Autistic Solidarity: A Personal Reflection

A group of teenage students of different skin colours and genders are piling their hands on top of each others' in a show of solidarity and community.

I started to write this article after I wrote my poem, Unmasking as Autistic Pride, but I put it on hold when a special interest took over. I want to come back to it now.

When I wrote Unmasking, I wanted to make sure that it included all autistic people. There are a few lines about talking, but ultimately, to me, unmasking is about letting my body do what it wants.

Many autistic people, though, have a body that will sometimes compulsively act on its own accord. Many autistic brains tend to be not-so-great at executive functions that plan movement.

I only experience this to a tiny degree comparatively: I don’t lift my feet high enough when I walk and can trip over seemingly nothing.

I’ll be looking where I’m going, but not realize that part of my body is still going to hit something. I don’t have a firm grasp, and things fall out of my hands if I’m concentrating on something else. However, I can stop myself from stimming if I want to.

I can also use my vocal cords, lips, tongue, and teeth to speak. Many autistic people can’t do these things with reliability. I don’t support the use of functioning labels, but it does no one any good to deny having what Mayer Shevin called “fluency privilege.” Instead, I try to recognize where I have advantages that others do not; and when people talk about how they have been discriminated against in a way that I don’t experience, I try to listen.

I digress.

To me, unmasking is becoming “visibly autistic.” I wear ear defenders and sunglasses outside now. I don’t stop myself from stimming if I need to. I try not to worry too much over whether or not I said the right things, used the right tone, or made the right face.

To me, pride is acceptance. People will like me, or they won’t. People will understand me, or they won’t. And that’s okay.

It’s okay, because there are people out there who do like me. There are people out there who do understand me. And many of them are autistic or neurodivergent themselves.

When I’m trying to let go, I think of those people. My people. I think about the others in the world who haven’t been able to accept and embrace themselves as easily, who have a much more difficult time with interactions than I do, who aren’t as fluently-speaking as me, whose bodies move in different ways.

I unmask not just for me, but for others, so that others see someone who is like them, and then maybe they might feel a little bit better about who they are.

When I wrote the line, “I don’t owe the world,” what I meant was that I don’t have to pretend to be normal just for the sake of fitting in. I don’t owe the world a sanitized version of myself that can be deemed acceptable.

If you exist in public while the world is trying to erase you from existence, you are revolutionary. You’re changing the world just by being here, and I am so proud of you.

You should be proud of you, too.

This article is also published at the author’s blog, NeuroInsurgent.

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3 Responses

  1. Even though I try to be me. Because I want to be me, not just what I am expected to be. Somehow I always feel guilty and ashamed afterwards. I know that I should not feel that way for just being me, but I still do. And I’ll tell you it makes me so sad.

  2. I like what you said about taking off your mask and being who you are. My children didn’t know about my being on the spectrum, they just thought I was weird. As they grew and found that 2 of the 3 are also on the spectrum, they told me that I really wasn’t wearing a mask as I thought I was. I really didn’t/couldn’t control who I was/am. So why try? Now I tell people in advance and ask them to let me know if I offend them. I can learn to work/be with neurotypicals, but not if they don’t tell me. Thanks for the article. I’m going to make sure I smile at everyone with acceptance from now on.

  3. This article really spoke to me! (I am recently diagnosed at 48). Pre-diagnosis I suspected I had chronic fatigue or another physical illness due to extreme and disabling complete energy crashes. Since allowing myself to flap my hands (still quite surreptitiously) eg on shopping trips, and stim with sounds, I have been far less affected by these crashes. Also I now consciously avoid gazes of passers by, focusing on the dog/ plants/distance, and use sunglasses. It’s made so much difference.
    Autistic solidarity and sharing information is a lifesaver. After all, we’ve got the Autism Speaks/ABA big money on one side, while on the other side the alt right (see Conrad Black’s papers recent post) denying that “atypical” autism is even a thing (if we ain’t Rain man then we’re attention seeking narcissists or something..). So, hell, yeah, we need to support each other and have each others backs. Solidarity to you, autistic family.

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