WHY do we discern the lives of autistic children so unkindly when they haven’t even been given a chance to live a life at all?

My mother had recently expressed her concern after reviewing a Facebook post about the sincere mishap of an autistic boy during his birthday. I’m going to cover this with a generalised field of vision and exclude the in-depth preferences that may blind the issue in its entirety.

Autistic children have feelings. In fact, they are exposed to many more feelings than our very own bodies may ever be able to handle. I can prove this using the increasing rates of suicide and other contemporary social problems as evidence. The power behind the abnormal behaviour these children hold within themselves cannot be compared to be nearly equal to those that we so easily complain to have.

We cannot even come close to internalising their attempt at compliance that paradoxically disintegrates their call for control. We normally functioning adults can claim to have surpassed the needs for social intelligence, but ultimately crumble when the morals ingrained within us fail to understand the slightest flux of natures’ purest creation.

If you didn’t understand that, that’s proof of what you’re missing out on too.

Although these children have emotions in masses that saturate deeper than the ocean, the only distinguishable factor presents itself as to how the emotions we have are intellectually voluntary.
They may have involuntary minds, but they still have hearts; hearts that are more loving than those which beat free of purpose every single day.

They lack control about indulging information supposedly used to help us understand the behaviours which we feel, including the foundation that makes up our sex drive. When an autistic child finds a person attractive, most of them probably cannot emit this sheer feeling, so they tend to reach, breaking barriers of personal space and forcing a fully fledged human connection. Whether or not the subject is aware that this person may have autism, they would naturally enter a frame of confusion and trauma. This however does not and should not ever result in placing an autistic child behind bars overnight.

That would be straight up half-baked.

This helpless soul had been celebrating his birthday when an unconditioned touch to another’s chest had brought him to witness the lifeless moon, confined and all by himself.
How would he have felt?

How would his mother have felt?

Thank god this soul was given justice for his innocence by a kind and humane judgement.

However, I cannot believe that people are still so blind to the disposition of those with autism and ignorant of how we still have to fight for their rights that should be rightfully championed through this vulnerable world. We shouldn’t even have to explain ourselves in the first place.

The rights of the autistic should flow freely and be regarded rationally under every situation before a decision is made or a loss incurred.

This is not politics. This is not rocket science. It shouldn’t be debatable. Chances should be given.

The establishments that make up the judiciary and gendarmery systems need to be spoon-fed on how to appropriately carry out jurisdictions, before taking potential action which could effectively and eventually lead to these children worsening their depression and mental stability. Seriously, go read a book. You don’t deserve to carry a gun if the capacity of your compassion calibrates itself to the equivalent size of a bullet shell.

My autistic brother sees beauty. He preserves those who only he finds important and has his natural slip-ups when it comes to manifesting his raw thoughts.

He would say things like “marry me” under a tone embalmed in syrup, but he doesn’t and would never truly imply it. He sometimes even says it to my dad.

But we understand where his heart is and how humbly he tells someone how beautiful they may be today. With a mellow mood, I can only advise him that he is my older brother and that instead of marrying me, he needs to take care of me like the older brother he is bred to be.

A few years before, when my brother was fresh into aggression and was sprouting with hormonal changes, he had initiated a similar precedent. During a walk in the park with my parents, he had reached towards the chest of a pretty woman who had passed by, twining his fingers into her clothing. She, fortunately being a psychology graduate, had immediately ascribed this abnormality and attributed the evident fact that this behaviour was not a result of bad intent. She knew that it was not his doing, nor was it my parents’. She composedly returned him to his sanguine nature. Due to this, my parents have always had to think twice on taking him out of the house, not scared of what people may think, but of how they may react. This makes a greater difference.

But this is what autism is. This is how these children were born. Every cell that contributes to the constitution of their self-concept conflicts with a confused state of balance.
Yet we are the ones so unaware of this contradiction.

Why are we so blunt to apprehend the key to this awareness and the lives that silently flourish through it? It takes only a few seconds to convince your heart to understand them.

Whether you may be a psychology graduate, a painter, a businessman, a police officer, a teacher, or a learner, autism shouldn’t have to be taught. It should be considered a religion of its own.

Special needs children deserve just as much appreciation for who they exquisitely are, as we do.

Before I conclude, let me leave you with this: Autism opposes the outward appearance of a flower.

Those who are autistic have their skin rigidly stemmed but have the softest petals hiding beneath their walls. They may be thorny on the outside, but under their rind lies their fragrant flesh. Their intelligence may seem to be wilted, but their leaves stand sharp and soar forwards. They may be assumed to be a mistake grown from a seed, but flowers are always a blossoming start, even for a life so profoundly intricate and rare.

Tenderness is a virtue we can’t afford, but trust me, its value is worth more than the use of the word itself.

* Shridevi Jeevan reads The Malaysian Insight.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.