I Am Autistic. I Am Not Something To Be Feared.

On Monday, I watched our president talk about people like me as if we’re a mistake. I felt the hearts of millions of moms break as they rehearsed all the actions they took during pregnancy that might have led to their child’s autism diagnosis.

In a few weeks, I’m supposed to stand on stage at a conference for autistic adults, led by autistic adults. I’m supposed to deliver my first keynote speech as an Autist. My message was meant to be simple: autism is an essential part of who I am. It’s part of my identity, my community, my story.

But then I saw the headlines and listened to the announcements. Leaders suggesting something as routine as taking Tylenol during pregnancy might be to blame. It’s a jarring contrast: preparing to celebrate autism while the world tries to erase it.

The claims didn’t come out of nowhere. Many of us knew what to expect when we heard an actual date was placed on when answers to the cause of autism would be revealed. That’s just not how science works. Earlier this year, Robert F. Kennedy Jr. released a list of “nevers.” In the same breath in which he declared things like autistic individuals will “never pay taxes,” he vowed to make progress toward ending the “autism epidemic.” Those words hurt, and they revealed something bigger: A belief that autistic people are problems to be erased, not humans to be loved.

I can totally understand why so many moms might be scared right now. It’s terrifying to think something you did during pregnancy could be blamed for your child’s differences. But please hear this: autism is not a disease to cure. It’s part of who your child is. Take away autism, and you take away the essence of the person you love.

This includes kids and adults with frequent high support needs, too (often referred to as Level 3 autism or profound autism). Their communication, their behaviors, and challenges don’t lessen their worth. Their lives are every bit as valuable, beautiful, and full of potential. Supporting them isn’t about fixing who they are—it’s about making sure they have what they need to thrive.

To the moms reading this who took Tylenol during pregnancy: please take a deep breath. You did nothing wrong; science – real science – is on your side. When you spiked that fever or were in pain, you were caring for yourself and your baby. Autism isn’t something you caused or failed to prevent. It’s not a punishment. It’s simply a part of the beautiful, complex story of your child, and of you as their mama.

Autism has always been here. Long before Tylenol. Long before vaccines. It isn’t new. As autistic journalist and author Eric Garcia writes in We’re Not Broken, “Autism is part of the human condition. It’s society that needs to change, not autistic people.” And society can do better. Teach your kids that differences aren’t scary but actually necessary and often beautiful. Fight for inclusion. When headlines try to stir fear, choose truth over panic. Autism isn’t going anywhere, and it shouldn’t. What can disappear is the desperate search for a cure or cause replaced by a world that sees every autistic person as worthy of love, belonging, and celebration.

The danger today isn’t just misinformation about Tylenol or vaccines. It’s the fear underneath. When fear takes over, schools don’t accommodate. Workplaces don’t hire. Communities don’t include. And society, even unintentionally, perpetuates harm or stagnation. No thank you.

And I’ll say this again as I did a few months ago: I would love to sit down for coffee with Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and have a respectful conversation about autism. Bring Trump too. Because real change doesn’t start with fear or blame. It starts with listening.

Meg Raby is a mom, children's author of the My Brother Otto series, and Autistic residing in Salt Lake City where you can find her playing and working with neurodivergent children as a Speech Language Pathologist and friend, or writing and planning big things in the second booth at her local coffee shop that overlooks the Wasatch Mountains while sipping on her Americano. Meg believes the essence of life is to understand, love and welcome others (aka, to give a damn about humans).