In 2017, when a nurse came into the room and told my wife and I that our son Noah, who was 2 at the time, was autistic the words didn’t destroy us. What they did was wipe away the fog of uncertainty, and provide a game plan that would have him receiving all the support he needs.
Which is why, nearly eight years later, hearing Robert F. Kennedy Jr. — now the secretary of Health and Human Services — stand at a podium and describe children like my son as part of an “autism epidemic,” allegedly caused by unnamed “environmental toxins,” feels like whiplash.
Kennedy stood before the cameras and declared that children like Noah “will never pay taxes, never hold a job, never use a toilet unassisted.” He called autism “a preventable disease” and promised a lightning-fast investigation to root out its so-called environmental causes. He brushed aside decades of scientific research and equated a complex neurodevelopmental condition with contamination.
This is the man responsible for guiding the United States’ national health policy.
Let that sink in.
This isn’t merely misinformation. It’s an entire new level of fear-mongering. It’s the 21st-century version of a con artist in a lab coat — smooth talk, false promises and no science.
Let me tell you what autism actually looks like.
It looks like Noah sitting cross-legged on the floor, reciting the names of every planet in our solar system — backward — because that’s more fun for him. It looks like him sketching out elaborate mazes in his notebook, inventing characters with their own stories and voices. It’s imitating his favorite episodes of “Spongebob Squarepants” and editing together videos on his tablet device that would make Thelma Schoonmaker a little bit jealous. It looks like joy, struggle, growth and humanity.
And it looks like the extraordinary autistic adults I’ve come to meet, know and admire thanks to series such as Netflix’s “Love on the Spectrum,” which offers what Kennedy clearly lacks: respect and understanding.
In three seasons, we’ve seen autistic people go on dates, fall in love, get married — and yes, write poems, tell jokes and hold jobs.
The infectiously lovable Tanner from South Carolina holds a full-time job at a hotel and lives with roommates — contributing more to our society than many of the people currently involved in the Trump administration.
Dani is a vibrant and hilarious woman with a job, a deep love for animation, and the kind of emotional intelligence that would leave most politicians in the dust.
And Connor? The absolutely adoring man from Georgia who has a special love for “Game of Thrones,” reads books, and has become a social media sensation because the world is in awe of the respect he showed while on a date with the equally amazing Georgie. He politely asked for consent — a word our POTUS may not be too familiar with — before the pair shared their first kiss in his backyard, under an umbrella, while it rained.
None of these adults are victims. None of them are burdens. And not one of them fits Kennedy’s cartoonish depiction of helplessness.
Not only are Kennedy’s words utterly dehumanizing, but read the room, bro. The speech came less than 24 hours after Victor Perez, a 17-year-old Idaho teenager with autism, was laid to rest after being shot nine times by police this month. The four officers involved in the shooting were immediately placed on administrative leave and criminal and internal investigations were launched, with the Eastern Idaho Critical Incident Task Force conducting an external investigation.
Kennedy reduces the rich, varied experiences of autistic people to a punchline in his dumbfounding press conference.
And let’s be serious here: It’s also just scientifically lazy.
The rise in autism diagnoses isn’t some sinister explosion. It’s the result of expanded diagnostic criteria, better awareness, and broader access to evaluations, especially in historically underserved communities. Pediatricians and child psychologists — you know, the actual experts — say this is good news. It means kids are getting the support they need earlier, when it can make the biggest difference.
But Kennedy dismisses all of that. He’s dragging the country backward into the discredited territory of vaccine conspiracies and poisoned-air paranoia — all while ignoring the voices of actual autistic people and the researchers who understand the complexities of this condition.
Here’s the simple truth: Autism is not caused by one thing. It’s not something you catch. It’s not a single disorder. It’s a spectrum of neurological differences — shaped by a mosaic of genetic, biological and environmental factors — and lived by millions of individuals who deserve support, not suspicion. And that probably could include many people reading this column right now who have never received a formal diagnosis.
It’s not a crisis. It’s a call to inclusion. I don’t know if Noah will pay taxes someday. That’s not because of his diagnosis — it’s because he’s 10.
But what I do know is this: He’s capable. He’s kind. He’s learning. And he’s already defied every narrow prediction made about him.
And if I have to sit through one more government official turning my son into a soundbite for political capital, I’ll keep writing. Loudly. And so will the parents of millions of autistic children who are mortified at the depiction of their children, and will undoubtedly reject this premise at the ballot box.
My son is not a tragedy. He’s not a burden. And he’s definitely not your talking point.
He is not an epidemic. He’s Noah.
So, in the inspirational words of Will Smith: Keep my son’s name out your fucking mouth.
