I have quite a lot in common with Gus Walz, the son of the former vice presidential nominee, Tim Walz.
Like Gus, I’m the second born in a white, middle-class, Midwestern family. I also come from a family of educators and passionate community organizers. I’m tall and have wavy hair, too.
I also have a non-verbal learning disorder (NVLD), just like Gus Walz.
Seeing his incredible pride and joy at his father’s nomination stood out to me, in a convention filled with emotive expressions across all platforms. Currently, our culture is still mired in an era stuffed with negativity and hatred on all media platforms. Thus, seeing a young man driven to expressive, joyful emotion was refreshing to see. There was no question about this young man’s love for his father and his country.
But I know how people behave, and how they judge, and I knew that cruel comments were coming about this disability.
Why? Because I’ve lived it myself.
Sure enough, without missing a beat, many conservative commentators quickly mocked Walz’s son’s learning disability and his behavior at the convention Even worse, not only was my assumption correct, but the fact that some of the loudest, cruelest comments came from fellow Chicagoans who volunteer for the disabled was nauseating.
I have dealt with the hapless behavior of judgemental superiors throughout my life, and to see it continue is exhausting.
I wonder if, and what, all of these commenters would say about me if we ran into each other at a board meeting or Starbucks in our beautiful city.
After all, I do fit in many of the boxes that are deemed successful in American society. I’d probably get a pat on the back and be invited to one of their volleyball games. They’d probably be friendly to me, at first, I’m sure.
I am a senior director at a major nonprofit, I am married with neurotypical children, I serve on a major museum board, I own a house and two cars, and, perhaps most surprisingly for those who might judge learning disabled people, a member of multiple honors societies and I hold a Ph.D from one of the top programs in my specialty.
But I do have NVLD.
I struggle with subtle social cues, which used to cause extreme anxiety over whether or not people liked me, or if I said the wrong thing in public. I am a perfect target for gaslighting, where I am unsure if something happened within a social setting by other people. I have lost friends over a gaffe or two that I did not realize was so hurtful (and no apology, however heartfelt, would solve). I have issues with auditory processing, making my voice too loud for some. I’ve been ostracized by individuals who have quickly figured out that, with my struggles in social settings, that I was an easy target.
But that’s the thing about easy targets.
It’s hard to not see them.
Before I was medicated for another disability, I would have trouble sometimes with my emotions, being too expressive or emotive for some social situations that called for the opposite. While this can be, as Tim Walz has called it ‘a superpower’ (my heightened emotions and loud voice make me a very good educator, speaker, and Scout leader!) it’s been quite a journey.
Having NVLD, and receiving both occupational therapy and medication has taught me empathy, as well as patience. These are two skills that are in desperate need in our current American zeitgeist, where cruelty has become the norm and pointing out hypocrisy is deemed irrelevant.
Indeed, for individuals with NVLD, we walk a strange line. Our learning disability is not as common as ADHD, and many common traits of NVLD also fall into other patterns of neurodiversity, such as autism-spectrum disorder. But if this is what people truly think of us–that we’re overly emotional, stupid, and easy to make fun—well, that is the worst for them.
It was most certainly on my mind when I saw the reactions of how people treated Gus in reactions.
