It was Aretha Franklin who once sang about respect. As a matter of fact, she spelled it out in her cover of what was originally an Otis Redding single. “R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me. R-E-S-P-E-C-T, take out TCB,” her lyrics went.

While singing about respect is easy (and Aretha Franklin’s single is proof of that, as it topped the United States Billboard Hot 100 and Billboard Hot Rhythm and Blues charts upon its 1967 release, along with winning two Grammy Awards), actually getting it is hard stuff. It’s harder still when you have autism like I do.

When I was going to high school, my mother was concerned when I started hanging out with my classmates at the lunch table. She legitimately thought that they were going to poke fun at me because I’m on the spectrum.

Nothing of the sort was ever the case. They respected me and treated me as an equal, including me in the conversation whenever I had something to say.

As I navigated through my college career, I found that earning respect became easier with time. I was a star sports reporter and sports columnist for my school newspaper, winning the respect of my fellow staff and the Youngstown State Sports Information Department.

Upon graduating, I entered into a year filled with uncertainty as to what would happen as far as professional employment went. I thought I nailed down a production assistant’s job at my local CBS affiliate, but as time went on, the dream became unrealized.

Once I started writing about MMA and soccer, I gained the respect of a few MMA promotions and those people working in MLS. Just like I’d done in the past, I earned this respect.

Bottom line: You can’t count on respect being handed out to you like trick-or-treat candy in late October. Sometimes, you have to earn it yourself.