10 Things Autistic People Wished You Knew about April & “Autism Awareness Month“6 min read

Every April, autism takes a center stage in global aware­ness.  All around the world, well-meaning, good-hearted people “Light it up blue” for Autism Awareness Month, and they dec­o­rate their social media with the puzzle piece frames and the jigsaw rainbow aware­ness rib­bons, go on aware­ness walks, fund-raise, and donate.

And, every March, autistic adults are already dreading April.  Many report feeling trau­ma­tized by pre­vious Aprils. They begin to men­tally and emo­tion­ally pre­pare for what is ahead, feeling pow­er­less to stop it.  They’re bracing them­selves for what is on the horizon. 

Those well-meaning neu­rotyp­ical (NT) allies really have no idea how autistic adults feel about Autism Awareness Month, and if they did, they’d spend the cap­ital of their hearts and good inten­tions dif­fer­ently.  This article explores why NT allies don’t know how autistic adults feel and how to best lend their sup­port.

10 things autistic people wish their neurotypical allies knew going into April:

1. We really don’t want or need aware­ness. To most non-autistic people, aware­ness of autism is to be aware of a dis­ease, to regard it with a somber recog­ni­tion of how serious a problem autism is and how fer­vently a cure is needed.  It doesn’t con­jure the rev­erent sol­i­darity that breast cancer aware­ness does for sur­vivors, the bereaved, and their loved ones.  Instead, it means that the world comes together to talk about the tragedy of autism.

2. Most of us do not want a cure.  The vast majority of autistic adults do not want a cure, nor do they see autism as a dis­ease.  It is simply their way of existing, per­ceiving, and being.  Autism is inex­tri­cable from the iden­tity and per­cep­tion of the autistic person, and a “cure” would mean to erase from them what is their core self and what their diver­gent minds can con­tribute to society.  Many of us are quite proud to be autistic.

3. We wish you’d see us out­side of the med­ical dis­ability model.  The med­ical model pathol­o­gizes our innate traits.  We may develop on a dif­ferent curve, have dif­ferent strengths and weak­nesses, and relate dif­fer­ently from the majority of the pop­u­la­tion, but those traits aren’t inher­ently neg­a­tive.  In order to be char­ac­ter­ized as a “dis­order,” a con­di­tion must impair a person’s quality of life. 

For this reason, autistic innate traits are described in the med­ical model of autism in the most neg­a­tive lan­guage because they are not how “most people” are.  For example, we express empathy dif­fer­ently, but a lack of eye con­tact or not responding with verbal expres­sions of emo­tional sol­i­darity does not mean we lack empathy.  We show it in dif­ferent ways, which may mean that neu­rotyp­i­cals mis­in­ter­pret it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not pro­foundly felt.

4. We are extremely offended by puzzle pieces, “Light it up blue,” and Autism Speaks.  Autism Speaks has dom­i­nated the world’s nar­ra­tive about autism.  They are a fundraising mono­lith, and their infor­ma­tion dis­tri­b­u­tion cam­paigns rank at the top of search engine results around the internet.  The focus of their cam­paign was orig­i­nally to scare the world into real­izing how impor­tant it was to find a cure and erad­i­cate autism… and to impli­cate vac­cines as the cul­prit.  They have con­tinued to deny autistic per­spec­tives, and only a minus­cule por­tion of their many mil­lions in dona­tions actu­ally goes to helping autistic people (often less than 1%). 

Essentially, dona­tions go to mar­keting puzzle piece pro­pa­ganda and the inter­na­tional “brand” Autism Speaks has cre­ated.  They are respon­sible for the “Light it up blue” cam­paigns.  For a more detailed break­down and alter­na­tive char­i­ties to sup­port, click here.  We ask that you share autistic-authored posts and arti­cles in April and hashtag them #redin­stead as a counter to Autism Speaks. Shout out the Aspergian so we can find our readers by hash­tag­ging #theAspergian.

5. We prefer identity-first lan­guage over person-first lan­guage.  This means that we prefer to be called “autis­tics,” or “autistic people,” or “aspies” (if that’s how one iden­ti­fies) as opposed to “person with autism” or “person with Asperger’s.”  But, every individual’s pref­er­ence should be respected. 

6. We are great at self-advocating, and we wish you’d learn about autism from autistic people.  There are thou­sands of blogs, web­sites, orga­ni­za­tions, and infor­ma­tional resources out there pro­duced and man­aged by autis­tics.  The autistic com­mu­nity is a thriving, tight-knit jug­ger­naut of change and advo­cacy, and they uplift other mar­gin­al­ized pop­u­la­tions by focusing on inter­sec­tional human rights out­side of the neu­ro­di­ver­sity par­a­digm. 

They’re fierce defenders of chil­dren and ded­i­cated scholars and researchers.  They can be found on social media by searching the hashtag #actu­allyautistic.  You can find some of the most insightful, relat­able, and infor­ma­tive posts right here on The Aspergian.

7. Autism doesn’t end at age 18.  Most people tend to think of autism as a child­hood dis­order, but an autistic person is autistic every day of his or her life.

8. Function labels are deeply offen­sive and inac­cu­rate.  When someone is autistic, it has been socially accept­able to com­ment on how high- or low-functioning he or she is.  The truth is, autism is invis­ible, and a person’s strug­gles cannot be mea­sured by how a person seems to be per­forming.  Often, “func­tion” comes at great price to the autistic person, meaning that they have to hide or “mask” their innate traits and behav­iors to appear more “normal.”  You can read all about func­tion labels by clicking here.

9. Autistic adults are the “severe” kids you think we are nothing like. Many of us, as adults, were the non­verbal or selec­tively non-verbal chil­dren you think are vastly dif­ferent from the adults you see online. For example, I was not able to read flu­ently until 5th grade. In my second grade class, the readers were grouped by bird names. The top readers were hawks and eagles. Middle readers were blue jays and car­di­nals. I was the only crow at the bottom of my class.

Adults, though, have the ability to pre­serve their own dig­nity and autonomy by con­trol­ling how much the world knows about their weak­nesses and strug­gles. There are lin­guists and writers who rarely, if ever, spoke a word in school. There are pro­fes­sionals who wear incon­ti­nence pads daily because they never were able to gain full con­trol of their bladder.

Those who are non-verbal can often type or com­mu­ni­cate other ways. Many of us still struggle with melt­downs, but we are able to accom­mo­date for our own needs as adults and usu­ally struggle much less. And, just like everyone else, we keep our most pri­vate moments pri­vate.

10. We can’t do it without neu­rotyp­ical allies. Until orga­ni­za­tions like Autism Speaks no longer monop­o­lize the dis­cus­sion about autism, autistic people will never be given a voice and room to speak about autism. Advances in behav­ioral and med­ical sci­ence, ther­a­pies, accom­mo­da­tions, social under­standing, and dis­ability rights are being stalled or halted by these “aware­ness” orga­ni­za­tions which cause tremen­dous harm to autistic people.

Until our allies stop sup­porting and trum­peting these orga­ni­za­tions, our uphill bat­tles are punc­tu­ated with bigger and more pressing obsta­cles than we should have to mount on our own.

Autistic people need neu­rotyp­ical allies to be more than just aware of autism, but to accept our dif­fer­ences and see our strengths and weak­nesses as unique to the indi­vidual.  We need your help to find our way into the con­ver­sa­tion about autism, which means sharing arti­cles by autistic people and sup­porting autistic orga­ni­za­tions.  We need employers and schools to accom­mo­date for our neu­ro­log­ical pro­files, and indi­vid­uals to under­stand how we relate dif­fer­ently. 

So, let’s make April “Autism Acceptance Month” and shift the focus to autistic people as thinking, feeling, valu­able human beings capable of speaking for them­selves and their chil­dren.  By reading this article, written by an autistic person, you’re off to a great start as an ally. Sharing it would be an even better ges­ture of Solidarity, and remember to hashtag #theAspergian and #redin­stead so we can see how far our allies have car­ried our voices.

And, steal this image for your social media. You have per­mis­sion.

Graphic reads: April is autism acceptance month.  Please honor the autistic community by saying no to Autism Speaks, "Light it up blue," and puzzle piece icons.  Instead, wear red in solidarity and use the hashtags #theAspergian and #redinstead so #actuallyautistic people can see their allies making room for their voices this April

 

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40 Comments

  1. “Neurotypical (non-autistic)” isn’t accu­rate. There are non-autistic neu­ro­di­verse folks.

    I rec­og­nize that you’re trying to keep this acces­sible for people who aren’t familiar with the ter­mi­nology, but I don’t think applying a false dichotomy is the way to do it.

    1. Author

      Fair enough. I will make an edit to qualify what I meant. Thank you for the accu­racy check

  2. Is it okay for me to screen shot the above info­graph? I’d like to post it to my social media.
    Thank you.

    1. Because that’s how Autism Speaks mar­kets the dis­ease of autism, and it implies that we need to be solved and help with putting our­selves together.

      1. Ok. I always inter­preted it more along the lines of iden­ti­fying us ‘as’ a piece of the puzzle. And we just might not always ‘fit’ where they (our NT friends n fam) try to put us.

    2. When I see the puzzle piece symbol, I feel like people are implying that autistic people have a bit of their brain/personality missing (and it’s up to those kind non-autistics to find it for us)

      1. I spit my coffee out reading the last remark! Absolutely bril­liant way to express that, and one I wouldn’t have thought of.

    3. The puzzle piece is closely asso­ci­ated with Autism Speaks, and has been chosen by pro­fes­sionals and par­ents of autis­tics, not by autistic par­ents them­selves.

      There is also the sym­bolism of the missing puzzle piece, meaning that our mind is missing some them­selves.

  3. Autism Awareness Month

    The haze of blue or rainbow puzzle piece
    Shows me your sol­i­darity, your care.
    I’m not sure how a pro­file pic­ture change
    Actually makes you more aware.

    “In honour of the chil­dren who struggle every day.”
    Nice sen­ti­ment, like, share, post … and walk away.
    It isn’t only chil­dren, you know.
    Do you think we’re cured as we grow?

    Awareness and con­scious­ness tem­porarily raised,
    But when you meet me off screen in real life
    If I’m trig­gered, crowded, hot or late you’ll still be fazed
    Cracks in the grown up mask of adult, mother, wife.

    Playstation games don’t work on an Xbox.
    Neither is broken but they each have dif­ferent needs.
    We don’t speak or hear the same lan­guage.
    We run on dif­ferent sys­tems, mis­com­mu­ni­cating,
    But if you cut and mock me my heart still bleeds.

    1. Beautiful poem! I would like to save it if that is okay with you.

    2. I just LOVE this cou­plet:

      [quote] Playstation games don’t work on an Xbox.
      Neither is broken but they each have dif­ferent needs. [/quote]

      That’s it, in a nut­shell, isn’t it???


  4. Too bad you didn’t know, way back when you were in school, that the crow is one of the smartest birds. Great post.

  5. I’m a mother to two amazing sons who are autistic but I don’t agree that autism is a dis­ease but I also don’t think autism is their entire ideni­fier.… I feel likeits part of what makes them who they are.… I use the puz­zles not as pro­pa­ganda for autism speaks but more to cheer my son’s on and we use April to share about all they are mostly because autism is hard for alot of our friends and family to under­stand and at times there is so much miss infor­ma­tion out there… I think you should add truth for those who are nt to under­stand the unique­ness that is autism and why it’s impor­tant to have neu­ro­di­ver­sity…

    1. Honestly, even if you use “iden­tity first”, it doesn’t nec­es­sarily mean that this is your entire iden­tity. As a com­par­ison (because I don’t really know any other way to illus­trate effec­tively what I mean) you would not insist that a gay man be “a person with homo­sex­u­ality”, a woman “a person with female­ness”, or a southpaw “a person with left-handedness”, as if these inherent traits are merely extra bag­gage and not part of the person.

      No, it’s not our entire iden­tity. But it is an impor­tant and inte­gral part of it.

  6. 11. This article does not speak for every autistic person. As an autistic person, I don’t agree with every­thing in this article. It gives a feeling to me that every autistic person is sup­posed to feel and think exactly how the article says. I feel like I can’t just be me. I have to either fit exactly into this or I have to fit exactly into the nuerotyp­ical group. It makes me feel sad and hope­less. Nuerotypical people tell me how I should feel and think and groups like this tell me how I should feel and think. What if I’m just some­where in between? I don’t belong any­where.

    1. Sarah, you don’t have to feel pres­sured “fit in”, and you cer­tainly don’t ever have to let anyone tell you how to think and feel. You just have to be your­self to the best of your ability. Trust me, the right people will love and appre­ciate you for it! One of my favorite colors has always been blue, so I’m not offended at all by the “Light It Up Blue” cam­paign. If any­thing, I feel super happy because my favorite color is every­where! As for the puzzle pieces, my inter­pre­ta­tion is that we are all pieces of the great puzzle called Life and no matter how dif­ferent our pieces may be, there will always a spe­cial place where each of us fits per­fectly. Maybe you’ll find that place and maybe you won’t, but either way, have fun on the journey and never give up!

    2. Author

      Sarah, of course you don’t have to agree with every­thing this article says. I was simply trying to rep­re­sent the majority opinion within the autistic com­mu­nity; how­ever, I did take efforts to rep­re­sent that not every autistic person will agree with these points. If you are autistic, then we want your voice rep­re­sented here. Please, tell us with what you dis­agree and we will try to open up a dia­logue. This is sup­posed to be a safe place for you, and if there is any­thing we love here, it’s freedom of thought and Dissent. Your voice is impor­tant to us.

  7. The piece of the puzzle for me always meant we’re pieces in the puzzle of life and that we have the same value as the other puzzle pieces. The impli­ca­tion is that we all can be dif­ferent, some­times quite dif­ferent, but we all fit some­where, just like everyone else. I have a key-chain with a puzzle piece. It reminds me that I am unique but just as worthy, and that without me, the puzzle would lose its meaning. Now that I have read the his­tory behind the piece, I still like it just as much. I don’t care what stupid, mis­in­formed, asi­nine drivel they wrote back in the 60s; I care about being able to be me and being valued, just like everyone. We all should feel like we belong; all of us are equally unique.

  8. You want my voice rep­re­sented here? Good. I hate most of your list.

    1. As far as I’m con­cerned, autism *is* a dis­ease, a dis­order, a tragedy, and what­ever words you care to use. Please make it go away. I did not sign up for this. How do I cancel my autism sub­scrip­tion?

    2. I would LOVE a cure. Autism isn’t part of who I am; it’s an impo­si­tion on who I am. It’s what stops me from being who I am. The idea that removing it would somehow make me less “me” is so absurd I actu­ally have trouble com­pre­hending it, no matter how many people say it.

    3. To be clas­si­fied as a “dis­order,” it must impair my quality of life? Guess autism is a dis­order then, thanks for playing. Also, “med­ical model” is a straw man invented by over­ac­com­mo­da­tion­ists to describe their sup­posed oppo­nents. Funny you talk about the expres­sions of empathy — which are not dam­aging or debil­i­tating — but neglect to men­tion the sen­sory over­loads, the exec­u­tive dis­func­tion, the change anx­iety, the stim­ming, and all the other things that def­i­nitely ARE clearly bad and dis­rup­tive. Not all traits of autism are neg­a­tive, but there sure as hell are some neg­a­tive ones.

    4. Autism Speaks is ded­i­cated to helping neu­rotyp­ical people “afflicted” with autistic chil­dren (or other rel­a­tives). That’s sort of the best way to put it. As far as I’m con­cerned, autism is a dis­ease that I suffer from. As far as Autism $peaks is con­cerned, I’M a dis­ease that my family suf­fers from. Yet it took me way too long to realize this, in no small part thanks to sites like yours who somehow neglect to men­tion their denial of autistic peo­ple’s humanity or the fact that they aren’t really looking for a cure in favor of claiming that the search for a cure is inher­ently bad.

    5. Speak for your­self. Call me an autistic person, a person with autism, or just about any for­mu­la­tion you like. I’ve noticed there’s a cer­tain fun­da­mental dis­con­nect between people who view autism as some­thing you HAVE vs. those who view it as some­thing you ARE, and the dis­tinc­tion between identity-first and person-first lan­guage seems like it should describe that, except that everyone who has a strong opinion either way views autism as some­thing they ARE. If there’s a com­mu­nity in which everyone views autism as some­thing they HAVE, I’d love to join but I haven’t found one.

    6. The people who can main­tain loud public pres­ences are not a rep­re­sen­ta­tive sample. They tend to be neurodiversity-pushing anti-cure types who, if only society accepted them, would have no mean­ingful dis­ability (or are so unable to imagine life without it that they wrap their sense of self in it). I’m sure there are people like me who long for a cure and wouldn’t sub­stan­tially ben­efit from mere accep­tance and accom­mo­da­tion, but their internet pres­ence is lim­ited to a few scat­ter­shot com­ments on the for­mers’ web­sites and maybe a blog they haven’t updated since 2013.

    7. No dis­agree­ment there. If you ignore infancy, where signs of autism are unde­tectable, I’ve now offi­cially been an autistic adult longer than I’ve been an autistic child.

    8. Function labels are about as point­lessly reduc­tive as clas­si­fying every single phys­ical injury, dis­ease, or other malady as either “ter­minal, death expected within three months” or “no treat­ment nec­es­sary, will be better on its own tomorrow.” That said, I’d appre­ciate it if people could swap the binary of “high/low-functioning” with a scat­ter­plot that covers mul­tiple capa­bil­i­ties because you guys are clearly missing a key slice of the com­mu­nity.

    9. Yeah, I get that. Mind you, I’m *cur­rently* the severe case I’m nothing like, but the par­tic­u­lars of my case are a bit much for this com­ment.

    10. I’ll settle for a few autistic allies. I feel like the dis­cus­sion about autism is a dichotomy between two equally repul­sive sides. On the one hand, you have Autism $peaks and its allies, who declare that autism is a ter­rible afflic­tion that makes me sub­human for having it, and seek to speak over me and deny my basic humanity. On the other hand, you have the Autism Self-Advocacy Network and its allies (which include The Aspergian) who declare that autism is won­derful and lovely and doesn’t make me suffer at all (and if I have suf­fered, it must be the fault of those ableist scum and not the con­di­tion itself) and con­stantly speak over me whether they seek to or not. Where’s the group that acknowl­edges that autism is a ter­rible afflic­tion and seeks to cure it while also rec­og­nizing my humanity and let­ting me speak for myself?

    1. Although I whole­heart­edly agree with the notion that accep­tance is key and of out most impor­tance, I don’t see that in your social media mes­sage. Rather, I see an anti Autism Speaks cam­paign. What does accep­tance look like? What can I do to spread and facil­i­tate accep­tance? Again, I do not sup­port the orga­ni­za­tion and per­son­ally feel that 1 month of any­thing isn’t enough. However, in defense of “aware­ness” … it’s not all that bad. Awareness pre­cedes accep­tance & people 1st need to be aware that autism & autistic people exist before they can accept any­thing. Let’s pro­mote aware­ness, accep­tance, knowl­edge, and respect !!

      1. “I don’t see that in your social media mes­sage. Rather, I see an anti Autism Speaks cam­paign. ”

        Does seem that way.

    2. My daughter is Autistic, it makes her life very hard. Harder than it is were she not autistic.
      If I could click my fin­gers and rid her of it I would.
      Just as were she blind; if I could grant her sight I would, so too would I remove her autism.
      It does not improve her quality of life in any way.

      Yes it makes her who she is, being born with no legs makes you who you are, should you then refuse pros­thetic legs?
      Why then would you not want to rid the debil­i­tating con­di­tion that is Autism?

      1. Author

        How does it make her life hard?

        Prosthetic legs does not change the fact that someone has no legs. There are no nerves or mus­cles or living tis­sues in those pros­thetics. The legs are an accom­mo­da­tion.

        A limb is not nec­es­sary for life, nor does it make up a char­acter or per­son­ality or spirit. The mind does. You can’t “cure” autism because that would require a full brain trans­plant. If it causes dif­fi­cul­ties for the person, then you should accom­mo­date it just like you would with pros­thetic legs. The accom­mo­da­tions should be tai­lored to the indi­vidual.

        1. “How does it make her life hard?”

          Here is a list of some everyday normal things that she either has trouble with, cause her anx­iety or that she simply can not do.
          Not all are a symptom of Autism, some are how­ever exac­er­bated by it.

          Riding a bike
          Using a scooter
          Swimming
          Throwing and catching
          Sports, all sports
          Using cut­lery
          Climbing
          Running
          Clothes feel tight
          Clothes feel itchy
          Clothes are too hot
          Labels in clothes scratch at her
          Has no sense of direc­tion, gets lost easily
          Trouble under­standing body lan­guage and facial expres­sions
          Trouble main­taining eye con­tact
          Normal noises over­whelm her (shops, class­rooms, the street, cinema, restau­rants, museums, etc)
          Doing a rou­tine everyday thing without many con­stant reminders
          Her tone can seem very aggres­sive at times, to the point people think she is being rude/unpleasant/angry
          Changes in rou­tine
          Changes to planned changes in rou­tine
          Understanding things from another per­sons point of view
          Compromising in cer­tain areas

          That is just a few that spring to mind.

          1. Author

            There’s really nothing on that list that I haven’t strug­gled with. But, here’s how I remember them:
            My par­ents forced me into clothes I hated and that felt uncom­fort­able to me. I des­per­ately wanted to impress my father, more than any­thing in my entire child­hood, but I never was good at sports. I didn’t even like sports, but that’s what he wanted me to be. I couldn’t read well until I was in 5th grade.

            Mostly, I remember my child­hood as being the apple of my grand­fa­ther’s and grand­moth­er’s eye (they are deceased, but I’m sure they were both autistic) and being a con­stant dis­ap­point­ment and frus­tra­tion to my par­ents. I under­stood things from my grand­par­ents’ and broth­er’s point of view, and that of other autis­tics, but they couldn’t under­stand my per­spec­tive. I get lost easily, too.

            Here’s what I’d sug­gest (in no order):
            ‑buy clothes with no tags or scratchy seams
            ‑use words instead of body lan­guage
            ‑under­stand that you can’t under­stand things from her per­spec­tive, either. That’s a two-way street
            ‑there are areas in which she com­pro­mises easily that you don’t
            ‑it took me a long time to ride a bike, use cut­lery, read, and write

            The tone thing might or might not get better with age. People often think I’m being rude when I’m trying to be quite kind. I have all the words, but I can’t put them together in the same way that NTs expect. When NTs know I have autism, they need to just know that they can take my words at face value without any tone or sub­text. I still can’t get into a rou­tine without con­stant reminders, either. But, I do amazing things that you can’t do, either. I didn’t realize what all I could do until I was inde­pen­dent, though, and able to func­tion without someone trying to encourage me to be someone I’m not all the time. An autistic person is not a broken neu­rotyp­ical.

            Einstein had a hard time with cut­lery and was very late to talk. He did poorly in school and espe­cially in gym class. He was extremely clumsy.

      2. EXACTLY. Autism is some­thing my son didn’t sign up for. It makes his life dif­fi­cult. It makes it more chal­lenging to be his parent. I love him with all my heart and I’ve learned that some things will take longer for him to learn (if ever.) But if there was a pill, treat­ment or magic wand that would help him I would use it in an instant!

        1. If there was a pill or serum,I would come up with a plan to destroy it and any infor­ma­tion on how to fab­ri­cate it, and even elim­i­nate the scientist(s) if I have to

      3. Autism is a gift AND a burden for me

    3. Regarding #3: can you unpack who “over­ac­com­mo­da­tion­ists” are in this con­text? The only Google hit for the word was this com­ment itself, leaving me none the wiser. How, in your opinion, do you “over­ac­com­mo­date” some­one’s needs?

  9. My daughter was diag­nosed with ASD and I’m involved with a local chapter for autism sup­port made up of adults with autism and/or their chil­dren. Oddly, from my con­ver­sa­tions with them they would com­pletely dis­agree with all of this article.
    In fact the majority HATE being called autistic and want to seen as a person first — a person with autism.
    Additionally they’ve been hoping and fighting for aware­ness — of autism itself, of the chal­lenges and of how they are con­tributing mem­bers of society.
    I’d con­tinue but my thumbs are get­ting tired.

    1. Author

      It’s weird to me that all these neu­rotyp­ical people tell us about the autis­tics they know, and yet none of us ever meet them…

  10. Our pet peeve: Autistic kids are not “lucky” their par­ents love them. They are worth being loved as much as other kids are.

    1. True, but they are for­tu­nate to have par­ents who don’t hate them for being“an ember­ras­ment to their par­enting rep­u­ta­tion” and“a waste of time and money and resources”

    2. Every child whose par­ents love him/her is lucky.
      Not very child is lucky enough to be loved 🙁

  11. PLEASE, NEVER call me as ‘aspie”. I would never do it to anyone else. We are not defined by being diag­nosed with Asperger’s like ten­den­cies. We are all as dif­ferent from each other any­body else.
    YOU think I’m weird for not wanting to kiss you — I think that you are weird by wanting to kiss every person you meet.
    You think I’m weird by finding loud and dis­cor­dant music phys­i­cally painful — I think you must be deaf to even tol­erate it.
    You think I’d weird for hating crowds — I think you are weird b for loving crowds.
    You think I am weird for not wearing make-up — I cannot under­stand why you wear make-up. It is ugly and stinky.
    I am an adult with my own likes and dis­likes. I am not dis­abled, or needing treat­ment or pity and espe­cially NOT con­de­scen­sion.

  12. This is the first time I ever realised that those four jigsaw puzzle pieced had any­thing to to with Autism. It is prob­ably no more stupid that so many other logos.
    ME — I’m just a piece that doesn’t fit into common posting boxes 🙂

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