On Tim Walz, Gus Walz, and Neurodivergence

A takeaway from the DNC

I don’t know if I’m the Democratic National Convention’s prime audience — I’m a lifelong Democrat, a ride-or-die progressive so at the end of the day, a lot of the speeches, harangues, and sales pitches don’t feel like they’re directed at me. I know — particularly these days — that the Democratic party is absolutely the only major political party in America that represents my values. I don’t need to watch a TV show to convince me. But I tuned in this week here and there: I watched Kamala’s amazing headliner moment; I listened to Oprah sing her words.

I did not see Tim Walz’s speech live. I watched clips online afterward. And I saw the moment that seemed to captivate the crowd, the one that arrested the internet in the days afterward. I saw Governor Walz call out his family in the crowd and I saw his son Gus stand up and tearfully applaud, announcing “That’s my dad!” to his neighbors. You’d have to be a half-buried, fetid carcass to not be moved by it. (Though apparently there are a lot of folks on the right-wing that seem to meet that criteria). If you didn’t see it, it’s a must-watch. Here it is:

Gus Walz has been described in the media as being “neurodivergent.” He has ADHD, anxiety, and a nonverbal learning disorder. I feel for the kid, having your diagnoses just hung out there for the world to see and dissect. I wish he didn’t have to do that. I wish he had the choice to make those parts of himself private if he wanted. Of course, as the parent of a neurodivergent kid, it makes me empathize all the more with the Walz family. In many ways, I appreciate that they’ve chosen to keep it unhidden. The world can see that these difficult diagnoses aren’t the sort of thing that need kept hidden. They can be seen as just part of the dynamic patchwork that makes up a family.

But I keep thinking about that moment, Governor Walz’s recognition of his family, of his love for his family, and Gus’s reaction. Because it was not a one-way street. These were two people making a testimony of love and pride for one another in front of an audience of millions. I don’t need to lecture anyone about the history of disability in this country, but know that only a generation back from mine, it was commonplace to not only hide your kids’ disabilities from the world, but to literally hide your kid from the world. The resident homes and mental institutions of the twentieth century were filled with children of parents who were advised by their primary care physicians to put away their kids, to hide them from the world. They were told, in no uncertain terms, that to actually live with the child in their home would irreparably destroy their lives.

So it is incredibly heartening and inspiring to see a father, on the biggest stage of his entire life, take a moment to declare his love for his neurodivergent kid. For the cameras to cut between them; to see the kid’s reaction, to see him give that love right back. Super powerful.

I didn’t know much about Tim Walz before he joined the Harris ticket. Like a lot of Americans, I’m still getting to know him. But what I’ve seen so far is pretty astounding. I’ve interacted with a lot of educators in my time as the parent of a kid on the autism spectrum. I’ve met some that are clearly not up to the challenge of educating neurodivergent kids — educators who seem bowed by the idea of confronting disability. I’ve been in a bunch of IEP meetings with teachers and therapists who only see the doom and gloom. Tim Walz is clearly not one of those guys. I think that Tim would be the kind of teacher that would be unswayed, who would have the empathy and imagination to see the strengths in all kids, no matter their challenges. I think that much was made clear in that moment we all saw on the DNC stage.

I realize I’m probably not swaying anyone who’s reading this — you probably are in the same boat as me. The Harris/Walz ticket is a million miles a better option than the alternative. But I felt it was important to point out, from the perspective of a parent of a neurodivergent kid, just how powerful that moment was. And to imagine we could see that kind of radical empathy moving into the White House and informing the way our government interacts with its citizens. It’s humbling stuff. It’s important stuff.