No room to play: A childhood denied to children with autism

Every year on World Autism Awareness Day, morning television shows and programmes are awash with families of autistic children pouring out their lived realities — the exhausting therapy schedules, the struggle to find inclusive schools, the financial strain of specialised care, and the quiet isolation that often follows. Their testimonies lay bare a system that offers sympathy but little structural support.

Even with the surge in visibility, awareness fades as the cameras move on, and families are left navigating the same gaps in services, affordability, and inclusion, with no meaningful progress in sight.

A recent episode brought this gap into sharp focus. A furore erupted on social media after users commiserated with Asma Afaq, the mother of a nine-year-old autistic child, Zaviyar, who was reportedly denied entry into a play area at Karachi’s Dolmen Mall. Despite her reassurance that she would personally supervise her child to ensure the safety of others, Zaviyar was refused access to Sindbad’s Wonderland.

In response, the organisation issued a statement saying the decision stemmed from safety concerns, citing height and weight restrictions for the toddler play area.

Expressing her frustration with the lack of inclusive recreational options for children with autism, the mother raised a pressing question: “Where are we, as parents, supposed to take our children if public spaces fail to accommodate them?”

While Zaviyar is one of the 350,000 children on the autism spectrum living in Pakistan, Asma has echoed the sentiments of all mothers who are met with a path fraught with difficulties as they battle the tribulations of raising their special needs children with no relief in sight.

With the dearth of sensory-friendly recreational and leisure spaces posing yet another challenge for autistic children, many parents find it difficult to offer them the kind of childhood experiences available to others.

Grievances of caregivers

Autism is a neurodevelopmental condition affecting individuals to varying degrees. It is a spectrum disorder (ASD) attributed to persistent deficits in social communication and reciprocal interaction, as well as engagement in restricted, repetitive, and inflexible patterns of behaviour or activities.

Children with autism experience heightened sensitivity to specific textures, sounds, or smells; because of this, they tend to engage in certain behaviours such as jumping, spinning, hand-flapping, tiptoe-walking, and making repetitive noises (echolalia).

In typical social settings, the processing of social cues and sensory overload leads to behavioural difficulties, which are often misunderstood and deemed disruptive by others. At extremes, autistic children are prone to shutdowns due to hyposensitivity (underresponsiveness) or meltdowns owing to hypersensitivity (overresponsiveness), as they feel the need to escape the situation, caused by a wide range of stimuli.

Rather than showering them with acceptance and celebrating their differences, ludicrous misconceptions surrounding the disorder have snowballed, resulting in unnecessary stigma and discrimination.

Not only is autism perceived as a “disease”, special needs children are also viewed as victims of a hex cast upon them or as being possessed by “paranormal forces” because of their neurodevelopmental impairment. Parents of neurotypical children also fear that their own children will imitate the same kinds of behaviours commonly associated with special needs, reinforcing further exclusion.

Impervious to the needs of persons with neurodivergent disorders, our society, as a result, remains inflexible and fails to cater to differently abled minds that defy convention. Autistic children and adolescents are conveniently ostracised from mainstream society, as they face isolation from peers and misjudgment from adults.

Zunaira Asif, mother of six-year-old Anabiya Asif, is a victim of this exclusionary attitude. She expressed sheer helplessness at the lack of recreational opportunities for her child. “My daughter gets overwhelmed and hyperactive in crowded play areas with loud music,” she said.

“There is a play gym in DHA Phase V, where the staff’s behaviour was extremely rude towards my child, and she was made to feel unwelcome because of her sensory sensitivities.”

Syeda Safia Masnoon, another mother of 14-year-old Syed Farhan Masnoon, who suffers from mild autism, shared, “I avoid taking Farhan to overcrowded play areas with bright lights and loud noises as he gets agitated.”

In the same vein, Fatima Amar, the sister of 17-year-old autistic child Samiullah Amar, revealed that her brother stims in noisy and crowded environments, which subjects him to prolonged stares and unwanted attention, leaving her family uncomfortable in public spaces.

As the elder sister of Mahnoor Zaman, a young girl with autism, such predicaments hit close to home. Not only do I resonate with these experiences, but it also weighs heavily on me to see autistic children and their families left out in the cold for circumstances that lie beyond their control.

Growing up, I watched Mahnoor struggle in spaces that were meant to be joyful. I recall the sharp wave of panic that would pass through my parents and siblings whenever a meltdown began.

More often than not, we would gather our belongings and leave hurriedly — not only to comfort her, but also to escape the stares, as parents, children, and even staff members turned a moment of distress into a spectacle.

To date, Mahnoor has not been able to enjoy such spaces, as their lack of accommodation for her autism deprives her of a suitable outlet........

© Dawn Prism