Retarded

I remember the exact day I became physically, consciously aware of the word “retarded”.

In high school, my algebra teacher patiently explained to the class that she would not tolerate the use of retard or retarded in her room, saying that it was hurtful. I didn’t understand at the time. Old people are so sensitive, amirite? They just don’t get it. I don’t mean anything by it. I’m not a hateful person, don’t look down on those that are differently abled. My intentions bought my absolution.

Several years later--June 23, 2011 to be exact--we were driving home from Dr. Driskell’s office in our worn-out Jeep with holes in the seat. My phone at the time was a Motorola Razr 2 in bubblegum pink that made that satisfying -clack!- when you slammed it shut, but cost a fortune per megabyte to look anything up on the painfully slow internet. We were going to have to wait until we got home to get on Michael’s computer and research this new-but-familiar word, Autism.

Back then, we knew nothing. Misconceptions at best. Google, unfortunately, would not be much more helpful as no one can agree on anything regarding the issue (at least it feels that way).

We could see Gabriel in the rear view mirror behind us, placid and content staring out the window at the houses passing by. One hand was in his straw-colored hair, the other holding on to the pacifier he was chewing on noisily.

Our baby.

Michael hesitantly asked, “Does this mean….is he retarded?”

It was a fair question. This was actually at the cusp of a big change to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, the fifth edition that would not only combine the subtypes of autism under the umbrella term of Autism Spectrum Disorder, but would replace the diagnosis “Mental Retardation” with “Intellectual Disability”.

(Note: the World Health Organization’s International Statistical Classifications of Diseases and Related Health Problems--ICD--still utilizes the term mental retardation. This is expected to change with the release of the 11th edition of the ICD, which is projected to take effect in the United States by 2023.)

Gabriel was first diagnosed in the summer of 2011 with classic autism: moderate to severe under the diagnostic criteria of the DSM-4.

Autism has a high rate of comorbidity--meaning two chronic conditions that are simultaneous in an individual--with epilepsy, ADHD, depression, anxiety, and intellectual disability, among many others. Intellectual Disability (ID) means limitations in adaptive behaviors (practical and conceptual skills such as social interactions, language, and activities of daily living) as well as a below average IQ. You can see how autism would often go hand-in-hand with that, as one key characterization of autism is impairment to adaptive behaviors.

So, when Gabe was diagnosed, the manual they used still held the phrase “mental retardation”, which he had a better than likely chance of being diagnosed with in the future.

In that moment, the word made a new kind of sense to me.

I can't say anyone’s intention behind saying phrases like “that's so retarded” or “don't be a retard”. Frankly, I'm sure there is little malice intended. A wise woman once told me, “you are an expert on your intent; I am an expert on your impact”. That's what this post is about, then. I can tell you the impact these words have on me, and likely on many more people affected by learning or intellectual disabilities and disorders.

After that day, the way those words are used, colloquially, casually to insult situations, behaviors, words, or people was no longer this innocuous, innocent ribbing. It was labeling something as inferior, worth less than our value.

We like to take words and repurpose them, meanings changing and adapting over time. When I say something is “cool”, listeners do not think I am referring to the temperature of the item; if I say “that sucks”, one does not assume the situation is creating a vacuum. Words are somewhat cheapened this way, being used to assign value or denote worthlessness instead of as descriptors. “Blonde” has much more usefulness to describe the shade of one’s hair, after all, than to imply unintelligence. There are so many other words--ignorant, senseless, foolish--that could have been used, but we insist on derisively saying, “ha! What a blonde!” Why?

When we categorize someone like that, we are unconsciously dividing it into an “us” and a “them”. If “they” are stupid/worthless/bad/wrong, then by virtue of not being them, the “us” are intelligent/valuable/good/right. It is much more pervasive than we realize once we become aware of it.

Our thoughts and our words matter. Proverbs 18:21 says “death and life are in the power of the tongue.” In Matthew 15:18, “But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart.”

When someone says “retarded”, “retard”, or “-tard” words (ie, libatard), I feel it on my skin, a stab at a perpetually exposed nerve. Sometimes, I call people on it, if I think it will help. Most of the time I just flinch hard and exchange a look with Michael. He felt it, too. One thing we definitely never do is not notice.

It feels like every hateful thing people have thought about Gabriel because of his condition.

Like every struggle, every setback he has ever faced is being tossed back at him.

Like no matter how far he comes or how much progress he makes, he'll always be seen as inferior, broken.

Worthless.

Because when that word is being bandied about, it is not describing a chemical process. I hear that a lot, and my general rule of thumb: unless it is in a chemistry lab being used to actively describe a chemical process, then it's probably best not to use it. It has been co-opted from its original use like “cool” and “suck”...”faggot”.

My mother used to say, “Jesus knows what you want to say”. She was specifically referring to our teenage use of the word “freaking” as stand-in for a more colorful and exciting f-adjective. That has stuck with me because means that I need to be aware of the subtext and intention behind my words before I say them.

The DSM changed in May of 2013. The term MR was quietly laid to rest with the last edition. As of this post, Gabriel has not been diagnosed with Intellectual Disability. His developmental pediatrician has not even broached the subject, so he has no medical diagnosis of
it. At his 3-year complete Full Individual Evaluation (FIE) for his academic diagnosis, they suggested adding ID to his coding, but Michael and I politely and firmly declined. They tried to pretty it up and insist that it was something that could help Gabe, but I maintained that autism covered and explained the deficit in adaptive behaviors, but as he is unable to comply with an IQ test, it would be premature to affix an unproven label to him. AU gets him into Special Education and ensures his academic needs are being met; ID is not going to change that.

I can now definitively reply to Michael of 2011 that no, this does not mean Gabriel is retarded.

Doesn't stop me from flinching every time I had to write that hateful word for this post.

Because that is what it is, whether it is meant that way or not. It is a hateful word, one that has been hijacked from its original meaning and used as an insult, belittling. Regardless of intention, the impact is still being felt, keenly and unavoidably.

So please. Let this word die a dignified slang death.