This is going to sound weird but bear with me. When my son was first starting to show signs of delay, one of my main worries was that I was going to have to fight everybody.

Maybe it’s because of my Italian blood. Maybe it’s because I’m from New York. Maybe it’s because I watched too many Steven Seagal movies in the 80s, but the truth is that my mind immediately focused on the aggression I would have to handle from outsiders. The concern was that people would stare, mock, or mistreat my boy and I’d have to get all Mortal Kombat on them.

After all, people are jerks and even when you’re not drawing attention to yourself, you still deal with rude strangers. What would happen when I’m out with Lucas, who means everything to me, and someone does something disrespectful to us? It was bound to happen and I was bound to go buck.

I was convinced that this was going to be a major problem that would end with me in jail. Lucas shrieks when he’s happy and struggled with understanding social norms and societal expectations. Teaching him these things would be a slow process and, even now at 12, there’s still more to help him learn.

I remember writing “I’m Sorry My Son Drank Your Coffee“ to share one of our challenges. When Lucas was younger, he was drawn to any cup with a straw in sight. In some cases, these drinks were discarded and I worried he would end up getting Ebola. In other instances, the drinks weren’t discarded, but rather belonged to someone else. As a parent looking on, I’m not sure which was worse.

Watching in horror as your child chugs a coffee from a distracted stranger is a feeling that most people will never know. In the few occasions when Lucas had taken someone’s food or drink, I apologized profusely and offered to pay for the item. To me, it was common courtesy and, even though I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, I needed to do the right thing.

The reaction I expected during those awkward interactions were the same as the comments from some keyboard warriors who stumbled upon the social media post. I was told that he would end up arrested, how they hated parents like me who “allow” their kids to do these things, and how he will probably get beat up for this one day.

I can’t even begin to explain how much I wish those people were in front of me while typing these things out. Mortal Kombat!

The maybe not-so surprising aspect? The attitude behind those negative comments were confined to social media. All that aggression that I was convinced would be waiting for us as my boy grew never materialized in person. Shockingly, in the real world, every person has been gracious, understanding, and kind.

While all these online people were talking about how irate they would be over a non-verbal seven-year-old with autism drinking the final third of their hypothetical Starbucks latte, the woman whose actual drink it was couldn’t have been nicer. She laughed, told us it was OK, and even smiled as she patted his shoulder. I remember being stunned at the time. It blew me away.

Such kindness has been a constant. Were they all familiar with autism? Not always. Once on a plane, Lucas was noticeably restless. A fellow passenger, unfamiliar with autism, engaged in a conversation about parenting with me and gave my son all the little bags of cookies the flight attendant had brought over. By the flight’s end, several passengers were discussing autism, debunking my initial fears.

Contrary to my early apprehensions, the kindness we’ve received isn’t because of my demeanor but how I guide Lucas. I strive for him to respect others’ space and comfort. If he errs, I teach him to acknowledge it. When he’s upset, I attend to him. People recognize my efforts to integrate him into society as an equal. I don’t shrug off things that he does which infringe on others, no matter how exhausting my day had been or how inadvertant his actions were.

Does it always work out? No. Even then, though, strangers are kind. In one of my favorite memories, Lucas melted down when I tried to maneauver him from our local swimming pool. Frazzled and ready to collapse, I managed to get him calmed down when an older man tapped me on the shoulder. I balled up my fist and prepared for battle. That’s when he told me I was a wonderful father. It was one of the best compliments I have ever recieved.

For the most part, these are the people out there in society. Most don’t want to stare or gawk. In many cases, they want to understand. I wish I knew that when he was little and I hope this will help someone else who is starting that same parenting journey. Is my experience the same as everyone’s? No. But it was nowhere near as bad as I feared. Hopefully that counts for something for someone out there reading.

That’s why I go into the world with the mindset that, for many, my son might be their only exposure to autism. It’s up to me to show them how wonderful he can be and how much he means to me. Walking out in the community in a defense posture just pushes people away and creates the exact negative attention I was concerned about.

Autism awareness begins with us. Acceptance follows. After we get through that, autism appreciation is an easy sell. Once they see who he is, they can’t help but love him.