The sound of it makes me cringe.
No, it's not nails on a chalkboard or a high-pitch scream.
It's the R-word: "Retarded."
I am 21 years old and have never had a deep conversation with my only sibling, my 24-year-old brother. Still, he's my best friend. Jonathan never puts me down. He supports me, no matter how unusual my endeavors may be. He can make me laugh with joy and cry with sadness at the same time, without even trying.
Jonathan has autism, an intellectual disability many still refer to as mental retardation.
So when I hear someone say "retarded," it's like a knife to my heart. It's a word used to put someone down -- as if being "retarded" is something to be ashamed of. But it definitely is not.
My brother is more honest, more courageous and more genuine than anyone I have ever met. He graduated from high school, was a member of the National Honor Society and now works every day, all day, at the FBI national headquarters.
And yes, he is retarded.
So how can people use that word in a derogatory way?
I asked friends who use the R-word to give me some synonyms. "Stupid," "slow," and "idiotic" were the most common answers. But my brother and his friends -- most of whom also have intellectual disabilities -- are not any of these things. In fact, they are the opposite.
My brother was born with his disability, and he had to fight from day one to learn and understand as quickly as his peers without disabilities.
I know he's not alone. According to a government report released earlier this month, more than 1 in 100 American children and teenagers may have autism. And no one knows what causes the disability. Most experts will say that autism is probably caused by a combination of genetic and environmental factors. Even those experts, though, do not have a definite answer.
From the moment I learned to talk and listen, my parents taught me about Jonathan's disability. They taught me that he was a loving, genuine person. And they taught me that the R-word was demeaning and, more importantly, ignorant.
I remember hearing a classmate use the word in my 4th grade classroom, and I, without hesitation, corrected him.
"Do you even know what that means?" I asked him. "Do you know what it's like to be retarded?"
Of course he didn't.
In my mind, it is a compliment to be called "retarded," because I know exactly what my brother is like.
I remember teaching Jonathan how to dive into the neighborhood pool, how to do multiplication and how to make macaroni and cheese. I remember later watching him win gold medals in the state and national Special Olympics, in swimming, skiing and speed skating.
Yet Jonathan has taught me more in life than I could ever teach him. From growing up with him, I know exactly who I am and, more importantly, how I want to be -- just like him. He has patience and courage. He doesn't care what other people think of him. He accepts everyone he meets with open arms and an open heart. He is quick to forgive. He will consistently offer a helping hand whenever I -- or anyone -- is in need.
Bob Dylan sang, "Don't criticize what you can't understand."
If you don't understand the depths of mental retardation and don't know and love someone who has an intellectual disability, don't call anyone that name.
And if you do love someone, then you won't ever want to use the word.
