September 7, 2021

Interview with author Elena Taylor!

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , at 12:44 am by chavisory

I was so happy to be able to do this interview recently with my old friend and favorite mystery author Elena Taylor for her own blog, along with my Sincerely, Your Autistic Child co-editors Sharon and Morénike and our contributor Lei Wiley-Mydske! We all talk a bit about disability acceptance, finding places we felt accepted in the world, and what inspired the chapters we wrote for the anthology.

And if you’re into mystery, Elena writes both the Eddie Shoes and Sheriff Bet Rivers series of mysteries! I very strongly recommend both. Back at the beginning of the pandemic, All We Buried kept me up many nights promising myself I would finish just one more chapter….

No, just one more chapter….

Really, just one more….

July 26, 2021

Neurodiversity is not a euphemism

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , at 12:21 am by chavisory

The Big Think earlier this month disappointingly published a piece in which philosophy instructor Jonny Thomson, wondering whether the term neurodiversity does more harm than good, states, “The notion of neurodiversity, mainly developed by those working in the autism advocacy movement, is said to be preferable to ‘disability’ or words with a similarly negative connotation.”

This is something I don’t want to spend a great deal of time, attention, or words on, because as I said in the tweet thread that brought this article to my attention, a virtually countless number of rebuttals have been written at this point, addressing various misconceptions and misrepresentations of what neurodiversity is and means, some of which are reproduced once again in this column.

And yet I feel like this is a distinct variety of misunderstanding that I have seen pop up somewhat more recently, and particularly in educational contexts, than more usual misconceptions that supporting the ideas of neurodiversity means denying disability in favor of favor of considering autism and other neurodevelopmental conditions as “merely a difference,” namely,

That neurodiversity is first and foremost a position on terminology, primarily focused on reducing stigma by replacing words, and that the term “neurodiverse,” applied to individuals, should therefore supplant terms like “autistic,” “disabled,” or the names of other specific learning disabilities in the interest of people with them being treated as normal. Essentially, that “neurodiversity” is a euphemism, employed to eliminate the need to discuss neurological variance in terms of disability.

Thomson is correct insofar as this is a position that exists, and that it’s intensely problematic for some of the reasons he lists, including that it risks denying the reality of disability, and the ability of disabled kids to have their real challenges identified or supported appropriately.

It’s just not actually what neurodiversity means, and it’s not a position coming from within the neurodiversity movement, Thomson’s characterization of which is almost entirely alien to my experience of the advocacy movement in which I’ve been personally and intensely involved for over a decade at this point.

As far as I can tell, it’s coming from education professionals with little to no first-hand contact or involvement with the neurodiversity movement themselves or familiarity with its major figures or writing, who may have had a superficial level of training, but lack a genuine understanding of the concepts of neurodiversity or its history.

You see a similar dynamic at play when it comes to the seemingly eternal debate over person-first vs. identity-first language. Autistic and disabled people, researchers, and journalists on social media are, even still, frequently lectured about how the correct terminology is “people with autism.” Confronted with the fact that, no, their information is out of date, the autistic community overwhelmingly prefers to be called “autistic,” that this has been established in research and surveys multiple times, and that some research has even suggested that person-first language is more stigmatizing rather than less, almost invariably they will say that they were taught this in teacher training or grad school, etc.

And I know they were. I know.

The problem is that, as far as I can discern, they were taught this by people who were taught this by people who haven’t had significant contact with real-world communities of disabled adults in 30-40 years, and the feelings on the subject of many of our communities have changed over that time.

I remember once being told by someone who’d worked as a volunteer with a disability advocacy organization, after she attempted to correct my language use, that understanding of person-first language as correct was only about three years old.

I had to tell her that actually, the backlash to it was over 20 years old.

Being told repeatedly that we’re wrong about what we call ourselves by those not familiar with our communities is obnoxious. I believe the potential bad consequences of the propagation of this particular misunderstanding of the neurodiversity movement are worse, which is the only reason at this point I’m even bothering to rebut this piece. But, for future reference:

1. The ND movement does not advocate denying disability, not using the word “disabled,” or supplanting the concept of disability. (The neurodiversity movement is related to but not synonymous with the social model of disability, and not everyone who subscribes to the former has the same beliefs regarding the latter. I myself do not subscribe to a pure social model of disability.)

If you are interested in what the neurodiversity movement does mean, and are not familiar with at least some of the work of Mel Baggs, Laura Tisoncik, Cal Montgomery, Emma Zurcher-Long, Amy Sequenzia, Hari Srinivasan or D.J. Savarese, I urge you to become so.

And this has been expounded on at great length, in many, many blog posts, articles, anthologies, films, biographies, and even scholarly works at this point, but the neurodiversity movement by and large understands itself as an outgrowth of the disability rights and self-advocacy movements. Pioneers and widely respected writers and activists aligned with the movement were and are people who identify as disabled, many of whom have multiple disabilities, intellectual disabilities, very significant support needs, who are non-speaking, and who have been institutionalized.

2. Neurodiversity does not ask us not to identify, diagnose, understand, or provide appropriate supports and sometimes treatment for specific disabilities. It says we are all just as valuable, just as human, just as much a natural part of human society and human diversity as non-disabled people are. It says we all deserve acceptance, accommodation, and support no matter what our disabilities are. That neither autism nor any other neurodevelopmental condition makes us less than fully human, lesser people than neurotypicals, or less entitled to human rights. It doesn’t say not to name or distinguish between autism, dyslexia, epilepsy, etc., or the ways in which students with those conditions may need or want different varieties of support.

3. Neurodiversity isn’t just a term. Neurodiversity is a political movement having to do with the acceptance and human rights of neurodivergent people. It began with, but is in no way exclusive to, autistic people. Neurodivergence is something of an umbrella term that can refer to a broad range of neurological divergences from the expected norm. (Yes, “even” mental health conditions!) It was never intended to stigmatize or make unspeakable the realities of individual or distinct disabilities. While some people do identify simply as neurodivergent, particularly if they have multiple, similar, overlapping disabilities (it can sometimes be hard to distinguish where autism ends and ADHD begins, for instance, for people who have both), or aren’t sure whether any one diagnostic label best describes their experiences, in communities of neurodivergent adults both online and off, you will find people who openly embrace their labels of autism, ADHD, epilepsy, cerebral palsy, dyslexia, intellectual disability, and more—sharing our experiences, life hacks, strategies, advocacy, and mutual support.

Neurodiversity is not about saying “well, he/she is a bit different” as a placeholder for accurate diagnosis and support. It’s about the acceptability of all of us here on earth, as we are, as part of humanity.

Lastly, I am simply flabbergasted at the apparent lack of any sense of responsibility on the part of people who continue to write pieces like this to understand what they are actually talking about. To find out whether what they think they know, or have heard or read, about a movement like neurodiversity is accurate. Is this the way they would write about a social movement by and for a different group of marginalized people or highly stigmatized population? Maybe it is. I hope it isn’t.

I think disabled people deserve the same respect. That, as the neurodiversity movement holds, we deserve to be treated like real, whole, entire people, who have experiences and viewpoints.

And your misrepresentation has consequences for the cognitively and neurodevelopmentally disabled people who are going to bear most of the burden, most of the energy costs, of attempting to rebut you and mitigate the impact of the misrepresentation you’ve once again lent credence to. And again, I wouldn’t bother, but I think this actually has consequences: that educators believe embracing neurodiversity, embracing acceptance and respect of neurodivergent students, means denying disability or hiding from kids knowledge about their own disabilities. Or that someone is denied access to the ideas of neurodiversity, and to the history of the disability rights and self-advocacy movements, because a parent or educator buys into this pallid imitation of what it means.

All disabilities are differences. Some differences are also disabilities. I don’t understand why this is being treated as a serious or interesting question anymore by reputable publications. Organizations broadly aligned with the precepts of the neurodiversity movement include ASAN, AWN, and the Meyers-Rosa Foundation (which publishes the Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism); any of them would likely be able to connect anyone looking for comment or information with interviewees who have significant involvement or history in the neurodiversity movement.

July 24, 2021

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , at 12:22 am by chavisory

“Many people, again lay and professional alike, believe that all people with autism are by definition incapable of communicating, that they do not experience emotions, and that they cannot care about other people or the world around them. My experience, both personally and with others like me, is that in many cases quite the opposite is true. A significant number of autistic people who care deeply about all manner of things, and are profoundly emotional about them, share these capabilities in the privacy of their journals, diaries, and poetry. they do not show them to the world, which is too intense and often too destructive or, worse, dismissive. They do not show them to professionals, whose beliefs about the abilities of autistic people and the power they wield over their clients sometimes make them too frightening to challenge. They do not even show them to one another. And so a vast resource of knowledge about the diversity and beauty of autism rests on countless pages, like layers of archaeology, covered with the dust of fear.”

-Dr. Dawn Prince-Hughes, Songs of the Gorilla Nation

May 5, 2021

“Coming of Age” interview

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , at 3:08 pm by chavisory

“For me, anyway, the irony is that a lot of the strengths of autism have to be spent on navigating or compensating for the ways in which our society is still very hostile toward autistic people. And I think a lot about the kinds of things we might be able to create or accomplish if we all had the support that we need or weren’t required to expend a lot of our energy and cognitive bandwidth having to look out for ourselves in ways that non-autistic and non-disabled people don’t, if we didn’t have to leverage our strengths so hard just to survive.”

Photo credit: Charlie Stern

I had a great time doing this interview with with Beacon Press editorial intern Evangelyn Beltran, which is out in the Beacon Broadside this week! In addition to discussing autistic identity, I talk about growing up undiagnosed in the 1980’s, and stage managing while autistic.

It’s the third part of a series, “Coming of Age and Living Authentically on the Autism Spectrum,” with my co-editors Sharon daVanport and Morénike Giwa Onaiwu! Sharon’s interview is here and Morénike’s is here!

April 26, 2021

Dear Parents: On the importance of community language for autistic people

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , at 2:31 am by chavisory

I keep forgetting to post this here, but in connection with the publication of Sincerely, Your Autistic Child, I have an op-ed published in the Beacon Broadside about the importance to kids and families of having access to language to talk about autistic identity and our disability communities.

“There’s nothing shameful about being autistic. Nothing about knowing and understanding our linguistic history detracts from your child’s individuality or personhood. And there’s nothing trivial or strange about having discussions about autistic identity.”

You can read the rest of “Dear Parents: ‘Autistic’ Isn’t a Bad Word” here!

March 29, 2021

Sincerely, Your Autistic Child

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , at 7:07 pm by chavisory

Well, I’ve got a happy announcement about how I’ve been spending my time this pandemic, in addition to doing a little bit of hiking, and harassing our building management into fixing our apartment, while I wait for my industry to get back on its feet…

A few years ago, the organization I volunteered for, AWN, self-published our first anthology, What Every Autistic Girl Wishes Her Parents Knew, of seventeen essays by autistic people writing directly to parents about what we wanted them to know as people who had been autistic girls, particularly because at the time, so little information for parents from other autism organizations had much to say about the unique and specific experiences and needs of autistic girls.

Since that time, our name has changed to the Autistic Women & Nonbinary Network, and our mission and goals have expanded to more fully include people of all gender minorities and not just women and girls, and then last spring we learned that Beacon Press had chosen that book for republication. And so over the last eight months, my co-editors Sharon and Morénike and I have been hard at work with our team at Beacon on giving the book an expansion and update, including a new Letter from the Editors, chapters by six new contributors, new cover design, and perhaps most noticeably, a new title! We’re so happy about how it’s turned out, and that our little book will once again be available, just in time for Autism Acceptance Month this year, this time as Sincerely, Your Autistic Child: What People on the Autism Spectrum Wish Their Parents Knew About Growing Up, Acceptance, and Identity.

Pre-orders are open now, and it will be available everywhere including Bookshop.org, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, or from the Beacon Press website on March 31! We hope you’ll check it out or share it with the family of an autistic kid in your life!

February 10, 2021

Dear Performing Arts Community: We need to talk about Autism Speaks

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , at 1:02 pm by chavisory

Today I am proud to have a guest editorial up at OnStage Blog, about the bizarre phenomenon of support for Autism Speaks within the entertainment industry, why it needs to end, and its relationship to the catastrophe of Sia’s Music.

You can read it here!

September 8, 2020

The internet is not forever

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , at 8:00 pm by chavisory

“A few of the younger Symphony members…remembered the stories they’d been told about WiFi and the impossible-to-imagine Cloud, wondered if the internet might still be out there somehow, invisible pinpricks of light suspended in the air around them.” -Emily St. John Mandel, Station Eleven

A few years ago now, I was up very late, sipping bourbon, listening to the Cubs’ World Series-winning game, and trying to resurrect autistic community history from the dim corners of the internet.

And it was a frustrating and grueling experience. It was Autistic History Month, so founded by Maxfield Sparrow in 2013, and I think people had been realizing for a while that our community collective memory only went back about five years and that it was starting to be a serious vulnerability. (Honestly it still is.)

On one hand, it was certainly a good thing that so many people were being newly diagnosed as young adults, and sometimes as older ones, and deciding to be openly autistic online. On the other, there was no obvious way to direct this huge influx of people starving for community to the resources and information that did already exist, and so there was a whole lot of reinvention of the wheel going on. Neurodiversity.com, which had served that function for many of us who entered the community in the very early 2000’s, was already an inactive archive by that point, and while the references it contained were progressive for the time in which it was founded, many were out of date even just a decade later.

Twice I queried social media for people’s favorite “older” autistic blog or writing, defining “older” as being from before 2010.

Both times, nobody could name a source that wasn’t Neurodiversity.com, Ballastexistenz, or something by Jim Sinclair. And not to denigrate the importance of those voices, but there was so much more than that.

A friend posted a list of a dozen important autistic writers and activists from the early days after the neurodiversity movement moved online in the late 1990’s and early 2000’s, and asked how many of them other people recognized. I knew who six were.

Multiple, currently prominent activists knew of none of them.

I’m using the autistic community as an example a lot in this post, but this isn’t exclusively about autism or the autistic community; that’s just where I’ve been consistently involved enough to notice and be affected by long-term dynamics. I suspect similar issues may be at play in other internet-centric communities.

*

One thing I feel has happened—and this may well be the subject of a whole other post—is that many people, especially if they’re relatively new to the community, are under the impression that autistic Twitter is effectively the online autistic community. And it’s not. Not only is it not, even now, but before Twitter was anywhere near as big a platform, before it was a thing at all, the character of the online autistic community was entirely different.

It’s different for both better and worse. The easily discoverable hashtags #ActuallyAutistic and #AskingAutistics make it incredibly easy for newbies to find other autistic people on Twitter and where to ask questions. It used to be harder, or you had to be extraordinarily lucky, to stumble upon the blogs that served as cornerstones of the community. Even while there are a lot of things I don’t like about it as much, the character and quality of conversations on Twitter are probably more accessible for some people. (And less so for others.)

The point, though, is that it’s fundamentally different.

*

I’m an Oregon Trail generation kid. Almost anyone my age or younger has almost certainly been lectured ad infinitum about how “The internet is forever” in well-intended warnings about being cautious in what we say and do online.

But the older I get, the more I find the internet is actually surprisingly vulnerable to human frailty.

There is so much writing that is just gone. So much community, so many of the best, most constructive and compassionate conversations happened in the comments sections of blogs that have been taken down or locked by their owners. Not just the content of those blogs, but the entire culture of the way people formed relationships around them, is gone or radically altered.

Servers are gone. People stopped being able to pay for web hosting. Or got tied up in life, illness, parenting, or more offline activism or scholarship and don’t have time to maintain archives and keep links updated. Neurodiversity.com is still there as an archive, but about half its links are broken. (I’m not saying this to blame Kathleen. Life happens.)

People died. Friendships imploded. People got burned out and simply disappeared off the internet, and unless there was an active effort to preserve and archive it, their work often followed a few years after, if only because they stopped paying for their web domain.

Some of that world made it into the Wayback Machine if you know exactly how to look for it, but a lot of it didn’t.

*

For a couple of years before I started this blog, I was a frequent commenter at Salon.com. I was doing a lot of temp work at the time and it was a way to pass the 9-hour days stuck at a reception desk. Debates in which every single comment was a worthwhile essay unto itself, frequently superior to the original article, would wind on for days. I easily spent hundreds of thousands of words there and God alone knows how many hours of my life. And I don’t regret it; I learned a lot about the kind of blogging I wanted to do there. But I had pretty significantly curtailed the time I spent there by midway through 2010, partly because I had just grown not to enjoy what the culture there had become, partly because I was deliberately spending my time here instead, having realized that with the amount of effortful writing I did there, I could have something of my own to show for it. But at some point Salon revamped their account and comment section structures. I didn’t sign up for a new account or I might’ve tried but found it onerous and before long I was locked out of my old one. And I lost access to all of it.

Then WordPress itself a few years ago either suffered a glitch or changed a setting—I never succeeded in getting an answer—and users lost all of the data about how many times posts had been shared on other platforms like Facebook.

One post of mine had been shared over 20,000 times. The counters were eventually reset, and that post logged another 8,000 shares or so before the counter disappeared again and stayed gone this time.

I have no idea whether WordPress lost the data, or still has it but decided to stop providing it to users without premium accounts.

More recently, Tumblr attempted to purge its platform of adult content [Content note: Linked story contains discussion of sexually explicit material, including child pornography] in an event popularly known as the “Tiddy Ban.” Many erotica-focused blogs were removed entirely, others were allowed to remain but were made unsearchable and dashboard-accessible only. And countless other users had individual offending posts removed from our blog archives utterly without recourse. Over the ensuing months, many of the confiscated posts were restored upon appeal, having been judged to have been wrongfully snared by deeply faulted screening algorithms.

But one of my posts, to which I have never been able to regain access (despite several other much sexier posts having been returned), was a long and multi-layered discussion of executive dysfunction and diagnostic disparities among autistic women and the politics of self-diagnosis.

Whether because the author of the article I linked to works as a stripper and said so in her bio, or because the preview image for the article depicts the bare knee of a young woman sitting on a bed, I’ll probably never know. I’ve protested multiple times to Tumblr staff, but at this point don’t hold out much hope of getting it back. It had over 1,000 notes in multiple reblog threads.

People who’ve lost work in previous fandom purges have similar and far, far worse stories.

*

I’ve been rewatching the X-Files over the past couple of years. And it’s a different experience than it was during the original run. At least partly because, watching with subtitles turned on, I catch at least 50% more information from dialogue than I did then. But also because watching episodes in close time proximity instead of spaced out week by week, or multiple weeks during holidays and production breaks, or months during the summer, or years, like between the end of the original series and the second movie and the revival, brings out whole different sets of resonances and parallels and sneakily revealed information than what was obvious the first time through.

And I have so many questions about whether anyone else has noticed them, or wants more back story about the same things I do, and while there are XF communities on Tumblr and Twitter now, they’re hugely dominated by younger, newer viewers and overwhelmingly MSR-obsessed (which is not a sin, obviously, and I’m also starting to find exceptions to this) and gifset-driven. There’s not a ton of in-depth discussion of other issues. I was a dedicated lurker of the AOL message boards circa 1994-1998, and what I’d really like is to go back to some of the boards I didn’t follow then and see if these were in fact things that people were talking about at the time even if they weren’t the things I was seeking out discussion about then. Those boards are lost to history, though, or at least to anyone without deep access to AOL’s servers and archives.

To some extent you can tell from the fanfic of the time what other fans were preoccupied by—Gossamer and a couple other archives of long-form fic are still there. But as far as speculation about any subject that didn’t make it into a lot of fanfic, those discussions, if any, have been made completely inaccessible to any average present-day fan.

I can’t tell you the number of posts or comments important to me that I thought were safe in my bookmarks, only to try to go back and find a blog taken down or locked or a domain abandoned.

In a couple of cases, authors have been kind enough to send me files to keep for myself of work they decided to take offline. But I’ve started just downloading or printing out hard copies of anything particularly important to me before it disappears in the first place.

Growing up when the internet was a brand new and barely understood resource to most families, we were told “The internet is forever” in caution against revealing personal information online by elders who mostly didn’t understand it very well or how it would change over time, and now we’re the ones telling parents, and especially parents of disabled kids, the same thing when it comes to putting photos or information about their children online.

And I don’t want to undermine the seriousness of the risk of just how unpredictable and wide-ranging the impact of personal information or depictions of children in private and vulnerable moments released on the internet can be. I deeply believe that parents should think twice about this.

But the irony is that in too earnestly believing certain warnings about the internet, we’ve grown to trust it too much. In some ways, the internet, far from being forever, has actually proven a remarkably poor medium for preserving cultural memory.

It turns out that the cultural resources and internet communities we value and want preserved don’t just last without attention and work and love.

July 18, 2020

What if we really are this queer?

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , , , , , at 3:11 pm by chavisory

A research study on sexual orientation among autistic people, actually published a couple of years ago but recently making the rounds of social media, has found that just under 70% of autistic respondents identified as non-heterosexual, whether they be LGBTQ+, or on the asexual spectrum, or both. While this may sound like an incredibly high number, it roughly accords with both anecdotal accounts from within the autistic community over the years, and my own (very rough) estimates of what might be the case, loosely extrapolated from earlier studies on the rate of transgender identification and gender non-conformity among autistic youth tending to find rates seven to eight times higher than among non-autistic teens.

While the underlying reasons for these results is not yet well-understood, a very common response to them is that rates of non-heterosexuality are probably actually similar in the non-autistic population, but that autistic people are simply more honest, or are less impacted by heteronormative socialization, care less about social disapproval, or do not pick up on social messages of disapproval around gender and sexuality like non-autistic people do.

I both find these explanations unconvincing, and think we should be very cautious of embracing them, for several reasons.

1. There is ample evidence that autistic people are perfectly capable of perceiving negative messaging from our social environments. No, we don’t necessarily do it as well or in the same ways as non-autistic people. But autistic adults have written endlessly about picking up anti-autistic and ableist messaging from our environments and internalizing those attitudes. Even if no one giving us these messages even knew what autism was, we readily picked up on the fact that it wasn’t considered okay to be the way we were. We frequently realized that people didn’t like us or considered us weird even when parents and other adults explicitly denied that was the case. We learned to suppress stimming and how to fake eye contact in many cases without even being explicitly told to.

And compared to anti-autistic messaging, homophobic messaging in our society during the time many of us were growing up was very, very overt. In many places, it still is.

The controversy over Ellen’s coming out (and that it nearly ended her television career), the murder of Matthew Shepherd, the nasty comments made about teachers suspected of being lesbians, the fact that “gay” was one of the more common insults available…these were features of my early teen years.

Believe me, I did not miss the memo that it was considered wrong and looked down upon to be gay or bisexual when I was growing up (there was much less mainstream recognition of asexuality, let alone asexual spectrum orientations like demisexuality). It was not especially subtle. I don’t know how much people realize this who didn’t grow up in proximity to evangelical Christianity (which my family did not follow, but its cultural presence was hard to miss), or in socially conservative parts of the country, or during the culture wars of the 1990’s, but it did not go unspoken. It was not subtle.

Hannah Gadsby said in a recent interview, “If I could’ve been more feminine, I would’ve been. Where I grew up, that would’ve made my life a whole lot easier.” I probably would’ve, too, if I’d known how. I didn’t know how. I couldn’t meet those expectations; I didn’t just not understand they existed.

Which isn’t to say that ableism isn’t often spoken aloud, or that subtle manifestations of homophobia can’t be harmful.

But I think there’s a particular danger of this narrative, too, to autistic youth in parts of the country where homophobic and transphobic messaging is still very overt, that it doesn’t matter as much what they hear because they won’t absorb or be as affected by it.

Because we know that autistic youth absorb and are profoundly affected by ableist and anti-autistic messages even when they are relatively subtle.

Why would queer autistic youth not be by homophobic ones?

2. I don’t think most people are being fundamentally dishonest about their most visceral experiences of attraction and desire, and I do not think making this assumption sets a good precedent.

I’ve written about this before, but I just don’t think that our media environment is pervaded with assumptions about how sexuality works for most people….because they’re actually all lying about it and this relatively small fraction of us (most of whom are not autistic) are the only ones who didn’t get the message that we were supposed to.

I don’t think that generations of queer people have been met with shock, rage, and confusion upon coming out to their families, that a shocking percentage of kids living on the street are queer because they were kicked out of their homes for it, or that the existence of an organization like PFLAG was necessitated to help straight parents come to understand and accept their gay kids, if nearly everyone really was queer and just denying it.

We don’t like being told that we’re not capable of knowing our own minds. We don’t like it for good reasons. We object when people tell autistic trans youth that they’ve just been brainwashed into thinking they’re trans and deny them gender-related healthcare. Or self-identified autistic people that they only think that because they’re quirky or awkward and autism is an internet fad.

“You only think you’re what you say you are because that’s what society told you” is not a rhetorical stance I think we should be adopting.

People have a right to self-identify and by and large I think we should believe them.

I also don’t think we should present identifying one way or another as more honest or virtuous, or imply that someone who says they’re straight is categorically more likely to be lying.

Someone’s professed orientation should not be a moral issue and we should not make it one.

3. Differential interpretation of available data is not necessarily dishonesty.

Both the beauty and the horror of the human mind, I was saying to a friend recently, is that it’s capable of assembling data into narrative in a basically infinite number of ways. We often like to believe that if other people had the same information we do, they would draw the same conclusions or the same logical consistencies from it, but that is often not true at all.

Many people, for instance, believe that if only I knew what they knew about how some people are affected by autism—that some autistic people are intellectually disabled, or can’t speak, or self-injure, or need intensive help with activities of daily living—that I would be in favor of curing or preventing autism, at least in some cases. But I do know those things, and I still don’t agree. The fact that we have access to the same information but draw different conclusions from it doesn’t mean any of us is being dishonest or disingenuous or only saying what we’re saying out of fear of disapproval, rather than that we see that information differently, interpret it differently, and genuinely disagree about the best possible course of action based on that information.

Likewise, among the populations peripheral to the autistic community–the people we refer to as autistic cousins, as belonging to the Broad Autism Phenotype, or simply as neurodivergent but without being able to categorize someone exactly and definitively as belonging to a specific diagnostic category, there probably are people who could in all honestly identify as autistic, but who don’t, for a variety of reasons. Some may really just be in denial. Some may not be ready in their own minds to identify as autistic yet, but will eventually. Some never will because they don’t feel the weight of their experience justifies it. They may be right or they may be wrong but the rest of us generally take them at their word as far as their own experiences.

Conversely, within the LGBTQ+ community, we recognize that though in many cases, the terms “bisexual” and “pansexual,” among others, may be being used by different people to describe extremely similar patterns of attraction, there are subtle distinctions between them which are meaningful to some people but not others. (I somewhat suspect that the same may be true for the categories of “demisexual” and “gray-ace.”)

mr buress with a psa
[Image is a meme of comedian Hannibal Buress, a black man in glasses, depicted with four multicolored emblems representing the pride flags of bisexuality, omnisexuality, pansexuality, and polysexuality. It is captioned to read “These broadly overlap but the distinction matters to some people and that’s okay.”]

One thing we do know is that autistic people prioritize information differently than non-autistic people, that we tend to show a bias for specific, localized information over broad, generalized information.

And so one thing I think may be happening, not even just between autistic and non-autistic people, is that some fraction of people may experience incidental same-sex or same-gender attractions, but not as significant enough in the grand scheme of things, in their overall pattern of attraction, to identify as queer or bisexual rather than straight. While another person, for a hundred different possible reasons, including but not limited to an information-processing style that prioritizes specific over generalized information, may experience or interpret those attractions as meaningful enough to identify as bisexual or queer.

Neither of these people is necessarily being dishonest or hiding the truth from themselves, rather than assembling information in a way that feels most meaningful to them.

I think that’s something we should actually honor, rather than suggesting that they’re either brainwashed or too fearful to be true to themselves.

It probably is the case that more people are queer than currently self-identify as such, because internalized homophobia does exist, and because we live in a society that in so many ways can make it hard to find good, non-judgmental information about the real variety of experiences and identities that exist in the world, much as it is the case that autism is likely still under-diagnosed, because of a whole range of prejudices and lack of accurate information made available to families, and yet it is not the case that “Everyone’s really on the spectrum somewhere!”

And like the “Everyone’s a little autistic!” line, which we rightly hear as a dismissal, it hamstrings the ability of queer people to talk about actually being different from the majority in important ways.

Just like I don’t believe that so many autistic youth go through our childhoods feeling lonely and alienated to the point of deciding that we’re not really human at all because we really are just like everyone else, I do not believe that so many queer youth go through our early lives feeling alone and ashamed because a stunning majority of our peers really are just like us, but that we alone (including non-autistic queer people) just didn’t get the memo that we’re not supposed to be that way.

4. If we really are more queer on average than the non-autistic population, why would that be wrong?

Why would that be undesirable?

Why do we even feel the need to reach immediately for this explanation that “Oh no, we’re not really more likely be queer, we’re just more honest about it?”

So what if we were?

Why would it even be implausible? We don’t know that much about how exactly sexual orientation originates to begin with, but like autism (in most cases), it doesn’t seem to be the result of one “gay gene” or “straight gene,” but rather a complex interplay of many factors, both genetic and environmental. The affirmative declaration of the gay community for years and years was “Born this way,” and while there’s been some backlash to that in recent years—that it shouldn’t matter whether people are born queer or choose to be, our mistreatment on that basis is still wrong—progressive society now tends to accept sexuality as innate enough so as to make it not just wrong, and harmful, but probably useless, to try to change or cure it.

The same is (slowly) coming to be considered true of autism. That yes, while it poses certain challenges and often requires particular supports, there’s nothing inherently wrong with it.

We also know that autism is highly correlated with other complex conditions, for reasons we don’t totally understand, that are definitely physiological and not a matter of personal interpretation of experiences, like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and epilepsy. There’s also a whole raft of more nebulous conditions like alexithymia and prosopagnosia whose precise relationship to autism (whether they’re “genetic stowaways,” or result from the inherent neurological differences that comprise autism, or are downstream consequences of those processing differences) is still unclear.

When discussing those conditions, we don’t tend to say “But probably they occur in non-autistic people at similar rates. We’re just more honest about it because we’re not affected by social pressures the same way.” At least not that I have ever heard.

Why when it comes to gender variance or sexuality do we reflexively feel the need to attribute some higher virtue to our identification, or emphasize that it’s not really that more of us are? When we don’t do that with regard to other aspects of identity or disposition whose relationships to autism we don’t really understand yet?

Why could it not be the case that some aspect of autistic neurology or development gives rise to a higher rate of non-heterosexuality than more typical neurology or development does?

What would be wrong with that if it did?

July 9, 2020

Posted in Uncategorized tagged , at 11:59 am by chavisory

Hi everyone! In case you missed it, I have a new post up at the Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism again this week, “When Adaptation Looks Like Laziness,” about some of the ways we may try to adapt to executive functioning or motor planning issues when we don’t necessarily know how to explain what’s really happening. Hope you enjoy!

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