The Race of Autism

Dearest Jacob,  today you caught me off guard, the way a sleeping soldier, snoozing against his wall in peacetime is suddenly jolted awake with horns and the rushing tide of the shouts of fear and unpreparedness.  There I was watching the beginning of my sports show that comes from the UK.  As usual, I only focus on the first 12 or so minutes, once it gets to rugby, golf and cricket it's already been deleted.  There you were, slumped on the couch, I was casting my eye and ears between something 'terribly important' on the internet and half taking in the initial headlines of said sport show.

The commentators spat the headlines and updates out like a fiery geyser, attempting to rev up their unknown audience.  I paid minimal attention as I awaited to hear of my football team (soccer you irreverent lot ;).  Liverpool had battered Everton in the Liverpool Derby and I was eager to see the highlights and the interviews.  I turned my head to the screen.  You asked a question; I heard you speak but not your words.  Frustrated, I asked what you said.

"Why does that man speak with a British accent Mom?"

I look to see a non UK player on the screen.  No one there but the sports anchor and his co anchor.

"Who love?"

"The man in the suit......is he faking an English accent?"

"The man on the left?"

"Yes."

"Why would you think he shouldn't have an English accent hun?"

"But he doesn't look English....."

I knew immediately why Jacob asked this innocent question, although I struggled with my immediate response. The Sports anchor was black.  I inhaled my mortification in a single breath and turned to my son.

"How many black people in America have an American accent?"

"All of them Mom."

"How many white Americans do you feel  have an American accent love?"

"About half."

"I mean not including Latino's hun."

"Oh, then, most."

"How many white people in England do you feel have an English accent?"

"Well all....duh..."

"OK, how many Black people in England have an English accent sweetie?"

Jacob's little face scrunched up, his head tilted like it always does when he is struggling with a quandary.  "Well, none.  There are no black people in England!!"

My heart snagged on emotional muscle tissue, it tore and spotted blood on my ego.   I was stunned into silence.  I have always prided myself on being a pretty liberal, left winger.  I assumed' my children were absorbing my openness by how we lived our lives and by daily family cultural osmosis.  However, add to that Jacob's brain is not wired like yours or mine.  His autism and our coexistence of almost 12 years had me fooled into believing I was in step with his cultural understanding.

He and I talked a bit about people speaking languages with accents and no matter their skin color it was based on their country and their upbringing.  I could see he understood the concept but in his mind he was shaking his neurological head. It's time Jacob met the country that gave birth to his translucent Mom, and be exposed to all of Ireland and Britain.  We are all now mixed race and inclusion, regardless of our accents.  How nice though, to deal with race based on accent and not necessarily pigmentation.  Autism is a gift.