Holy crap, was I oblivious when I wrote this — and the above comment.

Given my recent discovery, I feel I need to say something here to clarify. I guess I didn’t really see myself as fitting into the autism spectrum at the time. Remember, “girls don’t develop autism spectrum disorders”. I guess thought I was just a weirdo. And to think I brushed off my fiance a few years ago when he suggested that I was.

Well, don’t I feel sheepish after reading this comment. Maybe I’ll print off my words and go eat them, with some mustard.

Happy Trails,

Nicole

You’re welcome. I just read Stilettos today actually, so I know what you’re talking about.

When I read the account about Alex Barton, I remembered how I was bullied, in grade school, junior high, and even high school. Although I don’t have a disability, I was picked on for many things…including being biracial and nerdy. If “Survivor” had been around in 1981, I’m sure *I* would have been voted out of class.

I will never know what it is like to be autistic, nor have I known anyone with this condition, so I don’t know how far I can understand. But I can’t stand injustice and ill-treatment, especially about characteristics such as disability, race, or sexual orientation, or even other things (the “hey, let’s go pick on the nerds” sort of stuff). Injustice – including the sort of thing as Alex Barton went through – makes me angry. It’s from the place of that anger – and my own memories of being bullied – that this poem came from.

Thank you for stopping by. And thanks for adding me back to your blog. I will be watching this incident too.

-Nicole