BY KIM EROH

Let me tell you about my son.

He is an extraordinary human being in every way. His heart is tender, overflowing with compassion, empathy, and kindness. His intelligence is equally remarkable, and he strives for excellence in everything he does, often holding himself to impossibly high standards.

He has a deep love for animals and dreams of becoming a veterinarian so he can care for and heal them. Not only does he speak of this with passion, but he also acts on it. He has organized fundraisers for animal rescues and is committed to making a tangible difference.

This summer, he plans to volunteer at a camp for children with disabilities. When asked why, he simply says, “I understand how to help them.” And he does, inherently.

He has also become a passionate and powerful advocate for himself and for others. He speaks publicly about his disability and his personal journey in hopes of fostering greater understanding and acceptance of autism and other developmental differences. He is a leader in the truest sense: courageous, authentic, and driven by a desire to create a better world.

In just 14 years, he has overcome more challenges than many face in a lifetime. Though his speech was delayed and communication remains a struggle at times, he has found his voice in more ways than one. Writing was once a tremendous challenge, but he now hopes to write a book to share his story with others. His childhood has not been easy, but his strength, resilience, and unwavering spirit have made him a beacon of inspiration to all who know him.

Your recent speech labeled autistic people as “damaged.” My son is not damaged. He represents the best of who we can be.

You claimed that autism “destroys families.” My son has undoubtedly changed our family, but not in the ways you described. We are better because of him. We’ve learned patience, grace, acceptance, and tolerance. We’ve found passion in helping others and promoting the value of differences.

His autism is not a “dire threat to the American people and our way of life.” He does not need to be “cured” of autism because to do so would fundamentally change his beautifully unique personality.

If we are set on curing something, let it be ignorance.

Listening to autistic voices, specialists, and those with lived experience leads to understanding that can’t be captured in statistics. The autistic community has continuously advocated for a seat at the table, and it’s long past time they were given one. I invite you to meet with autistic self-advocates and families to listen directly to those with lived experience. Until we include these voices meaningfully in policymaking and public discourse, we are not serving the very people we claim to care about.

You asked, “Why are we not seeing it in older people?” The truth is we are. More adults are being diagnosed with autism now than ever before. What does that tell us? That we missed it when they were young. At the time, diagnostic criteria were narrower, awareness was limited, and attention was primarily given to those with the most “severe” presentations. Unfortunately, this outdated and limited perspective still seems to echo in your words. I urge you to broaden your understanding and to recognize that autism has always existed across the lifespan, across ability levels, and across communities. Let’s study this more deeply so we can better support those who were overlooked and who now live with the mental health consequences of being misunderstood and misdiagnosed for far too long.

You referenced the “cost of treating” autism and described it as a societal burden, even going so far as to call it “catastrophic for our country.” You claimed these children “will never pay taxes,” which, perhaps, reveals your underlying concern: economic productivity over human dignity. In the past, autistic individuals were hidden away in institutions. Today, we see them, support them, and yes — we invest in them. That is not a catastrophe. That is progress.

We’ve made meaningful strides toward equity in education and employment for this diverse population, creating more inclusive opportunities than ever before. Whether or not you choose to recognize the value of these efforts, the truth remains: when autistic people are supported to thrive in schools, workplaces, and communities, we all benefit. They bring exceptional strengths, including deep focus, innovative thinking, honesty, creativity, and a different lens through which to view the world. The so-called “cost” of inclusion is, in fact, an investment in a more compassionate, diverse, and capable society.

Let us find common ground.

I believe we both want a world in which all children, regardless of neurological wiring, have the opportunity to live meaningful, fulfilling lives. That shared desire can drive better policy, research, and community support.

We can agree that families often lack access to the resources they need, from diagnosis to adulthood. Let’s work together to expand services, improve access, and make transitions into adulthood more supported and less isolating.

Studying contributing factors like maternal health or genetics is not inherently wrong. These lines of inquiry can lead to better understanding, earlier diagnoses, and more effective support. But the language you’ve used is inflammatory and dehumanizing and threatens the acceptance that so many of us have worked tirelessly to build. Understanding these factors can empower families, refine interventions, and offer new insights as long as it’s pursued with compassion, inclusion, and without suggesting that people like my son are broken or in need of fixing.

Early diagnosis and intervention can dramatically improve quality of life. I support continued investment in services that identify and support children early, giving them tools for success, not to erase who they are, but to help them access the world on their terms.

Every autism journey is unique. I recognize that some families may relate to aspects of your statements. For them, the diagnosis may have come with profound challenges of grief, uncertainty, and hardship, alongside deep love. But it’s important to acknowledge that many of these difficulties are often compounded by systemic barriers like limited access to early support, long waitlists for essential services, and a lack of community resources to meet their needs. These are the areas where our collective efforts should be focused, seeking to build a more supportive and inclusive system for all families.

Autism is a spectrum, and no two individuals are alike. Some may require lifelong support, while others live independently and thrive in professional careers. One narrative cannot define all autistic individuals. So let’s use clarifiers like “some,” rather than blanket statements that vilify and diminish an entire population.

Your recent comments led to a difficult conversation with my son. I had to explain to him that a leader in our country, someone who should aspire to represent all Americans, had described people like him as “damaged,” in need of being “cured,” and a “threat to the American way of life.” I asked him if he wanted to say anything to you, to share his own perspective. He paused, thought carefully, and replied that he had only two words for you. Out of courtesy, I won’t include them here. But his reaction spoke volumes. It reflected the hurt, frustration, and deep injustice felt when someone’s identity is reduced to something that must be “fixed” or feared, especially by someone in a position of power.

I urge you to clarify your remarks publicly and commit to more inclusive language in future discussions. Words matter, especially from those in leadership positions.

Because my son — and so many others — deserve better.

Kim Eroh lives in Statesville.