I hung out with two autistic children today (Jane, 5 and Harry, 7) and realized a few things. I spent an hour or so playing Minecraft with Harry and talking with Jane about how excited she is to be having a baby sister come this weekend. I told their mom (my godmother) that I simply adore her kids. Her response? “They love you too. They’re constantly asking when you’ll come back and talk and play with them again.” I’m not very good with kids. They’re loud and have way too much energy for me to handle. But, put me in a room with Harry and Jane for an hour, and we’ll have more fun playing Minecraft and talking about their pet fish than most kids do playing Cops and Robbers with their babysitter. Our time together was well-spent and enjoyed by everyone, it was just different from how people expect children of their ages to behave. Their parents and other significant people in their lives love them dearly, but they, like other non-autistics, simply don’t get it.
Routine is a Must
They don’t understand that we need things to be a certain way. They seem to think we’re just being bratty or picky, but we’re not. We don’t want to inconvenience anyone with our routines, we just need them. One of the only things Harry will eat is Tyson’s Chicken Nuggets. He’s not doing it to make anybody upset with him, it’s just how he is. Our routines provide a sense of comfort and structure in a world that’s constantly changing.
Communication—Different But the Same
They don’t understand how to communicate with us. Just because our verbal communication skills may not be the best, as is true in Jane’s case, doesn’t mean that we don’t understand you unless you use a baby voice. We can hear you just fine.
We’d much rather have you talk circles around the other people in the group and really engage with us rather than use vocabulary found in a “my first reader” book. Harry and I spent 5 minutes talking about amoebas and algae and how they were related and if there were any amoebas in their fish tank. Nobody else could keep up with that conversation, but it was the most alive I had seen him look all day.
Speak to us as though we’re adults. It’s demeaning to be constantly treated as though you can’t understand a word being spoken just because you can’t articulate what you’re feeling.
Rules—Respect them
They don’t understand our rules. We may not want to be touched without giving permission. Get over it. We may not like sitting still. Get over it. We may not give a verbal response to everything you say. Get over it.
Take time to learn our rules and how to interact with us so that it’s as painless as possible for all parties involved.
Mental Health is a Struggle
They don’t understand how hopeless it feels. Depression and anxiety rates are much higher in autistic individuals than in the general population. Autism “advocacy” organizations will try to say that that’s a reason to “Cure Autism Now!” That’s a load of bullsh*t.
Our mental health issues stem from being born into a world where we don’t belong. It’s not designed for us, and we’re constantly reminded of it. Things aren’t accessible to us. They’re too loud, too bright, too long, or too emotionally taxing. We can’t pretend to be neurotypical forever. Passing takes so much energy, and it sucks the life out of us.
Every time you tell an autistic to “quit being so weird,” you’re telling them to hide something fundamental about themselves. I can’t get rid of my autism just as much as I can’t get rid of my brown eyes. Sure, I could wear colored contact lenses, but those take an effort to maintain and have to be removed at the end of the day. Sure, I could pretend to not be autistic, but that forces me into a position where I have to make myself smaller in order to feel respected, and I will break eventually.
Pure Joy
They don’t understand how amazing being autistic truly is. The joy of immersing yourself in a new special interest, whether that’s dinosaurs, a new television show or book series, a celebrity, or the workings of the international space station, is unparalleled.
Despite all of the challenges that come from living in this horrendously inaccessible world, being autistic is truly a gift. It gives you an entirely different perspective on the world around you, and it gives you a community of people exactly like you. Non-autistics wonder for ages who they are. Us? We already have a major portion of our identity figured out. We’re autistic.
We don’t need to be fixed or cured; we need people to understand.
