Being Retarded (repost): The Importance of Teaching Your Kids, Yourself and Everyone Else About Unkind Words

I was raised in a household that didn’t use unkind words. In fact, I can’t recall my parents ever cursing in front of us when we were kids. So imagine their horror when my sister and I began working for the Navy, and she began (I say she did, but I probably did too) cursing like a sailor. I’m fairly certain their ears started to bleed somewhere in there, especially during the fights between her and I. Then what we learned at work REALLY became apparent.

I’ve noticed that I am equally strict in my parenting with my kids when it comes to the spoken word. I am that annoying parent who corrects your speech. I actually can’t help it; it’s like a physical obnoxiousness that I can’t stop from tumbling out of my mouth.  And because of it, my kids use overly adult words that probably alienate them from their peers. Job well done, mom.

But unkind words REALLY get to me. They aren’t allowed to say hate. Or ugly (as in name calling). Or dumb. These are words that STICK. And the biggest offending word? Retarded. Nothing makes me sadder when someone uses it than this word. And because it’s been watered down (to people who don’t have a disabled person in their life) over time, it’s become socially acceptable.  It is still not acceptable to me, and I surely don’t want my kids being the ones to promote its use.

I am constantly trying to drive points home with my kids, real life examples to make them understand the lessons I’m trying to teach them. For instance, there was a horrible accident in Philly yesterday where the three fatalities were all 20 and under, the youngest being a 15 year old girl. Excessive speed was the cause, and the car was literally flattened, tires were knocked off and the battery dislodged. Two of three weren’t wearing their seatbelts and the passengers didn’t speak up to make the driver slow down. And in turn, all three lost their lives. A horrible domino effect. But I had my daughter read it, and talk to me about it. Because we’ve all been that girl in the car with two older boys, too quiet to say anything to him about slowing down. Trying to seem cool by not buckling up. I want her to understand that in any situation, she can relate and determine the correct way to react should she be in that position.  

So when I speak to them about casually using the word retarded, I want them to understand. But that’s a difficult message to get across to a kid that’s in school with 26 other students acting like its okay.  The other day, a friend of mine posted this blog to his Facebook. I was so glad that I clicked on it, and I’ve read it to everyone who will listen in the meantime.

Please do me and you a favor and read it. To yourself, to your kids, your spouse and anyone else who will listen.  Here’s the link to the original post…Phoebe (the mom/writer) is funny and refreshing. If you’re a blog reader, you should sign up.

BEING RETARDED, by phoebeholmes.com

All around me, people use the word retarded without a second thought.  Sometimes, I’ll say “Um, dude, really?” and they’ll say “Oops, my bad!  But really!  I was being so retarded!”

Sometimes, I let it slide.  I realize that it’s a word that’s ingrained in our society’s vocabulary and people use it without a second thought to its meaning.

But what does it mean to be retarded?  Well, I know what it doesn’t mean.

It doesn’t mean not being able to choose something for lunch despite 100 choices in front of you.

It doesn’t mean not being able to find your car keys.

It doesn’t mean saying the wrong thing to a person.

It doesn’t mean forgetting your best friend’s birthday.

It’s not something to describe yourself as when you’ve spilled your coffee, or tripped on a crack in the sidewalk.

It’s not something to describe your computer, car or phone.

According to  Merriam-Webster Dictionary  the word “retarded” means -

: slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development or academic progress

For me, it’s not just any old word – it’s my daughter.  My beautiful, bright, happy, loving, amazing daughter who is slow or limited in intellectual development and academic progress.

In our household, being retarded means something different.

It means not being able to fully care for yourself.

It means not understanding what the doctor is going to do to you.

It means not being able to explain what hurts when something hurts.

It means not being able to ride a two wheeler.  Or read.  Or ever be able to live on your own.

But ever the optimist, I also know that retarded means…

…never realizing the negativity behind the word retarded.

…never knowing the insensitivity surrounded the word’s usage.

…never realizing the ignorance of people.

…never knowing how other people view you.

Being retarded also means…

…loving unconditionally.

…finding joy in the smallest of things.

…being self-confident.

…not realizing that there are limitations.

…innocence.

 

This is Maura.  Her diagnosis?  Cognitively disabled.  Which means retarded.  When you call yourself retarded, you’re also calling my child stupid.  Because you use the word as just that – another form of stupid.

Let’s get something straight here.

My daughter may have cognitive issues.  She may have delays.  She may never live on her own.  Scratch that.  She will never live on her own.

But Maura is not stupid.

In her own way, Maura is very smart.  Maybe smarter than us at times.  She has more self-confidence than anyone I know who’s called themselves “retarded”.  She is the best judge of a person’s character than anyone else I’ve ever known.

Yes, she is slow to learn things.  But she is not stupid.

I know that most people don’t use the word “retarded” maliciously.  Most people I know use it in a self-depreciating way.  And when I point it out, they go “Oh wow!  I’m sorry!” and they truly feel like a heel. But the thing is, you’re still using it in the way that people who do use it maliciously use it as – to describe stupidity.

So why not just use the word “stupid” instead?  Because I know what “retarded” is.  I live with it in the form of my daughter.  And in our world “retarded” doesn’t equate to “stupid”.