In Sight

“Thank You for Seeing My Potential”

A nonspeaking teen’s profound letter explaining autism.

Inner beauty—Gordy Baylinson types responses to questions from his therapist Meghann Parkinson. After 14 years, Gordy's parents learned that he could comprehend everything they said, even though he had never spoken. Photo: Jahi Chikwendiu / Washington Post

Photo: Evan Baylinson.
Photo: Evan Baylinson.

by Colby Itkowitz

For the first 14-and-a-half years of Gordy’s life, Evan and Dara Baylinson had no reason to believe their son could comprehend anything they said: He had never spoken, and he couldn’t really emote. They worried aloud about his future, not filtering what they said, because they didn’t think he understood.

But Gordy was absorbing everything.

“My brain, which is much like yours, knows what it wants and how to make that clear,” he wrote in a letter he sent to a police officer. “My body, which is much like a drunken, almost six-foot toddler, resists.”

He typed each letter one at a time with his right index finger. No one coached him, edited his words or told him what to say. After two one-hour sessions, he had written a nearly 400-word note.

“This letter is not a cry for pity, pity is not what I’m looking for,” he wrote. “I love myself just the way I am, drunken toddler body and all. This letter is, however, a cry for attention, recognition and acceptance.”

Unbeknownst to his parents for so many years, their son is a beautiful writer with a lot to say.

Gordy was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder when he was 17 months old. Gordy, now 16, doesn’t speak, but his mind is a treasure trove of knowledge and opinions about the world that he’s picked up from listening.

But it wasn’t until February 2015 that his parents found that out.

It was then that one of Gordy’s many therapists, Meghann Parkinson, started teaching him a relatively new technique that consists of her asking him questions and him answering by pointing to letters on an alphabet board. In a little over a year, Gordy has advanced to a keyboard, his words appearing in large font on an iPad screen propped in front of him as he types.

“This letter is not a cry for pity, pity is not what I’m looking for. I love myself just the way I am.”

It’s through his work with Ms. Parkinson at Growing Kids Therapy in Herndon, Virginia, that Gordy wrote an eloquent and poignant letter to a police officer about what it’s like to be autistic.

Weeks earlier the Baylinsons, who live in Potomac, Maryland, had seen a flier for an “Autism Night Out” hosted by the Montgomery County Police in Maryland. There was an email address at the bottom of the flier, and Ms. Parkinson asked him if he’d like to send the officer a letter.

They had no idea their son had strong opinions about the police or the treatment of autistic people. But they sat stunned as the words poured out of Gordy with humor and empathy and maturity.

The letter reached Laurie Reyes, a police officer who started a department autism outreach program that trains officers on how to approach and handle someone with autism. They get two to four weekly calls for “elopements,” which means an autistic child who has wandered off, she said. More than a decade ago she started the unique program to teach officers to treat autistic people with dignity and compassion.

“I always share with the officers I teach to ‘never underestimate’ a person with autism,” Ms. Reyes wrote back to Gordy. “I also teach them to not associate nonverbal with a lack of intelligence. I continuously stress those two thoughts to my officers. Gordy will help to reinforce this idea yet again.”

On a Wednesday afternoon Gordy sat next to Ms. Parkinson for his weekly hour of therapy. She had prepared a brief lesson for him about The Washington Post, so he’d have some background about the reporter [Colby Itkowitz] coming to interview him. Then she asked him about what she’d read. She held the keyboard in the air in front of his face and he outstretched his right arm to type his responses.

Meghann: What are we talking about?
Gordy: Today we are discussing The Washington Post.

Q: What is The Washington Post?
A: The Washington Post is a daily newspaper that is located in the District.

Q: When was The Washington Post founded?
A: The Post was founded on Dec. 6, 1877.

Q: Why do you think I read you this paragraph today?
A: We have a lovely guest joining us today from the Post.

With that, he looked back sheepishly at his small audience, his hand outstretched to his proud father.

Since learning how to communicate, Gordy has continued to amaze his parents with his knowledge. They have been reading about Mount Vesuvius, the only active volcano in Europe, and they asked him if he knew of an active volcano in the United States. He typed, “Mount St. Helen.” They’d never taught him that. He had seen it once on the cover of a magazine in a doctor’s waiting room, he told them.

“The sky’s the limit for him now. I believe he can do whatever he wants,” Evan Baylinson, 49, said. They’ve asked him what kind of job he’d be interested in and he said that he’d like to be a researcher for Time magazine. Now that they know he understands, they’ve been reading him Harry Potter books. He’s been following the presidential election.

When Gordy answered several questions from a reporter, he sat quietly showing no external signs of all that he was feeling inside. But his answers showed he feels profoundly.

Q: Why did you write your letter?
A: Meghann suggested it and I’m so glad, it was something my entire being felt compelled to do.

Q: Why did you feel so strongly about it?
A: I’ve heard too many tragic stories of the mistreatment and mishandling of autistics due to lack of knowledge. It breaks my heart because I know no one is truly at fault.

Q: Are you excited to meet everyone on Friday?
A: Absolutely, I never expected this but I’m jumping around like a madman inside.

Q: What is your favorite thing to do?
A: I love learning new things, iPads, I love communicating and typing with this gal on my right.

Ms. Parkinson blushed and tousled Gordy’s hair. Then she asked him if he had any closing thoughts. “Thank you for seeing my potential,” he typed, “and helping my words, my story, and my manly voice get out there.”