I keep meaning to read Wonder; a lot of people have recommended it. As you may know, it's a best-selling novel about a 10-year-old boy, Auggie, who has a rare congenital disorder called mandibulofacial dysotosis that causes facial deformity. Auggie's a cool kid who wants to be treated like every other kid. Written by RJ Palacio, the story is told from several p.o.v.'s—Auggie's, classmates, his sister, her boyfriend—and has been described as "a meditation on kindness."
Last week, I got an email from a reader about a disability slur in the book. Tracy T. is based in Puyallup, WA; her 12-year-old, Melyssa, has developmental delays and other issues and her 10-year-old, Dylan, is in the gifted track. Dylan's teacher is reading Wonder to the class. "Today," wrote Tracy, "my son told me that the main character in the book says, 'I'm not retarded!' This has me incredibly upset. We have worked very hard to rid our home of this ugly, outdated, hurtful word. My son has explained, quite clearly and eloquently to his friends, why it is unacceptable. Then it pops up in class...."
I was also floored that a book with such good intentions contained that wording. I got a copy and there it was on page 218 of the hardcover:
"Stop lying to me Mom!" I shrieked. "Stop treating me like a baby! I'm not retarded! I know what's going on!"
If you're not sure what's wrong with the word "retarded," I'll sum it up: For decades, "mental retardation" was a medical diagnosis for people with cognitive impairment. But as "retard" and "retarded" became slang for "stupid" and "loser," medical experts and nonprofits started using "intellectual disability" instead. The government has since removed the term from federal health, labor and education laws, and the majority of the states have passed similar legislation. (For more on why the word "retard" is hurtful, see this, this and this).
Tracy found the author's email on her website and emailed her:
Tracy received an automated response that noted, "Due to the high volume of email I've been getting, I'm no longer able to answer each and every email (though I'm trying)!" The next day, Tracy informed me, "without any further communication on my end, I got the response I forwarded to you." The message she shared:
Whoa. Just, whoa. The writer of a book acclaimed for its "kindness" was purportedly saying she had to use "retarded" because it's how kids speak in real life. That she conscientiously made the decision to include it. As if there were no other inoffensive real-world language Auggie could have used. Kids also curse, and I didn't see a single one in the book.
RJ Palacio is a pseudonym for Raquel Jaramillo, a publishing veteran who's director of children's books and creative director for Workman Publishing. Wonder is her literary debut. It's gotten props from schools, the craniofacial community and even towns. Understanding Our Differences, a national nonprofit whose mission is to develop understanding and respect for students with disabilities, has held readings with the author.
I am not trying to undermine all the good Wonder has done—one word does not undo that. The book's core message of empathy, acceptance and respect are admirable. Countless kids have learned from it; tweens who rated the book at Common Sense Media commented on how it taught them not to judge by appearances and to better appreciate those with differences. Wonder even sparked an online anti-bullying campaign, Choose Kind, with a pledge people can sign.
So why include a word that demeans people with intellectual disability? A word the Special Olympics has rallied against with its own campaign and pledge, Spread The Word To End The Word. It makes no difference that Auggie himself says the word; he uses it as a synonym for "stupid," as many people do, reinforcing the stereotype that those with intellectual disability are stupid.
It's disappointing that the first successful young adult novel about a kid with a condition that makes him different has this wording. Wonder was meant to breed understanding: Several years ago, Jaramillo was with her kids at an ice-cream store, and they sat near a girl with a facial deformity. When her three-year-old cried, the author left the store. In September, Jaramillo told NPR's All Things Considered that she was angry at herself for her reaction: "What I should have done is simply turned to the little girl and started up a conversation and shown my kids that there was nothing to be afraid of," she said. "But what I ended up doing was leaving the scene so quickly that I missed the opportunity to turn the situation into a great teaching moment for my kids. And that got me thinking a lot about what it must be like...to have to face a world every day that doesn't know how to face you back."
RJ Palacio is a pseudonym for Raquel Jaramillo, a publishing veteran who's director of children's books and creative director for Workman Publishing. Wonder is her literary debut. It's gotten props from schools, the craniofacial community and even towns. Understanding Our Differences, a national nonprofit whose mission is to develop understanding and respect for students with disabilities, has held readings with the author.
I am not trying to undermine all the good Wonder has done—one word does not undo that. The book's core message of empathy, acceptance and respect are admirable. Countless kids have learned from it; tweens who rated the book at Common Sense Media commented on how it taught them not to judge by appearances and to better appreciate those with differences. Wonder even sparked an online anti-bullying campaign, Choose Kind, with a pledge people can sign.
So why include a word that demeans people with intellectual disability? A word the Special Olympics has rallied against with its own campaign and pledge, Spread The Word To End The Word. It makes no difference that Auggie himself says the word; he uses it as a synonym for "stupid," as many people do, reinforcing the stereotype that those with intellectual disability are stupid.
It's disappointing that the first successful young adult novel about a kid with a condition that makes him different has this wording. Wonder was meant to breed understanding: Several years ago, Jaramillo was with her kids at an ice-cream store, and they sat near a girl with a facial deformity. When her three-year-old cried, the author left the store. In September, Jaramillo told NPR's All Things Considered that she was angry at herself for her reaction: "What I should have done is simply turned to the little girl and started up a conversation and shown my kids that there was nothing to be afraid of," she said. "But what I ended up doing was leaving the scene so quickly that I missed the opportunity to turn the situation into a great teaching moment for my kids. And that got me thinking a lot about what it must be like...to have to face a world every day that doesn't know how to face you back."
I got what she meant. Max has visible differences, and kids and sometimes adults stare. He's 10, same age as Auggie. As his mom, I long for a world that's comfortable around Max, a world that lets him be who he is instead of gaping at his gait. The language we use to describe those with disabilities isn't going to change everything, obviously, but it's one more way to encourage respect.
Words matter. A writer's aware of that more than anyone else.
In the book, one of Auggie's teachers tells students, "When given the choice between being right, or being kind, choose kind." I say: When given the choice of using a slur or not, don't use the slur. And spare us the defense that it's how kids talk.
Tracy wrote back to Jaramillo noting that she'd spoken with her son's teacher and school librarian, and they would be using the mention of the word as a learning opportunity. (Too bad the book didn't—Auggie's mother could have called him on it.) I hope other educators and parents take note of the wording and do the same. And I hope Jaramillo considers what Tracy said, includes a mention of the topic in future talks and adds a talking point about this to the "Questions to discuss" teacher section of her site.
This isn't about censorship—it's about about encouraging acceptance, exactly what Auggie and countless kids who have differences and disabilities want. The words "retarded" and "retard" have no place a book that seeks to make life better for kids who are different.
