By Clain Udy, Author of Rebranding Autism: A Guide to Seeing Strength on the Spectrum
When I set out writing Rebranding Autism, I was driven by this realization: despite decades of advocacy and public campaigns, despite greater awareness and media representation, the everyday experience of autistic people and their families remains enormously burdened by misunderstanding, stigmatization, and fear. At the heart of this is a defective narrative that writes the wrong story of autism.
And here’s the truth that is not said often enough: no amount of policy, research, or media campaigns can transform this narrative as powerfully as what happens inside our homes.
I think of autism research as botany. Botanists study plants through a scientific lens, through microscopes and data sets. Autism research, which has predominantly centered on perceived deficits, often comparing autistic individuals to neurotypical standards–cascades into public policy, into schools, into the provider community, into schools, and eventually into homes. The result is a language largely centered around deficit, disorder, and dysfunction. Ultimately, this heavily informs the image and perspective around autism.
Not to be mistaken, the work of autism research is valuable; there’s no question. But researchers, public policy makers, educators and providers are not the ones tending the soil of autistic children every single day. We, as parents, are the gardeners of our children’s identities. We are the ones who–on a daily basis–write the story of our autistic children that they will believe.
I know this because I have lived it. As the father of an incredible autistic son, I spent years allowing a deficit narrative to fog the perception of my son. My wife and I initially chased the mirage of “normal,” believing our job was to push our son toward the mainstream. We tried to mask his differences, to soften the edges, hoping the world might somehow catch on. It didn’t. In fixing our focus on integrating him into the mainstream, we ended up focusing on all that he wasn’t, rather than seeing all that he was.
At one point, something changed. It wasn’t because of a scientific breakthrough or a public awareness campaign. I was re-reading two books: First Break All the Rules, and Now Discover Your Strengths, by Don Clifton and Marcus Buckingham. As part of a massive research conducted through the Gallup organization, they asked the question: What makes great managers great? They thought they would uncover things like great strategic vision, or managerial skills. Instead, they found that great managers look for strengths, and put their team members in a position to exercise their strengths on a daily basis.
The implications for our son were immediate and profound. We vowed to look for, find, and develop our son’s strengths. This doesn’t mean we ignored his non-strengths, but the overwhelming focus was on his strengths. We began to push aside the focus (the distraction) of atypical behaviors; we purposefully looked for, found, and began developing his strengths.
It began by seeing his intense interest in cars, and this his high visual/spatial abilities, which lead to him completing a 1,200 hour computer-aided drafting and design certification during high school, followed by working (and doing brilliantly) in an airbag manufacturing plan, and next year will be graduating with a degree in mechanical engineering.
Most importantly, he knows who he is. His identity–how he sees himself–is grounded in his strengths. It not only changed how he sees himself, but how we see him as well–for all that he is vs all that he isn’t. This change in perception transformed not just our son’s life, but our own as well.
What I want every parent to know is this: you are not powerless in the face of autism. In fact, you are the most powerful force your child will ever encounter. Before teachers, before therapists, before employers—there is you. You shape the environment in which your child’s identity is formed. You are the first and most influential narrator of their story.
And if we, as parents, begin to tell a story of strength—if we cultivate an environment where our children can see themselves as capable, as gifted, as contributors to the world around them—we can change not only their trajectory, but the way society sees autism altogether.
Throughout my journey as the father of an incredible autistic son, I have come to understand this:
In life, you find what you’re looking for.
If you look for weakness, you’ll find it, and grow it.
If you look for strength, you’ll find it and grow it.
Look for strength. You just might find amazing.
The work of rebranding autism begins with you.

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