My niece pointed me to this story tonight and it is too jaw-droppingly beautiful not to share. It makes me wonder about all those autistic, aggressive, self-abusive, silent young adults I worked with over the course of 10 years in Chattanooga. What was built up inside of them just aching to find expression? How much did we assume was not happening inside of them that was? How much did we increase their frustration by requiring them to participate in mindless rituals that we thought were helping? Our actions were motivated by love and were based on empirical evidence, but who knows what deep and profound thoughts accompanied their wild, erratic behavior? It makes me horribly sad to think about it, but also gives me joy to think of them one day, whether in this life or the next, finding their voice. I can't wait to hear what they have to say.
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