Every Wednesday, after a half day of school, Nate takes a Metro paratransit bus to his job at our neighborhood pizzeria. He’s been using adaptive public transportation on his own for a few years now and feels the heady combination of independence and coolness that comes with being able to go places without your parents. Sending him out into the world without the direct support of a parent or caregiver is nerve-wracking, but his independence is important to us, so his dad and I hover just outside our comfort zones and make it happen.

This week, for the first time, there was a hiccup. Instead of taking him to work, the bus driver tried to drop him off at an unfamiliar location where Nate had never been before. Recognizing that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, Nate refused to get off the bus. His limited language and struggles with articulation made it difficult to explain to the driver and other passengers why he was refusing to disembark, but he stuck to his guns and stayed where he knew he was safe.

He also did what we’ve been working with him to do in an emergency for years: he pulled his cell phone out of his backpack and called me for help. When I answered the phone, I could hear impatient passengers in the background pressuring him to get off the bus so they could get to their destinations. I could also hear Nate repeating the phrase “wrong place” over and over until I was able to piece together what was going on and reassure him help was coming.

Nate’s dad called the dispatch office while I used Nate’s phone to speak to the driver and explain the situation. Within 10 minutes, we had things cleared up and the bus was heading toward the pizza shop. The passengers in the background cheered Nate on for holding his ground, and Nate’s parents allowed themselves to breathe for the first time in several long minutes.

With the problem solved and Nate safely at work assembling pizza boxes with his job coach, my mind whirred with all the “what-ifs.” Nate is autistic and only moderately able to communicate through speech, so being dropped off alone in an unfamiliar place could be dangerous for him. The risks are high when you can’t easily explain your situation or ask for help.

I’m grateful for the bus driver, who ultimately got Nate to the right place; for his job coach, who warmly greeted Nate when he arrived and let him take a short break to recuperate before clocking in; for Nate knowing how to call me; for his phone being charged; and for his dad and me being good partners who can work together to solve problems quickly.

Mostly, though, I’m grateful for Nate’s non-compliance. I’m grateful the years of IEP goals encouraging him to “comply with non-preferred tasks within three seconds” were never met — and were ultimately dropped from his IEP. I’m grateful for Nate’s stubbornness, for his unwillingness to compromise, and for his commitment to enforcing his own boundaries. Nate’s ability to say no in the face of pressure, to withstand threats and obscenities from strangers, and to ignore an authority figure’s orders to ensure his own safety is why this story has a happy ending.

For so many years, Nate’s tendency to “not listen” was a source of frustration for the people around him. We thought we needed to figure out a strategy to make him do things he didn’t want to do, because that’s what the world requires of us. We tried reward systems, threats, and punishments. We designed complicated behavior charts. We consulted with experts and tracked data. Nate was still “non-compliant.”

Finally, as we learned more about autism, it occurred to us that Nate’s resistance to the demands being placed upon him was his way of telling us something was wrong. His behavior was his method of communicating that what was being asked of him wasn’t working for him. He often can’t explain the “why,” but by refusing a demand, he’s communicating a message nevertheless.

As his parents, it’s not always easy to relent when we don’t understand why he’s saying no, but over the years we’ve learned to respect Nate’s expressed preferences. He’s a grown man who gets to choose what’s right for him, and compliance is no longer an expectation in our family.

This week’s incident with the bus has me thinking about what we measure, what we teach, and what we celebrate. Sometimes the skills that matter most are the ones that look, at first glance, like defiance. We spend so much time teaching compliance, especially to people with disabilities, because it makes the world run more smoothly. But safety, dignity, and self-trust don’t come from always saying yes. Sometimes they come from knowing when to say no and meaning it.

I’m beginning to believe that Nate knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows where he’s supposed to be, what to do in an emergency, and how to call for help. He knows what is safe for him and what isn’t — and whose instructions are worth following, and whose aren’t. He knows how to stand up for himself, how to protect himself, and he knows how to say no. Allowing for his independence is scary, but this week it feels like he has exactly what he needs to succeed, not because he always complies, but because he knows when — and how — not to.

“Wrong Place!”: The Time Nate’s Non-Compliance Saved the Day was originally published in Nemhouse on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

He held eye contact to make sure I understood what he had just said. I smiled, and then laughed. I understood. We were standing inside the cavernous indoor practice facility for the Seattle Seahawks. It is the type of structure you could use to build a space shuttle, at least four stories high and as wide as a city block. There was a bite in the air as the team leaves it unheated in the off-season. It still made for a nice backdrop as I interviewed the Seahawks latest free agent signing, DeMarcus Lawrence. We were wrapping up our conversation when I asked him how he felt about coming to Seattle after playing his entire career in Dallas for the Cowboys. He chose to make a point with his answer.

“I know for sure I’m not gonna win a Super Bowl there,” Lawrence said, in reference to a Cowboys team that has not been to the NFL’s biggest game since people were still using pagers (1995).

Had he been talking about any other NFL team, and it may not have registered nationally. The Cowboys, though, still have a massive following, despite their lack of success of late. I knew this was going to blow up.

The interview ended at 3:40 PM Pacific Time. I was due to be on local sports radio for an interview at 4:00 PM. I looked at traffic on my phone and decided I was going to try and race home.

Camera. Packed. Tripod. Packed. Laptop, microphone, cables. Packed. I raced out the door, saying goodbye to the now familiar faces at the front desk of the Seahawks headquarters and the security attendant at the gate.

It was about 3:55 PM by the time I pulled into the garage at home. I said hello to my wife without breaking stride as I went directly into my home office and shut the door behind me. The call came from the radio station around 3:59 PM. We did the interview, and I was done by maybe 4:15 PM.

Barely 30 minutes had passed since I finished the interview with Lawrence. In that time, a fan had clipped the portion of the video where he made the comment about the Cowboys (it was a live interview, so he saw it as it happened), the clip had been picked up by at least three massive sports accounts with millions of followers, and I had requests from ESPN and NFL Network to allow them to air my interview on their networks.

The story received a further boost when one of Lawrence’s former teammates, Micah Parsons, referenced the interview and had some unkind words for Lawrence. Lawrence replied in kind.

Requests poured in from everywhere. I had missed a workout earlier in the day and was dedicated to getting back in shape after putting on a few pounds during the season, so I was trying to do yoga while my phone kept popping up with new notifications. Downward dog. Negotiate rights to use the clip with Stephen A. Smith. Warrior 2. Negotiate rights with Good Morning Football. It was not my most mindful yoga session.

The story became the lead for SportsCenter on ESPN that evening. It led off First Take the next morning, as well as Good Morning Football, The Rich Eisen Show, and pretty much every other major sports broadcast.

I had required the networks to overlay the link to my YouTube channel on the video while it played and to mention where they could find the full interview.

Listening to professional sports broadcasters have to refer to, “Hawk Blogger,” was hilarious. They looked nauseous.

More people had seen my face and the brand, “Hawk Blogger,” in 24 hours than in the prior 49 years, combined. That was never my goal when I decided to change careers 12 months ago. The tech industry had been good to me. I built products I was proud of with people I love. It was lucrative and challenging and validating. It was also confining and increasingly in conflict with goals I had for the rest of my short time on this planet.

I had tried retirement a few years earlier. I tried a mission-driven startup. Like Goldilocks, I was searching for my, “just right” fit.

What started as a small experiment to do a live Seahawks morning show for 30 days straight, turned into a new career that has supplied unique experiences and the kind of control over my schedule that I crave.

There are things that I miss about my old life, and things that I don’t. There are people I miss from my old life, and people who I don’t.

I reached a point where I was certain the work I was doing, and the industry I was working in, were no longer the right place for me to be spending thousands of hours each year. I was certain I wanted time to be able to be outside hiking, exercising, and being the primary House Spouse to take care of our disabled child so my wife could be free to dive into her career. I also knew I needed to work.

These were things I was sure about. What that meant in terms of my next job was completely undefined.

Stumbling into life as a sports journalist and content creator (gross) has been eye-opening. It has satisfied my need for purpose while being isolating socially. It has incorporated interests ranging from tech geek gadgetry to creative design to sports to travel. It has also added unforeseen strain to my marriage and created a seven day work week.

It is both easy and hard, exciting and repetitive. This is my story of wandering through the middle ages of life in search of ways to spend my days that will result in the fewest regrets when my time here is done.

As always, I share these experiences in the hopes they will help others along their paths.

Inauspicious beginnings

D.K. Metcalf is 6'3" and 230 pounds. He has the speed of an Olympic sprinter. He can jump higher than many NBA stars. I stood before him in the sweltering July heat — all 5'9" of me — and asked him the first question that popped into my head. It was poorly worded and unintentionally antagonistic. This Greek God of a man was not pleased. His eyes fixed on me like Zeus about to unleash a lightning bolt, and provided an unmistakable non-verbal reply. Oh no.

I was already on shaky ground. This was my third day of being a credentialed media member covering the NFL after 26 years in tech. The head of the Seahawks PR team had agreed to give me a trial run.

My mind was racing, trying to figure out how to recover from the faux pas. Metcalf provided a fine answer to my question, even if I could see he was angry. He went on to answer other questions. I came back with a softball after a few minutes.

“Was there anything you worked on improving during the off-season?”

“Yeah,” Metcalf responded, turning his head to face me directly. “I worked on getting better at answering bad questions by reporters. Guess I have more work to do.”

Ouch. End of press conference.

I walked across the gleaming green grass of the outdoor practice field, snapped my phone onto my gimbal and attached my lapel mic before starting my post-practice live stream.

Some fans had already heard Metcalf’s answer to my question and were in the chat thanking me for asking him the “tough” questions. Metcalf was a bit of a polarizing figure among Seahawks fans. This was not, however, the type of reporting I wanted to be known for.

People open up when they feel safe. They teach you things when you listen and show respect. My goal was not to generate engagement with my audience through baiting players or coaches into “gotcha” moments.

Plenty of people do well with antagonistic content. Controversy drives clicks. It also leads to superficial or even manufactured content. My goals were more around learning. That was an early reminder that this was a job in the public eye where your words are amplified and can lead to a brand at odds with your intent.

It was then that I decided I needed to be more mindful with my questions:

1. Did I learn something about the person?
2. Did I learn something about football?
3. Did I get more excited or interested in the Seahawks?

Any question that resulted in an affirmative response to one of those three criteria was a success. I spent more time cataloging and refining questions I had for various players and coaches so I came prepared to each opportunity.

It felt like the quality of my questions improved, but there was no manager to give me feedback. I was left to judge whether I was meeting my own expectations. That was the case for everything in this job as solo entrepreneur.

Most of the people I know who have accomplished something meaningful in their lives set their own bar, and use the judgement of others as a method of triangulation rather than a final word on their worth.

This was my first job where I had to triangulate in other ways.

The off-hand compliment from a media member or the subtle change in facial expression that told me the player or coach appreciated a unique question, helped provide some reassurance.

I was learning on the fly, a central part to any job that holds my attention.

What’s old is new

Most of my career was spent being the youngest person in the room. I was in my 20s when I helped manage a multi-billion dollar acquisition. I was the youngest Director in most meetings when I was 29. It was a source of pride, but time is undefeated. GenX precociousness gave way to being the senior leader for millennials and GenZ.

Being the person who had experience and could guide others became my source of job fulfillment.

Even when I changed companies, I had decades of experience that people wanted to tap into. That was no longer the case here.

The first day I arrived at the Virginia Mason Athletic Center (VMAC), the security attendant checked the list and I was not on it. He looked at me suspiciously before finally getting confirmation to let me pass.

I walked past the parking lot full of flashy cars owned by NFL players, coaches, and front office personnel, not knowing what was going to happen next.

The front desk buzzed me in, as a flurry of people were walking with purpose that comes from experience. I scanned the lobby and saw a temporary table set up with two people sitting behind it. I walked up to them and asked if this was where I should pick up media credentials. They smiled and nodded. Now, the moment of truth. Was my name on the list or was this an elaborate hoax by the PR team?

Huzzah! I was on this list. It still felt like this could all change at any moment, and someone would come down and ask me to leave.

Instead, I was directed to the media workroom. It is a modest, windowless, square room with desk space lining the exterior walls and a center island table with more chairs to create additional work space. In a building full of ornate trophies and big windows, it almost felt intentionally drab.

As a voracious consumer of Seahawks content, I immediately recognized Michael Shawn-Dugar of The Athletic, Bob Condotta of the Seattle Times, Gregg Bell of the Tacoma News Tribune, Curtis Crabtree of Q13 FOX, and others. Where do I sit among these established pros?

Thankfully, my friend Brady Henderson of ESPN, saved me from this awkward high school cafeteria scene, and motioned me to sit next to him.

It was an odd dynamic. I was older than some of the folks in there. Yet, they were all considerably more experienced and proven in the field. I tried to imagine how I would react if someone had come into my workplace and was treated like a peer without the requisite resume.

I would like to think I would be welcoming, but I also might be annoyed.

This was a unique situation. Even though I had not been a professional journalist, I had been writing Seahawks content for over 18 years on my blog. Those articles and the podcast that followed had grown organically to one of the larger social followings online. The PR team didn’t give me credentials because they liked me. They gave them to me because they respected my work and were intrigued by the idea of embracing modern media in a league that generally is slow to change.

Still, I was very aware this could be bad dynamic. Having a friend in Brady helped. But the truth was that nearly everyone either welcomed me or ignored me. Both were completely acceptable.

Mazvita Maraire, one of the few independent media members, was particularly helpful. He gave me a crash course in how things worked.

It was Maraire who told me the team and the NFL value reporters who travel with the team to road games differently than those who simply cover the team at home. That was corroborated by others, and brought a new complexity of travel time and budget into the picture that I had not anticipated.

Everything felt new. It is hard to find that feeling when you are approaching fifty.

There were a few snipes or condescending remarks over the course of the season by folks on the beat, but the experience was overwhelmingly positive.

I walked away with newfound respect for the people who had been doing this job for many years. Condotta has an encyclopedic knowledge of NFL rules, current and former players, and myriad other factoids. Henderson has excellent sources within the agent community and the organization but comports himself with humility even when he knows something nobody else does. Dugar has a leadership role in the Pro Football Writers Association and takes that responsibility seriously while also asking some of the best questions on the beat.

The job has an “always-on” element during the season where news can break at any moment and there is always the next practice, the next press conference, the next game to prepare for. Throw in a relentless travel schedule, and it became clear how much of a grind it can be, even if it’s a dream job for many.

My goal was to not take any of it for granted. My inexperience was my advantage. The longer I could hold onto the feeling that this job was special, the better my work. I was never going to claim objectivity. I was not intending to be another beat reporter or columnist or sports radio host. My sweet spot was the white space in-between established media roles.

Embracing the fact that I was a fan was central to how my coverage would be different. I would continue to attend home games in the stands, as I had done for 28 years. I would drink with my good friend, eat nachos, watch the early games, and then scream myself hoarse during the Seahawks game, while my peers were behind glass in the press box.

My passion would lead me to ask questions others would not. It would urge me to create content daily, and sometimes 2–3 times per day. The thing that some might sneer at was the key to sustaining this independent venture.

The naiveté of newness can be an advantage in any new job, especially a mid-life career change, where you are juxtaposed with people who have done it so long the passion has faded. I cherish anything in life that gets me out of bed and out of my comfort zone. Football still does that after all these years.

It matters. Nothing matters.

My good friend and I were waiting outside a bar one Sunday morning halfway through the season. We have shared season tickets for a very long time. Our tradition is to go to a bar downtown by 10AM to eat, drink, and watch early games.

One of the best parts of our relationship is the raw honesty that only comes from many years, many beers, and mutual respect. We have conversations that wander far from football on these mornings, going deep into philosophy or shallow into bad television.

As we waited for the bar to open, I told my friend a story about how someone had been harassing me online for something I said regarding the Seahawks.

My friend, attempting to be supportive, said, “Why is he taking it so seriously? None of this matters. It’s just football.”

I knew the intent was positive. My visceral reaction, though, was a little defensive. After all, my whole career was now “just football.” That defensiveness quickly dissipated because I don’t take myself that seriously, and a second thought surged forward.

My friend and I had met working at the same tech company. I had spent multiple decades there building software.

It only took a split second for my brain to compare what I was doing now with what I was doing then and come to a surprising conclusion: neither mattered.

There is certainly more societal value placed on working for a multi-national company and having fancy titles and big salaries. The truth is that 99.9% of the world did not use the products I helped build, and I only played a microscopic part in the building process (even when I had fancy titles), and the world was no different after those products were built than it was before. Everything I had done was insignificant.

That was not a sad or distressing thought. It was clarifying. We tell ourselves that the promotion matters or hitting that KPI/OKR matters or making the sale matters.

It does. And it doesn’t.

We are all just searching for ways to occupy ourselves that make life enjoyable. Finding work that feels like it matters is a gift.

Where it gets dicey is attempting to determine if your work matters more than someone else’s work. Does that report your finished matter more than the fresh bagel someone just baked down the street? Does appearing on ESPN matter more than illustrating a children’s book?

Economies are built based on the value of a skill. In that regard, there is implicit value assigned to the work that you do. The best brain surgeon may save a life, but does that really matter more than the life saved by the lifeguard at the local pool for minimum wage?

My friend was not intending to imply his work, and my past work, was more important than my current work. It was almost a given. Ironically, I had almost started to feel the opposite.

The idea of needing to impress some corporate exec or wear the right clothes or attend the latest off-site seemed increasingly foolish the further I got from it. It felt like some sort of Kabuki Theatre.

I was still happy for former colleagues or employees of mine who posted their promotions on LinkedIn. I just found myself even more happy for those who were announcing they were opening a bakery or an art gallery.

Your job can be a source of inspiration or a trap of desperation. What matters is not what you do, but how you feel when you do it.

That whole interaction with my friend lasted no more than 60 seconds, and that was the point when I knew I was both on the right track and on my own. People might be intrigued by what I do, but they would never consider it important. That only matters if you determine your worth through the eyes of others.

Given to fly

My wife and I were not on the same page. We are always on the same page. The topic was travel. Seattle had a relatively unusual schedule where the bulk of their road games were happening toward the end of the season.

This meant I would be away more often, and Rachel would need to be a single parent with a full-time job while I was gone. Neither of us had expected travel like this when I left my previous job.

What made it more challenging was that this job also happened to be my favorite pastime. I was not going away for some stuffy business meeting. I was following my favorite football team, staying in their hotel, watching them play from the press box, and interviewing them afterwards.

That is an experience I would have paid for, but now I was being paid to do it.

We had already gone through a little bump when the season started. She was used to me going to home games, but now I was signed up for not just my own post-game show, but I had agreed to do another for someone else.

It was clear to me after the first game that it would be asking too much of Rachel to sustain that the whole season. I told the person I could not continue doing their post-game show because this was all new to me and I was realizing I had over-committed. Despite offering to stay on until they found a replacement, the person never spoke to me again. It was a price I was willing to pay for harmony at home.

This was different. The advice I had been given early on was prescient. Traveling with the team deepened relationships and provided more access. New businesses often have to invest back into themselves in order to accelerate growth. The expense and marital strain of traveling felt like that key early investment I had to make.

Rachel is amazing, and made it work. I did my best to take the shortest possible trips, arriving the day before the games and leaving either the night after or first thing in the morning.

The first trip was to New England where the Seahawks would play the Patriots. I arrived late on a Saturday night and drove an hour to the team hotel. After parking the car, I strolled into the lobby to check-in and saw multiple Seahawk players picking up their DoorDash orders.

The front desk attendant checked me in and handed me a custom room key with the Seahawks logo printed on it. I was entering the inner sanctum of my favorite NFL team. This was just another road trip for everyone else. For me, it felt a little like Disneyland.

After getting settled in my room, I decided to head down to the bar and grab some dinner. The elevator opened, and there was the Seahawks President of Football Operations and General Manager, John Schneider standing their with a member of the security staff.

He smiled and teased me about something. I gave it right back to him as I walked in and stood beside him. We went our separate ways at the lobby, and I settled into a seat between the Seahawks offensive coaching staff and one of the members of the media.

These are the moments you don’t get by only covering the team at home. There was a game in San Francisco later in the season where the undefeated (at the time) and top-ranked University of Oregon football team was playing against Wisconsin, and the game was on the TV in the bar.

A number of the Seahawks coaches were in there watching the game, and I was in there with an old friend getting dinner. We all talked about the game and play calls and coaches decisions on 4th down.

It was privilege to be there, to interact with them the way I would any other football fan, and to get to know them a little better.

And it was not just about coaches. Media members would often be there, sharing stories from season’s past. I learned about their jobs and their lives and unseen parts of the sport we all loved.

But that wasn’t the best part. That came on game days.

I parked my car in the media lot next to the stadium and waited for the shuttle to take me to the media entrance. People from the NFL Network shared the ride with me, along with some Boston media members. Even that felt special.

My bag full of camera equipment and microphones went through the metal detector and I followed the more experienced media folks up to the press box where we each had to show our faces to a security scanner to be granted entry. Somehow, impossibly, the scanner recognized my face and chimed to grant me entrance. I kept waiting for someone to escort me out of the building. Nobody did.

The press box was massive. There had to be enough seats for 150–200 media members. Each seat had a printed piece of paper with the name of the reporter and their media outlet. I found the spot that said, “Brian Nemhauser, Hawk Blogger.”

I was there hours before kickoff. Each stadium has a cafeteria that provides food for the press and people who work at the stadium. A cool person would act like this was no big deal. I’m not cool.

My face was stuck in a stupid grin. The real test would come when the game started. This would be the first time in my life that I would have to watch a Seahawks game without cheering, or really having any audible reaction to what was happening on the field.

I did not know what to do with all the energy coursing through my veins. I decided to open my laptop and type out every single play of the game. I wrote the down, the distance, the amount of yards gained, and by which player. There was no real point to writing it all down. It was purely a way to channel my overflowing adrenaline.

The game was exciting and close. Seattle would ultimately win in overtime. I went to use the restroom before heading down for the post-game press conferences and noticed something in the mirror.

I had succeeded in keeping a quiet and professional demeanor during the game, but my body betrayed me. My armpits looked like I had just crossed the Mojave desert. Gross. Thankfully, I had a pullover to throw over my shirt, even though it was 70 degrees outside.

Now, how to find my way to the post-game press conference…

These stadiums are massive, holding tens of thousands of fans as well as equipment and concessions. The underbelly of these things all look like the unfinished basement of an old home. Everything is exposed concrete and flood lighting. Nobody is really supposed to be down here, so signage is sparse or nonexistent.

My only hope was to find a familiar face and follow. I caught a glimpse of John Boyle, the Seahawks team writer, and locked onto him like a rookie detective who is terrible at tailing suspects.

I might still be there if John hadn’t happened by.

We came to a nondescript door that could have easily been a janitor’s closet except for the fact that there were security personnel and a face scanner parked in front of it. John looked at it and it chimed as the green light appeared to allow him entry. I was next. It worked!

There are levels of access, so just having a credential to the press box does not mean you can attend postgame press conferences or go in the locker room or go on the field.

Some of the more seasoned reporters prioritized going to the locker room over the press conferences. Others, bounced back and forth. I have not found my footing in the locker room yet, so I stuck with the press conference format.

The head coach, the quarterback, and a few other players took their turn at the podium. There was one more thing I was waiting on.

My hope was that I could record a post-game show on the field. There was something especially satisfying about the idea of broadcasting a victorious post-game show from an opponent’s home field.

Approval came in. It turns out most/all stadiums allow field access to media 30 minutes after the game ends. That made for some of the most joyful moments of the season, as Seattle wound up winning seven of their eight road games.

I would not have had reason to visit Detroit or Chicago or Boston or New York if not for this job. It created texture in what would have otherwise been an infinite loop of working from home. It also generated my largest business expense, and made a healthy lifestyle far more difficult.

Early indications are the investment was worth it, both for the business and for the soul.

Staying power

Part of what has worked with this new job has been the rhythm of doing a show every single day, 365 days per year. That has created a structure and an expectation.

One of the biggest mind games when you are working on your own is that you have to opt-in to work over and over and over again. There is nobody to fire me if I decide to sit in front of the TV all day or go play 18 holes instead of doing my show.

The income is insignificant so far. I continued making charity a big part of the work, donating another $24,000 this year, which reduced profits considerably.

Our household is not relying on the paltry income this job produces.

I already know I will not continue to do the show 365 days each year. I will not become a slave to the streak. My family deserves my full attention when we are on vacation.

At the same time, I fear the streak ending. The allure of not working will always be lurking in the shadows even if I know it is an empty path.

This could be a job I do for the next 10 years. It may be something that ends much earlier. Five years ago I could not have predicted I would be out of tech for good. Twelve months ago, I would have told you there was a zero percent chance I would be doing this full time and less than a zero percent chance that the Seahawks would have granted me credentials. Even 30 days ago, I would not have guessed March would be the first time I passed 1M monthly views on YouTube when the team isn’t even playing.

My hope is that I choose this work each day, and that it continues to lead to novel experiences and new friendships. If it turns into a viable business that allows me to bring aboard some employees, that wouldn’t hurt either.

Striking out on your own is not for everyone. Most of my days are spent alone, in the company of my dog and my cat. The fear I carry is not being fired or getting a bad performance review. It is that I will lose interest and have to face the daunting question of, “what now?”

I have never been much for life on the sea, but I imagine the feeling I have is similar to a sailor who has found a comfortable port after months on the stormy seas. Raising anchor and leaving for the unknown is far less appealing than settling in and staying a while.

That is perhaps the biggest benefit of staying on the paved path where you never change careers. Your next day, your next step, is curated like a prix fixe dinner. That is an endurance race, and one I could no longer endure.

My motivation for choosing the gravel road comes from the simple thought of envisioning my final day on the planet and imagining whether I would look back on my life with regrets.

I know I won’t care at that moment about followers or likes or OKRs. I won’t care about the approval of others. That is the moment when I will face the sum of my life choices.

I will want to know that I fought against the tide of aging obsolescence and did work I was proud of because I chose to do it. I will want to know that I prioritized family and health and time outside. I will want to know that I treated people well and helped those that I could.

The last year is one with very few regrets. It was memorable and enriching. It will be hard to follow it up with a year that comes close. Lawrence made sure to remind Cowboys fans of that reality after winning three rings in four years before experiencing an epic 30 year drought. Thankfully, my business has a better owner.

What I know for certain is that my work is just one aspect of the symphony I am trying to compose at this stage of life. It can fade to the background or come to the fore as I see fit. There are moments of harmony and the occasional discordant tone. There are times of accelerated tempo and times of plodding drum beats. Each note is played day-by-day. Tomorrow is my next opportunity to tap tap tap the music stand before me, and listen to the music we make.

While you’re here, follow me on:

• YouTube
• TikTok
• Instagram

The Career Audible: Why I Left Tech at 49 to Become an NFL Reporter was originally published in Nemhouse on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Dear Nate,

Today you woke up a grown man.

Your well-loved Chucky doll sat on the desk in your room, watching over you while you slept. Your school yearbook lay open in its spot next to your bed, turned to the page featuring your beloved girlfriend. Your Stranger Things and Pennywise posters gleamed from their spots on your bedroom walls, and your collection of PJ Masks action figures littered the floor, creating a minefield for anyone brave enough to walk across your carpet.

You went to sleep last night still my little boy, and today you woke up a beard-having, sleep-loving, paycheck-earning 18-year-old adult, and I’m not sure what to think or how to feel about it.

You came into the world late on a hot summer night eighteen years ago with scrawny arms, spindly legs, and a bald head that glowed orange when the light hit it the right way. It would take several months for your red hair to grow enough to be discernable without direct sunlight, but even on day one your carrot top caught the attention of everyone who met you.

You were a quiet and sleepy baby who only cried when you had to be in the car, and you completed our family perfectly. Your older brother Isaac adored you from the beginning, and your dad and I were ecstatic to add another little boy to our family. We settled into life as a family of four, and we’ve never looked back.

It wasn’t long before we began to notice you weren’t developing the way Isaac had, or the way the books told us you should, and we started to worry. By the time you were 9 months old we were already fighting for you to get the help you needed, and by a year old you were receiving special services to support your development.

I admit I struggled with your emerging disability in those early years, and shed more than my share of tears. I grieved for the child I had envisioned when your dad and I decided to expand our family. I feared for our family’s well-being and I worried about what the future held for you. It mostly feels like wasted energy at this point, but at the time the feelings were real, and they were overwhelming. I’m sincerely sorry if I ever once made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or were disappointing to me in any way. It turns out I still had learning to do about disability and ableism, and so I set out to learn.

I hope you will forgive the sadness and fear I experienced in those early years and believe me when I say you were always good enough exactly as you are. Your snuggliness, your wide-mouthed and toothless grin, your deep belly laughs, your glowing orange hair. You were the full package even as an infant, and I have adored you from the beginning.

As you got older and more of your personality began to emerge, it could sometimes be challenging to keep you safe and happy. As soon as you could crawl you seemed to have the uncanny ability to find the most dangerous item in any room, and to go after it relentlessly. You loved to chew on and eat non-food items when no one was watching, and I quickly committed the poison control phone number to memory. You hated to sit still for any amount of time, and even expensive, specially designed car seat buckles couldn’t keep you in your seat. You explored your world in wonderful and chaotic ways, and you and I spent your preschool and elementary school years working together to find the balance between your love of exploration and messiness and my need for safety and order. I appreciate your patience while I came to see the beauty of the way you learn in the world, and am more grateful than I could ever explain that I got to spend years seeing life through your young eyes.

As time went on and you approached adolescence, you continued to be unabashedly yourself at every turn. Wherever you went, chaos followed, but so too did people who adored you. Your charm, charisma and humor were contagious from your youngest years, and friends and family couldn’t get enough of you. Your difficulties with communication meant that you often needed support to sustain the relationships around you, but you never once lacked for people who thought you were the coolest kid around.

Speaking of communication, after over ten years of weekly speech therapy, as you entered middle school you gradually started being able to use spoken language more effectively to communicate with the people around you. You developed the vocabulary you’d expect of anyone learning to talk in adolescence, and you suddenly found yourself with dozens of new ways to tell your parents and teachers exactly how you felt about us. While other parents were lamenting the backtalk of their budding teenagers, I watched you learn the power of words like “hate you” and “shut up” and “poop” with giddy delight. We always knew you had so much going on in your head, and more opinions than you knew what to do with, so seeing you finally being able to express yourself was breathtaking.

Eventually, high school came, and along with it your full-blown teenagerhood. Almost overnight your silky soft cheeks were replaced with ginger stubble, and your little boy voice that we had so recently gotten to know turned deep and gravelly. Your passion for horror movies intensified, and more and more you preferred Chucky and Pennywise over Scooby Doo and Cat Boy. Sometimes I struggle to relate to your love of terror, but the hours spent snuggled under a blanket watching gory and violent horror movies with you will forever be some of my warmest and coziest memories. You sharing what you’re passionate about is one of the ways you show your love to me, and it makes my heart sing when you include me in your world.

With high school also came romance, and you have shown yourself to be an attentive, doting boyfriend over the past few years. You found a young woman who laughs at every single one of your antics and shenanigans, who looks at you like you’re the only guy in the world, and who complements you perfectly in dozens of ways. You have plans to get married and start a family one day, and already know what food you want to serve at your future wedding. You haven’t told your girlfriend about all your plans yet, but you have time and you’ll get there. You are committed and loyal and gentle and kind to her, and when I watch you two together I feel like I’ve done something incredibly right as your mom.

High school is almost over now, and it will soon be time to decide what you do next. I’d be lying if I said I’m not feeling some of the old fear I carried so many years ago. I don’t know what adulthood looks like for you, and how to make sure your dreams come true, but there is no greater honor than spending the rest of my life helping you live the life of your choosing. I know that you are brave, you are strong, you are funny, you are smart, you are driven and opinionated and passionate. You will make the rules, set your pace, and forge your path, just as you always have. And just as I always have, I vow to be right next to you when you need me, doing what I can to help, but mostly just standing back and watching you shine.

I also vow to loosen my grip, to let you go when you’re ready, and to recognize your right to the dignity of adulthood. It is getting closer to a time when your life won’t be so closely wrapped up with mine, when you might have your own home and a world that doesn’t involve snuggling with your mom and watching horror movies. It won’t be easy for either of us, but I will do my best to give you the space you need to make your own choices and mistakes, and to be the man you want to be. If I know you, there are endless twists, turns and unexpected delights ahead, and I can’t wait to have a second-row seat to all that happens next.

Today you woke up a grown man, and as I stood in your cluttered bedroom full of posters, yearbooks, and toys, I felt a bittersweet combination of pride, gratitude and awe. I can’t believe how far we’ve come, and also how far we still have left to go. I can’t believe I ever thought you weren’t exactly the child I wanted. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call you mine.

Happy birthday to the young man who made our family complete, and who makes me proud every single day. I love you more than you will ever know.

Love always and forever,

Your mom

Dear Nate: A Letter to My Autistic Son on His 18th Birthday was originally published in Nemhouse on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I have hired enough folks in my career to know how valuable a job description can be in attracting the right candidates. I also know that one of the challenges of being a hiring manager or recruiter is understanding what a potential candidate wants, and whether it is a good enough fit to merit the precious time required for an initial screening call. My hope is this helps us both find the right match.

Please share with anyone who is looking to bring aboard experienced product and business leadership. Folks can reach out to me via my LinkedIn profile or directly through email.

About Me

I worked at Adobe, Inc. for 24 years, starting at an entry level role in technical support answering phone calls, and moving up and around the organization until I left in July of 2021 as a Senior Director of Product Management.

My roles ranged from support, to quality engineering, to engineering, to corporate development (M&A), to program management, and product management. This helped me develop a 360 degree perspective on product development, and makes it easier for me to work across job functions.

The projects I worked on included the first version of InDesign, Creative Suite, Creative Cloud, and Creative Cloud Express. I also was part of the core integration team for Adobe’s acquisition of Macromedia ($3.4B) and Omniture ($1.8B).

My entrepreneurial nature often finds me leading or partnering on new initiatives, but I also love breathing life into existing businesses that need a fresh direction and voice.

Outside of work, I am the father of two boys and husband to an amazing woman. I am a passionate sports fan, and have had some success writing a blog and recording a podcast about the Seattle Seahawks since 2007. All proceeds are donated to charity, totaling over $200K so far.

I believe beer and nachos are essential to team building, and that every good leader should bring donuts to the office on a regular basis.

How I Lead

Organizations are a key source of truth. The things we care about — results, velocity, innovation — come most easily to organizations that have not only clarity of vision and mission, but belief in the opportunity, strategy and just cause.

My approach is to listen, learn, and then validate the opportunity and strategy in order to derive the just cause, mission and vision. This requires time with all functions and all levels, from individual contributor to most senior exec.

When done well, it should result in the stability necessary to build something of significance and attract the right people to make it happen.

Course corrections must be driven by a balance of qual and quant data. Quant often helps create valuable questions. Qual often helps answer why users are behaving the way they are. Great product teams are experts in both user analytics and user voice.

I expect my team to speak their minds openly about product and business strategy, while practicing radical candor with each other.

Reliability, communication and credibility go hand-in-hand. I honor my commitments and clearly communicate if there are going to be any issues with meeting them. I expect the same of people in my organization.

My organizations will know each other as people, and not just a face on the screen. They will laugh together, celebrate together, care for one another, and teach each other.

My employees will grow rapidly and may need to take their next step professionally in another organization, or company. They will always be encouraged to move ahead without guilt, while getting genuine input about factors to consider.

My employees will be diverse of background and skill set.

People in my organizations will always know what we are doing, why it matters, and how their work contributes.

I will always be candid with those above, across or within my organization. Nobody benefits from subterfuge and minced words. Honest conflict is always more productive than comfortable misalignment.

My favorite moments are shoulder-to-shoulder at the whiteboard solving problems together, seeing employees take pride in their accomplishments, and hearing how we have impacted the lives of our users.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why did you work at one company for so long?

The short answer is I loved our mission, the company culture and values, the people I worked with, and never had a problem finding opportunities to grow. I wrote this article on Career Monogamy that many have found valuable that details my experience (available in audio as well).

Why did you leave?

I felt the need to refresh after grinding for so long. I explained the decision in more detail here: From Workaholic to Not Working: A Midlife Respite.

Why are you returning to work?

The time off has been exactly what I needed and wanted. It became very clear that fulfillment for me includes a job leading and developing teams and products. I come back with more clarity about what matters most to me, and with renewed energy. Details about what I learned in my six month sabbatical are here: My Resignation: Six Months Later.

Would you be interested in startups or only big tech?

The size and stage of the company matter less to me than the mission and culture. I speak to this later in job leveling, but I would expect broader responsibility in smaller companies. Simply put, I would be happy to work for a startup or a larger tech company as long as the fit is great.

When would you be available to start?

I have some existing plans in March, so sometime in April or later would be preferred. My ideal might be to start in the fall, but I realize that could be too far out for most hiring managers.

Where are you based, and are you open to relocation?

My family and I live in Bellevue, Washington. My youngest son is Autistic and has a strong support system here. We are not open to relocation at this time, but I have worked outside of headquarters or remotely for the bulk of my career. My preference would be to find a Seattle-based company, but I am open to travel, depending on frequency and length of trips required.

The Right Job

The ideal role will combine a chance to impact society in a clearly meaningful way with innovative and emerging technology, and a culture that attracts energetic, fun, and passionate people.

Key characteristics

• Ambitious and resonant mission
• Technology, more software than hardware
• Leadership position
• Accountable for product strategy
• Opportunity to hire and develop talent and new leaders
• Dynamic environment that values fun as part of productivity
• A healthy balance between autonomy and accountability
• Requires cross-functional expertise and partnership
• Creative thinking required for success

What I care about most is the chance to lead and develop an organization responsible for creating user value that makes the world a better place. Ideally, this role would have ambitious business goals with enough autonomy to allow the person to be the approver for product strategy decisions. Getting input and being held accountable is desirable. Needing sign off on all decisions is not.

I value decision velocity and decision durability for both product and personnel. I do not believe you can develop great leaders or great products without sufficient autonomy to allow for true delegation.

I am generally less interested in shared technology roles that serve many masters than holistic product building.

I have worked on incubation projects with just 2–3 people and little executive awareness, and multi-billion dollar businesses with dozens of sub-projects, hundreds of people and heavy executive scrutiny. I like the climb from ignored to celebrated, but am most motivated to simply leave a business, product, user base and organization better than when I started.

Appealing product/business characteristics (one or more)

• Large TAM more than niche (looking for impact)
• Anything that helps people connect with others or collaborate together
• Anything that helps people pursue their passion through small business or side hustles
• Anything that makes people happy
• Anything that helps address societal inequality
• Anything related to sports, particularly football and golf
• Anything with emerging technology (e.g., Web 3.0, EV, etc.)
• Anything requiring imagination and creativity (e.g., gaming)

Rough leveling

Job levels vary based on the size of a company and where it is in the growth cycle, so these are meant as guideposts to see if we are in the right ballpark, not hard requirements. I am far more passionate about finding the right match on mission and culture than title.

Big tech

$800B market cap and above: Director

$50B–799B market cap: VP or Senior Director

$1–49B market cap: VP

Startups

Series A: CEO

Series B: CPO

Endorsements

EXECS

Scott Belsky, Chief Product Officer, Adobe

“Brian’s grasp of product and ability to motivate a team and align disparate groups around a strategy is inspiring. He values design, debate, and puts much heart and soul into his work.”

Chris Hall, Former VP at Google and Adobe

“Working with Brian was a pleasure. His customer centricity and curiosity for how to help customers reach their goals was refreshing. He kept his team focused on what customers needed, I’ve seen many product teams get enamored with that they want but Brian kept the focus on customer outcomes which in turn fueled the business.”

CROSS-FUNCTIONAL PARTNERS

Jamie Myrold, Design, Apple (formerly VP of Design, Adobe)

“During the many years working along side Brian at Adobe I found him to be an exceptional partner to design. His ability to blend product, technology and design requirements in all of the projects he worked on was a true testament to his collaborative nature as well as his deep understanding of how to get products that user love out into the world.”

Joe Shankar, Entrepreneur and Former Senior Director of Engineering

“Brian is very high performing product and business leader who always has the big picture in mind. He has high EQ and awareness and is equally comfortable presenting to board members and the C-suite as he is talking to a small team to inspire and motivate them. Brian’s attention to detail is unparalleled and is only matched by his drive to get things done with an optimism that is infectious.”

TEAM MEMBERS

Chloe McConnell, Group Product Manager, Adobe

“Brian has an incredible talent for mentoring burgeoning PMs — he inspired me to grow in ways I never thought possible. His contagious passion reached beyond our product team to the entire organizations. He leads empathetically across all functions — listening carefully and asking the right questions. Brian’s strong product vision, paired with his crystal clear verbal and written communication, rallies cross-functional teams to reach new heights”

Zachary Silverstein, Group Product Manager, Adobe

“Brian is a seasoned product leader, incredible team builder, and an inspiring life teacher. He is extraordinarily empathetic and truly gifted with not only recognizing an individuals super power, but knowing how to unlock their real potential. I’ve never had a boss quite like Brian, and working under him I learned more about product, leadership, humility, and to never be satisfied with the status quo. He truly pushed me to do more and be greater.”

Veronica Belmont, Senior PM and Evangelist, Adobe

“As a product leader, Brian has an uncanny ability to help his teams question the true motivations behind their decisions; this helps them to create products that are solving real user problems, rather than just checking off boxes for what they think they should build.”

Jenna James, Senior PM, Adobe

“Brian is a leader who is authentically invested in his team and their mission. He prioritizes listening deeply to those around him, a trait that’s far too rare in most executives. This allows him to build true relationships with and understanding of not just his team (who adore him for it), but also the space and context of the work. This genuine nature engenders a trust that fosters personal and professional growth in his team — allowing people to be vulnerable about mistakes and proud of successes. It gives space for Brian to push and challenge the team while maintaining strong connections and investment. I deeply valued my time working with Brian and would fiercely recommend him as a leader to any organization.”

BEYOND MY TEAM

David Stearns, Staff Software Engineer, Stripe

“Brian is the sort of product leader that every engineer loves to work with. He understands the target users, analyzes the competition, and formulates a clear vision for how the product can succeed. When tough technical tradeoffs need to be made (as they often do), he reminds us of what’s critical for success versus nice-to-have. He keeps his eye on the ball, avoids political drama, and takes care of his people. I would work with him again in a heartbeat!”

Emily Corbin, Community Manager, Adobe

“I had the joy and privilege of working with Brian for over four years, during his time as the Senior Director of Product Management for Adobe Spark (later Adobe Creative Cloud Express). Brian is a unicorn among leaders with an exceptional talent for fostering a workplace culture that makes everyone feel they have a voice and talent to contribute. Brian motivates you to be your very best, challenge yourself at every corner, and care deeply about the product and customer.”

Joya Noel, Executive Assistant

“Brian’s leadership style is balanced. He leads teams with passion and confidence, yet humbly empowers his team to perform at high levels. His keen sense of humor brightens sometimes intense work sessions/meetings. An invaluable asset to a company that values great leaders.”

Reverse Job Description: Excited to Build Again was originally published in Nemhouse on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Following is a speech I shared with the Seattle Public Schools Special Education PTSA as part of their district’s larger conversation around sexual assault and violence in their schools.

TW/CW: Please note that this speech includes stories of violence towards people with disabilities and discussion of abuse and sexual assault towards people with disabilities.

***

My son Nate is 17 and autistic. He’s funny, he’s mischievous, he’s passionate, he loves YouTube and horror movies, and he has a girlfriend to whom he is hopelessly devoted. He’d rather play x-box than do just about anything with his parents and would eat pizza and drink coke every day if left to his own devices.

He is also two to three times more likely than the average teenager to be the victim of violence or abuse, and according to some sources, he has as high as a 90% chance of experiencing sexual abuse in his lifetime. Ninety percent.

In many ways — most ways really — Nate is an average Seattle-area teenager. But because of his disability, he is at a significantly higher risk of being victimized. As his mom, I’m devastated by that.

— — -

When Nate was 10 years old, he got off his school bus one afternoon very distressed, with red-rimmed eyes and two enormous welts on his forehead. He immediately tried to tell me what had happened that made him so upset, but because of his minimal vocabulary and struggles with articulation, it was difficult to understand what he was saying. The bus driver followed him off the bus and explained to me that Nate had had a “meltdown” and had started screaming and crying for no reason. The driver was kind and appeared genuinely concerned, but had no more information to share so he got back on the bus and drove away.

I was skeptical because Nate doesn’t really have a history of meltdowns, and certainly not a history of meltdowns that happen for “no reason”. Also, he had a giant red goose egg on his forehead and a welt on his cheek, and I know for a fact that those don’t happen for “no reason”.

After the bus drove off I consoled Nate, took pictures of his injuries, and immediately contacted his school team. They conducted an investigation. They interviewed the bus driver, Nate, and other students on the bus, and after a few weeks they were able to figure out what had happened that caused Nate’s welts and distress.

It turns out that another student on the bus had hit Nate. The child had asked to sit with him, and then slammed Nate’s head against the side of the bus because he thought Nate was saying no. Apparently Nate had tried to give him a high-five, the other student had misunderstood it as an aggressive gesture, and he lashed out.

It was a relief to find out what had actually transpired, and of course it was an important learning opportunity for the bus driver, the other student, and the school team. However, I have to admit that as his mom it is also somewhat terrifying.

When Nate used his minimal communication skills to make a friendly gesture to a peer, it was misunderstood and met with aggression.

When Nate screamed and cried from fear and pain, the nearest adult assumed it was his autism and not violence that had upset him.

When he had tried to tell me what had happened to him, I wasn’t able to completely understand his words.

Even in a supposedly safe space like a school bus, it turned out that Nate’s disability had left him shockingly vulnerable.

— —

What happened to Nate is a minor and fortunately easily recovered-from example of the types of experiences that children and teens with disabilities face when they attend school every day. Like I said earlier, people with disabilities are two to three times more likely than the general public to be victims of abuse and assault, making them one of the most harmed groups in the country.

Rates are even higher for certain groups of people with disabilities: women, people of color, people with intellectual or psychiatric disabilities, and people with multiple disabilities. These statistics are shocking and hopefully serve as a stark reminder that it’s critical to include students with disabilities in any conversation about sexual abuse or harassment.

As important as including people with disabilities in the conversation is working to understand why students with disabilities are at such a higher risk of abuse.

From my experience as Nate’s mom, and also through my work supporting people with disabilities and their families, I’ve gleaned some insights that I’d like to share.

First, and maybe most importantly, I blame ableism, which is discriminatory thoughts and practices towards people with disabilities. Ableism creates a culture where people with disabilities are seen as less than — less important, less worth protecting, less human. When an entire community views people with disabilities in this way, it results in a culture that allows for and creates unsafe environments where PWD are targeted for violence.

It also results in a culture where the pain and suffering of people with disabilities are ignored, where their cries for help are overlooked or dismissed, and their trustworthiness as victims is doubted. It is estimated that only 47% of cases of assault against people with disabilities are reported, only 22% of perpetrators are charged with an offense, and only 9% result in a conviction. Remember Nate’s bus driver assuming his autism had made him cry, instead of trying to find the actual cause of his pain. Knowing their potential victims won’t be taken seriously emboldens would-be aggressors, and makes disabled people appear to be preferred victims. Ableism is insidious, and cannot be ignored when talking about disability and sexual violence.

Next, I blame the isolation that many people with disabilities exist in on a daily basis. So often youth with disabilities are segregated from their peers and isolated in special classrooms, homes or communities. They are in self-contained programs at school with minimal oversight from the general public. Adults with disabilities often live in group settings such as institutions, hospitals, and group homes, which can be just as isolating. Even people with disabilities living in the community experience isolation, as social segregation between people with disabilities and those without persists. As the website “End Abuse of People with Disabilities” so eloquently says “Isolation leads to invisibility and violence thrives behind closed doors.”

I also blame the strong culture of compliance that exists in the special education and disability worlds for the increased level of victimization of disabled people. From their earliest years, disabled people are discouraged from arguing, disagreeing or refusing to do what they’re told, and are instead encouraged to comply no matter what. In Nate’s case that meant years of his school team working with him towards goals such as “willing to comply with non-preferred tasks” and “will comply within 3 seconds”. Believe me when I say that as a parent I want my children to listen when I tell them to do something, and I certainly want them to behave in school, listen to their teachers, and be willing to do things even when they don’t want to. However, this is a slippery slope. If we spend years and years teaching children to comply no matter what, then how will they know to resist when someone is attempting to harm them? How will they learn to say no to doing things that hurt or make them uncomfortable? Abusers of people with disabilities rely on compliance, and it sets people with disabilities up to be the ideal targets for abusers.

Next, it’s important to understand that for many people with developmental disabilities, clearly communicating to others that something happened to them or that someone harmed them, can be very difficult. For Nate, his vocabulary and articulation challenges made it almost impossible for him to be understood when he was harmed. If a person really takes the time to listen and try to understand, he can usually eventually get his point across. In fact, that is true for most people with disabilities. However, this takes time and patience, and many people don’t allow for that when trying to understand what someone is saying. For others, their anxiety or other mental health conditions might be an enormous barrier to reporting a crime. For even others, their intellectual disabilities make it that even if they are understood, they are not taken seriously or believed. For so many people, simply getting the truth out can feel impossible.

Lastly, I think it’s critical to note that many youth with disabilities don’t have access to the same sexual education curriculum that most neurotypical students take in 5th, 8th and 10th grades. Perhaps it’s because people incorrectly assume that youth with disabilities don’t have sex. Perhaps it’s because they feel the concepts are inappropriate for youth with disabilities. But whatever the reason is, this group of students misses out on the opportunity to learn the actual scientific words for their own body parts. They miss out on learning about consent. They miss out on learning about sexually transmitted diseases, how to avoid getting pregnant, and how to recognize if someone isn’t treating you right while dating. When students aren’t armed with this type of knowledge, they are so much more susceptible to abuse. When students don’t know the correct language to describe their body parts, they are so much more likely to be disregarded as a witness. Without ensuring that all students learn sexual education, we unintentionally increase their vulnerability.

Through my work at the Arc, and from being Nate’s mom, I am fortunate enough to spend time with a wide variety of people of all abilities. I get to hear their plans, their hopes, their jokes, their worries and their dreams. I get to see each of them as unique, complex, vibrant people living their lives in the world with me. In every way they want what I want: Love, Community, Purpose, Fun, and Safety.

As their neighbor, their coworker, their advocate, their mother, and their friend, I want to help them live the lives they want, in safety and surrounded by the people they love, without fear of being harmed or abused. In order to do that, I need to work to create a world where disabled people are included in the conversation about assault and harassment, where they are listened to and believed, and where they are viewed as worthy and valued members of our society.

These are attainable goals, and because of that I’m so grateful for the opportunity to be included in tonight’s conversation. These are hard things to talk about, but when we have difficult conversations then real change can happen.

Thank you so much for inviting me here tonight, and for the generosity of your time and attention.

— — — -

Statistics and other information shared in this speech can be found on the website hosted by End Abuse of People with Disabilities at https://www.endabusepwd.org/about-the-movement/the-issue/.

Include our Voices: Violence, Sexual Abuse and Assault of Students with Developmental Disabilities… was originally published in Nemhouse on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.