The Spectrum is Wide Enough for All of Us.

Autism acceptance to me means equal inclusion in all areas of life.

My 24-year-old son, John, is the face of severe autism. He has very limited language. He can’t read or write. He doesn’t text his friends, make phone calls, or understand danger. He can’t tell me if he’s in pain, or if someone is being unkind or hurting him. John requires 24/7 supervision and lifelong care.

John is also the face of Medicaid. Thanks to these supports, he attends a full-day adult program where he shops for and prepares his own lunch, volunteers at the carousel in Pier Village, and helps out at a food pantry in Asbury Park. He swims 400 meter freestyle in the Special Olympics (earning gold medals at the state level), plays top soccer in town, and shoots baskets with friends at a special needs clinic at St. Joe’s Church in Maplewood.

He loves eating out, going to the movies, and traveling with our family. Even with all his challenges, John thrives in social and community-based settings—more than many typical young adults his age.

We recently moved from North Jersey to Central Jersey, and many of John’s familiar activities are now over an hour away. As I searched for local opportunities, I found a special needs Bingo night just five minutes from our new home. Excited, I called to register him—only to be told, “Sorry, we don’t have the staff to support him. This program is not designed for his level tier sorry; he cannot attend.” After several conversations and explaining that John would be accompanied by his own support person, they allowed him to join on a trial basis, alongside the neurodiverse participants.

I was anxious. But when John arrived, he was met with a booming “Hello, John!” from the other young special needs adults. He smiled, shook hands, and joined in with help from his DSP.

He won the final Bingo game of the night—and when he did the participant next to him asked if he wanted help reading his numbers aloud. John said “yes” (one of the only words he says consistently) and everyone clapped when he was the winner. John was beaming as he received his prize: a reusable water bottle filled with his favorite mini-Oreos and snacks.

That moment? That was true acceptance.