Retarded: My Relationship With the Word

Preface: As explained to a friend recently, I started this blog as a way to compensate for my lack  (really, the nonexistence) of scrapbooking.  It's turned into more than just snapshots of our lives but also a journal for me that will one day be handed down to my girls.  A friend and several family members had asked that I post updates on Facebook and that is the only reason I started sharing the blog with anyone else.  It's never been about self promotion, and, usually, if someone tries to compliment me on a post I find myself deflecting it with self depreciating humor.  I hope I can teach my girls to more confidently accept a compliment.  If someone goes to the effort of saying something nice, it should really be accepted with a thank you.  But that's a hard one for me to practice what I preach, though...  Speaking of preaching, I never want this blog to be about me preaching to people who don't have kids with special needs.  We seldom get to choose to have a child with disabilities to be a part of our lives.  Many times, God does that for us.  However, I have this little blog that I know a few people read, and while I, again, never want it to be a podium for lecturing on things I am not an expert on, I do want to use it today for something that, from time to time, is on my mind.  I am not the perfect mom of Casey, typical 8 year old.  And I am not the perfect mom of Emily, 5 year old with special needs.  I am flawed and am learning to be a better mom/wife/daughter/sister/person all the time.  Please keep that in mind as you read this.  I am evolving in my experience of having a child with special needs as well in my experience of having a child without special needs.  I fear the eye roll from a few people on this post.  I really do.  I am not the kind of person that lets criticism roll off my back easily.  In fact, I had to run this post by 3 (very carefully selected) friends before I even could publish it - that's how unsure I was about writing about the word retarded.  Read it and take away from it what you want you want.  And maybe share what you take away with someone else, for good or bad.  Talk about the word retarded, because I really think that more people understand it's offensiveness than not.  Maybe tell someone politely that it's a poor choice of word when you hear it.  My hope is in another 5 years, I can look back on this post and say my relationship with the word retarded has evolved further.  Maybe my relationship with the word won't be such an uncomfortable one.


Retarded.  As defined by Merriam-Webster.com:  slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development or academic progress.

A valid English word.  By definition, my daughter is retarded.  That sucks.  A lot.  A lot-a lot.

The literal word obviously was never intended to hurt some one's feelings, but instead to describe one's cognitive/developmental delay.  Unfortunately, society has changed the word retarded to a derogatory, hurtful word by implying negative associations with the word.  I have only once heard this word used in the context of it's actual definition.  It was by one of the heads of departments at Children's and, although he was completely factual and intellectual in using it, I doubt he could have said anything else that could have been more hurtful to me as a mother.  Because he was talking about my daughter. 

I absolutely acknowledge that I have a whole bunch of momma bear defensiveness that comes with this word.  5 years ago if you would have used this word around me, it would have been like throwing a match at a gas can.  I actually called a lady a cow at Target once when I heard her telling her daughters that something they said was retarded.  I don't admit that to brag about it, (actually I'm quite embarrassed to remember it) but to acknowledge that I was wrong at the time and to point out now that I've grown a bit wiser and less hot-headed in my defensiveness in the word. 

I think I have evolved in bits as the years have gone by.  The maturity that comes with living through the grief and shock of finding out my child has special needs, over time has grown into acceptance and accumulated experience.  And I've become less like a fuse when I hear someone use the word retarded, and maybe more like a neighborhood watchman, who is hanging out ready to give a warning if I hear someone breaking the rules of offensiveness. 

Should I really be so proud of myself for evolving, though?  For understanding to not use the word retarded in a negative connotation?  Maybe only because I have a daughter with special needs?  Not exactly something to pat myself on the back about, much less scold someone else for, right?  Because I have used that word in a way to make fun of something or even someone.  It's been many years, but let me tell you, that fact is one bitter pill to swallow, much less admit here for my daughters one day to read.  But it's the ugly truth.  I have evolved to a much more compassionate place now, but I am not so arrogant that I will pretend I've never used the word in an offensive way.  And I am ashamed of myself for it. 

Because I know now.  I know that some mother some where has a child who is retarded by definition.  And her heart broke into a billion pieces the minute she found out.  And she would give nearly anything in the entire world to give her child a different life. 

And a mother of a retarded child would like nothing better than to have the word retarded wiped off the face of the earth. 

Because many people use that word to refer to something that is broke, not working properly, or needs to be fixed.  She knows that is not her child. 

It makes her sick every time she hears someone say another person is acting retarded when they are acting strangely, differently, or bizarrely.  She knows that is not her child. 

She feels insulted by others who use the word retarded to describe something said that is thought to be stupid, unreasonable, or unacceptable.  She knows that is not her child.

As I've evolved over the past 5 years, I have made an effort to be less angry in my reaction to this word and more focused on my actions towards this word.  I have tried to gain perspective.  I've read the arguments that defend one's right to free speech.  I've contemplated the extent to which our society should push the political correctness of our language.  I've taken a deep breath and told myself not everyone has a child that is retarded.  And I've reminded myself that there was a time when I didn't either. 

I've stepped up on my little soapbox, then down, then up again in my indecisiveness on how much to discuss this topic for a while now.  I think most people know that the word is offensive, it's just become a part of our vernacular.  It's just kind of thrown out there and mostly meant to be funny.  I understand that.  Then just the other week Casey and I, while in the restroom at Walmart, were told by an employee that the sink we were trying to get to work was retarded.  I am thankful that Casey was so focused on trying to wash her hands that she didn't hear the word retarded used in this context for the very first time.  I managed to very calmly tell this lady that the word was extremely offensive to me, to which she apologized profusely.  She was clearly embarrassed, but that was not my intent.  I just wanted to let her know that it's not a nice word and my hope was that she won't use the word again.  Maybe she'll even tell someone else the same thing when she hears it in the future and then maybe someone else's relationship with the word retarded will be changed, too.        
 

   

            

Creative Casey

I'm feeling the need to give a little "air time" to dear Casey.  All summer, before her recent fascination in food service, she told me her dream was to become a published author one day.  Girlfriend has the imagination and creativity to do it, I'm certain.  And I'm pretty sure she could be her own illustrator as well.  Every day she creates a new piece of art and each one just makes me smile.  I took a picture of a few of her recent creations, you know, because I don't scrapbook them :)

 

Yesterday, she handed me this piece of paper:

 

Yes, that would be a step by step instruction guide on how to draw her own new unique eye style for her portraits.  Then also provided a how-to for drawing smiles and hair as well.  I thought this was absolutely hilarious!  My bossy big girl has utilized her in-chargeness for instructional purposes to teach me how to draw like her :)  I often wonder if this will in some way be Casey's true calling one day - being in charge of....something... anything.  When I think of Casey's future, I really do look forward to seeing who this creative creature will become!!  I find myself, daily, trying to find the right balance between tempering her bossiness and argumentativeness, yet not suppressing it either.  Because while other 8 year olds may not want to put up with her brand of leadership, it is something that will serve her well when she's older and I don't want to strip that away.  I hope I don't screw up trying to help her find this balance.    

I recently was texting a couple of friends about school rules and they both commented that their third grade daughters were such rule followers.  I had to laugh myself thinking of Casey.  She's not a rule breaker in that she's looking to rebel or defy authority at all, she just genuinely thinks her way is better.  Period.  And she will try to negotiate her point of view with anyone.  She has some serious ingrained negotiating skills.  And she's outspoken about it.  I affectionately tease her that she could negotiate the paint off the walls.  Sister has skills in negotiating to get what she wants.  I like to believe we aren't pushovers as parents, in fact I find myself wondering sometimes if we are too strict, but either way Casey has been strong-willed since she was a baby.  Hurricane Casey has been our nickname for her since she was 3 months old.

 

I've talked to all of her teachers about this in parent-teacher conferences over the years and we've all end up chuckling about it.  Since pre-school, each of her teachers have told me that if they were off track on time or organizing what was going to be done next, Casey is the kid in their classes that will tell them they should be doing.  That's my Casey.  Thankfully, all of her teachers have been good humored about being bossed around by a student at times.  They've never faulted her for her being on top of things and organized, but she has gotten busted quite a few times for talking out in class.  But I can't give her too hard of a time about it, because I got "C's" in conduct all through grade school and Sister Rita even taped my mouth shut in the second grade one day,  (I guess that's the whole apple-and-tree thing, huh?) and I turned out okay, didn't I?  :)

My creative, artistic, bossy, funny, chatty, enthusiastic big girl.  I'm so blessed to have been given a girl with such spunk and I cannot wait to find out what she does with all these talents.  I mean find out what she's going to do with them beyond her 8 year old art masterpieces that I am awarded.  And this gem of a note she left me last weekend when we were butting heads a lot:

 

This, and locking me out of her room once, is the closest she's come to expressing how mad she has been at me.  She'll be 9 in November and I've yet to hear a "I hate you" or anything along those lines.  (Emily on the other hand will often tell me in anger "Don't worry about me!"  But that is for another post.)  From what I hear from other moms, that angry mother-kid drama has long started with other kids so I am enjoying the days of her anger being expressed in a note that I think is cute and sweet.  For all that I write about Emily's development and the unique experiences raising her, I never want to seem that I'm not as in awe with dear Casey.  I love this girl who needs me to tell her each night before bedtime what we are doing "for all these days" as she puts it.  I think it makes life seem safe and manageable for her, just as she likes it.  So she can wake up the next morning and an be in charge and create life to her design.