It is a scene I have witnessed more than once in shopping centre car parks.
A car pulls into a parking space reserved for persons with disabilities. The doors open and out steps what appears to be an ordinary family. The children laugh, run ahead and, to everyone watching, seem perfectly healthy.
Then come the whispers. “Why are they parking there?”*
“They don’t look disabled.”
It is a reminder of how quickly we judge what we do not understand. Not every disability is visible. And few conditions illustrate that better than autism.
Autism is called a spectrum for a reason. No two autistic people experience the world in exactly the same way. Some are highly verbal and live independently. Others communicate differently or require significant support. That diversity is precisely why autism is so often misunderstood.
My nephew is one of those children.
At first glance, nothing tells strangers he is autistic. He is energetic, affectionate and happiest whenever he finds a swimming pool, the beach or any body of water. He laughs, plays and embraces life with boundless enthusiasm.
Only after spending time with him does his world begin to reveal itself.
He rarely makes eye contact. He does not respond when his name is called. He is non-verbal, yet he understands far more than he can express. He knows exactly what he wants, communicating in ways those closest to him have learned to recognise.
The World Health Organization estimates that around one in 127 people globally is autistic. In Oman, awareness has grown steadily, with the Ministry of Health introducing a national screening programme for autism and developmental disorders, alongside plans for a dedicated Autism Spectrum Disorder Care and Rehabilitation Centre.
Yet awareness has not always translated into understanding.
In the age of social media, children experiencing sensory overload are too often filmed without context. What looks to strangers like bad behaviour may, in reality, be a child overwhelmed by noise, bright lights or an environment they cannot process. For many autistic children, behaviour becomes the language they use when words are not available.
The same misunderstanding extends to disability parking spaces.
Autism is recognised as a disability, and many autistic individuals qualify for disability support even though nothing about them appears outwardly different. Invisible disabilities are no less real than visible ones.
Perhaps that is the lesson we all need to remember.
The next time you see someone using a PWD parking space or a child struggling in public, pause before making a judgement. You may only be witnessing a few seconds of a story that a family has spent years learning to navigate.
Sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is accept that not every disability can be seen.
