“I felt so safe!”

I led an hour of music at the Berkeley Public Library over the last 4 Friday afternoons, that has included pat/clap games, turn-based ring plays, familiar singalongs, quodlibets (look it up!), pitched and unpitched percussion play, large movement, and lullabies. The library called it Music For Everyone (which is true! but was their wording), and they highlighted that it was focused for parents with children 0-7 and their caregivers, that it was neurodiversity-affirming, and that all are welcome.

Just the right amount of people have been showing up, and we’ve been having a great time. The staff has been amazing, with 1 or 2 staff members participating each time, which gives first-time families a sense of safety: “If the librarians are game, I can do this too.”

Last week, a woman came up to me afterward and told me (I’m paraphrasing): “I saw this on the library calendar, and I saw that it was neurodiversity-affirming. I don’t have kids, but it looked like fun so I came by. I felt so safe and I had so much fun! I love music, and this was perfect for me.”

She went on to say that she was in her 50’s, and after a lifetime of recognizing that she was different from other people in ways that she couldn’t control or put her finger on, she was diagnosed autistic with ADHD a couple of months ago. I thanked her, told her I learned the same about myself only recently, and invited her to participate in any of my events.

Her disclosure made my day. In addition to revealing our shared identity, she validated my mission. I can see when people are having fun — that’s fantastic — but what isn’t always apparent, and what’s not always articulated, is: “I don’t always feel safe, but I felt safe here.”

That’s my whole reason for being, really.