Articles | Postado em: 5 November, 2025
Ableism and Racism: ‘a black boy with autism who is non-verbal’
A mother’s perspective on the antiracist and anti-ableist struggles in Brazil
Luciana Viegas – for the Autism Channel: https://www.canalautismo.com.br/artigos/capacitismo-e-racismo-um-menino-preto-e-autista-nao-oralizado/
September 1, 2020
Perhaps you may not know me, but I am the mother of a black autistic child. I, too, am black and autistic. I would like to introduce myself in this manner because it is important to give you all the context of where my assessments come from in this article. They are based on the ideas of many theorists; however, they are mainly based on my own lived experiences as a woman and mother of a black autistic child in Brazil. They are the concerns that a black atypical mother can relate to and share. I ask that you “take a walk in my shoes” and come along with me as I talk about these issues.
To speak on the topics of racism and ableism from the perspective of a neurodivergent person, we need to understand the historical, social, and economic context that people with disabilities face in our country.
When I got pregnant with my son, Luiz, my mind became a whirlwind of joy and concern. I was not worried about my financial situation because at that time, it was the least of my worries. I was hyper-focused on racism. I always knew that having a black son as a black mother in Brazil would be far from an easy task.
I, a black mother in a particularly racist country, made tons of plans on how I would teach my son to behave when he experiences a police “he-fits-the-description” scenario, racist situations at school, and especially, in learning how to equip him with unwavering self-esteem. No one will ever be able to tell him that he is not important.
We noticed Luiz’s autism when he was just one year and five months old. I noticed that his development was different from that of the other children his age; however, what I heard most when Luiz didn’t respond to certain social interactions was that he was being “ill-mannered.”
Evidently, after hearing that my son was “ill-behaved”, I had already known that this wasn’t his case. After all, what type of family upbringing was “lacking” in the life of a one-year and five-month-old child? Where did I and Luiz’s father go wrong in raising our child? And how many of us (black people) have heard, throughout our lives, that we are aggressive and ill-behaved? There is a form of racism that is not verbalized. There is a stereotype of the marginalized and aggressive black body that is not told. I have always known this; however, I had no idea that Luiz would experience these racist frameworks at such a young age.
While taking Luiz to the physician, I was certain that he was autistic. We had gone through a period of 6 months going to doctors so that Luiz could get diagnosed, and, after each doctor’s visit, I had heard that my son was “poorly stimulated” and “lazy”. At only one year and nine months, I had to argue so that both the life and health of a black boy, my son, were respected.
Perhaps you have not noticed, however, there is a certain gaze that marginalizes black people within the health care system. As stated in the text below, from 2007, obtained from the National Policy on Comprehensive Health for the Black Population (p.30), from the Ministry of Health.
“From an institutional point of view, which involves all of the policies, programs, and interpersonal relationships, it should be considered that the institutions jeopardize their work when they stop offering qualified services to people because of their racial and ethnic background, skin color, or culture. This lack of commitment to these individuals is the result of institutional racism.”
When noticing that my son was autistic, my fear was not “of having a child that wasn’t accepted in society” because, at the end of the day, we are black and from the periphery, and society does not accept us. We learn to resist in the midst of a racist structure that surrounds us. My biggest fear in relation to my son changed from being a concern to becoming an emergency, given that Luiz is a non-verbal black autistic child.
There is an experience that is not recounted regarding families that live in the periphery, and that is the police stops and searches. Although they are a common occurrence, they are in fact authoritarian within the favelas. A pressing question came to my mind: when my son is stimming or exhibiting traits of autism around the neighborhood, could the police confuse my son with a suspect? Would the police listen to him? Would there be enough time for him to make them aware that he is non-verbal? We know how the police approach us and how we are treated. The response is no. Luiz and other black boys, neurodivergent or not, do not even have the right to speak or explain themselves.
This data is confirmed by research that affirms that, in our country, every 23 minutes, a young black boy is killed. For this reason, I created a methodology to protect my son’s life. Despite being only 3 years old, I have already taught him what the police commands are because the most important thing is that he understands and respects them. This is important if he is ever the target of a police stop-and-frisk. The most important thing is that he comes back home to me.
My diagnosis
I am autistic; however, I am self-diagnosed. I became aware of my autism at the age of 26 through studies on how autism is developed, comparing my life experiences to what was said by specialists in autism studies. Unfortunately, I do not have a clinical diagnosis. After years of being misdiagnosed, I still have not found a professional who could look at me and my condition without marginalizing me or having any racist predisposition.
Noticing this disparity between access to a diagnosis and the realities, I took a stance to speak on the struggles of black people with disabilities and how some of us are silenced and experience structural racism, sometimes even among our own. The movement #vidasnegrascomdeficienciaimportam (diasbledblacklivesmatter) – a movement of black people with disabilities who take a political stance and raise awareness for the medical community regarding the reality of black people with disabilities in Brazil, has reached incredible proportions and outreach.
In the world of neurodivergence, self-diagnosed individuals are common. I, along with many other autistic people, especially black people, have accepted the clinical diagnoses and continue to respect our specificities and seek ways to live with a better quality of life. Regarding autism self-diagnosis for black people, it is important to highlight how restrictive and racist the policies and diagnostic models are in our country.
The medical disability model is a model that focuses on handicaps and limits people with disabilities to their diagnoses, stereotypes, checklists, and ICDs (International Classification of Diseases). This results in black people, neurodivergents, who have a pile of ICDs without any possibility of receiving quality treatment, both by the Unified Health System (SUS) and by the private health care system.
It is common to hear, among black autistic people, that we leave the doctor’s office with a clinical diagnosis in one hand and a prescription in the other, without them even ensuring the proper treatment and, to a lesser extent, providing a more detailed diagnosis geared towards a better quality of life. And here, I am not raising the question of the autistic people who have been admitted into foundations, homes, and even mental hospitals, living on the margins of society and without any diagnosis for their neurodivergence. There are tons of questions and few responses for this discussion, be it for the lack of representativity within the movements, or for the manner in which black autistic people, for being self-diagnosed, do not feel safe airing out their diagnoses without being questioned, and for that reason do not speak about their experiences.
I am writing here for you, my autistic friend, self-diagnosed, and black mother, who reads my work. We will continue fighting together in this process to build our own autonomy, quality of life, and pride to be who we are. Do not be afraid of being strong. Do not fear collective organizing. We will be together in this fight.
We need to rethink the manner in which we address and view black autistic people. We need to embrace, listen to them, and, more importantly, we must mobilize people and support the struggle. Giving a voice to neurodivergent black people is necessary and imperative.
Writer: Luciana Viegas, pedagogue, activist of the Disabled Black Lives Matter Movement, advisor for the SETA Project. The original article was published on Canal Autismo (Autism Channel).
