I have writ­ten many ar­ti­cles about my autis­tic nephew, Rahul, and told his sto­ry count­less times. Yet, I still feel the need to speak about him, per­haps be­cause his sto­ry is not fin­ished, or be­cause I con­tin­ue to meet too many par­ents who love their chil­dren deeply but are strug­gling in si­lence and afraid of the world’s cru­el­ty.

As we marked Autism Aware­ness Day yes­ter­day and as April is Autism Aware­ness Month, I want to share Rahul’s sto­ry again in the hope that it can help oth­er par­ents and care­givers nav­i­gate a world that is still too of­ten un­kind to autis­tic chil­dren and the peo­ple who love them.

We recog­nised the signs of autism in Rahul ear­ly and tried to get help as soon as we could. Deep down, we knew some­thing was dif­fer­ent. That is one of the first things I want to say to par­ents: do not wait. Do not sit back, hop­ing your child will sim­ply catch up. Do not al­low peo­ple to dis­miss your con­cerns by say­ing that boys talk late or that every child de­vel­ops in their own time. Do not hold on to the hope that the signs will dis­ap­pear, or con­vince your­self that if you pray hard enough, the autism will go away. And please, do not let shame keep you qui­et. Ear­ly in­ter­ven­tion and sup­port can make a re­al dif­fer­ence. De­nial and em­bar­rass­ment do not help a child. The jour­ney be­gins with you ac­cept­ing that your child might have de­vel­op­men­tal de­lays.

For many par­ents, the di­ag­no­sis is on­ly the start of an­oth­er strug­gle. Be­yond the dai­ly de­mands of car­ing for a child, there is al­so the cru­el­ty of pub­lic judge­ment. There is the star­ing, the whis­per­ing, the un­help­ful com­ments and the ad­vice from peo­ple who know noth­ing about autism. There is the painful re­al­i­ty that autis­tic chil­dren are too of­ten judged by stan­dards that were nev­er de­signed for them. I am com­ing across too many par­ents who are ashamed of their chil­dren, who keep them away from pub­lic spaces be­cause they can­not bear the stares and re­marks. I am see­ing par­ents who feel pres­sured to apol­o­gise for their child’s dif­fer­ence, as though the child is the prob­lem. And that is heart­break­ing, be­cause the prob­lem is not the child. The prob­lem is a so­ci­ety that still does not know how to re­spond with un­der­stand­ing, com­pas­sion and ac­cep­tance.

I am sor­ry to tell par­ents that the star­ing does not go away. In fact, it of­ten gets worse. Peo­ple stared at Rahul when he was a lit­tle boy, and now that he is 21, they stare even more. So, par­ents, pre­pare your­selves, be­cause as autis­tic chil­dren grow old­er, so­ci­ety of­ten be­comes less for­giv­ing. Some­how, it’s okay when they are small and cute. But when they get old­er and are still jump­ing, singing, flap­ping, mak­ing sounds or be­hav­ing dif­fer­ent­ly in pub­lic, the re­ac­tion changes. Peo­ple stare more open­ly, judge more harsh­ly, and some­times they can be open­ly cru­el (not to me, I would put them in their place!). But let me say this clear­ly: there is noth­ing wrong with your child be­ing dif­fer­ent. Dif­fer­ence does not make them less and bro­ken. More im­por­tant­ly, you do not need to force your child to be­come “nor­mal”; it’s so­ci­ety that needs to change, not your child.

At the same time, I want par­ents to know that even in an un­kind world, there is kind­ness. That is some­thing Rahul’s life taught me too. We found ac­cep­tance in places where some peo­ple might least ex­pect it. The work­ers at KFC, St Mar­garet’s Junc­tion branch. The staff at Trot­ters, TGIFs Gulf City, Off­side and Cara Suites. These were places where Rahul was wel­comed and ac­com­mo­dat­ed, where they made him feel com­fort­able. Fam­i­lies re­mem­ber places and peo­ple who were pa­tient, un­der­stand­ing and who made their chil­dren feel like they be­longed.

And that is some­thing else I want to say to par­ents: take your chil­dren out. Let them see the world and let the world see them. Do not wait for so­ci­ety to be­come more un­der­stand­ing be­fore you al­low your child to be vis­i­ble. If we keep hid­ing our chil­dren be­cause peo­ple stare, then noth­ing changes. Our chil­dren have every right to be in pub­lic spaces, to fam­i­ly out­ings, restau­rants, to parks and beach­es. They should not have to be less autis­tic, qui­eter or more “nor­mal” to be ac­cept­ed. They de­serve to be seen and in­clud­ed ex­act­ly as they are.

I al­so want par­ents to know that ad­vo­ca­cy of­ten be­gins in pain. I found my voice be­cause I was tired of see­ing Rahul ex­clud­ed and judged. I on­ly be­came an ad­vo­cate be­cause I want­ed more for him. Lov­ing him made me braver, stronger and less will­ing to wor­ry about what peo­ple might say. So, par­ents, do not un­der­es­ti­mate the pow­er of your love or your voice. You do not have to have all the an­swers to stand up for your child. You just have to be will­ing to speak up, stand firm and say proud­ly: this is my child, this is who he/she is, and he/she de­serves to be seen, re­spect­ed and in­clud­ed.

So, I am shar­ing our sto­ry again for every par­ent who feels afraid, tired or alone. Be brave for your child. Do not hide them. Do not apol­o­gise for them. Our chil­dren de­serve to be seen, loved and ac­cept­ed, and the more we stand be­side them proud­ly, the more we force this so­ci­ety to change.