Forging Neurodiversity

When people think of autism, usually what pops into their mind is Ray from Rain Man or some other harmful, maybe even more grotesque, stereotype media has embedded in our psyches through misinformation.

The problem with those images besides their obvious stigma and discriminatory depiction is autistics are a vibrant and eclectic group of people who vary greatly across the wide spectrum that is our condition.

Yes, that’s right. I’m autistic, too. Naturally, I have some bias on the subject.

Though I may have only been diagnosed in adulthood (specifically within the last few months) what I have learned and realised before and especially more so through psychotherapy—I’ve always been autistic. I’ve always displayed the symptoms, and I’ve usually been treated differently because of it.

Yeah, all that bullying I endured at school? Turns out it was the ‘tism the entire time.

Funny thing is autism can’t be cured nor do you ever “grow out” or “mature out” of it. It’s kind of a constant thing. No matter how old you are.

Those bullies I mentioned? They persist, too. Even in adulthood. Their methods just become more…subtle, making it worse to understand.

You see, I’ve come to realize my autism is an invisible disability. More specifically, autism is a social disability.

Here, let me give you a visual.

Do you remember the movie Edward Scissorhands? Of course you do. It’s a classic. If you haven’t seen it, then you must stop reading this and immediately go watch it. No, seriously. Go now and watch it. Right now! It’s on Disney+ I think. For me, it’s Tim Burton’s masterpiece and he’s never done anything as spectacular since. You won’t regret it.

Now that we’re all caught up, the film is about a boy with scissors for hands. Got it? Pretty straightforward, albeit bizarre.

That’s what it’s like living with autism.

You’re straightforward, but everyone sees you as this bizarre being, almost like a rare mythological creature from a fairy tale, when really you’re just like everyone else. Oh, except that minor detail of having scissors for hands.

As we can imagine since Burton so beautifully showed us, Edward at first doesn’t know how to interact with the “normal,” or neurotypical, world because he’s lived in his own little world for so long. When Peg Boggs comes along and gently leads him outside for the first time, taking him home to care for him, he opens up. Though at first he struggles to adapt—sometimes cutting his own face from or unable to eat peas with a knife—the family soon finds the perfect task which only Edward can do: cutting.

He chops lettuce for a salad, he trims their bushes into works of art, he cuts hair. Soon Edward is beloved by the suburb and everyone wants to use his unique, though still bizarre, talent.

You see, Edward was designed by the man in the castle to cut things. That’s what his gift is for, and the suburbanites, by accident, discover this using it to their advantage.

In fact, it’s Edward’s inexperience and innocence—his misunderstanding of social cues—that later gets him into trouble as there are two characters who try to use him for their own advantage. Soon, the tide turns and he’s seen as a freak, and must return to exile in lonely the castle on the hill.

That’s because the suburbanites never truly accepted and appreciated Edward. Only the Boggs family loved and cared for him like a son.

In the same way, we often use autistics for their special gifts. I started this post with mentioning Rain Man, and that’s another great example of using autistics for our own gain.

Despite the films flaws with representation, and among the many terrible things Charlie does to Ray throughout the film, one of the best examples is at the casino. Ray has no idea what’s going on when Charlie takes him there. He just counts the cards because that’s what he does, oblivious to his brother’s cheating. Even after their caught, he doesn’t really understand. He counted the cards. What’s wrong with that?

Autistics are not tools. We’re people.

We just see the world differently. Interact differently. That is out disability.

There have been several times in my life, even without knowing I was autistic, when I was taken advantage of for someone’s personal gain. In fact, it’s an area my therapist and I frequently have to discuss due to my lack of understanding social cues, or misunderstanding.

We’re so much more susceptible to manipulation and abuse, and living in a world catered to neurotypical behaviours with little to no acceptance of our humanity makes it a struggle for us to live here.

That’s why suicide and depression and PTSD are so high in autistics.

Change begins with us. To help autistics live in this world, we need neurotypicals to stop promoting awareness like we’re some rare breed of endangered beetle you don’t want to accidentally step on when walking down the pavement.

We need neurotypicals to promote acceptance with us.

I’m paired with a neurotypical mother of an autistic child at work; we’re creating an affinity support group together for neurodivergents. She has been so encouraging to me as I grow and learn about my autistic self. I think at one time she told me to stop apologizing for my needs and differences, and I wanted to burst into tears.

That is what I mean when I say acceptance.

Through this, we can forge a world where neurodivergents can finally feel like they belong. We can create a vibrant society of neurodiversity.