ALT I am autistic. I have real struggles. I need real support. But I also have a husband who loves me fiercely; a job that matters; I write children’s books; I pay taxes. I love big; I live fully. But here’s the thing: Even if I didn’t have those things, I would still be valuable and worthy. Kennedy’s rhetoric doesn’t just misunderstand autism — it crosses off the humanity of autistic people. It reduces us to burdens or symptoms instead of recognizing us as whole people. It fuels fear in parents, shame in kids and hopelessness in communities. It adds to the exhaustion of families who are already doing everything they can to support their children. And it makes autistic people — like me, like my friends, like so many kids I’ve worked with — feel like we’re something to mourn instead of someone to love.