Memories of admissions and that odious "Extracurricular activities" box

When I was in high school, I was a lousy student. I will be the first to admit it. I had a mediocre GPA, no extracurriculars that would make a good impression, and did not volunteer for any charitable organizations or events. I think I got into college purely because UM had low standards and because I can write one hell of an essay when the mood strikes me.

I was often asked, by admissions officers and other people taking an interest in my college future why I was so reluctant to sign up for charity work. My more ambitious classmates were devoting all their free hours to beach clean ups, volunteering at literacy programs, all the usual activities that look good on a resume or a college application. And that was exactly why I was not spending any of my time alongside them in those activities. Because that's all they were to them, activities to impress board rooms full of college admissions officers looking for "well-rounded" students who were active in their communities, but in activities that could be happily considered uncontroversial and non-rebellious. Very few of them really were passionate about the activities they were connected to, and very few of them had little more than a cursory knowledge of the charities they were working for. Just ask any high school student I blasted for supporting Autism Speaks, hahaha.

And I wanted none of that. I saw it as the ultimate hypocrisy. Miming an interest in the welfares of others for the sole purpose of forwarding your own ambitions. These able-bodied, neurotypical, mainly white, cisgendered, straight students were cashing in on the system of handing bread crumbs to the poor and the disabled so that they could one day cozy up into sky-high offices and never bother to look back down again. I was adamant that I would do my own activism on my own terms, and none of it would be user-friendly to rooms full of old white academics who were out of touch with the true struggles of those who were on the force-fed end of this system of photo ops and references on applications.

Now I am in college, and my attitude is considerably less harsh towards charitable work done by high school students. I know that many organizations are forced out of scrimping and pinching in order to survive and continue their operations, and I am glad that they have them to count on, even if their motives are less than 100% altruistic.

But my personal feelings towards my own credentials in that field remains the same. I am not your typical "March for Autism" charity walker. Autism is my life. I cannot put on a blue t-shirt, do a song and dance for some cameras, and then jot it down on an application and forget all about it. I wake up autistic, I go through my day autistic, and every night I go to bed as an autistic. My passion for seeing my own people be treated with respect and my crusade to end dog-and-pony shows that treat autism as something to be pitied will not gain me entrance to universities or private clubs.

My outspoken resistance to the efforts to bottle us up and use as as props to show off their giving spirit has been met with misunderstanding, open hostility, and outright accusations of being a self-hating autistic who doesn't know what's good for me. My truth makes people who do faux-charity gigs uncomfortable, because it forces them to question their own goodness in their empty gestures when they hand over their latte money to Autism Speaks after shopping at Toys R Us, unaware or perhaps not caring that it will go either towards posh New York suite offices or developing a method of wiping autism off the planet. It's about giving themselves a reassuring pat on the back and looking good to each other.

But I do not require the approval of admissions officers, an ink-soaked resume, or a spot at Harvard as a token Autie destined to change the world of calculus or chemistry to reassure myself that my activism means something. I can look inside my own mind and see that what I am doing is helping myself come to terms with a world that reviles me and my voice, my very existence.

Film Review: Mary & Max

This film was recommended to me by an ex boyfriend who was aware of my Asperger Syndrome/Autism. I went into the task of watching it with some apprehension, namely because a lot of depictions of autism in the media are downright embarrassing in their ignorance and prejudice against the idea of neurodiversity. But I trusted my ex's opinion, and watched Mary & Max tonight.

I think we have a new winner for the most sensitive portrayal of autism in film. Ever.

Mary & Max is only partially about Asperger Syndrome, which the character of Max has. It is more about the unique friendship struck up between himself and Mary, a lonely girl from Australia who writes to him on a whim after picking his address out of a New York phone book. The two form a bond that may seem unorthodox to neurotypicals, but to me, it made perfect sense. For people with AS, the task of friendships, particularly friendships with people in your own age group, can be daunting. It seemed natural to me that Max would more readily accept a friendship with someone who was younger than him, since children tend to be more forgiving of autism's special package of quirks.

Max, voiced by Philip Seymour Hoffman (Whom I think is neurotypical, correct me if I'm wrong) is matter of fact, well-rehearsed in many facts, and has difficulty with certain situations that can lead to a need for anti-anxiety medication... Just like me. The only time he's mentioned as having savant-like abilities is when he notes casually that he taught himself to read with both eyes, left page for left eye, right page for right eye. This is actually an attribute he shares with Kim Peek, one of the most frequently non-autistic people to be labelled as autistic. But the fact that Max's mind, while having many autistic qualities and having several special talents and an affinity with numbers, was depicted as not being in the super-genius range, was a welcome relief for me. Finally, someone I could relate to, whose intelligence didn't pose an intimidating challenge or make people with autism ask "Why can't I do that?"

What was most interesting to me was Max's attitude towards his Asperger Syndrome. He did not display any self-pity, loathing, or wishes for neurotypical life. He was proud to be autistic, and can even be seen in one part of the film posing in an "Aspies for Freedom" shirt! When Mary makes a faux pas that a lot of aspies would recognize as common curebie tendencies, Max acts as I would act in the same situation. He remarks that changing his Asperger Syndrome would be like trying to change his eye colour.

The film takes place over two decades, and it is, as I said before, a very accurate, touching portrait of what real life with autism is like. There's no pity for Max, only a love expressed for him and his bond with Mary. I wholeheartedly recommend it. I hope that even though it's no Oscar-grabbing prize winner, it plants the seeds of neurodiverse thought and autism acceptance in film festival goer's brains, and gets them to think twice before slapping a "Let's cure you!" attitude on.

Dr. Barrett of Quackwatch faces legal thuggery from Doctor's Data

http://scienceblogs.com/insolence/2010/06/more_legal_thuggery.php

I don't have much more to add to this story. But I would like to say that the silencing and bullying tactics that are being used against Barrett are the same ones that people with autism face when confronting lies about the origins of autism and the snipe chase of a cure.

I have been criticized before for letting my identity as a skeptic get in the way of my autism blogging, but I say that being both a skeptic and autistic, the issues that the two deal with are equal in importance to me, and I feel that it is important that people with autism collaborate with members of the skeptic community to create the best income for people with autism. Truth is the root of the skeptical movement, and what's good for truth is good for autism.

Donate to Barrett's legal defense here through his website, Quackwatch: http://www.quackwatch.org/00AboutQuackwatch/donations.html

And while you're there, check out the website. It's an invaluable tool for science based medicine and making reasonable, educated decisions.

Ne'eman confirmed

http://www.disabilityscoop.com/2010/06/22/neeman-confirmation/9133/

History was made today. Thank you President Obama. Thank you to all who fought for Ari in the face of threats to make his confirmation a pipe dream. There is now a person with autism who will fight for our rights. Self advocacy indeed.

We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that (s)he is someone today. ~Stacia Tauscher

A big reason behind my entering the world of blogging was because I felt that the internet was the ideal way to get across a message that had been systematically ignored, mocked, or silenced out of the public debate on autism: That human beings deserve a basic amount of dignity, respect, bodily and intellectual autonomy, and independence, and that people with autism are human beings.

The public discourse about autism rarely focuses on this simple, frequently denied idea. We're almost never included in the discussion, except on occasions when we are paraded out in dunce caps to show off our pitiful existence in order to garner sympathy for our parents and caretakers. But what really gets me is that the most often provided targets of this pity parade are children. O, won't someone think of the children?

In my experience, the anti-vaccine camp is the most guilty of all the parties in performing this stunt. A particular example that has come to my attention recently involves a fellow referring to his child with autism as "damaged", in a Canadian newspaper. Owing to some interesting circumstances, I'm choosing not to name the paper nor the letter writer, for the safety of myself and my loved ones. But when I read his letter to the editor, I was instantly reminded of other examples of this. Jenny McCarthy's son, before his autism diagnosis when he was a "Crystal child", during his diagnosis and alleged "cure", and after it was revealed he never had autism at all. The children on Oprah Winfrey, squirming uncomfortably as they were held up by their mothers as an example of the "damage" vaccines had done to them, and countless other examples leap to mind.

It's not just the fact that they are humiliating these children in the public sphere that is problematic, or insulting them in front of all, with words like "empty", "husk", "broken", "sickened", "damaged", "stolen", "near dead" and "ill" being liberally applied. The very fact that children, particularly when it involves nonverbal children, are being used as pawns to advance the political/social agendas of adults is downright sickening. Children are not the property of their parents, to be displayed at their whim, or used as a bargaining chip in an ideological debate. They are individuals, and yet, their freedom and their power to decide their destiny is often marginalized due to the wishes of adults who hold power over them, whether it be parents, teachers, or caretakers. Especially concerning disabled children.

The reason that I am here today, writing this, is because my mother and father didn't use my neurological differences as a battering ram to force their viewpoints onto other people. I was not a trump card, or any other sort of metaphor or tool to them. I was their daughter, and their priorities to me were to protect, nurture, and respect my growth. Autistic children grow up to be autistic adults. But we cannot be happy, whole grown ups with autism if we grow up under the shadow of people who consider us to be broken, diseased, or political bargaining chips.

Post-racial politically correct world my arse

Usually when a story about autism is featured in the media, it will rarely talk about the challenges faced by adult and teen-aged autistics, and they certainly won't talk about how disablism against people with autism intersects with other prejudices, like sexism, transphobia, homophobia, or racism.

But today, we find ourselves with a story on our hands of a teenager with autism facing horrific treatment at the hands of the police, for the "crime" of sitting around while black and autistic.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ken-reibel/teen-with-aspergers-arres_b_610530.html

Like "Neli", I am autistic, and I enjoy walking, and will often leave the house in the early mornings to go for a stroll without leaving a note. The only difference is that I am in possession of white privilege, which means that I'm unlikely to be reported as "suspicious... possibly with a gun" to the police. Neli did nothing wrong, he is simply an unfortunate victim of racism, disablism, and the brutality of police officers who not only have no clue as to how to work with people with disabilities, they often openly embrace thuggish tactics.

Thus far, most of America's mainstream media has been silent. Because this story doesn't concern parading autistic children out in dunce caps to showcase what a tragedy they are, they seem to see no reason to pay attention to Neil's plight. But as a fellow autie, I see every reason to do so. Sign this petition here:

http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/autism-and-racial-injustice

To Neli and his family, I say that I'm throwing all my support behind you and hope you know how many people are fighting for justice and your side of the story.

Stop stereotyping sexuality, sheesh!

Compared to neurotypical people of my own age group, I have a relatively modest amount of past relationships. Before I met my current partner, whom I love very much and consider to be my perfect match, I was only in a committed relationship with one other person, and I've had a few encounters that didn't amount to anything particularly significant. But in these minute encounters, I've noticed some particularly interesting differences between the way I as an autistic woman am treated by a potential suitor as compared to a neurotypical female.

For the record, I am also pansexual. This means that I am not particular about the gender of my partner, and I am equally attracted to men, women, and anyone who doesn't fit into the prerequisite gender roles, provided I feel that "spark" with them.

Since I often "pass" as neurotypical and I don't usually reveal my autism to someone until the subject gets brought up, I've noticed a schism between how I am treated by potential suitors when I am presumed neurotypical, and after the "big reveal". It's given me an interesting, and perhaps unique, insight into the way that society treats the sexuality and "dateability" of people with mental disabilities.

Even though I am candid and open about my sexuality, I don't usually seek out partners. I'm a loner by nature, and both of the serious relationships I have had happily fell into my lap, though with my current boyfriend, I had been actively in love with him for quite some time and was very happy when I found out he loved me too.

However, having a certain amount of pretty privilege, being white, cisgendered, TAB (temporarily able-bodied), pear-shaped, and tall, with long legs, a long neck, high cheekbones, and large eyes, means that I am sometimes subject to unwanted flirting, more often by men than by women. When this occurs, I am unsure of the proper way to respond, so I react out of a mixture of a desire to keep the person at an arm's length, and wishing not to appear rude. I can't seem to bring myself to outright reject a person, even when every instinct is telling me to do so, I am forced to remain friendly against my better judgement.

At first, these flirtations tend to be extremely sexual in nature, and focus a lot of emphasis on my appearance, with the interested person calling me "sweetie", "gorgeous", "honey", and "babe", amongst other pet names, instead of "Leah", my preferred form of address. Often, they will try to initiate small but intimidating forms of physical contact, such as touching my face, laying a hand on my shoulder, or touching my hand. All of which make me extremely uncomfortable, and make my sensory/tactile anxieties go absolutely haywire. This is often the step when my disinterest in non consensual physical affection with strangers becomes apparent, as I can't hide my discomfort any longer. But it's often brushed off as me being "shy" or in several cases, a "tease".

After getting to know me and becoming more aware of my quirky mannerisms, the person interested will often make a comment about it, at which point I "come out" as autistic. The reactions of that revelation have ranged from surprise/disbelief in the form of "But you seem so normal!" to outright rejection of my diagnosis, one person telling me, "No way, you're so normal, and autistic kids (nice way of infantizing autistics while simultaneously holding up the myth that autism is a children's syndrome) are majorly sick and effed up!"

But as time goes on and my honesty becomes apparent, I notice a shift in attitude. The most common symptom is a tone-down in the sexualized language, treating more like a child, and speaking to me in a slow, deliberate voice, as though I had difficulty speaking or was of below-average intelligence and verbal ability. Basically, their vision of me has changed from being neurotypical, and therefore sexy and desirable, to being non-neurotypical, and being therefore childlike, asexual, and not appropriate to be sexualized out of a fear that I might not comprehend the consequences.

I find this attitude insulting. I had the good fortune of having many a resource in my teens that helped me cope with my changing feelings and body; the best one being Asperger's Syndrome and Sexuality, by Isabelle Henault (http://www.amazon.com/Aspergers-Syndrome-Sexuality-Adolescence-Adulthood/dp/1843101890) which not only explained appropriate expressions of sexuality to me, but helped me come to terms with my pansexuality and how to properly deal with situations like sexual harassment and assault. I am therefore just as, if not more, educated than a neurotypical on healthy sexuality and relationships. My disability should not be an automatic neutering. There are people with autism who are asexual of course, but in my experience, the idea that we're all asexual is just another symptom of the stereotype that autism is a childhood affliction and that autistic people vanish from relevance once we are past our 18th birthday. It freezes us in a perpetual childhood, and we cannot be respected as adults with the same desires for intimacy and companionship if we are considered neuter beings.

The flip side of the autism reveal coin is even more insulting, but inevitable in a culture where mental illness is feared and stigmatized: I have had potential romantic suitors who have, upon learning about my autism, attempted to shield me entirely from emotional conflict, citing a fear that I would have a "meltdown" or "blow up" if something went wrong. As though I were a child on the verge of a temper tantrum!

I cannot repeat enough, the fact that when it comes to abuse in relationships and society in general, people with mental disabilities are a lot more likely to be the VICTIMS of an attack or ongoing assault than they are the perpetrators. Autistic women are particularly vulnerable to this, since without proper tools and knowledge we can easily become victim to a neurotypical partner's abuse and not know a means of escape.

So I found their idea that if I lost my temper I would pose a danger to others to be laughable. This one is sinister in its stigmatizing people with autism as unstable and unfit for relationships, but it stems from the same idea. Instead of being sweet little children who don't know how to take care of ourselves, we become unbalanced freaks who could go after you with a pickaxe at the slightest provocation.

These ridiculous assumptions are the only ones in need of a pickaxe to the head. What people with autism need are supportive resources that can give a comprehensive sex education and teach about the full spectrum of sexuality, from my own to asexuality. What neurotypicals need is to understand that disabled people, not just people with autism, but all, deserve a fully realized, healthy sexuality that is celebrated, and a chance to express their sexuality in a safe manner with a partner who will not make these hurtful assumptions.

Am I asking too much? No way. I certainly got lucky with my own neurotypical partner. I am sure all other people with autism who desire a partner deserve the same.