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.
Chanting & repetitive movements induce altered states of consciousness in spiritual practitioners, and can be used to assist with emotional regulation.
Why would that change just because the person doing the repetition is autistic & not explicitly praying or worshiping?
What if autistic stimming and echolalia serves the same purpose as repetition in religious practice?
After rocking back and forth for over 15 minutes, I definitely feel like I’ve entered an altered state.
It makes me calmer, more regulated, more in-tune with myself.
Autistic behaviors are human behaviors, and therefore are present all around us.
I wonder how many people who regularly pray the rosary have tried to stop autistic people from flapping our hands.
Does “calming anxiety, generating or maintaining awareness of the body, focusing concentration, and dealing with overwhelming emotions or sensations” sound like something to you?
To me it sounds a lot like meditation, or ritualistic prayer.
The connection is important.
I’m not saying that stimming and echolalia are inherently spiritual.
But I do think they often serve the same purpose as more culturally accepted forms of repetitive behavior.
Some other analogies might be playing a repetitive game or sport, doing a repetitive dance, etc.
This reframing is really important for anyone who interacts with autistic people and wonders why we stim.
We stim for the same reasons anyone else does.
It’s just that we do it more often (and usually more intensely), because we have more information to process and regulate.
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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.