Last night, something meaningful took root at Liberation Station Bookstore.
For the first time, Black parents navigating autism gathered together—both in person and online, reaching as far as Maryland. Different locations. Different stories. One shared understanding.
We came carrying a lot.
Carrying our children.
Carrying our communities.
Carrying generations of being told we must be twice as strong, twice as resilient, twice as composed.
Last night, we set some of that down.
And we picked up something else: each other.
Holding Our Children While Remembering Ourselves
We opened the circle with a question that stopped the room in its tracks:
When you imagine your child thriving, what does your own thriving look like in that picture?
Not survival.
Not endurance.
Thriving.
And then the harder follow-up:
What would it take to pursue both simultaneously?
Because Black parents of autistic children are often taught—explicitly or implicitly—that our needs come last. That advocacy must come at the cost of rest. That love must look like self-sacrifice. That our dreams beyond caregiving should be quiet, postponed, or abandoned.
In this space, we challenged that narrative together.
Your wholeness matters.
Your rest matters.
Your dreams beyond advocacy matter.
And we practiced believing that—out loud, in community.
First Circle. First Breath. First Time Saying It Aloud.
This was the first meeting of Liberation Station’s Autism Support Group for Black Parents.
The first circle.
The first collective breath.
The first time many of us said the quiet parts out loud—with people who already understood, without explanation or defense.
There was relief in that.
There was tenderness.
There was power in being seen fully—not just as parents, but as whole human beings.
Some joined from across the room. Others from across state lines. All arrived exactly as they were.
And that was enough.
A Space Where All of You Belongs
Liberation Station exists to be more than a bookstore. It is a community space where care, conversation, and collective healing are possible—especially for those who are too often asked to carry everything alone.
This support group was created intentionally: to make room for Black parents navigating autism to show up honestly, to be held in community, and to imagine futures that include both their children’s flourishing and their own.
Last night was everything.
Come as you are.
Lay it down.
Pick each other up.
We’ll see you next month.
