Posted in Advocacy, Autistic Identity

I Wish I Could Say I’m Aspergian: Why We Have to Join Up “For the Team”

Every so often, you’ll meet an Autistic who insists on saying that he or she has Asperger’s Syndrome.  That term has been removed from the diagnostic manual because people OTHER than us decided on Autistic being the blanket term.  While there’s good and bad in that, the gist of the reasoning was that those who got the Asperger’s label weren’t getting help, so it was better to call us all Autistic.

That was remarkably helpful of the medical establishment, which is sort of rare.

But had I been in the meeting, I would have said, “Can’t we both be Asperger’s Syndrome, instead?”

But since Asperger’s ONLY (to them) meant “high-functioning,” to ask that question would be tantamount to saying that I wanted to erase the “low-functioning” people from existence.  I don’t believe in functioning labels, but if I DID, I need to support my Neurosiblings who have been considered “low-functioning” first.  As such, I have to bury Asperger’s Syndrome.

Which is sad, I think.

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Posted in Autistic Identity, Parenting

To Push, or Not to Push: Figuring out How to Parent Autistics

One of the things that’s difficult about being an Autistic parent of an Autistic is knowing how to raise my own kid.

See, my husband and I are Autistics of the generation that, in general, few people knew they were Autistic.  We were the “do it and shut up” generation which meant that we were told to do things the same as our peers whether or not it “felt weird” or “hurt” or otherwise didn’t go as planned.

Obviously that only works so long, and our parents realized, over time, they had pretty weird kids.

[Image: A little blonde girl, aged around 7 or 8, holds her head against a chalkboard with writing on it, and looks down; she has a pink barrette in hair and wears braids. She looks stressed out.]
My husband used to read a lot; using his reading, which is something in white culture is considered an advantage, especially when the child reads books above grade level, to hide.  I used to do the same, but at recess, I’d swing a lot.  A LOT, as in, the whole recess, and use the time on the swings to imagine my fantasy kingdom.  Neither strategy makes a kid a lot of friends.

Side note: hiding to read or playing board games by yourself is considered anti-social in Black culture and you will be harassed and told by the adults to do something else if you use this common Autistic child trick as your escape method.

I got invited to birthday parties when we had to invite everyone, and my asthma and severe allergies meant that I was never going to have to stay overnight in a house with a dog, so I could cut my visits short.

Over time, though, they stopped inviting me, when it was an option not to invite the entire class.  Parties became subtle, and I just assumed no one had them anymore.

Oh, they had them.  They had them, and I wasn’t invited.

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