At the Democratic convention on Wednesday night, the sight of Tim Walz’s 17-year-old son, Gus, leaping to his feet with tears streaming down his face and a hand pressed to his chest as he cried out, “That’s my Dad,” was nothing short of heart-piercing.
As the mother of Georgie, my 38-year-old son on the spectrum who still lives with me, I recognized Gus immediately as one of “ours”—a sweet, unfiltered, and slightly bewildered young man, unsure of what was expected of him in this monumental moment of political celebration.
Gus Walz, according to his parents, has a nonverbal learning disorder, ADHD, and an anxiety disorder—conditions they see not as limitations but as his “secret power,” making him “brilliant” and “hyperaware.”
I understand exactly what they mean. One of the joys of my life in the social whirl of New York is living with a son whose inability to read social cues makes him incapable of telling anything but the truth. Once, after my husband, Harry Evans, and I left a pretentious social gathering in the Hamptons, Georgie cheerfully told the host, “Thank you very much. No one really spoke to me, so it was a very boring evening. The food was OK. I doubt I will come again.”
“I have never been prouder of you in my life!” my husband exclaimed in the car. How many times have we all wished we could be as honest, saying what we truly felt after a supposedly fabulous event that was anything but? Then there was the time Georgie approached Anna Wintour at one of my book parties and asked if she was Camilla Parker Bowles. Or the time during an intake meeting for a supported work program when the therapist asked, “Has anyone ever molested you?” and Georgie replied, “Unfortunately not.”
Georgie teaches me every day just how much we rely on social lies to keep the world spinning. His sister—his forever best friend—and I feel so fortunate to have him in our lives. So did his dad, who passed away in 2020.
For those who are different and lack support, the world can be a bleak and lonely place. The isolation they experience can be agonizing. While many assume that the toughest years are during school, it’s actually the years that follow that can feel like a social desert. Having a friendly, understanding workplace is crucial—it’s often their only taste of community, and it’s what makes them such reliable and rewarding employees. Unfortunately, the rise of remote work has been particularly damaging for people with special needs, cutting them off from their vital social connections.
There’s a growing trend among certain businesses to claim they support hiring neurodivergent individuals, but sadly, it can be more about virtue signaling than genuine inclusion. Many employers imagine a neurodivergent person as a reclusive genius coding away in their apartment, rather than the more common reality: an awkward individual with a kind smile, who may take time to learn and often talks endlessly about their favorite topics.
One of my son’s quirks is his love for wearing bandannas and nail polish, and he tends to mention this in the first five minutes of any job interview. More often than not, he’s told that this wouldn’t be “appropriate.” Appropriate? Being “inappropriate” is part of who Georgie is, and for his family, it’s one of his most cherished traits.
As a parent, there’s nothing more painful than sensing the scorn of strangers that your child might not even notice—the whispered insults or quiet snickers at the next table. It’s a cruelty that’s all too common. Remember Donald Trump Jr.’s sneer at the 2023 Conservative Political Action Conference? When referring to Senator John Fetterman’s challenges after his stroke, he callously remarked that Pennsylvania had “managed to elect a vegetable.”
“I’d love for John Fetterman to have, like, good gainful employment,” Donald Trump Jr. sneered. “Maybe he could be, like, a bag guy at a grocery store.” Could he sink any lower?
But how could Don Jr. be any different from his father? The elder Donald Trump has never missed an opportunity to belittle people with disabilities. Now, the MAGA crowd is already mocking Gus Walz’s tearful embrace of his dad. “Talk about weird…” posted conservative media figure Ann Coulter, though she later deleted it.
If the Harris-Walz ticket wins, could parents of those who struggle with being different finally find a powerful advocate in the White House? This voiceless community desperately needs a champion. Coach Walz, you’ve been an inspiring role model for kids throughout your life, and you were compassionate enough to lend your credibility as the faculty adviser for a new high school gay-straight alliance. I urge you: please make this your cause.
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