At readings or conferences, as an author, I’ve noticed people are more likely to ask, “Can I give you a hug” before they lean in. I’m really grateful for this and getting used to declining the hug, then thanking...
At readings or conferences, as an author, I’ve noticed people are more likely to ask, “Can I give you a hug” before they lean in. I’m really grateful for this and getting used to declining the hug, then thanking the person for asking. I don’t take this for granted. Maybe society is getting more mindful of differences and consent seriously. Or maybe people are primed to consider how I might be different because I’ve written a picture book about a neurodivergent kid based on my experiences, though the book has nothing to do with hugging. Maybe it’s just enough to remind people not to assume.
One picture book that would have changed my life in this regard when I was really young is Katey Howes and Jess Engle’s Rissy No Kissies. If you haven’t read it yet, spoilers ahead! Rissy is a young lovebird who doesn’t like kisses. Just like hugs and kisses are meaningful, caring gestures between children, parents, family, and friends in our world, it would be unthinkable to not welcome them in the Lovebirds’ world. When I was a kid, I was often overwhelmed and just trying to keep up in social situations even if it wasn’t apparent to people around me. It wouldn’t have occurred to me that I could refuse hugs or kisses or that there are viable alternatives.
Though there are multiple reasons someone might decline a hug, I read Rissy No Kissie from an autistic perspective. If you’re not familiar with autistic people, many of us have sensory differences of some sort. Light, sounds, scents, and/or touch that most people filter out of their awareness can be overwhelming to the point of distraction, discomfort, or even pain. Hugging and kissing are intense sensory experiences, combining close physical proximity, touch (pressure and movement), sound, and scents. It’s a lot to process while making sure to do your part correctly. If you don’t know what I mean, you probably don’t calculate where your arms and hands go, how long you hug, or how tightly, and wonder afterwards if you passed. In the story, we learn that kisses make Rissy feel, “worried, weird, and wrong.”
By refusing kisses, Rissy is refusing to mask, and she experiences the negative consequences of that choice. Masking in the neurodivergent community is suppressing your reactions and what comes naturally to you in service of behaving in ways other people expect to minimize social friction. When Rissy declares, “No kissies!” her neighbor is amused at her odd behavior, but her parents are worried that she is sick. Her grandmother is angry at being rebuffed and accuses Rissy of being rude. Even Rissy’s friends feel rejected and tell her she is being mean. The first part of the story lays bare the pressures that make masking feel necessary, even in close relationships with people who should know you best. Rissy feels horrible. These are people she cares about, and she has upset them.
Then Rissy wonders if they aren’t right about her. This is easy to do as a kid or even as an adult if you don’t realize there are other people who understand and have a similar experience. To me, Rissy’s fear that others are right about her is the most important part of the story because I think this is where it diverges from reality so often. As parents, teachers, and caring adults, we may support young people’s bodily autonomy, but forget the social and internal consequences that often come with saying no. It’s not enough to support young people’s right to do so. We have to ask what it was like for the young person. We have to follow up because they may be bearing the consequences quietly, and like Rissy, wondering if something is wrong with them. They might decide next time, it would be easier to acquiesce to what is expected despite the toll it takes on them.
Greet chart found on a door in an elementary school.
The story has a tidy picture book ending, which I appreciate as a parent, as much as I would have clung to it as a kid. Rissy shares her worries with her mom, who listens. Her mom reassures her that she does belong even if she doesn’t like kisses and affirms both Rissy’s right to say no and that Rissy expresses affection in other ways. Surrounded by her family, Rissy announces that she loves them, and she shows it though holding wings, sitting close, nuzzling, and feathered fives.
Picture book endings are the world as we wish it to be for our young children, even when the world around them isn’t really that way. I can imagine reading this as a kid, and even if things didn’t go smoothly with the people around me, at least I would have known that it was not unthinkable. Rissy understands. Rissy’s family and friends understand. And someone who wrote Rissy’s story understands, too.
“You’re like Rissy, right, Mom?” my oldest asked me. My answer was yes, sometimes. I still get touched-out, by which I mean I lose the ability to tolerate social touch, including touches on the arm, shoulders, or back, as well as hugs and kisses. But since we’ve read Rissy’s story, we can talk about it. We know that not wanting a kiss or a hug doesn’t mean someone doesn’t love you or want to show affection in some other way. We can talk about how easy it is to feel rejected, but now we have an example of why someone might decline, so it is easier to understand they might feel differently so we don’t take it personally.
A good picture book can be a springboard into important conversations. As a parent, I still struggle with refusing my kid’s request for a hug when I don’t have the capacity. Rissy’s story helps me feel better about maintaining my boundaries in those moments and makes it easier to talk with my kids about it. Conversations like these help us learn to recognize differences in people’s experiences, honor our boundaries especially when they differ from what is expected, and hopefully, graciously recognize and accept other people’s boundaries, too.
Meghan Wilson Duff is author of How Are You, Verity? Illustrated by Taylor Barron and released by Magination Press in August 2023. In addition to writing for kids, they teach students in the Psychology & Community Studies Program at the University of Maine in Machias. Prior to teaching full time, they were a child and family therapist and adolescent addictions treatment provider. They are a Maine Writing Project Teacher-Consultant and part of the National Writing Project’s Writers Council. http://www.meghanwilsonduff.com