Unlike RFK Jr., I Don’t Want A Cure For My Son’s Autism

“The only people who think my son needs fixing are the ones who don’t know him.”

My son’s smile means everything.

Lucas is 14, nonverbal and full of joy. He doesn’t use words to express his happiness. It’s written all over his face. His smile is part of his language, and when I see it, I know that he and I are doing something right.

We’ve learned to communicate in our own way. Gestures. Silent routines. Sometimes, it’s just instinct. Like a friend across the room during a boring business meeting, I can tell what he’s thinking simply by looking in his direction. It’s a connection I used to think was impossible. Today, it’s part of life.

There’s still so much I wonder about my boy. What will Lucas’ future look like? Will I be able to prepare him for the world? What happens when I’m no longer here?

But what I don’t ask — and what I stopped asking long ago ― is why.