Christopher

By Shelby M.

I never really got to know my cousins until I was eight years old. That’s when

we moved to Connecticut from Washington D.C. and moved in down the street

from them. I had spent time with them over numerous holidays. However, I soon

got to know my cousins a lot better, particularly Christopher. I remember being

flabbergasted when I would see my ten-year old cousin watching Barney, clapping

his hands, and bouncing up and down like a four-year-old kid after drinking a Red

Bull. I didn’t understand why Christopher couldn’t ask for chicken fingers and would

instead grab them off some one else’s plate. He couldn’t talk; he could only groan. I

couldn’t understand why Christopher acted so differently than me.

Christopher has Down Syndrome and is autistic. He has trouble with things

that we take for granted. He can’t read, write, or talk. When I was younger, I would

pray to someone, anyone, that Christopher would get better. I would pray that he

would one day be able to say his brother’s name, tell his parents he loves them, or

thank them for everything they’ve done for him in his life and every day to come.

What’s worse than Christopher’s disability is the way that other people

perceive his inability. The easiest way to describe this is to reference a feeling I

know almost everyone in this room has felt. It’s the feeling of getting on an airplane

or any means of transportation, and seeing a baby in the seat behind you. For the

whole flight, you groan as you hear the baby wailing behind you, disrupting your

flight. However, as the flight lands, you play peekaboo with the cute little baby,

asking how old he/she is, forgetting about the disruption the baby created. I believe this is because once

 the flight is over, we realize that the baby’s behavior wasn’t its fault.

This is similar to the feelings my family and I endure whenever we are out in

public with Christopher. We get the same glares and quizzical faces. However, they

never see Christopher as I do, or as my family does. They can’t see the look on my

Grandma’s face when he hugs her. They just hear his moans, and nothing else.

In order to really understand anything or anyone, we have to look beyond

the surface. When I was in the second grade, I met Julia. I wasn’t afraid to look at

her, while most people had the tendency to look away from her as soon as they

realized she was different. Julia was confined to a wheelchair and suffered from

brain seizures. I wasn’t afraid of her or her disability, because of Christopher. From

my experience with Christopher, I wasn’t afraid to go up to Julia during class and

talk to her, although she couldn’t respond. When most people see Julia, all they can

see is her disability. Looking beyond her disabilities, I was able to see her for her

abilities. For example, I was amazed to learn that Julia was taking piano lessons.

However, I don’t think most people can imagine a person as severely disabled as

Julia being able to play the piano. I know I didn’t. I learned to see Julia for what she

could do, not for what she couldn’t do.

During the Special Olympics last year and this year, I was greatly affected by

the athletes. The goal of the Special Olympics is to make the athletes feel like they can do anything and

can succeed with their disability. Through the sense of hope

and strength, the athletes were able to feel special. We gave them the opportunity to

be special. Everywhere else, they are looked upon as different. However, we were

able to make them feel special.

The feeling of belonging is probably one of the greatest feelings in the world.

It is the feeling that you have a place in the world, and that someone else cares

about you. When people are different than we are, it’s easy to look the other way

and treat them as if they are invisible. Even worse is to see them only for their

disability, to see them only for their faults. I believe everyone deserves to feel like

they belong. In order to do this, I believe we have to accept people for who they are.

Everyone has been touched by someone who has some kind of disability, whether it

is physical or mental. There is no reason to hide or be embarrassed by it, and we

should instead embrace it. This I believe; everyone has a place in the world, and we

are all on our way to finding it.