Autism Acceptance Month: An Open Letter to Bunso

Photo by the Author

Dear bunso,

Growing up, I did not understand you.

I did not understand why you sat on my back and pulled my hair that one time something made you upset when we were little girls. I could still remember how your tiny hands gripped my locks with such concerning strength for a toddler while I lay helplessly on my stomach, tears welling up in my eyes. And my mind failed to comprehend why Mama simply uttered, "Pasensya na lang, Ate." after I seriously thought that all of my hair had fallen out.

I did not understand why you always had to have the piece of chicken with the most skin whenever we would eat out in Jollibee or McDo. In hindsight, I would like to have patted the younger me on the back for rummaging through the bucket of chickens in hopes that the piece with the most skin would end up on her plate. But even if it did, my guilt as the eldest sister would eat me up way before I would get the chance to sink my teeth into the crispy chicken skin. Biting back the complaints that threatened to escape my mouth, I accepted my fate and silently ate my measly chicken wing, which could have been the thigh part.

I did not understand why I had to give up my favorite Ariel doll just because you also found it pretty. "Bibilhan ka na lang ni Lolo ng bagong manika." Daddy told me, but admittedly, it was difficult for me to let you have it because it was the doll that I treasured the most in my collection. It was even harder to take in the horrific sight of it thrown carelessly on the floor with its head nowhere to be found. One could probably imagine how loud the gasp I let out the moment that I saw it, it was as if I had stepped into a bloody crime scene. But for some reason, I never harbored any feelings of resentment towards you—at such a young age, I slowly began to grasp that this was my reality as the eldest daughter and I had no choice but to embrace it.

Even so, I, too, was a child who thought so shallowly; for the longest time, the silly belief that people favored you because of your birth order and autism was planted firmly in my head. I heard stories from my peers that families often treat the bunso as the favorite child and I assumed that was also the case with ours. While I accept that preconceived notion as what drove a wedge between us, time and maturity certainly patched up all those loose ties in the most perfect way.

I began trying. I began learning about your interests and started taking mental notes on the things that paint a smile on your face. As an attempt to connect with you, I even tried playing the same games as you do: Genshin Impact, Cookie Run Kingdom, Animal Crossing… the list goes on. Embarrassingly, I was happy and surprised the day you followed me on TikTok, as I felt that the last thing you care about is your uncool ate’s interests and the type of content that she enjoys consuming. Now, our bond has gotten to the point wherein we would bounce off each other about our top K-pop songs.

For the first time, I started to understand you—to see you. Whenever I set my eyes on you, I see a sensitive, well-versed young lady with eclectic interests and a caring nature. Most of all, I see all of your colors, their hues burning so vividly in everything you do. I catch sight of them whenever you draw in your notebook, solve mind-boggling puzzles, and deliver your pliés, relevés, sautés, and whatnot. I wish the world would also get to witness them. I wish the world would look beyond your condition for once and see how you put the brightest stars to shame with your sheer brilliance. I wish the world would be kinder to you and other individuals belonging to the spectrum. How lovely would the world be if that were the case?

Despite what this vicious world says, I wholeheartedly believe that your neurodivergence is what sets you apart from the rest, in the best way possible. You are one of a kind and that is the beauty of you.

With so much love,

Ate