Yesterday, as we watched Bohemian Rhapsody for the second time, my oldest teenager pointed out how often I say the scene playing is my favorite—”Oh, this is my favorite scene in the movie,” I said over, and over, and over again. It’s a thing I tend to do apparently, perhaps because different scenes speak to me in unexpected ways, and, well, I tend to identify with the characters in each scene while I’m watching a movie. This is a characteristic my girls share with me, sometimes with movies, but even more with the books we tend to read.
And, honestly, I love the way they see themselves in the characters or the real-life people of the different books we read. But what I love even more is how they see others in themselves. Specifically, I love that they tend to adopt anyone who seems different into their neurodivergent tribe. In the same way that I pronounce myriad scenes in a movie as my favorite one, they declare often how someone must be autistic. More than that, I love their hearts for those who are portrayed as outsiders, as different, as isolated or ignored. In those moments, they proclaim without hesitation, I would be friends with that person or I think if I met (or had met) that person, we would have been friends. I believe more often than not, I think they’re right, on both counts.
Recently we have been reading a short biography, Becoming Madeleine, a biography of the author of A Wrinkle in Time by her granddaughters. Along with the narrative written by the granddaughters, the book includes entries from Madeleine L’Engle’s own journal, and it is in those pennings that my two teenagers have wondered whether L’Engle may have been autistic or in some other way neurodivergent. In her journal, L’Engle often lamented feeling like an outsider, feeling awkward—socially and otherwise—and wondering if she would have find a place to fit in. It’s one of the reasons writing mattered so much to her and why she pursued it with great passion.
I love how Madeleine L’Engle’s story has resonated with my teenagers. I love how her story has created conversations around being autistic, around creativity, around writing, and around growing up. Apparently L’Engle wrote about her fear of growing up, something she shares in common with my two teenagers: “But O, I don’t want to grow up! I remember how unhappy I was when I was thirteen. I didn’t want to be in my teens. I wanted to stay a little girl and still do.” We have no way of knowing whether or not she was on the neurodivergent spectrum, but her experiences definitely speak to all three of us as we make our way through her life’s story. Being able to see yourself in someone else’s story can be solidifying and empowering.
As we come to the close of her biography, we have finally come to the writing of her most-popular novel, A Wrinkle in Time. Even L’Engle’s granddaughter’s descriptions of L’Engle’s main character, Meg Murry, have caused my teenagers to nod knowingly. The writers said, “The response, however, ended up being overwhelming, as both children and adults were able to see themselves in the main character, Meg Murry, and were swept up in the great adventure.” My youngest teen couldn’t see how anyone ever would have doubted how popular A Wrinkle in Time would be or how easily people would identify with Meg.
It’s pretty remarkable to me the way my girls can see themselves in others and see others in themselves. I believe it’s one of the reasons they have such a strong sense of empathy. And it’s also one of the ways they draw confidence in themselves and build an understanding of the world and their place in it. Reading about the Madeleine L’Engles of the world, about the folks who seem like outsiders or may be autistic demonstrates to them their paths are their own to determine, to walk, even to blaze. And I couldn’t be more excited to have a front row seat to watch where the paths of these two remarkable young women are going to take them.