The “Imperfects”
“Shreya will get into any college she wants; she uses Raj as a ‘Sympathy card.’” I overheard an acquaintance talking to my mother earlier this year. My mom responded politely, “I get that it’s hard for you to understand what it’s like to have a family member with a disability…”
My older brother, Raj, has Down Syndrome and Autism. This diagnosis wires his brain differently than typical kids, which makes even simple daily tasks challenging for him. Things like brushing his teeth, eating, getting ready for school, doing homework, or making friends require a lot more effort—something we take for granted. Despite these challenges, Raj is all about hard work, resilience, and warmth—qualities that make him exceptional in ways that aren’t always visible to others. Growing up, we did everything together—he’s more than a brother to me; he’s my Hero, and I couldn’t be prouder of him! Though the world may view him “differently,” I share an unbreakable bond with Raj!
The words “Sympathy card” stirred up a whirlwind of emotions – anger, sadness, and a deep sense of hurt. It brought back memories of our hometown in the Midwest, where the community embraced Raj’s differences without a second thought. Everyone knew our family, and Raj was welcomed with open arms. But then everything was different after we moved to Austin…
Suddenly, we became ‘that family’ with a ‘different’ child. Eyes followed us, and the warmth we once knew turned into never-ending stares and distant interactions. We had experiences where people avoided or did not interact with us after seeing Raj. The contrast was stark, and it weighed heavily on my heart. All I wished for was for Raj to be seen as the remarkable person he was, free from judgment and prejudice.
I still remember this one time when we went to a birthday party. As we were leaving, the host mom – usually called “Auntie” in our community – gave goody bags to all the kids except Raj. I was excited to get mine but disappointed that Raj didn’t get one. “Auntie” explained to my mom, “I wasn’t sure if he would understand, so I didn’t get him one.” Even as a child, I knew that wasn’t fair! I immediately gave my goody bag to Raj. To make things worse, this host worked as a special-needs aide, and I had previously heard her address children with disabilities as “Psychopaths.” It made me question: Where was “Accepting Differences”? Why such
stereotypical behavior?…. and yet my brother was unjustly labeled “Imperfect.”
Another memory that stuck with me is when we decided to throw a birthday party to celebrate Raj and invited some “friends.” But it quickly became apparent that some weren’t too keen on attending. One even told my mom, “You don’t have to invite our typical-kids; they’ll just get bored. Instead, invite ‘kids like him’ to his birthday…” It made me wonder about the true meaning of inclusion and why some parents seemed indifferent to teaching their children respect and acceptance of disabilities. Once again, my brother was unfairly branded as “Imperfect.”
Another disheartening instance occurred when a so-called “family friend” invited us to holiday tea. Since my brother has severe nut allergies that can be triggered through the air, we politely asked if they could avoid using any nut products. Unfortunately, the host replied, “I’ve specially ordered this dessert with nuts from New Jersey, and I want to serve it… How about you skip this teatime, and we’ll meet another time…” Her unwillingness to accommodate my brother’s medical needs was a strong reminder of how he wasn’t a priority. However, when we didn’t prioritize her in return, she took offense and spread baseless rumors about my family members…. once again portraying my family as “Imperfect.”
Growing up, these experiences and countless others affected me. I have always wondered why people make such statements: Is it because they are unaware, ignorant, lack empathy, rude, insecure, jealous, or a combination of these? Instances like these, and many others, served as painful reminders of the ignorance and prejudice that our family faced simply because Raj was seen as “different.” It was a harsh reality check for me at a young age, highlighting the cruelty and narrow-mindedness in the world around us. However, on the positive side, it was a valuable learning experience and a chance to spread awareness and promote acceptance.
As a family, we’ve always been proactive and open in addressing misconceptions and stereotypes surrounding Raj’s condition. We’ve worked hard to foster understanding within our community. Even from my early days in elementary school, I’ve been dedicated to raising awareness about Down Syndrome and Autism. Every year, I would give talks at school on Down Syndrome Day, hand out informational flyers during my birthday, participate in Buddy walks, and use my non-profit initiative, Art for a Cause, to leverage the power of art to spread awareness. On top of that, I’ve shared my journey and insights through my published writings and even co-authored a book about Down Syndrome, hoping to foster understanding and empathy within our community.
Despite our efforts to promote understanding and awareness, it was disappointing that some people felt the need to make unfair comparisons. This was especially evident when an acquaintance persistently compared my achievements—like my school grades and extracurricular activities—to those of his child. Fueled by jealousy and insecurity, these comparisons only highlighted the harm caused by such comparisons, regardless of any justifications the family offered. It made me question why, in certain communities, academic success and college prestige are valued above qualities like compassion and empathy. It reminded me of a saying I once read in school: “Popcorn is prepared in the same pot, under the same heat, in the same oil, and yet… the kernels don’t all pop at the same time. Don’t compare your child to others. Their moment to shine will come!” That struck a chord with me
and served as a powerful reminder of the damage caused by comparison.
While it was undoubtedly hurtful, I could somewhat understand being compared to another child my age, but seeing some adults disturbed by my work was baffling. I remember an artist acquaintance who seemed visibly unsettled when I started my artistic initiative, Art for a Cause. Seeing this artist-acquaintance’s insecurity come out through passive comments, unnecessary competition, and pretentious behavior was bewildering. Art for a Cause isn’t a hobby, profession, spirituality, or a means to enhance my college applications; it’s a passionate endeavor to promote awareness and dispel myths about disabilities.
We also encountered acquaintances who expected that if they supported our Cause, we should reciprocate by backing their typical child’s extracurricular activities. It was disheartening to realize that some people struggle to distinguish between genuine support for a meaningful cause and simply seeking financial help for personal interests like their child’s tennis, robotics, and other clubs.
Then there were some acquaintances who expected us to write letters for their typical children, stating they had volunteered with my brother, hoping to boost their college applications. It was disappointing, especially since their children hadn’t genuinely spent time with my brother or built any real connection. When politely declined, they took offense, revealing a misunderstanding of our mission—to build meaningful awareness and empathy around disabilities, not to be a checkbox for resumes or a tool for personal gain.
All these different situations and countless others have made me wonder: What does it truly mean to “Accept Imperfection”? I’ve often contemplated whether it lies in the judgmental and harsh attitudes that typical people direct toward those with disabilities and their families. Or if it’s found in the strength of individuals like my brother who face life’s challenges with unwavering determination – something many of us take for granted. To me, my brother is the epitome of perfection! He has taught me more about kindness and resilience than anyone else could. No matter how the world treats him or us, he always treats everyone with utmost love and respect, and I learn something new from him every day. I knew then that I would always choose to be the “Imperfect” over being “Perfect.”
While it’s easy for typical people to dismiss and undermine our struggles by accusing us of seeking sympathy or playing the victim card, genuinely understanding the profound impact of our journey requires walking in our shoes – a challenge that most wouldn’t be able to handle for even a single day. It reminded me of Marie-Antoinette’s infamous words during the French Revolution, “Let them eat cake,” which revealed just how ignorant and prejudiced society can be.
As a sibling of a brother/sister with a disability, we carry burdens and face complexities that go far beyond our years. I vividly remember the feeling of helplessness as I watched Raj struggle during the difficult times of COVID-19, a feeling that still lingers with each passing day. It is incredibly tough to watch my once active, talkative brother suddenly go silent. For over four years now, I have desperately waited every day to hear him say my name or play with me again—a hope that sustains me despite how much I miss him. Some days are so hard that we wonder if Raj will make it, and witnessing his struggles is heartbreaking. Words cannot express that agony. Simple things become complicated tasks as we assist him with sensory processing disorders triggered by everyday stimuli, whether a stroll in the park or a family meal at a restaurant. With each passing day, his silence weighs heavily on us, and I find myself praying for a miracle to bring my brother back. As siblings, we often hesitate to add to the already overwhelming responsibilities of our parents. The mixture of worry, fear, sadness, and anger,
compounded by the injustices and prejudices we encounter, can be overwhelming. Many of my typical peers and their parents can’t even begin to comprehend what we, as siblings, go through every day. But despite it all, we siblings and our families continue to persevere and strive to become better individuals. My goal is not to seek sympathy but to foster empathy – to shed light on my experiences and promote awareness, understanding, and acceptance.
When I was growing up, I missed having that supportive community and fellow siblings who understood what it was like to have a brother/sister with a disability. I felt very isolated. Living with Raj has dramatically impacted who I am today, and I have decided to channel my experiences into something positive. I feel strongly committed to assisting other siblings who, like me, missed that companionship. This is a big motivator for me. I recognized that siblings face unique challenges, and I wanted to use my journey to support others in the same boat. So,
to ensure that I could provide that committed support, I dedicated myself to rigorous training and got certified as a Facilitator to run sibling workshops/groups. The training gave me invaluable insights and skills to create a community where siblings feel comfortable and have a sense of belonging.
This school year, I launched my first Sibling Group through my non-profit, Art for a Cause, and in collaboration with DSACT (Down Syndrome Association of Central Texas). The Sibling Group is not just a support network but a place where siblings can feel seen, supported, and celebrated for who they are. Through various forms of creative expression, such as play, painting, music, etc., they’ve discovered a powerful way to connect, heal, and express their thoughts and emotions in ways they never thought possible. In this judgment-free zone, siblings can be
authentic, knowing they’re surrounded by peers who genuinely accept and embrace them.
Along the way, I have been fortunate to meet some incredible friends who stood by my family with their selfless dedication and genuine care, offering us strength and encouragement through our tough times. I wanted to express my deepest gratitude for their invaluable support, friendship, and love!
Through my journey, I’ve understood that life isn’t about striving for perfection or merely accepting imperfections. It’s about celebrating our differences! It’s about choosing empathy over sympathy, extending understanding and kindness to others, and using our experiences to uplift us rather than bring us down. Most importantly, it’s about recognizing our shared humanity!
-Shreya Poladia is a 16-year-old, who is passionate about art and technology, and advocates for disability awareness. She also pursues interests in programming, robotics, and cybersecurity for social change.
