Black dads go public with support for their kids with autism -- and each other
ATLANTA (AP) — When Tyrone Green's youngest son was diagnosed with autism, his wife was immediately ready to get the 3-year-old the support he needed. But Green was stuck: He had questions about his son's future and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness — like no one, not his wife, not his friends, understood his experience.
' ... (M)y wife couldn't understand what I was going through as a Black father, all these hopes and dreams I had for my kid," said Green, who lives in Michigan. 'She didn't feel the same way.'
In 2021, he joined a Black fathers' support group and met a few other dads eager to discuss their unique challenges. They started their own podcast in 2023 called AutisHIM, a place where Black dads talk about the wins and setbacks of having autistic children.
Green is among a growing number of Black fathers of autistic children looking to be more visible in the national autism conversation through podcasts, nonprofits and summits that specifically address their experience. These men say that their hope is not only to be considered more than sidekicks to mothers of the children, but also to help other Black dads accept autism diagnoses and not prolong getting kids the help that they need.
Autism is a neurodevelopmental disorder that affects how people communicate, process information and interact with the world around them. Federal data shows that since 2020, Black children have had a higher prevalence of autism spectrum disorder than white children — a change experts credit mostly to better awareness of autism in underserved communities.
Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. recently announced plans to have the federal government do a broad study for the causes of autism, even though it's been looked at by researchers for decades. He has said autism is a 'tragedy' that 'destroys families' and that some people with autism will never hold a job, pay taxes or go on dates.
But many people with autism live successful, socially rich and independent lives, which makes a narrative like Kennedy's dangerous, said Michael Hannon, a counseling professor at Montclair State University who studies the social and emotional aspects of autism on Black fatherhood.
It 'can literally diminish hope for any father or father figure or family,' Hannon said of Kennedy's framing of autism.
But affinity groups for Black men who have kids with autism are a successful way to get the dads to engage with their emotions, Hannon said.
'The challenge is convincing people to (talk openly and honestly), because the practice of doing that is rare, not just among Black men, but people in general,' he said, adding that people might think it will reflect on their ability to parent.
Evan Polk said a big part of navigating his 13-year-old daughter's diagnosis was learning to sit with emotions that weren't simply 'happy and mad.' In the beginning, he was very protective.
'I became a helicopter dad,' said Polk, who started AuSome Kicks, an art therapy nonprofit for autistic children near Philadelphia earlier this year. 'I didn't want nobody or nothing to harm her whatsoever. When I found out she was autistic, she'd be outside with knee pads and elbow pads looking crazy.'
He said he later taught his family to be more patient with his daughter, as opposed to traditional parenting styles of being firm and hoping that she would fall in line.
Dr. Berry Pierre said he initially was on the sidelines of his autistic daughter's support team as his wife, Maria Davis-Pierre, did the bulk of advocating.
The Florida couple founded Autism in Black and for the first five years, he said the organization didn't specifically tailor messaging to Black dads.
'Whether it be in schools, the (individual education plan) meetings, the mothers were just there.' Pierre said. 'But as we started to kind of try to go deeper and figure out 'Alright, what's going on? Where are the guys?' we started to realize that a lot of them will be there.'
Many Black dads, Pierre found out, were equally involved as the moms, and Pierre wanted to get more of them talking publicly about autism.
'The dads are there, but we know the general public doesn't realize that yet,' Pierre said. 'So we try to serve as this engine to shine a light on what's really happening. The dads are there, they're attentive. And even with this diagnosis, they're going even harder.'
Some dads, like Nicholas Love in North Carolina, said they first hesitated to openly share their journey of raising their kids with autism in fear that people may not understand.
'I was very guarded for a while in talking about my children both being on the spectrum,' said Love, who is CEO of the marketing agency The Kulur Group. 'Even in how you take pictures that you upload on social media, being cognizant and thinking about, 'Well is this a picture that looks, dare I say, the perception of what normal looks like?'"
Now, he's an open book about them, is understanding when employees need a little extra time for urgent family needs and has advocated that men receive more paid leave so they will have time to be more involved with their kids.
'I got to a point where it's like, 'OK, this is my reality … I need to do my part in normalizing this," Love said.
Green said that while his podcast and platforms like Autism in Black make it easier for Black fathers to share their stories of their kids' wins and losses, he'd like to see 'more support groups out there, more podcasts, more conversations.'
'I see a lot of Black women doing their thing and I highly appreciate that, but I think there definitely needs to be more conversations surrounding (Black fatherhood and autism) because, for myself, I'm a Black man," Green said. "I have a Black family, but this is never really the topic of discussion.'
___
The Associated Press Health and Science Department receives support from the Howard Hughes Medical Institute's Science and Educational Media Group and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. The AP is solely responsible for all content.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
8 hours ago
- Yahoo
"Devastated and heartbroken": Trump cuts LGBTQ+ youth services on 988 suicide hotline
The Trump administration has removed the "Press 3 option" from the national 988 Suicide & Crisis Hotline. The "Press 3 option" was available since 2022 for LGBTQ+ callers looking to speak with a mental health provider specializing in LGBTQ+ mental health care. The service will be shut down formally on July 17. In a statement released on Tuesday, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) said it was ending the service to "focus on all help seekers, including those previously served through the Press 3 option." The statement also said that the hotline will "no longer silo" what it called "LGB+ services," notably missing the T. "I am devastated and heartbroken," said Jaymes Black, CEO of advocacy organization The Trevor Project, in a video posted to Instagram. "Half a million LGBTQ young people reached out to 988 last year and pressed 3," Black said. "They found trained hearts waiting to help." Black described the "lifeline" for youths in crisis as being "cut" by SAMHSA. The Trevor Project was the contracted third party used by the hotline to provide the "press 3 option." In its statement, SAMHSA noted that the federally allocated $33 million for the option in 2024 was entirely spent by June 2025. It describes the funds as having gone to "support the subnetworks" of the service. "Your life has meaning," Black said in the video, speaking to LGBTQ+ youth. "You are our future, and we will never stop fighting for you."
Boston Globe
10 hours ago
- Boston Globe
Mass. Black therapists trying to diversify the workforce face an uphill battle
Advertisement 'We took the good and left the bad, and helped create this,' Labissiere, one of the clinic's cofounders, said from the Hyde Park Avenue office. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Labissiere and Wynn are rarities in this grueling industry: Black clinicians who have stuck around and own their own practice. The Child and Family Wellness Center isone of just a few Black-owned behavioral health practices in Massachusetts. In interviews with the Globe, 10 Black mental health care providers, advocates, and public officials agreed several systemic barriers keep the workforce from diversifying. The deep-seated stigma of mental illness among Black people, the time and financial costs of finishing school, and the biases embedded in the field's license exams are roadblocks for diversifying the workforce, which already suffers from massive turnover and vacancy rates. Related : Advertisement The societal costs are immense. The experienced these symptoms at higher rates, said Gemima St. Louis, vice president for workforce initiatives and specialty training and clinical psychology professor at Williams James College in Newton. As the mental health crises that COVID-19 drew out persist, stakeholders worry the behavioral health workforce won't be able to meet this rising demand with culturally competent care. 'We have a workforce that is insufficient, a workforce that lacks the diversity that is represented in the communities that have the greatest needs for mental health services,' St. Louis said. Related : Advocates are introducing measures to tackle the representation gap at its root. Clinicians working in underserved communities can have some of their student debt covered through The people working to diversify the behavioral health workforce are chipping away at a profession that has historically been for white and affluent individuals. A 2023 Advertisement One in 10 respondents in behavioral health leadership roles identified as non-Hispanic Black. Black respondents made up 9 percent of the survey's independently licensed clinicians, meaning they don't need supervision to provide treatment. Only 7.6 percent of behavioral health physicians — professionals with medical degrees — were Black. The lack of representation within the sector doesn't match the range of people needing these services, advocates say. A separate survey of insured residents across Massachusetts found that one in 10 non-Hispanic Black residents reported poor mental health in 2021, along with 15 percent of Hispanic residents. One barrier driving these disparities precedes any roadblocks Black clinicians are facing in their field: mental health care's taboo nature in their community. Black people 'might have a little bit more wealth and more opportunities, but we've never really had a chance to really process our struggles in this country,' said Nieisha Deed, founder of Recruitment into the sector can be happenstance, instead of something instilled from an early age. Larry Higginbottom, CEO of The Osiris Group clinic in Roxbury, stumbled across 'the mental health field' during a chance conversation in the late '80s with Omar Reid, a local pioneer of Black psychology and mental health. Advertisement It was a foreign concept, but '[Reed] planted a seed,' Higginbottom, now 71, said. For Melanie Robinson Findlay, owner of Upwards 'N' Onwards, an independent therapy practice in Hyde Park, the death of a best friend during high school propelled her into social work. By the time she pursued a doctorate, she had 18 years of clinical social work experience, completed a clerkship, and was even appointed to the state's Board of Registration of Social Workers. But this didn't seem like enough. She noticed her peers would find supervisors with ease. Meanwhile, 'I always felt I had to prove myself.' 'What was I missing that they have?' Robinson Findlay said. 'And when you control for all the things, there's only one thing that pops out.' Learning about the craft is only the first hurdle to entering the industry. It costs hundreds for Mental health counselors, clinical social workers, psychologists, and other professionals within the field must complete thousands of hours to qualify for a license, some of which have to be under direct supervision from another practitioner. Labissiere said the onus for supervision is placed on the aspiring clinician; they must find someone who is willing to sign off on their application and in turn, lose an employee that keeps their own practice afloat. 'These are gatekeeper positions,' Labissiere said. 'If you don't have an organization ... pushing you to become licensed, we get stuck.' Advertisement Wynn worries this mentality might choke off the next generation of clinicians of color, which is already a small group. 'People look at it as competition, but there's more than enough clients in need,' Wynn said. 'It's not a competition. It's a collaboration.' While navigating the many stressors of entering the workforce, many aspiring social workers aren't taught the financial literacy needed to start and sustain independent practices, said Malaka Mims, president of the Greater Boston Association of Black Social Workers. So many social workers are focused on passing the exam, she said, that they often say, 'I don't know how to be a business owner.' 'Social workers are trained to help others, but the field must also prioritize self care and equip social workers to care for ourselves,' Mims said. For Robinson Findlay, of Upwards 'N' Onwards, running her own practice has been a longtime dream, but it comes with its own challenges. She has scaled her fees down to accommodate low-income clients, and says she is owed thousands in private insurance reimbursements. She makes up with consulting, lecturing, and a postdoctoral fellowship. Robinson Findlay can barely afford to do this, but she can't refuse a client's request. 'Even if I say no to one, that's too many.' This story was produced by the Globe's team, which covers the racial wealth gap in Greater Boston. You can sign up for the newsletter . Tiana Woodard can be reached at
USA Today
11 hours ago
- USA Today
RFK Jr. dismissing experts creates deadly vaccine hesitancy
Kennedy has long planted the seeds of vaccine hesitancy, despite evidence that contradicts his falsehoods. Now we are once again seeing more children succumb to vaccine-preventable diseases. Since 1964, pediatricians have looked to the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices to provide evidence-based recommendations regarding childhood vaccines. We represent more than 80 years of experience as pediatricians in Nashville and have benefitted from ACIP throughout our careers. On June 9, our clinic days were disrupted by the news that Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. had dismissed all 17 ACIP members. These members are academic clinicians, epidemiologists, immunologists and infectious disease experts. Their service was driven not by money or fame, but by a commitment to the collective health of Americans. ACIP meetings were transparent, being broadcast live and then archived on YouTube, while agendas were posted well in advance of each meeting. The public could request to ask questions at meetings as well as review slide decks that were presented. ACIP worked to avoid member conflicts of interest Kennedy's implication that he was reconstructing the committee to prevent conflicts of interest is far from the truth. In order to preserve objectivity and limit corporate influence on their recommendations, ACIP members already disclose any potential conflict of interest in advance. If a member has a potential conflict, they are not permitted to participate in vaccine discussions, or to vote on that vaccine or any vaccine that a company might bring before ACIP – even if that member didn't work on that specific vaccine. Opinion: As a doctor, I know it will take more than dietary changes to Make America Healthy Again Kennedy also implied that ACIP only ever adds vaccines to the schedule, acting as a rubber stamp for industry. But ACIP recommendations came after analyzing evidence and weighing the benefits and risks. The 1972 decision to stop vaccinating for smallpox was a significant and very well-informed move, reflecting an in-depth understanding of both the science and the broader public health context. The 2016 recommendation to reduce the number of doses for the HPV vaccine also shows that ACIP actively engaged in fine-tuning vaccination schedules based on the latest research, rather than to increase industry profits. It's crucial for these bodies to make decisions based on science, not external pressures or adherence to a certain ideology. Kennedy creates vaccine hesitancy that lead to childhood diseases As pediatricians, we have seen patients die from vaccine-preventable diseases. Our pediatric forefathers cared for children in iron lungs due to paralytic polio. Opinion: Please stop letting RFK Jr. make vaccine policies. His new COVID plan is deadly. Kennedy has planted the seeds of the anti-vaccination movement for more than two decades, despite evidence that contradicts his falsehoods. Due to the vaccine hesitancy and refusal he promotes, we are once again seeing more children succumb to vaccine-preventable diseases in America. So far in 2025, we have had pediatric deaths from measles and whooping cough, not to mention more than 200 deaths from influenza. Those numbers will only escalate in the future. Kennedy's decision to eliminate trustworthy members of the ACIP fundamentally changes the nature of this committee. Institutional memory and the trust of physicians were obliterated in one fell swoop. We hold little hope that HHS can put a new trusted committee together in time for the next scheduled ACIP meeting Jun 25-26, given Kennedy's preference for conspiracy theorists and other unqualified people. Through our careers as community pediatricians, we have been blessed by the opportunity to partner with wonderful families who desire what is best for their children. We fervently hope this relationship will be the most important factor when families make decisions regarding vaccinating their children. We call on our elected officials to reinstate the ACIP members Kennedy dismissed and to empower them to continue their work to limit damage from infectious diseases. Doing so will actually help make Americans healthier. James Keffer, MD; Chetan R Mukundan, MD; Jill Obremsky, MD; Elizabeth Triggs, MD; and David Wyckoff, MD, are local pediatricians practicing in different settings around Nashville. This column originally appeared in The Tennessean.
