Julia Ryan: Just As You Are

Doug GoldringCommunity

This year, my twice-exceptional child became an adult – one who is happy about his prospects, doing well in his first year of college, has a few very good friends, and experiences love in his life. This future was not an expected outcome just a few years ago.

It was the expected outcome early on, when our sunny and ebullient child first entered the world; he was beautiful and bright, with a sunny head of golden curls, curious about nature and science, an early talker who smiled, laughed, loved animals and friends. He tested off the charts and began his school career in a gifted and talented program.

But as time progressed, inexplicable occurrences (which at first shocked us) became more and more expected. He was bullied, he was “attention seeking” and “weird.” At the same time, he was a top student, so creative; winning academic awards and achieving top test scores – so why was he having so much trouble with social norms?

Experts couldn’t help. In fact, some were dismissive. He needed more structure at home, more calmness, more rules. But there was nothing wrong with him, (which of course made sense, as there WAS nothing wrong with him – he was our bright loving boy.) Sure he was active, but an ADHD diagnosis didn’t seem to fit. He was an achiever. So smart!

Fast forward a few years and that diagnosis finally appears. The doctors said it’s harder to diagnose a twice-exceptional child. That’s when the child has a neurological difference (I’ll call it a disability here for clarity, though I no longer believe in this terminology) and high intelligence – and sometimes the brilliance masks the disability, and sometimes the disability masks the brilliance.

As my son got older, his challenges became more acute. Even though statistically 20% of the world population has some form of neurodiversity (source: NIH), a factual human condition with pros and cons, the mention of this condition (or those dealing with it) is often treated with isolation and shame. There are groups and communities for parents of neurodiverse children, but I found them hard to find and harder to use, and most were almost exclusively remote, and by extension, somewhat anonymous.

Almost across the board, there is a systemic assumption that neurodiversity means severe inability and low intelligence. This invisible bias makes finding appropriate support nearly impossible. I find that even in conversations with friends and colleagues, neurodiversity still means “having cooties” for most of us. Even after many wins, my family is still facing the prejudices and exclusion that is the normal reaction from many organizations or individuals who still do not understand or acknowledge the vast spectrum of neurodiversity, what that means, and whom it affects.

Last year, my child performed in a well-known, nationally recognized, non-profit storytelling program. It was a brilliant performance and a personal high for him. He was one of seven students chosen out of all the kids across NYC who had gone through the educational program. But his spot in the program had to be fought for in order that he even be allowed to stay.

You see, the way he presented in the first class was…unusual. He can come across as blunt, he is often honest without guile, and not aware of social nuance, though he has been working on this for years. In the first session of class, these teachers just didn’t get him. He explained he was neurodivergent but sensed that the teachers did not believe him, or at least were not comfortable. He came home from the first class filled with anxiety and self-doubt.

I was disappointed and familiarly infuriated by the email a few days later from the manager of the educational program, who wrote: “ it sounds like [your son] is an extraordinary young man with so much to offer” but [the teachers] “don’t feel…that [they] would be able to offer the supportive and compassionate space that [he] deserves…”

I’ll just cut to the chase – after years of facing exactly this sort of discrimination and bias, I knew my son’s federal rights and protections. In the end, the Senior Manager of Education apologized – to me and my son – on behalf of the whole program, and then she found him a spot in another class with teachers who were better trained. The end of that journey is his triumphant performance as one of their top students in the year-end show.

When I saw the Senior Manager there, I pointed to the stage where the incredible story-sharing had just occurred, and said “This almost didn’t happen.” Her first words were, “I’m sorry.” She then added that he is incredible, and that his exclusion would have been a terrible loss for everyone. People with ASD are not a monolith. Neurodiversity is just that – diversity – and on the spectrum of diversity, there is no one recognizable way that unique brains may present. Dramatic depictions (in movies or plays) of characters on the spectrum are often based on unconscious assumptions and are frequently inaccurate stereotypes. Neurodiverse people are in multiple social circles, whether one is aware of it or not, and they are as unique in their behavior and aliveness as the rest of our diverse and brilliant human ecosystem.

Societally, we now celebrate and uplift marginalized people that in the past could not be out or open about who they are or how they look, who they love, or what they believe. Most people are horrified when they witness discrimination – yet for people with neurodiversity, especially twice-exceptional individuals, who may present social awkwardness, cluelessness, discomfort, or a physical tick of some kind – the discrimination is often rampant and severe. For those who are neurodiverse, especially for those – like my son – who crave friendship and connection, this can lead to isolation and rejection, which in turn can lead to depression and, in some cases, suicide.

Last June, we attended my son’s High School graduation from a fantastic and supportive NYC public school, The Harbor School. Finally, here, we found caring teachers and administrators who truly understood what it means to support all students, wherever they are. As we were hugging these amazing individuals for probably the last time, and thanking them for helping our son blossom, the assistant principal shared this thought, “The system is flawed. It is set up for all these little boxes to fit into little square spaces – but sometimes, you get a student who isn’t a box”. She said it was because of our fierce advocacy that they were able to help our little circle-who-wasn’t-a-square, that they then had the tools to take action to support him fully and equitably – which gave them satisfaction and joy. My heart is so full and thankful for these angels, who embody what we all should be striving for: real love and understanding of all that makes us human.

As a parent, it has been an exhausting journey of advocacy for my child to be seen, accepted and loved. As a teacher, I see many students who find their home and can blossom in this art form of play we are so privileged to take part in. As an artist, I know what it is like to sometimes not fit into the little square box society has prescribed, and I am so profoundly grateful I have the community of my fellow weirdo actors with whom I feel “gotten.”

At the Barrow Group, while neurodiversity inclusion is not a direct mission, we do actively and deliberately provide safe, accepting, and inclusive environments where artists and students are encouraged to be just as they are, and to know that that is perfect.

– Julia


Upcoming classes with Julia include Beginner Acting Class II: Getting Specific starting 1/21, and starting 2/18.

Check out TBG’s full schedule of classes, including youth options!