Brown Side Of Autism

When people hear “autism,” they usually picture a white child. Rarely someone who looks like me or my brother. Brown-skinned. Deep-feeling. Autistic—and proud. We’ve always been here, but the world hasn’t always seen us. 👤 Daniel’s Side: Finding My Place When I was younger, people would say, “You don’t look autistic.” My mom heard that a lot about me and my brother. But what does autism even “look like”? They only said that because they had a stereotype in their minds—and we didn’t fit it. I wasn’t labeled badly, and I had people around me who believed in me. But I still noticed that autism in Black and Brown kids wasn’t well understood. There weren’t kids like me in the books. We weren’t on TV. And most people didn’t know what to look for, so they overlooked us. As I’ve grown up, I’ve had to advocate for myself in small ways. I’ve had to explain things to people who didn’t get it—not because I owe them that, but because the world doesn’t always make space for neurodivergent voices th...

While I was growing up back in my childhood days, my mom would play the classics in the car all the time on repeat. All of the song tracks from the '90s and early 2000s. That was the soundtrack to my early life. Those songs weren’t just music; they were tied to the memories I made with my brothers. That’s what raised me. I still remember the first album I fell in love with: Soulja Boy’s debut , back in 2007. I had it in my CD player on repeat so much but the disc eventually started skipping. My mom used to burn all our favorite albums on CDs straight from her computer. Any new release we wanted, she’d hook us up—loading tracks onto our MP3 players or burning them for our CD players. We grew up on legends: 2Pac, Ice Cube, Lil Wayne, Snoop Dogg, 50 Cent, DMX, and Lil Jon & the Eastside Boyz. That era was gold. That was our era. Even when we were just going for a ride in the car, more hip hop and R&B would pour from the speakers. I’d sit in the front seat while my mom rapped...

July 21st, 2025—a day I’ll never forget. After months of hard work, I officially graduated from occupational therapy at Niagara Therapy . This journey wasn’t just about appointments or exercises—it was about getting my strength back, rebuilding confidence, and learning how to push through, even when life felt heavy. When I first started OT, I felt unsure. I was tired—physically, mentally, and emotionally—and I didn’t know what to expect. But I kept showing up. I committed to the process, even on the days when progress felt slow. And slowly but surely, things began to shift. The team at Niagara saw my potential even when I couldn’t see it myself. They pushed me, supported me, and reminded me that every small step mattered. They worked on my reaction time using a metronome. They challenged me with the dino board—the one where I had to press the letters, remember the first location of the first letter, and hit it directly in the middle. It wasn't easy, but it made me stronger—not ju...

Growing up, myself and my brother Daniel had one of the most memorable childhoods anyone could ask for. The laughs. The games. The matching outfits. The love. If I had one wish, it would be to relive it all again with him—just one more time. We were inseparable. Always together. Always locked into our own little world, whether we were playing, eating, or just chilling. Our playroom wasn’t just a room—it was our universe. A space built for imagination, for adventures, for memories that still live in my heart to this day. In that room… I was Luigi, he was Mario. I was Sonic, he was Knuckles. I was Leonardo, he was Donatello. I was player one, he was player two. Brothers in Battle and Brothers in Laughter We competed. We trash-talked. We laughed hard. “Oh, so you think you gonna win, huh?” “We’ll see about that!” We bet on each other. We pushed each other. We made every minute in that playroom count. Games we played together? Too many to count. From Madden 06 to Marvel Nemesis, Lego Batma...

Flat Feet and Blood Clots I was born with flat feet , and growing up, it often felt like I was walking on Lego blocks—or rocks buried in concrete. That pain followed me throughout childhood and into adulthood. My right foot always hurt worse, but both feet were constantly aching. It wasn’t just uncomfortable—it changed the way I walked, the way I stood, and the way I lived. Eventually, the pain became unbearable. That’s when I ended up needing foot surgery . The First Surgery The doctor asked which foot hurt more, and I told him the right one. That’s where we started. What began as a plan to fix a flat foot turned out to be much more complicated. During surgery, they shaved four bones in my right foot. But then they discovered something no one had caught before— my tendon was torn . They had to repair it and put it back in place. I didn’t even know how long I had been walking around on a torn tendon. Turns out, I had no arch in either foot. My feet were rotated inward almost 90 degree...