http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/health-and-families/autism-acceptance-affect-mental-health-society-a8043461.html
Been a while since I did an article piece for these Friday posts. This one got linked to me months ago, and I've been chewing on it since. Some things said by the other consumer reviewers during my recent trip to Washington DC reminded me of this article, and so here it is. It's about how autistic people tend to suffer when we feel like we have to hide our true selves, and the higher incidence rate of depression and anxiety in the autistic population.
First, on social camouflage. This is very much a thing. Autistic people are kind of like aliens stuck on Earth, only without a home world or the strength of a native culture to cling to. We simply are who and how we are, and we don't usually quickly or as easily pick up the cultures surrounding us. This creates points of conflict, because the people and cultures around us expect us to do that, and feel miffed and upset when we don't act according to their specific rulebooks.
Some autistic people are better at maintaining a neurotypical disguise than others. In general, it appears that autistic women tend to be more adept at it, and some autistic people harness their observational skills and other abilities to excel at acting. Which naturally translates to managing the neurotypical act relatively well. This is somewhat rewarding in that people tend to accept us somewhat if we do this acting, rather than almost invariably shunning us if we don't.
Herein lies the problem, though. People who routinely force themselves to lie in this manner, regardless of whether they're autistic or not, tend to suffer. It's draining to keep up such a comprehensive act, and it's painful to know you have to do so because people won't accept you for who you are. Want to know why the autistic population suffers from a higher incidence rate (up to 70%, or higher) of depression and anxiety? This is why. It's not just the unusual genetics and poor diet and the lack of exercise. It's having to spend much of your waking life pretending to be something you're not.
The article makes a comparison of peoples' rejections of autism to a rejection of their Scottish heritage. Since autism is considered by many autistic people as a part of their identity, being rejected because of it was similar to being rejected for your grandparents' country of origin. I thought this was a somewhat apt comparison, but I have a better one. Imagine, with me, that you were African American. And people at work or at school would come to you every day, or every week or so, and say, "Y'know, I like you, but I wish you weren't so black. You talk weirdly, and that makes me and other people uncomfortable. You should stop being so black."
Now, when you go home, the fact that you are black doesn't matter. The people who love you are also black, or they know you and are used to how you talk. They don't make an issue about it. But you regularly get this message from your peers that you, as you are, are not okay. Don't you think this would start to wear on you? You might try to change a bit. You could work at talking exactly like your coworkers while you're at work. But really, hard as you try, your skin is going to still be darker than your coworkers', and even if you change how you talk, they're still going to be uncomfortable. Do you know why?
Because the problem is not your skin color, or how you talk. The problem is that your coworkers can't handle the diversity.
I visited Washington DC recently, as I mentioned in the beginning of this entry. It was an enlightening experience for a lot of reasons, but one of the more striking non-science-related things was the sheer amount of diversity in the hotel staff and the airport staff. I swear to you, at least half of the staff at those places were people of color and widely diverse backgrounds. There were still white people, obviously, but many of those spoke languages other than English. And the others, the people with darker skin? Mexican and South American countries, African American, Middle Eastern, Indian, Asian... I kid you not, I saw a lady dressed in a full length Muslim garb, wearing a TSA badge, as I was heading home.
It was both confusing and remarkably heartening. I'm from a place that is apparently Wonderbread Central when it comes to diversity, despite the African American population in and around the city, and various small communities from South America. But as I walked through this sea of diversity, I found that despite my strong belief in the superiority of having a diverse mix of humanity, I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect amidst all that diversity. I hadn't had enough exposure to all those different cultures and languages to feel comfortable amidst them all.
The thing is, I was willing to learn. As far as I can tell, a lot of people aren't. The neurodiversity movement, which insists that humanity is better for having autistic people and other unusual people around, is being ignored by the medical community. The American Psychological Association continues printing publications that pathologize more and more parts of humanity.
I'm not going to argue that autism doesn't come with downsides and disabilities- it does. But the hugest emphasis for parents and professionals is "curing," or "healing," or "reversing" autism, with autism representing every disability in the autistic person. No thought is given to the strengths of autism: our unusual perspectives, our love of justice, our empathy, and our expertise in our chosen hobbies. When everyone constantly rejects you for who you are, and you have to wear a mask in order to be accepted, you're going to suffer.
Personally, I learned to build, and then wear, a neurotypical mask over the course of a decade and a half. The process was so gradual that I cannot, to this day, say precisely where the mask ends and my face begins. The time I wasn't using to establish and maintain friendships in middle school, high school, and college (because I had few-to-none), I spent learning how to act like a "normal" person. Rather than learning a hobby, I learned to make a neurotypical mask.
I'm still trying to unravel that mask to this day. My autistic colleagues in DC commented they'd had similar experiences. Instead of learning about themselves, autistic people can spend so much time learning about how society expects them to be, that they don't necessarily learn what their authentic self is.
Because the author is a decent human being, they end their article on a call for more acceptance of autistic people. They suggest teaching neurodiversity in college, and researching ways to improve acceptance of autistic people. I suspect this call doesn't go far enough. Changing how Academia views us is a good step, but we have to go further than that. The medical profession needs to hear us, too. If we can change how they're taught in Academia, and then educate the remainder who are already out of school, the resulting medical system will begin to see us as people. Not just a disability. Not just a diagnosis. People, with strengths as well as weaknesses.
Been a while since I did an article piece for these Friday posts. This one got linked to me months ago, and I've been chewing on it since. Some things said by the other consumer reviewers during my recent trip to Washington DC reminded me of this article, and so here it is. It's about how autistic people tend to suffer when we feel like we have to hide our true selves, and the higher incidence rate of depression and anxiety in the autistic population.
First, on social camouflage. This is very much a thing. Autistic people are kind of like aliens stuck on Earth, only without a home world or the strength of a native culture to cling to. We simply are who and how we are, and we don't usually quickly or as easily pick up the cultures surrounding us. This creates points of conflict, because the people and cultures around us expect us to do that, and feel miffed and upset when we don't act according to their specific rulebooks.
Some autistic people are better at maintaining a neurotypical disguise than others. In general, it appears that autistic women tend to be more adept at it, and some autistic people harness their observational skills and other abilities to excel at acting. Which naturally translates to managing the neurotypical act relatively well. This is somewhat rewarding in that people tend to accept us somewhat if we do this acting, rather than almost invariably shunning us if we don't.
Herein lies the problem, though. People who routinely force themselves to lie in this manner, regardless of whether they're autistic or not, tend to suffer. It's draining to keep up such a comprehensive act, and it's painful to know you have to do so because people won't accept you for who you are. Want to know why the autistic population suffers from a higher incidence rate (up to 70%, or higher) of depression and anxiety? This is why. It's not just the unusual genetics and poor diet and the lack of exercise. It's having to spend much of your waking life pretending to be something you're not.
The article makes a comparison of peoples' rejections of autism to a rejection of their Scottish heritage. Since autism is considered by many autistic people as a part of their identity, being rejected because of it was similar to being rejected for your grandparents' country of origin. I thought this was a somewhat apt comparison, but I have a better one. Imagine, with me, that you were African American. And people at work or at school would come to you every day, or every week or so, and say, "Y'know, I like you, but I wish you weren't so black. You talk weirdly, and that makes me and other people uncomfortable. You should stop being so black."
Now, when you go home, the fact that you are black doesn't matter. The people who love you are also black, or they know you and are used to how you talk. They don't make an issue about it. But you regularly get this message from your peers that you, as you are, are not okay. Don't you think this would start to wear on you? You might try to change a bit. You could work at talking exactly like your coworkers while you're at work. But really, hard as you try, your skin is going to still be darker than your coworkers', and even if you change how you talk, they're still going to be uncomfortable. Do you know why?
Because the problem is not your skin color, or how you talk. The problem is that your coworkers can't handle the diversity.
I visited Washington DC recently, as I mentioned in the beginning of this entry. It was an enlightening experience for a lot of reasons, but one of the more striking non-science-related things was the sheer amount of diversity in the hotel staff and the airport staff. I swear to you, at least half of the staff at those places were people of color and widely diverse backgrounds. There were still white people, obviously, but many of those spoke languages other than English. And the others, the people with darker skin? Mexican and South American countries, African American, Middle Eastern, Indian, Asian... I kid you not, I saw a lady dressed in a full length Muslim garb, wearing a TSA badge, as I was heading home.
It was both confusing and remarkably heartening. I'm from a place that is apparently Wonderbread Central when it comes to diversity, despite the African American population in and around the city, and various small communities from South America. But as I walked through this sea of diversity, I found that despite my strong belief in the superiority of having a diverse mix of humanity, I was nervous. I didn't know what to expect amidst all that diversity. I hadn't had enough exposure to all those different cultures and languages to feel comfortable amidst them all.
The thing is, I was willing to learn. As far as I can tell, a lot of people aren't. The neurodiversity movement, which insists that humanity is better for having autistic people and other unusual people around, is being ignored by the medical community. The American Psychological Association continues printing publications that pathologize more and more parts of humanity.
I'm not going to argue that autism doesn't come with downsides and disabilities- it does. But the hugest emphasis for parents and professionals is "curing," or "healing," or "reversing" autism, with autism representing every disability in the autistic person. No thought is given to the strengths of autism: our unusual perspectives, our love of justice, our empathy, and our expertise in our chosen hobbies. When everyone constantly rejects you for who you are, and you have to wear a mask in order to be accepted, you're going to suffer.
Personally, I learned to build, and then wear, a neurotypical mask over the course of a decade and a half. The process was so gradual that I cannot, to this day, say precisely where the mask ends and my face begins. The time I wasn't using to establish and maintain friendships in middle school, high school, and college (because I had few-to-none), I spent learning how to act like a "normal" person. Rather than learning a hobby, I learned to make a neurotypical mask.
I'm still trying to unravel that mask to this day. My autistic colleagues in DC commented they'd had similar experiences. Instead of learning about themselves, autistic people can spend so much time learning about how society expects them to be, that they don't necessarily learn what their authentic self is.
Because the author is a decent human being, they end their article on a call for more acceptance of autistic people. They suggest teaching neurodiversity in college, and researching ways to improve acceptance of autistic people. I suspect this call doesn't go far enough. Changing how Academia views us is a good step, but we have to go further than that. The medical profession needs to hear us, too. If we can change how they're taught in Academia, and then educate the remainder who are already out of school, the resulting medical system will begin to see us as people. Not just a disability. Not just a diagnosis. People, with strengths as well as weaknesses.
No comments:
Post a Comment