Last Sunday, my teenager and I were walking home from Starbucks when we had an unexpected and jarring experience. As we left, a man stood outside. I greeted him, but my daughter, who was wearing noise-canceling headphones, didn’t respond. Instead, she quickened her pace, her usual unsteady gait on display.

Then the man called out, “Good morning, ladies!” I replied, but as my daughter walked ahead, he yelled, “You shouldn’t teach your daughter to be afraid of black males! She’s a racist!”

I was stunned. I turned around, filled with anger, and said, “She’s not racist; she’s autistic!” He immediately apologized, but the damage was done.

In an instant, I realized how quickly misunderstandings can escalate. My daughter’s behavior was misinterpreted, and it hit hard. This encounter forced me to confront the biases that still linger in society.

As we walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that in just a few moments, a simple outing turned into a lesson in empathy and the need for awareness. I understand that this man was reacting from his own place—perhaps shaped by his experiences—but in that moment, the situation had nothing to do with him. It was a stark reminder that we all carry our own stories, yet we must also recognize when those stories don't apply.