Everyday we meet new people. After all, people are everywhere. They are at the store. At school. And at the park. Not everyone realizes that my son has dwarfism. At five years old, he still blends into the "cute little boy" category. People come to find that he is different when they applaud his vocabulary and I respond by thanking them while also informing them that he is five years old. That's when I see the wheels turning, and a click. Something is different about this kid.
This sort of introduction is happening more and more. But it doesn't make me sad. And it doesn't frustrate me. Because first of all, my son is adorable. And he is super smart. And above all, we love telling people that he has dwarfism. Our son's difference is part of who he is. And sharing what makes him different is not only our acceptance, but it's giving a voice to a condition that needs it badly.
The most frustrating aspect of having a child with dwarfism isn't the medical complications. It's not the clothes. Or the adaptations. It's not even the negative people that challenge us. The most irritating part of having a child with dwarfism is the fact that for most people, their only exposure to dwarfism comes in the form of jokes and the old age "freak show era" when little people were for the entertainment of others. And on top of that, dwarfism is the topic of countless comic bits. And some little people allow themselves to be hired for parties and seem to be nothing more than an "add-on joke". Other little people are in the circus and shot out of cannons. Some even wrestle for an audience. This limited exposure promotes the idea that little people are a joke. That they are to be made fun of and laughed at. But in reality, little people are far from this visual and stereotype.
Most of the negativity that we encounter is ignorance. People don't connect their "midget jokes" to a child like my son. Just like they wouldn't use the word "retarded" if they knew someone with down syndrome. The lack of connection and inadequate education on differences makes the majority of people simply unaware.
For many, the differences in the world are hilarious until a connection is made. In person or not, the connection is vital to understanding. Once you meet my son, it's suddenly crystal clear that little people are just that. People that are little. That's it. And in an instant, acceptance isn't just a vague idea. It's not even a favor. It's what's right. Knowing a person that is different, gives meaning to hurtful words. Cruel jokes have a sharp sting. And the laughing is ear piercing.
That's why I'm here today. I know this must be the reason I was given the "gift of gab". I need to promote what it really means to be a little person. What it means to be any kind of different. Knowledge is most definitely power. It's literally eye opening. I know this because it's exactly what happened to me. Having a child with dwarfism has enabled me to appreciate the beauty of everyone's differences. I know that when it comes to my son, I won the genetic lottery. And I can't wait to tell you about it.
So please ask me about my son's dwarfism. Ask your neighbor about her autistic daughter. And your coworker about their son with down syndrome. We all want to tell you so that you can see what we see. We see children that are tough as nails. And wise beyond their years. They are hilarious. And trouble-makers too. They love having friends and the feeling of a big hug. So ask away. There's no such thing as a "bad question". Asking about my son and dwarfism is the equivalent to a high five. Or a giant hug. It's interest. And it's acceptance.
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