You Didn’t Know That I Was Smart

By Yanling Wang, Parent Advocate

My 13-year-old son, Yi, is autistic and nonspeaking. He was called “the “R” word at a farmers market when he was six. I stood up for my son and later wrote about the experience, hoping to educate others about autism and inclusion.

I thought he didn’t understand the “R” word.

I thought I was doing the right things to advocate for him. Years later, I discovered I had made a profound mistake.

Despite years of early intervention and therapy, Yi could not reliably express himself through speech because of severe global apraxia and childhood apraxia of speech. He was thought to have an intellectual disability. I thought he didn’t understand the “R” word .I thought he didn’t fully understand what was happening around him.

Seven years after that incident at the farmers market, I learned that I was wrong.

Through an Augmentative and Alternative Communication device (AAC), including spelling and typing, Yi was finally able to tell me what he remembered from that day: “I remember that people were very mean to me. There was this old man. He yelled at me and called me retarded. I was really mad. It deeply hurt my feelings. I know you fought back. But you didn’t know that I knew. It was even worse than being called retarded. You didn’t know that I was smart.”

It hurts me to know how painful it was for Yi to feel so misunderstood back then, even by the parents who loved him deeply. But I am profoundly grateful that he no longer has to suffer alone.

Yi didn’t suddenly become intelligent. His abilities had always been there. What changed was that our family finally found a way to support Yi’s communication through purposeful physical movements and AAC devices. He finally escaped what he calls his “prison of silence.”

Today, Yi is a published author. He studies grade-level academics, reads classic literature, writes on his blog, presents at conferences, plays piano, and communicates his thoughts, feelings, and goals through AAC.

Communication has transformed every aspect of his life, from education and relationships to participating in his own healthcare and receiving counseling for anxiety and depression.

Yi’s story is not unique. Through our annual conference for nonspeaking and minimally speaking autistic individuals and their families, we have met well over one hundred families with remarkably similar experiences. Time and again, access to reliable communication has revealed abilities that had long been underestimated.

Yi once wrote: “Few people understand what it means to not have a voice. It is the most painful experience I have ever had. I am happy that I can talk now. I want to help others. Everyone deserves to communicate!”

What Yi taught me changed the way I think about advocacy. Loving and advocating for our children also means questioning our own assumptions about what they know, understand and are capable of.

My hope is that other parents, educators, healthcare providers, and anyone who meets a nonspeaking child will presume competence and never equate the inability to speak with an inability to think or understand.

Communication may take different forms, including speech, AAC, spelling, and typing. Every child deserves meaningful access to communication and the opportunity to show the world who they are.

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About Yanling Wang:

Yanling Wang lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and their two sons. After leaving her career in product design at Meta (Facebook), she found a new mission in supporting her son and helping build a community that expands communication access for nonspeaking and minimally speaking individuals. She now serves on the board of Beacon AAC, created to support Bay Area families who use augmentative and alternative communication. Her son Yi is a published author who shares his writing about communication, autism, and his journey on his blog.