They called him a behavior problem before they called him a child.
Before the diagnosis. Before the IEP. Before anyone stopped long enough to ask what he actually needed — they had already decided what he was.
I know this story because I lived it. And the data says I am not alone.
Black students have been overrepresented in special education since 1968 — the year the U.S. Office for Civil Rights first began tracking this. Not because Black children have more disabilities. Because the system was built with bias baked into its foundation.
Black students are 40 percent more likely than their peers to be identified with a disability. They are three times more likely than white students to be suspended or expelled. They are twice as likely to be diagnosed with emotional disturbance — a classification so subjective it is essentially a reflection of the adult in the room, not the child in the chair.
And here is the part that should make every parent’s blood run cold. Once enrolled in special education, Black students frequently lose access to advanced coursework, AP classes, and college preparatory programs. The system designed to help them is the same system that quietly closes doors.
But Here Is What Nobody Tells You at That IEP Table.
You are not just a parent. You are the most important person in that room.
You have legal rights under IDEA that most school districts are hoping you do not know about. You have the right to request an independent evaluation. You have the right to bring an advocate. You have the right to reject any placement that does not serve your child’s actual needs.
I wrote IEP Warrior because I needed it to exist. Because I sat at that table alone and learned everything the hard way. Because no Black mother should have to figure this out by herself at the worst moment of her life.
And I wrote Aiden’s Kisses because before any IEP — before any diagnosis, any evaluation, any meeting — my son was a child who loved deeply and beautifully and in ways the world did not always understand.
Both books exist because our children deserve to be seen. Not managed. Not contained. Seen.
If you are in the fight right now — IEP Warrior and Aiden’s Kisses are both available on Amazon.
Follow us at @BlackAutismFamily for the real story every week.
The Alani Jacob Foundation is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit dedicated to equipping schools, shelters, and employers with autism-inclusive technology, training, and resources.