autism is not our enemy
a restful musing
“My heart is not peripheral to me.” June Jordan.
“I am black alive and looking back at you.” June Jordan
these sentences are anchors for my soul. on a routine basis, I repeat them often, as I feel the generative power of affirmation, kindness, and respect. i set them here purposefully, and with great care. i use them now as I enter a difficult conversation. posts like these are always nerve wracking to me. although I tend to be more vulnerable than the average Joe in most of my writings, I despise the times where my heart is on the line. naked. vulnerable. but. vulnerability is what I offer here and in the other places my work exists. whether I am writing for an academic journal, a personal poem, or lecturing a college class, vulnerability for the sake of communal care is what I offer well. Pressing submit on this post though will be nauseating, as I wonder if people will hear me clearly. If it will be resonant.
about two years ago, I went on a journey to understand myself better. I wrote this post in my attempt to signify the peace I was coming to in pursuing a diagnosis of autism:
that particular post went semi-viral and was important to me to speak my truths out loud. I had been researching and finding more and more resonance with what many autistic had to say about their lived-experiences. i have yet to pursue any diagnosis for ADHD but I have done enough consultation to affirm that I am indeed autistic. and. I got a two for one package (sarcasm) because I also have high levels of anxiety that I am medicated for. all of this is important to know the context of how this particular video (and ideology) has done to me this past week. (trigger warning for ableism)
“autism destroys families.”
this short video is horrific. for many reasons. despite autism being a spectrum that allows for different bodies and minds to present differently, this governmental official collapsed all of us into the shadow of “tragedy.” in doing so, RFK Jr. reduces thousands of people to being victims, and the bane of communities. i wish that I could laugh this off, to blame it on “those people out there.” to reduce it to a certain ideology or political party. but I can’t. as a Black man that does theoethical work around Black disabilities, and as an autistic Black man, I know that this rhetoric around disabled people in general, and autistic people in specific centers around pity and mistrust. the belief that we make the life of others worse. this belief that we were mutated into who we are. that the pollution of the environment has made us. that maybe vaccines birthed our identities. perhaps this is why I resisted so long informing myself about autism. i remembered how Black autistic boys were treated as a child. I remember how they are depicted in movies and general media. i wanted (and want) to be Black excellence. i desire to be seen as human.
here we are. in days where governmental leaders make it a quest to root out the evils of autism. to make America NORMAL again. i hope deep down that this stirs something in you. i am biased. completely. i tend to write about things that others find pleasant on Sundays. Hence the “restful musings.” rest can include hard truths also. perhaps this post will not be as personally meaningful as other musings that I have shared. perhaps it is too nice. well. help those who are autistic live in a world that doesn’t demonize who they are in the core identity. there are more to who we are than what we are NOT. we are loving. we are creating beauty in the world. we are making love. we are praying. we are leading. love us here. autistic people are not enemies. don’t have to be considered unwanted or pitiable. I leave you with the words of young Akha that rest upon my heart regularly. this young boy in South Africa was born nonverbal and was finally blessed with a letter board machine that allowed him to begin to communicate his thoughts:
“I want the world to know that I am just like you. I may seem different, but inside I am just the same…I think. I feel. I dream. I hope. I laugh. Take the time to get to know me. Don’t judge me by my outside. There is so much more to me.” Akha
*Thank you for reading my work. If it has blessed you would you consider sharing it? Or buying me a coffee?
As a 62 year old white woman, childless by choice, I was 'too sensitive' as an only child and bent further out of shape by my alcoholic father. Moving ten times in my first decade, I had only pets for friends, and became a musician like the lonely, ugly duckling became a swan but fitting in is a constant grind. Professional help only confused me further. depressed? yes. emotionally dis-regulated? often. c-ptsd? adhd? OCD? labels confused, medication dampened, therapy opened old wounds to no avail. It wasn't until I read about high-masking autism that I could appreciate the mosaic of my life and stop my chronic self-flagellation. Self-care recommendations for ASD have alleviated my worst symptoms, and while I won't seek a formal diagnosis having worn out that gear on my inner bike, I coach singers and songwriters, write atheist prayers disguised as poems, enjoy and endure, still surrounded by my beloved pets in new incarnations. When I find a kindred spirit, I subscribe to his (her/their) Substack and thank my lucky stars for grace that got me here. Whosoever judges us a burden, or late in finding our way through life's (a)maze(ment) doesn't have the bandwidth to hear the song it's taken us this long to learn to sing. Oh! The music they miss! Bless your beautiful soul Robert, your melody is utterly sublime!
Beautiful post. Thank you. Sounds like ol’ RFK, Jr. needs to listen to The Telepathy Tapes. How shortsighted he is and discounting of all the gifts that each community brings.