Autism in Heels: The Untold Story of a Female Life on the Spectrum, by Jennifer Cook O'Toole, technically falls into the "my life with autism" category of autism literature, but it is so much more. Besides being what it says on the tin: the story of an autistic woman rather than the stereotypical autistic guy, it's also the story of a mother of autistic children, the story of a wife of an autistic man, the story of an abuse survivor, and the story of a survivor of self-harm via eating disorder.
Jennifer O'Toole is a lot of things, as a person, and this book is a look into many of them. It was also painfully familiar to me in a lot of ways. The difference is that her story is moreso than mine; she reached more tremendous highs and plummeted to significantly more painful depths.
A major difference here is that while the author embraced her femininity, using it as a pattern and a framework with which to understand her life and self, I ignored mine until I found a word that actually does describe my gender: agender. Effectively, I would most prefer you leave your gender expectations at the door when meeting and interacting with me. I am not masculine, or feminine, or both. I am "no thank you."
I was fortunate enough to be born to parents who allowed me to be myself, even if "myself" was painfully unfashionable and insisted on wearing sweatpants into high school. Because my parents didn't actively enforce gender roles, I was able to grow without pretzeling myself into stereotypes I hated, or dealing too much with dresses, skirts, high-heeled shoes, and a million fiddly accessories which only lend themselves to accentuating the fact that that women are reduced to the attractiveness of their bodies.
A lot of autistic people find themselves in the gender minority camp, apparently. But we live in a world where gender roles and stereotypes are still very much in effect. And of course, as the book points out, many autistic people are born genetically female and not recognized as autistic. So a book like this is exceedingly valuable, because in Jennifer's experience being autistic and female, we can find echoes of our own lived experience. And not only that, but she also points out her pitfalls and failings honestly, which allows us a better chance to avoid those pitfalls.
I found this a difficult book to read. Not because of the writing style, which was quite easy to read. Not because of the length, which was less than 300 pages. It was the subject material, which often struck very painfully close to home. The question of, "how can I be so smart and still feel so stupid?" is all too real to me.
"Spiky skills" is sometimes how this phenomenon is phrased, where the person has great strengths in some developmental areas and skills, but in others, barely scrapes by. In autistic people, the obvious example is being a trivia god/goddess (whether that trivia is trains, edible plants, or classical literature), but never knowing what to say when someone is upset, or even what upset them in the first place.
The author focused less on the social difficulties, and more on Executive Functioning difficulties. Charmingly, she does so by starting with Santa. I especially recommend reading this section. It's shockingly easy to read for a lesson on brain science, first and foremost, but also because Executive Function isn't well understood despite being incredibly important to understanding autism. There's a lot to unpack and understand about it, and doing so can help you understand your autistic loved ones better.
I honestly don't believe I've read a clearer, more approachable description of Executive Function anywhere, ever. So while I strongly recommend the entire book, I wish that particular section was required reading for every autism-related professional, and given to every parent and newly-diagnosed autistic person.
Jennifer O'Toole is a lot of things, as a person, and this book is a look into many of them. It was also painfully familiar to me in a lot of ways. The difference is that her story is moreso than mine; she reached more tremendous highs and plummeted to significantly more painful depths.
A major difference here is that while the author embraced her femininity, using it as a pattern and a framework with which to understand her life and self, I ignored mine until I found a word that actually does describe my gender: agender. Effectively, I would most prefer you leave your gender expectations at the door when meeting and interacting with me. I am not masculine, or feminine, or both. I am "no thank you."
I was fortunate enough to be born to parents who allowed me to be myself, even if "myself" was painfully unfashionable and insisted on wearing sweatpants into high school. Because my parents didn't actively enforce gender roles, I was able to grow without pretzeling myself into stereotypes I hated, or dealing too much with dresses, skirts, high-heeled shoes, and a million fiddly accessories which only lend themselves to accentuating the fact that that women are reduced to the attractiveness of their bodies.
A lot of autistic people find themselves in the gender minority camp, apparently. But we live in a world where gender roles and stereotypes are still very much in effect. And of course, as the book points out, many autistic people are born genetically female and not recognized as autistic. So a book like this is exceedingly valuable, because in Jennifer's experience being autistic and female, we can find echoes of our own lived experience. And not only that, but she also points out her pitfalls and failings honestly, which allows us a better chance to avoid those pitfalls.
I found this a difficult book to read. Not because of the writing style, which was quite easy to read. Not because of the length, which was less than 300 pages. It was the subject material, which often struck very painfully close to home. The question of, "how can I be so smart and still feel so stupid?" is all too real to me.
"Spiky skills" is sometimes how this phenomenon is phrased, where the person has great strengths in some developmental areas and skills, but in others, barely scrapes by. In autistic people, the obvious example is being a trivia god/goddess (whether that trivia is trains, edible plants, or classical literature), but never knowing what to say when someone is upset, or even what upset them in the first place.
The author focused less on the social difficulties, and more on Executive Functioning difficulties. Charmingly, she does so by starting with Santa. I especially recommend reading this section. It's shockingly easy to read for a lesson on brain science, first and foremost, but also because Executive Function isn't well understood despite being incredibly important to understanding autism. There's a lot to unpack and understand about it, and doing so can help you understand your autistic loved ones better.
I honestly don't believe I've read a clearer, more approachable description of Executive Function anywhere, ever. So while I strongly recommend the entire book, I wish that particular section was required reading for every autism-related professional, and given to every parent and newly-diagnosed autistic person.
Read This Book If
You are autistic, especially if your sex or gender is female or female leaning. Also read this book if you love someone who meets those criteria. Professionals and teachers would find this book useful in broadening their understanding of the autism spectrum. It gives the lived experience and "inside the mind of" for a person who has lived a lot of life, both highs and lows.
There is, as of yet, not nearly enough understanding of autistic women, and so accounts like this are incredibly valuable. This particular account is especially so, but be warned: you may find yourself in tears in places. My (very short and exclusive) bookshelf will be graced by a copy of this book in a few days, and it has rightfully earned that place.
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