Unseen Efforts

I’ve been mulling over this for what feels like days, but it’s only been two. Just two days since that beautiful moment when Gus Walz, radiating joy, stood up in pure love and support for his dad, Minnesota Governor Tim Walz, after his acceptance speech for Democratic vice-presidential candidate.

While this moment has captured many hearts, it resonates with me on a different level. I see Gus, I applaud him, and I deeply value him. But I also see Gwen.

Gwen Walz—wife of Tim Walz and mother to Hope and Gus Walz—strikes a personal chord with me. I imagine the preparations she undertook not just to celebrate and support her husband, but to also ready her neurotypical daughter and neurodivergent son for a loud, crowded, and overwhelming setting. I relate to this unseen work that made this moment possible.

Gus Walz, son of Democratic vice presidential nominee Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, as his mother Gwen Walz watches on August 21, 2024. BRYNN ANDERSON/ASSOCIATED PRESS

As the world celebrates and defends Gus against cruel criticisms, I recognize how Tim and Gwen have been working to prepare the world to embrace their son. Just over two weeks before the Democratic National Convention, on August 7th, Tim and Gwen shared Gus's unique needs and gifts in an interview with People Magazine. They talked about his non-verbal learning disability, anxiety, and ADHD, and how these traits enable Gus to perceive the world in a beautiful, detailed way that many neurotypical people might overlook. Their intention was to protect their son by sharing his story, and my heart aches knowing it wasn’t enough.

My son, Dawson, shares some qualities with Gus—particularly their unique perspectives on the world—even though they have different diagnoses. Dawson, who is on the autism spectrum, often doesn’t naturally follow societal norms—a trait I’ve come to cherish. I see the effort Gwen must put into preparing Gus for increasingly frequent large and overwhelming events, similar to how my husband and I prepare Dawson, albeit on a smaller scale. I reflect on our weekly conversations about planning ahead for church services—bringing a sweatshirt in case he gets cold, calmer earbuds for uncomfortable sounds, and items to help him sit through the hour-long service while staying mentally engaged. We also discuss socially appropriate reactions and comments, highlighting when something might be meant as a joke but could come across as rude. I understand the importance of sharing Dawson’s unique needs and characteristics in hopes that others will offer him grace and understanding when he’s unapologetically himself, even if it seems weird.

I empathize deeply with the extra efforts Gus’s parents make to shield him from cruelty and hatred. While many are focusing on the platform this moment has given to acknowledge and celebrate neurodivergent individuals, I feel both pain and pride for Gwen and Tim, knowing this comes at a personal cost to their son.

Politics aside, this moment offers us an opportunity. An opportunity to embrace it with love, to thank Gus for demonstrating what genuine and raw love looks like through actions that defy societal norms. It’s a chance to honor the Walz family’s dedication in raising a son who feels comfortable being himself, even in the public eye. We have the opportunity to show our families, friends, and neighbors that we will embrace differences with love and acceptance. I hope we all seize this opportunity to choose love and understanding.