Born to shine: children from the stars

Photo by Alesia Kozik at Pexels

Harriet Wong explores how autism is often misunderstood and romanticised

When I was younger, I once read a book called My Child is a Star: a fathers reflections about his autistic child. Originally written in Traditional Chinese by the author using the pen name Xing Yu, the title immediately caught my attention. I didn’t know what autism meant at the time. The use of the word ‘star’ made it feel dreamy, poetic, and beautiful. I thought it was a sci-fi or fantasy story.

Looking back, I wonder why this metaphor was chosen. On the surface, there didn’t seem to be a clear connection between the word star and autism. It was only later that I began to understand.

But why stars? Stars are beautiful. Stars shine brightly. We write poems about them. We fantasise about being close to them. That’s how autism is often romanticised by the media and film industry. Many people learn about autism in popular films and series like The Good Doctor or Rain Man, and as a result, people often equate autism with being smart and socially awkward. That’s not entirely wrong of course. Some autistic people have those traits, but not all.

Autistic individuals very rarely share the exact same traits. Some are very talkative, and some prefer to talk less, some are exceptionally gifted while others are not. From my own experience, autistic people, especially students at school, are often misunderstood. I’ve often heard people say, ‘But they don’t seem autistic,’ which reveals a huge gap in public understanding.

A star is admired from a distance, not really known, just watched as it shines

We might be living in the same planet physically but not always mentally. A star is admired from a distance, not really known, just watched as it shines. That distance can lead to frustration on both sides. Phrases like “Are you listening?” or “Why can’t you understand?” are often said out of misunderstanding. It’s not our fault. The way we think is simply different. Many autistic people seem to find comfort in their own interests, routines or familiar activities.

It can feel like an old videotape, replaying a favourite scene over and over, sometimes for an hour, sometimes less, sometimes not stopping until someone gently pulls them out of it. But you never really know what they’re thinking, why they do it, or how they feel while it’s happening. It’s not always easy to understand what someone is thinking or feeling, but I believe empathy is the key. Even if not everyone understands it, these habits bring no harm to others, and there’s no reason we shouldn’t accept them. Sometimes explaining things again, using simpler words or metaphors, or just repeating more slowly, helps a lot.

Now, I no longer think the reference to stars is only about beauty and brilliance. Stars can be distant, mysterious, and sometimes misunderstood, yet they have always been here, waiting for us to look up and appreciate them. Perhaps they’re not called children of the stars because they are different, but because we still have so much left to learn about their light.