I don’t have a long written thread for you today, just some childhood photos for #TheFaceOfAnAutisticChild tag.
Here’s me with some dandelions when I was about one year old.
I often didn’t smile in photos, even when people were smiling at me, which I now know is an autistic trait.
But that doesn’t mean I never smiled- it just means I smiled when I wanted to, on my own terms.
The whole “not smiling for photos when I don’t feel like it” thing carried into the later part of my childhood, too.
And so did smiling on my own terms.
Here’s me at around 4 years old, with a pacifier in my mouth. It took me a very long time (until I was almost 5) to stop using it. Now I know it was a stim.
Most of you have probably seen these photos before, but in case you haven’t: here’s me plugging my ears at a train station, and me flapping my hand.
Now, here are some recent photos from my life. I’m currently 19 years old, so I’m not quite an adult yet.
This is me & Abby :)
Lastly, here are some ridiculous photos Abby took of me the other day while we were walking across campus. Someone wrote “Pillar” on a pillar.
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In one of my classes yesterday, we were talking about Sufi people who spin and chant repetitively as a form of worship & spiritual practice.
It made me think about how repetitive movement & vocalization is present in every religion I can think of (Praying the rosary, etc.)
In those contexts, repetitive movements like spinning in circles, rocking back and forth, touching & moving beads, etc. are not only socially acceptable- they’re praised as signifiers of devoted worship.
Chanting is the same. Repeating a word, phrase, or script over and over.
To me as an autistic person, all of this is familiar.
Stimming and echolalia are the words used to describe the same actions listed above, when done by autistic people.
Our repetitive actions are rarely praised. Often, we are punished or forced to stop instead.
I’ve been feeling emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed lately, and a lot of the reason for that is the fact that I’m managing this account.
The bigger it gets, the more people read my posts, and the more people comment or DM with their unsolicited opinions on my life & work.
I’m someone who takes other people’s opinions seriously, and it can be really hard for me to know when to mentally walk away from comments that assume negative things about me.
Because what if there’s a grain of truth in what they’re saying? What if I need to change?
I am constantly self-reflecting, and constantly striving to do better.
There’s so much about my life that people who don’t know me personally have no idea about.
But I’m a highly sensitive autistic person. It’s hard to stop things from getting under my skin.
Please stop assuming that autistic self-advocates have no understanding of, or proximity to, so-called “severe” autism.
In fact, many of us were (or are) ourselves labeled “severe” ; are parents of children labeled “severe” ; and/or are caregivers for people labeled “severe.”
Many autistic parents of autistic kids have children with high support needs and communication challenges.
I know of many all-autistic families, where each child has vastly different traits and needs.
This complexity is often erased in conversations about the ND movement.
Detractors of autistic self-advocates often insinuate that we are “not like their children” or that we have no understanding of “real autism.”
But those ideas are flimsy and they fall apart upon closer examination.
I have made so many posts about the fact that most autistic people prefer identity-first language, but a lot of non-autistic people still leave comments like this when I use the word “autistic” in my writing:
“*People who have autism. Person first language is important 🙃”
Comments on our Instagram page are limited to people who follow us (to limit abuse and ableism).
So, whoever commented this ostensibly considers themselves an ally to autistic people.
But they are still acting in a way that betrays their arrogance in this space.
I’m not going to explain why people should use identity-first language for the 100th time (you can just go to identityfirstautistic.org).
Instead, I’m going to explain why it’s totally inappropriate for anyone to “correct” an autistic person on this issue.
Today is the first day of #AutismAcceptanceWeek, so I have a request for everyone who interacts with autistic people (particularly nonspeaking autistic people):
Don’t talk about us while we’re right in front of you as if we’re not there, and don’t infantilize us.
I used to volunteer at a school for disabled people, and we had a lot of autistic students.
Almost all of the teachers would talk to each other about the students, and even complain about them, while they were right there in the same room.
It was so viscerally wrong.
I knew for a fact that the students understood what was being said about them. I watched as their facial expressions and body language changed.
But the teachers didn’t really seem to notice or care.
I was afraid to tell them to stop, in case it would cause me to lose my job.