Last night, as I strolled through the mostly empty mall with my two youngest children, I couldn’t help but notice a group of five girls trailing a few steps behind us. We had just enjoyed a fun movie and were in high spirits, making our way to meet up with my older kids. We paused for a quick photo at one of those amusing cutout boards, and I spotted you giggling amongst yourselves. I remember thinking how lively you all were—definitely not a threat, just a bunch of teen girls enjoying a night out.
As we continued on our merry way, my son lagged behind for a moment to adjust his earbuds, lost in his music—probably something like Disney hits or tunes from The Muppets. If only you knew his playlist, you might have thought twice before laughing. When he ran to catch up, his awkward toe-run probably looked a little silly, especially coming from a tall 6’3” young man.
The mall was quiet enough for me to hear your laughter shift from playful to mocking. I had an inkling of what was happening, but I couldn’t resist turning around. Sure enough, one of you was imitating my son’s movements, arms flailing in the air. I felt a surge of anger and disappointment as I turned back to him and his little sister, who remained blissfully unaware of what was unfolding. They both have special needs and were completely oblivious to the shift in my mood.
I took a few steps toward you, and I must have looked quite intimidating because your laughter stopped abruptly. The guilt washed over your faces, and I could see the embarrassment settle in. Caught red-handed, you weren’t expecting me to confront you.
With a mix of disbelief and righteous anger, I said something like, “My son has autism. I hope you’re not making fun of him.” Your stammering replies of “We’re not! We’re not making fun of anyone!” made me question my own perception for a brief moment, but then I remembered the girl on the far left who had been mocking him.
I didn’t say anything else and turned back to my kids, grateful that my son was tuned into his music and likely wouldn’t have comprehended our exchange anyway.
As we walked on, I had to remind myself that you’re just kids—probably decent girls most of the time. One of you impulsively decided to poke fun at my son’s differences, while the others weakly followed along. I also reminded myself that you all have families who care for you just as much as I care for my children. Perhaps you genuinely thought you were just having innocent fun, unaware of the impact of your actions.
Maybe in your school, kids with special needs are kept separate, or perhaps it’s acceptable to laugh at those who are different. My son, Tate, attends a small school where his peers accept him for who he is and help him fit in. If any of them had been there last night, they likely would have said something much more impactful than I did.
I’ve never witnessed anyone mock my son before, and honestly, I can’t recall any instance in the past thirteen years when he was made fun of. So congratulations, girls—you broke our streak. How does that sit with you?
If statistics hold true, there’s a chance that one of you may have a child or grandchild with a disability in the future. While I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, I sincerely hope that if it happens, you find a longer streak of kindness and compassion than you’ve just shown. And even more importantly, I hope you never have to look back and remember the time you laughed at a child with challenges and caused a mother pain. That burden could be too heavy to bear.
In the end, I wish you all well. I hope you grow into kind individuals who uplift rather than belittle. And if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, I hope you choose empathy over mockery.
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Summary
This blog post reflects on an encounter at the mall where five girls mocked the author’s son with autism. The author expresses her disappointment and anger while also recognizing that the girls are just kids who may not fully understand the impact of their actions. She hopes for a future where they choose empathy over mockery and encourages kindness among all.