Showing posts with label actuallyautistic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label actuallyautistic. Show all posts

Saturday, May 21, 2016

Dear Autistic kids: a letter about friendship


I need to talk to you about something a lot of people don't talk about: friendship.

Some people assume that we won't ever have friends. Or, that we will know the “rules” for friendship if we have friends. The first assumption is wrong. The second assumption is sometimes wrong. I know no one explained the “rules” for friendship to me.

People will like you. People will care about you. Sometimes, these people will leave. I have been learning this the hard way. No one told me the “rules.” No one told me that friendships don't often last forever. I am sometimes in a great deal of hurt. This is especially after leaving college. Friends headed off to different parts of the country or even the world. I also moved to a different city for a job.

Sometimes, people move on. This includes these days, when people might have to move more and more for jobs. You might move and find it hard to keep in touch. People might also move for college, or just for other reasons. It doesn't mean they never liked you. Sometimes you will feel used. But that is how a lot of friendships will work, and it doesn't mean they didn't enjoy being friends. A lot of times, both people understand that many friendships are not a forever thing. But people might not have told you that. This is not your fault. It does not make you bad.

Sometimes you might feel close to a person, but they don't feel as close to you. It doesn't mean they don't like you. It will hurt. Figuring that stuff out is hard. It might change how you hang out with them, if you figure it out. It might change as you try to learn what things makes them uncomfortable because they aren't as close.

For example, I would devote myself to people who weren't as close to me. I would always remember their birthdays and sometimes bring them things. I would feel hurt when they didn't remember my birthday, though I didn't expect gifts. But they never expected me to remember theirs in the first place. And it often made them uncomfortable when I gave them things. 

Sometimes, friendships can last a long time. They aren't always short-term. It can be hard to tell which ones will, and which ones won't. Try to see how much work they want to put in to keep the friendship going after it gets harder to be friends for whatever reason, including distance. If they don't want to put in a lot of work, then it might have been a short term one. This is a generalization. It doesn't apply to all situations.

Friends won't always just drift away. Sometimes friends will hurt you and you leave. Or you just don't get along after a while. Or you make a mistake and hurt them. That will happen. We are all people. It doesn't make you evil. It will hurt when these things happen. Having friends is still worth it.

I didn't have a close friend from the time I was 12 to 18 and a half. I had a loose, vague collection of friendly people, but that was all. Fellow students looked at me a lot like I needed to get off the planet. But at some point, people will like you, and people will care. It might take a while, like it did for me. People will like you and people will care. A lot of times they'll leave and occasionally they won't. It will hurt sometimes.

Having friends is still worth it.

Best,
Kit



Thursday, April 7, 2016

On Autism Acceptance Month

We put so much into trying to reclaim “Autism Awareness Month,” our reactions informed by trauma, abuse, neglect, and pain. It is the month where many of us are surrounded by blue lights and puzzle pieces. We turn to seeking those out and commenting furiously, fueled by pain and anger – with mixed results. We write long blog posts and hold acceptance events trying to counter the flood of “awareness.”

We have made some progress, such as Apple calling it “autism acceptance” with no mention of “awareness.” This is important that people saw it called acceptance, though many don't have access to iPads, which is concerning and needs to be addressed. We're getting the word “acceptance” more mainstream.

But what if we put some of the same energy into claiming our other Autistic holidays that we made ourselves? Autistic culture can blossom further if we allow our holidays to grow, to become cultural phenomena that is talked about outside autistic circles:

·         June 18 – Autistic Pride Day  
·         November 1 – Autistics Speaking Day
·         November – Autistic History Month 

I do not oppose working for acceptance during April, obviously! I am of course against LIUB and the like. But what if we put some of that April energy into being for things relating to autistic culture and pride, instead of mostly focusing on a month where it's a constant being against things like Autism Speaks and “awareness,” which can be exhausting? 

What do you think? 



Saturday, March 5, 2016

life lessons from a "difficult child"

In preschool, I ran circles around my classmates.

Here's the stack of novels she's read today.” The teachers would indicate a large stack of books in kindergarten in first grade to my mother. “Here's the amount of classwork she's done.” A stack of uncompleted worksheets.

I thought the psychiatrist's questions were rather pointless. His condescending manner struck me even as a young child. I couldn't express it in words, so I bit and threw anything I could at him. By the first grade he had given me diagnoses of Oppositional Defiant Disorder, ADHD, and anxiety.

Age 14: I am diagnosed as autistic alongside those.

Age 16: depression.

Throughout: Social skills work. Therapy. Psychiatrists. Medications.

My life has been a cocktail of medications prescribed as diagnoses tacked on each other. My body and brain rejected many of them. Some altered my mood dramatically; others made me fall asleep in class even when I didn't want to. A combination of them gave me seizures in college. I tried to bail from them cold turkey and wound up with withdrawal symptoms for six months. I have no idea what the current ones – a much nicer combination than the last combination – have done to my brain chemistry; I can't function without one of them at this point.

I was gone up the tree when someone stops looking. I was screaming at people who touched me. I was shredding paper and trashing my room and causing a ruckus. I had broken another electronic item; this time, it's by accident, but last time, I threw it.

I never had access to enough language to express my feelings, my past trauma that I didn't know had happened yet, my pent up rage at the turmoil my life constantly seemed to be in. I tried to put words to feelings that I didn't know about, to use words to explain, but it failed. The same words that were my refuge on paper, working on novels and typing out poetry and stories, failed me with trying to express my deepest feelings.

Everything is a pathology, something that needs prescribing for, because we are “too difficult” otherwise. We are to be behaviorally-modified and we are to be silenced one way or another. My life has been through this framework. People wondered how to “fix” me. I was “that kid,” the weird one who moved funny and talked funny and could only talk about cats and gerbils and books, who seemed either lost in their head or too loud and frenetic for this world, who ran off to investigate things without a moment's care of whether I lost track of who I was with.

And yet I was never “from hell.” No one with a disability is from hell, Alison M. Thompson, author of the Boy From Hell: Life With a Child with ADHD. You've gotten that book republished. Congrats, I guess, on implying that we are from an otherworldly dimension of fire and punishment. This is how people see us: punishments, burdens, deadweights.

What about us?

We read your stories and hear your words, no matter how lost in our heads we seem. We are not your experiments in how quiet and orderly you can make us. We live and experience trauma from the way people treat us – we should have your support of all people's to back us up against a world that thinks us a waste of space, not contributing to the pain and trauma. We live your words and your punishments, reared to feel defective and that we'll be only considered almost people if we pass by your standards.

I never learned to shut up and be still. I never learned how to limit the amount of space I take up. I never learned to modulate and self regulate for others' discomfort with my disabilities. I never will. It breaks my heart that people live with the exhaustion of self-regulating into silence or compliance. It breaks my heart that people are learning the ways they supposedly don't matter from the world and all the ways they move and communicate are supposedly wrong.

I work for a world where it is at least mostly safe to be disabled, visibly or not, anywhere, anytime, and no matter who you're with. It is exhausting and painful and sometimes triggering, and sometimes rewarding. I would do it without any of the rewards. It is important enough to me that I lose sleep on how to best benefit the disability community.

Because we are not disposable, or punishments, or wrong for existing. 

--

Note: I used she pronouns as a child

Friday, February 19, 2016

The Spread of Compliance Training

Recently, the New York Times put out an article under its health section titled, “Early Behavior Therapy Found to Aid Children with A.D.H.D.” Here is a choice quote from the article:

Behavior modification for A.D.H.D. is based on a fairly simple system of rewards and consequences. Parents reward the good or cooperative acts they see; subtle things, like paying attention for a few moments, can earn a pat on the back or a “good boy.” Completing homework without complaint might earn time on a smartphone. Parents withhold privileges, like playtime or video games, or enforce a “time out” in response to defiance and other misbehavior.

And they learn to ignore irritating but harmless bids to win attention, like making weird noises, tapping or acting like a baby.

                […]

The analysis did not account for the psychological cost to parents — in terms of a child’s tantrums, slammed doors and hurled tableware — of carrying out behavioral techniques.

If this sounds a lot like what is used on autistic children to extinguish stimming and reinforce “positive behaviors” and discourage “negative behaviors…” that’s because it is. What they are discussing is fundamentally Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA). But wait, you say. Isn’t ABA good for Autistic children? Isn’t it evidence-based?

Yes, ABA is evidence-based in that it does what it’s designed to do – extinguish or replace certain behaviors. But it’s kind of like Jurassic Park, except no one gets eaten by dinosaurs, because people were so intense and focused on what they could do that no one thought – should we do it? B.F. Skinner and Ivar Lovaas would be thrilled that states are mandating private insurers pay for ABA for autistic children.

And that more children are falling under its scope. ADHD is often thought of as a “cousin” to autism by many – and with that comes the pathologization and attempts to erase all unwanted behaviors.

Let’s break this down further:

“And they learn to ignore irritating but harmless bids to win attention, like making weird noises, tapping or acting like a baby.”

I don’t know, I mostly made cat noises because I liked making cat noises. If they are harmless, why must they be extinguished? If they’re harmless, why are they pathologized? Irritating. I forgot that part. They’re “irritating,” and thus are seen as something to eradicate. Couple onto this the fact that most humans engage in “attention-seeking behaviors,” to be seen, to be heard. And adding a third objection to this, the “mental age” trope of “acting like a baby” is never an appropriate way to describe someone with a disability – in fact, I’d go further and object to anyone being told they’re acting like a baby. It is a complete invalidation.

“The analysis did not account for the psychological cost to parents — in terms of a child’s tantrums, slammed doors and hurled tableware — of carrying out behavioral techniques.”

And here we see the age-old “cost to parents” trope. What does it cost parents? What does it do to parents? My questions are: 







Friday, February 5, 2016

Autistic and Killed By Police

This post focuses mostly on police reactions 

On February 2, 2012, police shot and killed Stephon Watts, a Chicago-area Black Autistic teenager, for panicking while holding a knife, in his home. On Thursday, February 4, 2016, police entered the apartment of Kayden Clarke, an Autistic trans man in Mesa, Arizona, and shot and killed him for being suicidal and holding a knife. In both cases, the officers knew full well of their Autistic identity, having been called to their homes before.

In Watts’ case, the police had shown up to “subdue” him, according to the news report, many, many times in the past. To have had such encounters with the police, which were undoubtedly physical in nature, would be traumatizing.  Even if Watts had not been panicking in the first place, to lash out from fear of being “subdued” again is the result of a fight or flight response. Undoubtedly, being Black and thus seen as even more intimidating also influenced the officers’ reaction. They shot Stephon Watts for being Autistic, Black, and in extreme distress. As a Black Autistic, Watts faced multiple marginalization from society, with ableism and racism as a reaction that killed him.

In Clarke's case, they had responded to a suicide call, found him holding a knife, and shot an Autistic person they knew was Autistic and in extreme distress. They had responded to a suicide call in the past for Clarke. Clarke, as an Autistic trans man, faced unique societal barriers and also clearly had mental health needs – and the police killed him for it. 

It makes me glad I was able to transport myself to the hospital for my suicidal thoughts in early January. It makes me scared of ever having the thoughts again, not just because it feels awful to have them, but because sometimes the cops kill people who are suicidal. It might be my instinct, too, to grab the nearest object to keep people from touching me or taking me away or whatnot.  

People talk in circles about the need for more training for the police regarding disability and mental health, or of having identification cards people can pull out to show the officers. It is my belief that all the training in the world won’t help what’s ingrained in society; the idea that certain people’s lives are less worth living. For instance, the police in *both* cases knew that Watts and Clarke were Autistic and in extreme distress. I don’t believe training or ID cards will fix the hair-trigger reactions of police. While we don’t know what de-escalation tactics they used, if any, before shooting Watts or Clarke, we know those people are dead because the police shot to kill. Training police could potentially save a few lives, but there have to be better solutions.

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

#CrippingTheMighty

It is hard being autistic when the public perception is against us. As an autistic, I am disabled. It is hard being disabled when the public perception is against us. It is hard when I see vast amounts of information and resources aimed at caregivers. And that is not always bad, when the stories are respectful and have insight from disabled people! Caregivers need to know how to caregive respectfully and responsibly! But so much of it is told from their perspective, and many of the stories are not respectful. The media matters and though the media reflects society, society also picks up things from the media.

What should we ask for?

  • They need to pay the disabled writers who still are willing to publish with them.

A fair wage, not just scraps, too.

  • They must make at least 50% of their editorial staff be disabled editors.

They must have real power and a real say.
  • Signal boost and amplify writing by disabled writers as the majority of their pieces.

No more inspiration and pity parade stories, please.

  • Stop using this as a purely money making platform and actually post things that support
    disabled people

The best way to do that is bullet point three. Admittedly some disabled people inspire me. Not because they're disabled, but because they are awesome. But post stories by disabled people that are not just inspiration porn, but practical. Life narratives are fine and we could all use role models, but we disabled people also need more practicality and things that give us tips on how to get around in day to day life.

-----
More posts: 



Sunday, November 22, 2015

This Is What They Think: Protesting Autism Speaks

The ASAN-Atlanta chapter recently protested an Autism Speaks GA 5K Run.

Would you like to hear what autistics have to say about Autism Speaks?”

They kept walking. They said no. They flipped us off. They told us to go home. One person told us they knew everything about autism already because they had autistic children and had “full acceptance for them.” If one is running or walking for an autism cure, it means you only have acceptance of what you want your children to be. You're accepting of a vision, not the people right in front of you.

This was with the exception of about twenty folks. They took flyers, which I really hope they kept.

An Autism Speaks staff member approached us and started condescending to us about how much Autism Speaks *actually* helps autistic people. The person condescended and acted like we did not have a complete story about Autism Speaks. The person also completely forgot Autistic adults existed in their spiel. “It's so great that you're out here, Autistic voices are integral to the conversation about autism!” Sappy and dripping with fake admiration, forgetting advocacy is not cute. Autism Speaks also really is not that interested in autistic voices. They have no autistic leadership anywhere. Their only autistic member of prominence, John Elder Robison, resigned in 2013.

Finally: “I'll keep on loving,” the person declared, as if we did not also want the best for their children. As if we did not love anyone or anything.

At least it showed that we made somewhat of an impact. They wanted to placate us, lower our guard, not come back next year.

***

The children broke my heart the most. One person's child tried to look at our signs. The parent physically turned them away.

This is what many of them seem to think. Autistics cannot think for themselves. Autistics cannot possibly disagree. They do not seem to want their children to grow up with the hope for anything other than a cure and being “indistinguishable from peers.”

To look at our signs and have them realize there are autistic adults who share a neurotype and who are protesting the event that their parents are at would be heresy. To start accepting themselves would be treachery and, to many, the appearance of giving up (it's really not). Many of these parents think that a cure is what society needs to do to help autistic people. They appeared bewildered and angered at our presence.


I really think most of these people do want the best. But they've been told over and over again, by society and since 2005 by Autism Speaks: Cure autism. At the least, make them indistinguishable from peers. It's a disease. A burden.

I flapped at their children. It was the only way to say, “I am like you and you are okay as you are.”

***

Other Sources on Autism Speaks


Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Defining Ableism

Defining Ableism

Note: This is U.S.-centric

***

Sometimes it feels hard to define ableism when it is all around us and everywhere and so much more than language. Language contributes to, and perpetuates, ableism. Ableist acts can include language.

But I keep thinking of the time in Fall 2013 when I started having seizures from a medication interaction. The seizures were atypical. No one knew what they were, least of all me, too out of it to tell that something was actually terribly wrong.

What I most vividly recall is not even the night I had my worst episode, but the day after, when my friend and I talked about it and she'd been terrified to call 911 because of the way I was presenting. Because I was slurring incoherently like I was having some sort of non-neurological or physically based episode, and she knew what happens to people in the psychiatric systems if they go wrong. She knew the way I was presenting would land me in the psych ward.

More drastically, I think of the man who ended up in the mental health system during a crisis, and the state of Maine put his cat down and sold his home.

When we have to be so afraid of our psychiatric system...? That's the result of ableism.

Sometimes I think about all the dead and murdered people too, like Dustin Hicks, a recent one close to home. My chapter just had to write a statement on it. The news outlets declined to even reply to my encouragement to publish all or part of the statement. One news report discussed his mother and reasons why she might want to kill him. None mentioned that he deserved to live, or that his death was a tragedy. We know almost nothing about him.

When we have to issue statements over and over again urging people to report responsibly and call our deaths, not our lives, tragedies? That's the result of ableism.

I think of all the various intersections we have between other identities, too. We are not a monolith. I think of the many, many people of color with disabilities who face racism and ableism, sometimes with deadly or injurious consequences. I think of the #FreeNeli campaign, and how long it took many of us white folks to start tweeting on it after the initial call for tweets. I think of Neli himself, unjustly incarcerated for being black and autistic, in isolation. The governor finally did issue a conditional pardon.

I think of Kayleb Moon-Robinson, one of the many students of color and students with disabilities disproportionately referred to law enforcement. An eleven-year-old charged with a felony. The school to prison pipeline is real...

I think of those of us who hold many identify facets, like being LGBTQ+, a person of color, a religious minority, as well as being disabled.

When we have those intersections meet in a dangerous way, amplified by multiple marginalized identities, the ableism and other -isms and -phobias become intertwined, and not the result of purely ableism. These intersections matter.

I think of how someone got kicked out of their house by their roommates for being autistic.


I think of history, too. I think of the sordid history of locking people with psychiatric disabilities, intellectual disabilities, and developmental disabilities in institutions...

I think of the nasty history of eugenics. (The .pdf is American and German history of eugenics only, as I lack a college library to find the other physical sources. Also, there's a typo at one point where I meant to say “Indiana passed the first sterilization law in 1907.”). How it affected so many with disabilities (and other intersections).

I think of how nowhere was physically accessible, how Ed Roberts couldn't go to school unless he lived in the infirmary.

I think of activists crawling up the Capitol steps to protest and demand the ADA's passage. Don't let the black and white photographs in the coverage of the Capitol Crawl let you think that this was long-gone history. We only just hit 25 years of the ADA.

I think of the long, long history ableism has. Ableism is not new.

***

Could I go on? Yes.

I fear being too depressing. I fear a lot of things. Mostly, I am sometimes frightened of the world.

We could stand to be gentler of people still learning the new words that change so much. Ableism is far more than a list of words and we need all the good hearts we can find. Clumsy language on the part of someone who is trying (and who may have communications-based disabilities!) is something to be less concerned about than the dead and wounded around us. Clumsy language on the part of someone who is trying should, perhaps, receive calling in, not calling out.

Ableism seems insurmountable, and there will never be a great sweeping moment where we crush it entirely. But I think we're making a dent. We've come 25 years since the ADA. Seattle has some crappy curbs that Disability Rights Washington is taking them to task for. Ableism still goes on and on. But we're making a dent. The largest non-profit in the nation dedicated to eradicating autism had its donations drop. Their president is resigning, though this may have been a planned move. We are producing documentaries of our pain and sorrow, of our challenges and stories, of our hopes and dreams.


We have people among us becoming lawyers and professionals and influencing that way. We have others in grassroots advocacy and policy advocacy. We have those whose advocacy is for themselves only, fighting to survive and be heard and respected (and that's okay). We want our brethren to survive. 

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Interviewing folks about NeuroTribes

This ableist article titled “Can We Please Stop Whitewashing Autism” (CN: Ableism, functioning labels, autism as tragedy narrative) is about NeuroTribes.

It’s not, as the title would suggest, about the real erasure autistic PoC face. The author is more concerned that a journalist is trying to treat autism with more respect.

It’s also by someone who has not even *read NeuroTribes with an open mind*. The author of the article has also blocked the author of NeuroTribes from a different thread. 

I'm going to to interview some people: M.o. Kelter from Invisible Strings, Chavisory, and Shannon Rosa of TPGA.

Q1: What is your reaction to the backlash articles against NeuroTribes, in general?

M.o. Kelter: Neurotribes covers so much territory that there is room for constructive criticism. And I think Steve Silberman has been more than willing to listen to constructive criticism. People have discussed stories and histories that they feel could been focused on more and I think all of that can be part of a healthy discussion. So, I would separate fair criticism from what I see as distorted, unfair criticism. For example, when people say “Neurotribes presents autism as this wonderful thing”...it means they didn't read the book. Neurotribes describes a huge, diverse range of autistic experiences. From what I can tell, most of the backlash falls into this second category, where folks are attacking the book for claims it never makes.

Shannon Rosa: Eye rolling. I've yet to see a statement from an anti-neurodiversity perspective that can't be countered by direct quotes from the book. 

I think people are upset by the success of Silberman's campaign for accepting and understanding autistic people like my son and my friends, and his rejection of the usual "brave" horror show accounts. Heavens forbid anyone attempt to derail the decades of abuse and stigma suffered by autistic people (and their families)!

Chavisory: I find it pretty predictable, honestly. Steve's research is groundbreaking, but people who are really, really sunk in the line of reasoning that autism is a terrible affliction were always going to find it all too easy to dismiss his findings as biased or wishy-washy...

Q2: So do you think the backlash articles are absolutely strawmanning the issue that he didn't include accounts of what “real autism” is like? In quotes, because all autistic people... are autistic.

Mo. Kelter: Definitely. In most of the cases I've seen, it's a willful, intentional straw man fallacy. The real fear that's motivating some of the backlash is that people might read Neurotribes and start thinking of autistics as human beings. Certain camps just don't want this. But their criticism, that “real” autism is left out: it ignores the actual content of the book. He includes a variety of experiences.

Shannon Rosa: : Well, yes. Those accusations are B.S.-- the very first autistic person mentioned in the book is a girl with "severe" autism, and she's far from the only high-support autistic person featured. Full disclosure: my family's story is included, and I find it perplexing that anyone who read about my son would question the reality of his autism.

Chavisory: Yes, for the most part. He wrote extensively about the first people diagnosed with autism in the US--Kanner's patients are literally the prototypical cases of "Kanner autism," it's just that they've been grossly misrepresented by history and frankly, by people with their own stakes in believing autism to be the horrific affliction they believe it to be. He profiled people like Leo Rosa, who as his mother reiterates pretty much constantly, is minimally verbal, has a lot of emotional regulation issues, and requires 24/7 one on one support. Even to take an obvious genius like Henry Cavendish, I hope that it was very clear from Steve's descriptions of his life just how debilitated he was by it--like, he had a second staircase built in his house just to be able to doubly avoid being seen by anyone else ever? That's an *extreme* level of exposure anxiety and aversion to human contact, and obviously it had a profound effect on how Cavendish had to live his life.

Q3: How would you address claims that he's using neurodiversity as a tool to make things all glossy? Is that also a strawman argument?

M.o. Kelter: It's an argument that cherry picks a very, very small portion of the book and then blows it out of proportion. The book includes a few profiles of autistic savants. So...is this too glossy? No. What's happening here is that people are shooting the messenger. Silberman is covering a huge swathe of history...and until recently? Very, very few autistic experiences were recorded. One reason Neurotribes includes a few autistic savants is because those were the only stories that were recorded for a long time. Autistics with communication challenges, or with greater self-care challenges, and so on...they were institutionalized, often killed, always hidden away. Neurotribes is not concealing autistic stories. Society did that. It still does that. What the book tries to do is look at that history...the history of how autistics were defined and treated and prevented from being part of the society around them. It's a messenger about autism history, not the mechanism suppressing that history. I think some people are just very reluctant to see the ugly truth about why autistic stories were completely absent for so long.

Shannon Rosa: I would say those claims are being delivered by people who are preemptively prejudiced, don't understand neurodiversity at all, hate-read the book, and/or somehow failed to notice anything but the "strange gift" section of this passage:

"Whatever autism is, it is not a unique product of modern civilization. It is a strange gift from our deep past, passed down through millions of years of evolution.Neurodiversity advocates propose that instead of viewing this gift as an error of nature—a puzzle to be solved and eliminated with techniques like prenatal testing and selective abortion—society should regard it as a valuable part of humanity’s genetic legacy, while ameliorating the aspects of autism that can be profoundly disabling without adequate forms of support."

Chavisory: Mostly I think the people making that claim either have never understood neurodiversity or are deliberately misrepresenting it. More the former than the latter...I just mainly think that a ton of these people *cannot* get their heads around the concept that many human abilities and inabilities are two sides of the same coin, or that autism, which *looks* only like a severe set of inabilities to them, has another side that might not be apparent to someone determined not to see it.

Q4: What do you think the message of NeuroTribes is? What it's trying to say about autism? How do you think it does with encompassing a variety of autistic people?

M.o. Kelter: For me, the message is: autism has always been here. We've always been afraid of it, tried to hide it. And it's time to see autistics as human beings, not as “diseased”, “tragic” or part of an “epidemic”. I wouldn't even say most of the book has a “message”, since it's not about Silberman's views...it is primarily a history of how autism was researched and defined over many decades...and that history speaks for itself, in a lot of ways. Someone can sincerely disagree with Silberman's personal take on any given issue...but you can't disagree with facts. And most of the book is a historical overview, not an opinion piece.

Shannon Rosa: I doubt Silberman would phrase it quite this way, but in my opinion NeuroTribes is a history of how an entire innocent population has historically and systematically been [expletive] over, maltreated, and ostracized, how we can stop doing that, and how we can start treating autistic people like human beings, whatever their abilities or needs.

Chavisory: I think NeuroTribes primarily succeeds at relating how the story of autism, and thus our perceptions of autistic people, has been so distorted by history, by bad research, by self-serving researchers, by the ease with which various popular self-appointed experts have been able to use autistic people as a projection screen for whatever their own fears and obsessions were. To say that it establishes that autism has been historically misrepresented is an understatement.
I do wish that it had represented a wider variety of autistic people...but not in the ways that most people are complaining about. And I do understand that Silberman was working under editorial constraints that probably made inclusion of everything *he* wanted to include difficult.
But I would've liked to have seen more representation of what was happening to undiagnosed autistic people prior to the 1990's who *weren't* in the sciences or tech sector. Rural autistic people, autistic people in the arts and humanities, autistic people who were misdiagnosed and/or institutionalized etc., because the expanded diagnostic criteria actually included *them* for the first time as well, autistic people of color....

But like, there's just not a ton of material openly available about these people, because of the distortion that Silberman is writing about.

Q5: What are some things you hope for moving forward from NeuroTribes?

M.o. Kelter: For too long, the window of “what can we discuss when we discuss autism?” has been skewed in this very negative, inaccurate direction. People were focused on conspiracy theories and vaccine nonsense, for example. My hope is that Neurotribes pushes that window in a new, better direction. Hopefully we can talk about, in a bigger public sphere, autistic lives and experiences (and this means the full range of autistic experiences, with no stories left out or suppressed), so that people are learning to see these issues in a more constructive, informed way.

Shannon Rosa: I hope it inspires well-funded philanthropists to work on items to improve the day-to-day quality of life for autistic people, things like affordable alternative communication strategies and equipment, or gear for coping with sensory issues (e.g., inexpensive noise canceling headphones in every classroom). 

I hope it inspires more autism professionals to apply neurodiversity principles to their work.

I hope it allows parents to love their autistic kids more freely.

And I hope it helps autistic people feel empowered, vindicated, rightfully angry, visible, and connected.

Chavisory: I would really hope that more and more of the general reading public would start looking towards autistic people to understand our stories and who we are. I hope that NeuroTribes will make people who are still learning, or don't know much at all about autism, or still questioning what they think, feel compelled to weigh accounts by autistic people against the professional misconceptions. Like, NeuroTribes will probably be the first thing that some people ever read about autism, and that makes me really happy to think about.


I hope that more people will think seriously about whether, given the known contributions of autistic people to human culture, whether erasing us, and our cognitive diversity, from the future is really what we should be striving to do.