"Autistic World" - The Social Construction of Disability

It's a commonly known trope that there seems to be a fine line between genius and insanity. Indeed, so many of those who have been most responsible for changing the world for the better have (or had) at one point in their lives or another been thought of as disabled and/or unhinged. Steve Jobs, for example, while creatively brilliant and almost single-handedly responsible for the rise of Apple Inc., was also revealed by several co-workers, subordinates and family members to be irritable, short-tempered and mean-spirited to those who in his mind didn't understand his obsessive vision of perfection. Likewise, as a more classic example, Albert Einstein was considered slow and had difficulty communicating and understanding math, and yet is now reverently known among scientists as the father of the theory of general relativity. History is replete with such examples of nearly unhinged genius, and I would argue that many of these individuals possessed some condition such as Aspergers (or ADHD, OCD, etc.) that made them neurodivergent.

This isn't as crazy as it sounds, and there is scientific evidence to back it up. In fact, Hans Asperger himself has gone on record saying that children on the spectrum tend to have “a special interest which enables them to achieve quite extraordinary levels of performance in a certain area.” In addition, he also said that “it seems that for success in science or art, a dash of autism is essential.” If the father of the Asperger diagnosis himself has made the case for the merits of being differently wired, who are we to argue?

I've said it before, but playing to and advocating the strengths of those on the Autism spectrum is essential to providing the kind of empowerment many need to succeed. After all, to someone growing up with a condition that many believe either doesn't exist, or is a tragedy, its hard to overcome the feeling of being somehow broken. Believe me I know. In a world that has such a narrowly defined and subjective view of normalcy, its easier to feel like a freak than it is to recognize that often times being a freak means that you're the only buffalo with the wherewithal to realize that the herd probably shouldn't be running off a cliff.

But wait a minute, you say; surely normalcy isn't subjective? What about all the drawbacks faced by those with conditions such as ASD or ADHD? Aren't people disabled by these conditions? You'll get no disagreement from me that having any number of alternate brain wirings can be a recipe for pain and difficulty in life. I would argue, however, that many of these are caused by the social construction of disability. That is to say, many of our problems as Aspies come from the fact that we aren't in the majority, and so we don't set social conventions of what constitutes 'normal.'

To illustrate this point, I'd like to do a little thought experiment with you dear reader. Let's assume for a minute that the autistic brain was considered to be the baseline 'normal' wiring of human grey matter. Such a world would be organized along intensely logical lines with little variation. Social order would be upheld by streaming children into educational pursuits based on their Autistic special interests, and excessive noise would be considered grating and irritating and be avoided at all costs. Social interaction would of course still happen since on some level its wired into human genetic makeup, albeit to a lesser and more eccentric degree than it currently is, with socially acceptable quiet time making up a part of everyone's day. Everyone would be expected to focus on and become absorbed by their special interests, and it would be considered a noble use of time to become an expert in one's chosen field. I'm not saying every Aspie or Autistic individual perfectly fits this mold; indeed some of us are less rigid and more emotional with our free time. Overall, however, I think this kind of would would make us all pretty happy, myself included.

Now, imagine into this perfect Autistic world is born a Neurotypical individual. From birth, this person would be thought of as being different somehow. “Why, Jane is talking before she's even five years old!” a parent might exclaim. At this early age, experts would be dumbfounded by the rapid onset of language, and deem that Jane was a genius. They would study her intensely, with no one quite sure what to make of the wonder-toddler. As she aged, however, people's opinions of Jane would change. Eventually, she'd attempt to express what would be seen as an 'excess' amount of affection for her parents, and a yearning to be with other children. When she got to be school age, Jane would not discover a single-minded passion for one subject like many of her peers, nor would she be able to become intensely interested in one topic at a time and shift between these many obsessive interests like many others. At this point, her parents would probably become concerned and take Jane to an expert, worried that somewhere along the way she'd lost the brilliant spark within her that granted her the ability to speak before age five.

What would such an expert say of Jane, who was clearly differently wired by the standards of this fictional Autistic world? “It is my opinion that this child suffers a form of intellectual regressive psychosis, particularly one that triggers the dormant primal parts of the brain that control social interaction,” one might say. Another may argue that “though the child begins life bright and with every advantage, abnormal brain development causes a deterioration of hyperfocussing ability, coupled with a near obsessive desire for social interaction and networking.” Yet another doctor may even argue that Jane's parents themselves were at fault for her differences, saying that “her condition is caused by an excess of affection shown toward the child by her parental units during the early years of her development.” If this bizarro world is anything like our own, this person may even go on to be credited as the sole father of “Neurotypical Disorder” for years before anyone challenges his wisdom.

Eventually, of course, this strange parallel world would develop its own equivalent of the Neurodiversity movement, albeit one which instead argues for the rights of Neurotypicals as full members of the human experience. This movement would propose that, far from being disabled, Neurotypicals are “brilliantly social, with a rich fabric of interactions the rest of us can only dream of.” Furthermore, scientists would come to discover that Neurotypicals have had a history of existence dating back to the dawn of human history. People would come out proudly as Neurotypical, or they would affectionately proclaim that “my uncle Tim has always been weirdly obsessed with talking to people. We all thought he was strange but now I think he's Neurotypical!” There may even be a Neurotypical version of myself in this universe, struggling to write this book about my experiences as a social extrovert while trying to decide what to pre-drink before the party later that night. The NT community would have its own awakening moment, much like the Autistics of our world are starting to, and humanity would finally begin embracing the concept of Neurodiversity.

Sadly, this story probably didn't end as well for Jane. If Autistic World was anything like ours in its treatment of those who are neurologically different, Jane would have been institutionalized shortly after her parents took her to get evaluated. She would have spent life alone in a padded room, hopped up on medication designed to suppress social desires and increase her ability to focus on one thing and become absorbed. Inevitably of course, Jane would revert, since chemicals can only temporarily change a person's behaviour, not convert a Neurotypical into an Autistic or vice versa. She may even have experienced electroshock treatments in a perverse attempt to correct her social behaviour much like Autistics did in our world at the hands of behaviourists. Eventually, Jane would commit suicide after having lived a life of sadness in a world that wanted her to conform and embrace solitude when all she yearned for was the warm embrace of another human. While she would come to be the poster child of the movement against the brutalities of the psychiatric care system in her world, this would prove to be cold comfort both to Jane and her parents.

This may seem like an exaggeration, but sadly its all too similar to our own society's views of Autism throughout the ages. The horrible reality is, Autistic people who were very much in Jane's position endured all of the same kinds of terrible treatments she did, while getting none of the support she should have received. Genius does come part and parcel with a differential brain wiring, but often times whether one is seen as brilliant or mentally diseased very much depends on the conditions of one's birth. As an Aspie, I've always known I was intelligent, but the big reason I was able to embrace that and not be defined by my deficits has always been that my parents didn't allow such a thing to happen. Other children were not as fortunate, and this is a humbling realization to come to. For this reason, its important that we recognize that every human, regardless of brain wiring, faces situations with which their grey matter just isn't equipped to deal. In such situations, we all need help and support so that we can overcome it and play to our strengths, whatever those may be. If we try to cure Autism instead, all we risk doing is exterminating a neurotype with so much to offer humanity.

We risk losing the people who see the world differently, and this in itself would be a crime beyond measure. 

Yours in Diversity,

Adam Michael

Personal History: A Journey In Self Reflection

I haven't updated this blog as much as I've liked over the past month, but in my defence I have a very good reason for this. As I've mentioned in a few posts previously, I've been working on writing a book about my experiences growing up and living with Aspergers' Syndrome. Titled “Differently Wired: The Musings of a Grown Up Aspie,” my book will explore living with ASD from every angle, and needless to say I've excitedly been throwing everything I have into the project. Sadly, I've ignored the blog a bit because of this, for which I want to apologize.

During the course of writing, however, I've had some interesting reflections. Recently, I had to go obtain some documents from my Ontario School Record to assist me in putting the project together and I can safely say that exploring my own school documents was a humbling and enlightening experience. I have a Master's in history, so I am familiar with how to properly use and research primary source documents. The difference is, I'm accustomed to such primary source documents being somewhat impersonal; a speech by a prime minister, a report from a general, correspondence from the front lines, that sort of thing. Nothing prepared me for my journey through my own personal history

In any university history program, one important rule that they teach is to look at the past with the same kind of detachment you'd use when learning about another country. In retrospect, I've learned that a similar approach must be taken when looking through one's own past. Even still, however, it was a powerful experience to learn where I came from through the eyes of my parents and educators rather than through my own. We all, I think, have a rose-coloured view of our own lives, and its often difficult to accept that we may have not been quite as capable at any number of things at any point in our lives. For me, looking through my OSR drove home the fact that, if I am now okay with socializing and only come off as slightly awkward, that was not always the case. According to my evaluations, there was a time in my school career where I was not well liked by others, nor did I display any leadership qualities at all. At the time, I found this hurtful to read, but if anything it serves to show how much we all grow throughout our lives.

Aspergers is, of course, a pervasive developmental condition which lasts a lifetime and so it comes as no surprise that there were parts of my own life which demonstrated my Aspie-ness more than others. We all learn, grow and develop coping strategies as we move through life, and so people can seem far more well-adjusted later in life than they did earlier. It can be a humbling and empowering experience to learn about oneself at an earlier point in life but I caution anyone doing so not to internalize it. Instead, look at what you read for what it is; a snapshot of a time long gone by. It is true that those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it, but equally true is the danger of allowing oneself to be ruled by the past.

After all, we need to move forward, onward and upward at all times!

Yours in Diversity,

Adam Michael

Labels

I am not a label. I know this sounds like a common sense thing to say. I realize that we are constantly imbued with messages that tell us that we are each individuals and that we need to rise to the challenge of individuality in this society. The thing is though, it is most definitely, NOT a common sense thing to declare, for if it was, we wouldn’t constantly be seeking to label and control others based on who we perceive them to be due to a few arbitrarily assigned words. That we think we can do this with any degree of efficacy is in itself an absurd proposition.

We’ve all been labelled throughout our lives. Here are a couple of mine: aspergers, nerd, geek, dork, loser, epileptic, asthmatic, introverted, socialist, and the list goes on. Some of these, I’ve been assigned by others, some of them I have claimed for myself. Regardless, despite where they have come from and the associated emotional baggage that comes with all of them, none of them tell the whole story of who I am as a person. Each word attempts to paint a whole picture of who someone is while lacking ninety percent of the puzzle pieces needed to complete the image. Doing this to someone...ANYONE...is dangerous because you are reducing the beauty and complexity of a full, sentient human being down to a few descriptor words at best. How can that do anything but remove someone’s sense of agency and self worth in the process?

Rather than use this piece as merely a polemic about the dangers of labels, however, I’m going to actually SHOW you, dear reader, how incomplete a picture they present, by using my own life as an example. Rather than assign me or anyone else a label, let’s instead try to remember some of their worth as a human being. Instead of thinking of me merely as a case of mild, high-functioning Aspergers, consider the fact that I have experienced terrible bullying and yet still manage to approach life with a positive and happy attitude, or that I am an accomplished writer, with a Master’s degree in History and a Bachelor of Education. When you call me a dork or a nerd, remember that I am also a loving older brother to three younger siblings, with whom video games were often a source of bonding. Even in terms of the positive labels I’ve embraced, they only go so far. Instead of leaving it at calling me a socialist, recognize that I’m also a neurodiversity activist, a supporter and ally of the feminist and LGBTQ movements and a full believer in sexual positivism as a force for good in our society. Basically, instead of counting me and countless others as mere numbers, members of the faceless masses of humanity, take a moment to get to know us. Everyone deserves the chance to be known as a human first and foremost.

To label someone is to attempt to squeeze someone into a box they were never meant to fully fit in to begin with. It is an attempt to reduce the boundless wonders, talents, failings, triumphs, ugliness and flawed beauty that is any one member of the human species to a single descriptive word. It is, quite frankly, an insult to each and every human on this planet.

It is high time we started doing better. The time has come for us to start embracing each other as members of the human family, not merely words.

I know we can do it.

Yours in Diversity,

Adam Michael

Aspergers In My Daily Life: A Study

As I've said in a previous post, I've recently started writing a book about my experiences growing up and living as an Aspie. The support I've received for this project has been immense and really heartwarming but it has frequently caused me to wonder; am I autistic enough to write this? Aren't there those far more severely on the spectrum than I, and would they really be served by my work on this subject? Ultimately, I'm not self shaming with this; I know I'm definitely an Aspie and that this blog helps loads of people daily (as I hope the book will too!). The thing of it is though, if anything this project has made me more aware of my little "aspie moments" on a daily basis. In light of that, I'd like to share a few examples of how Aspergers influences me in my every day life:

Sarcasm: Oh boy. Let it first be said that I absolutely LOVE sarcasm! The wordplay, the double entendres...its the stuff of language geek porn! Needless to say, I am an extremely sarcastic person, and I fling it with wild abandon at both my customers and coworkers alike. I am not, however quite as good at getting it back. Like anyone on the spectrum, I have an extremely hard time distinguishing between genuine comments and sarcasm. Sure, I can read the obvious cues, but when a person is consistently sarcastic with a deadpan facial expression, I start to worry and wonder. We recently hired a new guy at work for example, and while I think quite highly of him as a human, he is a perfect example of what I'm talking about and as a result I didn't know how to take him at first. Now? My obliviousness has become a running joke among all of my coworkers and I.

Verbal Motor Skills: I am obviously a lover of language and writing, and yet there are so many times throughout any given day when I find myself fumbling over my words, unable to articulate what I know my brain wants my mouth to say. This contributes to my clumsiness and social awkwardness, and it feels as though my brain is literally running a billion times faster than what my mouth can keep up with. In many ways, this is why I've embraced writing; I can take my time and communicate far more eloquently than my verbal skills allow for. This is especially true when I'm nervous, such as when my boss is standing right over my shoulder...

Sensory Overload: I know I've already devoted an entire blog post to this, but I just wanted to reiterate it as part of this entry; sensory overload is definitely a thing. And it sucks. In my case, its very much brought on by crowds of people, loud noises, and when things get busy at work. Working in retail, you can imagine this happens all the time, which leads me to....

Anxiety: To be frank, I feel anxiety about almost everything. What should I do for breakfast? Is my friend upset at me? Am I texting too much? Am I NOT TEXTING ENOUGH? My list could go on indefinitely, and as one of my best friends is fond of pointing out, "Adam just has THINGS about THINGS." Since its tied to Aspergers, my anxiety manifests mainly in terms of social situations. Typically, my responses to these situations at work progress as follows: crowds/hordes of humans --->loud noises----> sensory overload -----> anxiety. I also have a bad habit of questioning myself on every decision I make, and then second-guessing it as well. This makes social situations interesting to put it mildly.

I know I'm missing many little examples, but I hope this serves as just a small taste of how Aspergers influences my daily life as an adult. Everyone's experiences are different, however, and your mileage may vary. We all have challenges after all, and no two people are alike. Just because someone you encounter may not seem to have challenges and quirks, it doesn't mean that they don't. Me personally? I know I'm weird, but I prefer to think of it as different. And proud!

Yours in diversity,

Adam Michael

Autism and ADHD Comorbidity: A Journey of Self Discovery

A funny thing happened to me the other day and inspired the writing of this post. I've been working recently on writing a book about my experiences as an Aspie in the hopes of helping others embrace and love themselves, so as such I needed some research. Figuring there was no better place to start this project than with my own original diagnosis documents, I went to the school board office in my town to request my paperwork. Little did I know, however, that a surprise awaited me when I opened the envelope I was handed. As I looked through the documents, an explorer rediscovering parts of my own past, I came across a report detailing a second opinion my parents had sought out regarding Aspergers. Now, this may not seem strange at first since many people who are issued a new diagnosis often wish to obtain another perspective. What struck me here, however, is that the psychiatrist who saw me also identified in me, to use her own words, “an attention deficit.”

Wait...what? Indeed, dear readers, according to another psychiatrist, I also have elements of an attention deficit in my brain. This confused me at first; after all, I'm an Aspie right? I've always seen myself in such a light. The sight of a new, somewhat unofficial diagnosis prompted me to do some research. I downloaded the DSM-IV since it was in circulation at the time of my original diagnosis, along with the latest edition (DSM-V) so that I could compare. I also did much research into both Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and whether it could occur alongside ASD, and what I found definitely intrigued me. According to the DSM-IV, the two could not co-occur, but so many psychiatrists and psychologists noticed overlap between the two that the new rules say that a person with ASD can most definitely also have ADHD. Fascinated, I then read the diagnostic criteria for both ASD and ADHD in the DSM-V and was stunned to find out that, in addition to ASD, the ADHD ones also fit me to a T.

It was as official as it could get without getting professionally assessed: I have ADHD.

I can't tell you what a loop this threw me for. On the one hand, I had always identified as only an Aspie. I grant you that there are parts of my personality that are clearly eccentric yet not covered by the ASD diagnosis, but I've always dismissed those as the fact that no two Autistic individuals are alike. To learn that there is another factor at play in my mind has caused me to re-evaluate where I stood on myself. On the other hand, however, as I learned about ADHD in greater detail, I felt like I'd finally come home. While my ADHD is definitely more along the lines of the inattentive type not the hyperactive one, it still felt as though I had found the missing piece of my puzzle. Oddly enough, it felt great!

I am most definitely an Aspie; my difficulty reading social cues, picking up on the fine nuances of facial expressions and obsessive interests see to it that I will always have a home among those with ASD. Learning about comorbidity has been an enlightening experience for me though, and its propelled me to a deeper understanding of how my own brain works. I also most definitely have ADHD; I get bored easily, have difficulty doing tasks, and tend to rush through them to get them over with while only barely paying attention. While I've coped with these traits as much as I've coped with my Aspie ones over the years, they are absolutely still a part of me.

And you know what? That's completely okay by me.

I've said it before on this blog, but I'll say it again; we are not our labels. The DSM is a wonderful diagnostic tool that is helpful in qualifying the issues that a person may face in life and giving them names, but we must remember that it is merely that – a tool. It's a guidebook that can provide assistance and direction while we embark on our journeys, but it should never be used to pathologize personality types or to tell people what they can or cannot do simply based on an arbitrary set of diagnostic criteria. Yes, Adam does have Aspergers, and yes Adam does have ADHD; these are inseparable aspects of my personality as a human being and I can not simply shake them. It's important to remember, however, that I am Adam first. We are all ourselves first, and the only ones who can determine our potential contributions and self-worth are ourselves.

Never let anyone else tell you what you're capable of.

As always, yours in diversity,

Adam Michael

Aspie Book Club Presents: NeuroTribes, by Steve Silberman

Hello all and welcome to a new installment of Aspie Book Club! Now, for those of you who have been following my blog from day one, you may remember a section I started back then with this name dedicated to profiling any and all books I come across on the subject of Neurodiversity and Autism. Well, it has been a few years since my last (and only) Aspie Book Club entry but fear not dear readers, for the section has returned from the dead! This time, I'll be focussing on a book which only came out a few months ago called NeuroTribes, by Steve Silberman of Wired Magazine.

NeuroTribes chronicles the history of both Autism and the various movements and initiatives which have risen around it throughout history. It is at once both sobering and inspiring, and though long-winded at times, it succeeds in presenting a chronicle of those on the spectrum throughout the ages, along with the responses of the scientific community to their existence. It is at times joyous and hopeful, at others dark and touching, but one thing it always is is powerful. I have always been a believer in Neurodiversity, but like most people I haven't always been aware of the history behind it all. Reading through NeuroTribes, I felt as though I was for the first time coming face to face with the history of my own people.

I can safely say, dear reader, that there were moments where I wept while reading this book, and yet others when I cheered proudly and defiantly for even the smallest victories achieved by autistics, aspies and those who advocated on our behalf. Perhaps one of the most poignant moments for me while reading this book occurred while I was working through the chapter on Hans Asperger. Silberman devotes much of the early part of his book to discussing Asperger's work with the children the author would come to refer to as “Asperger's lost tribe,” and this is done for good reason, as the good professor was working and discovering Autism during one of the darkest chapters of human history; the Nazi eugenics programs of the 1930s and 40s. In many way ways, Hans Asperger was to the Neurodivergent community what Oscar Schindler was to the Jews; a hero who saved whoever he could from the tyrannical hands of Hitler's National Socialist party.

The book also gets far darker, discussing the pathologizing of Autism by Leo Kanner in 1940s America, the cruel behaviourist experiments on autistics during the 60s and 70s and the rise of the anti-vaccination movement as a means of curing Autism during the 80s-2000s. It should be noted, however, that the night is darkest just before the dawn, and Silberman's book is no exception. The final chapters of his work illustrate the rise of the concept of Neurodiversity through such important figures as Temple Grandin and others who helped popularize the idea that autistics are not 'broken,' they merely run a different human operating system. As a result, this book is an emotional rollercoaster and an absolute page turner because of it.

NeuroTribes, by Steve Silberman, is therefore one of the best books I've ever read on the history of Autism and Neurodiversity. It was not only thoughtful and thought-provoking, but it also treated its material and the people being discussed with a sense of hope, love and respect that is so hard to find among many others who write about autism. Here is a book that, rather than portraying autism as a tragedy for parents and caregivers, tells the untold story of autistics themselves. While it's an emotional and at-times difficult book to read because of it, it is also powerful and optimistic. More than any other book I've read on the subject, this one made me feel like I'd come home. It was the story of my neurotribe, writ large for the first time. Silberman's book is a masterpiece, and has the potential to serve as the perfect manifesto for Neurodiversity as a whole.

Well done Steve! (Can I call you Steve? Mr. Silberman?)

Yours in Diversity,

Adam Michael

Sensory Overload: A Survivor's Story

Today, I'd like to take a break from the political and activist sides of this blog and focus on something more practical. I'm sure we are all quite familiar right now with the stereotype that autistic individuals lack empathy and appear detached from their environment in any but the most specific (and often ritualized) ways. While there is no denying that this may appear to and even be true for some, I would like to share today my own personal experience in this regard. You see, far from lacking empathy and attachment, I have found that quite the opposite is true. In fact, I would argue that those of us on the spectrum feel and sense others and the environment TOO MUCH.

I'm going to tell you a story that will hopefully explain this a little better. I've said it before, but I'm a manager at a small Canadian telecom company who works in a retail kiosk environment during my day job. We happen to be the busiest and most profitable store in the company, so naturally such an environment is often stressful and busy. I won't say I have an easy time with that normally as an aspie; the amount of people, the multitasking and constant demands on my attention tend to get to me fairly easily, but after long enough working in people-oriented jobs, I've developed coping mechanisms for it. The other day, however, pushed the limits of my tolerance. We were crazy non-stop busy, the customers were getting grumpy from waiting in line, we were short staffed and I had to accommodate breaks for my team, and to make matters worse, we had received a massive product shipment that I had to work through receiving! My coping mechanisms were pushed to the breaking point and I could feel the spectre of sensory overload setting in. My anxiety was building, and all I wanted to do was turn inward and curl up in a quiet ball with not a sound to be heard. Were it not for the fact that I had to make frequent trips to our back room to sort and put away the already received equipment, I don't know how I would have done it. My stress and anxiety was that crippling.

Now, imagine that level of stress. That “go away world and leave me alone!” level of overwhelming anxiety developing over something as simple as caring too greatly for someone, or being unsure how to respond to the affection of other people, and you start to have a rough idea of what it must be like for those autistics and aspies who are more severely on the spectrum. Simply put, the appearance of emotional detachment doesn't necessarily mean these individuals are emotionally detached; it can be representative of feeling and perceiving the environment in too much detail, and needing to take a step back from it to process things. As another example of this, my sister loves blasting music loudly in the car while either one of us is driving. When it's in my car, however, I find it so grating when she does it! While she may enthusiastically hear her favourite song drowning out her other senses and wrapping her in a familiar melody, I hear each note as a punctured audio nail being driven into my conscious mind with the stabbing and piercing clarity interfering with my thought processes and cognitive ability. It is simply too much!

I'm not going to say that there isn't a certain amount of difficulty understanding emotion inherent in ASD; far from it. I myself have difficulty reading the subtle differences in facial expression between, for example, angry and serious, and it usually takes my brain a split second to register sarcasm, sudden emotional changes, or big, tragic events. Even so, however, I wouldn't call this a lack of empathy. In fact, I can assure you that my empathy for others and capacity for love each run quite deep. If anything, my emotions run hot and strong right beneath the surface of my being. What Neurotypical society interprets as a lack of empathy is really just the obliviousness towards emotional nuance in others' outward reactions that comes with a place on the Autism Spectrum, while the environmental detachment is simply a coping mechanism for the taxing sensory experiences overwhelming our highly attuned nervous systems. In either case, it isn't due to a lack of ability to feel; its that those of us with ASD are so acutely aware and sensitive that even a minor sensory experience such as a scratchy shirt can be pure and utter hell.

All of us, whether Neurotypical or otherwise, experience sensory and emotional overload, and none of us are good at reading every situation perfectly. The key isn't dismissing anyone as being incapable of something because of it; rather, we should be encouraging and teaching methods of coping with the crazy realities of the world. Next time you meet someone who seems to be hiding in their own mental world, remember; it probably isn't because they don't want to come out and talk, they just find every day life overwhelming and need to recharge and re-center themselves. This is all part of learning how to speak the languages of other neurotribes, and it is something which must happen if we are to move forward as a species.

As always, yours in diversity,

Adam Michael

I Am Aspie, Hear Me ROAR!

This is a rant about Neurotypical Privilege. I’m not even going to try and sugar coat that. It’s a screaming declaration from behind the tiny bluetooth keyboard I’m using to write this, a fist-pounding exclamation of a desire to be taken seriously for being who I am, without having to hide any part of myself. For I am an Aspie; hear me roar!

Recently, I found myself voluntold to house sit for my parents while they were out of town, helping my sister get settled in for university. I woke up one morning and, my eyes groggy and clouded with sleep, proceeded to check my Facebook news feed as is my usual morning ritual. What I found there, however, incensed me to no end. One of the pages I follow on Facebook posted what can only be described as a fear-mongering piece of propaganda decrying the rising rates of autism as some sort of vaccine-induced epidemic.

I was livid.

See, normally when I come across this level of stupid, I dismiss it as being a symptom of the internet and leave it at that. I know all too well that it is often useless to try to engage in meaningful discussion and argument online, where people’s usual response to a well-structured and thoughtful forum post typically amounts to “Durr, u r gay! And Obama iz teh antichrist” (I am actually a big ally and supporter of the LGBTQ movement and I mean no disrespect at all...but this is typical interwebz stuff. Seriously, don’t ever read YouTube comments if you at all value your mental sanity.) This one was different however. I, as an Aspie, felt that the legitimacy of my very existence was being called into question, and I am nothing if not a fighter. I took a stand, wrote an angry, righteous comment on the thread then, satisfied that I had fought the good fight, proceeded downstairs for breakfast and gave it no second thought.

The responses I received to what I wrote were incredible! All day, comments and likes kept piling in, threatening to overwhelm my phone screen with so many Facebook notifications and red dots. Almost all of them were supportive and encouraging, and I can safely say I’ve made many new friends through this political action of mine. If anything though, it made me realize how prevalent Neurotypical Privilege is in our society. While I am eternally grateful for the supportive community I discovered entirely by accident online, it is telling that for every person who praised me, there were so many others who had already posted prior to my comment who were seemingly content to perpetuate fear and ignorance by treating ASD as a tragic disease destined to ruin humanity.

I hate that. I hate it so bloody much.

I want to pose a question to some of the more ignorant Neurotypical people out there. Now, I personally have nothing against anyone’s brain wiring or any other condition of their existence; we are all human after all, and we’ve all got our strengths that we want to brag about and our weaknesses that we would rather hide. Such is life. That being said, however, have any of you ever been afraid to reveal a certain side of yourself, whether at work or among friends and family for fear that you would suddenly be thought of as somehow less than human? I can guarantee that almost every member of the human race has experienced this in some form or another, but it happens among those of us who are neurodiverse far too often as well. I am an assistant manager at a medium-sized Canadian telecommunications company, and I can tell you straight up, that not a day goes by that I don’t fear someone among my superiors finding out that I’m anything but Neurotypical. The problem is, the mainstream media and society have built up an idea that anyone who is neurodiverse is either to be pitied and helped at best or feared at worst. I’ve always struggled with that, and as a child and teenager, I didn’t want to associate with the label of Aspergers for quite some time. What I didn’t realize then but do now is that this was born from wanting to be judged by my merits, not by my label. In short, I was the victim of privilege.

So I’m going to take the opportunity in this rant to spell out what I want, as someone who is Neurodiverse. I recognize that this isn’t comprehensive or reflective of everyone’s distinct experiences, but hopefully it will help shed some light as someone who actually lives with Aspergers:

1. I want to be judged not by my neurology but by the content of my character.
2. I want recognition that I have weaknesses yes, but so does every human. It doesn’t define them, so it shouldn’t define me.
3. I want people to realize that along with those weaknesses come immeasurable strengths and talents. I am a writer, activist, creative person and all around geek, and there are many others with equally diverse talents and abilities.
4. I want people to STOP TRYING TO CURE US! Seriously, I recognize that there are people on the spectrum who are severely hindered by their conditions, and they should absolutely receive assistance in maximizing their strengths and working on their weaknesses, but ASD is a spectrum for a reason. From low functioning to high functioning, the whole aim of the Neurodiversity movement is that we all deserve to have the same respect and dignity as everyone else for existing AS WE ARE. ASD is an integral part of who we are as people...you can’t cure it without killing the patient in the process on a fundamental level. We need support and love, not smug superiority and a desire for neurological genocide. (Because wanting to wipe out a whole personality type just because its inconvenient and doesn’t comply with the norm? That’s what that is!)
5. I want people to recognize that diversity is okay, and that having a variety of neurological variants of the human brain can only be a good thing for the human race.
6. Finally, I want people to see us as HUMAN BEINGS. FULL, EQUAL HUMAN BEINGS! I don’t want to be pitied for having Aspergers, or to have to hide it from others and try to pass as neurotypical lest someone assume I am incompetent and stall any attempts at career or social advancement I make. We ALL have a right to have our common humanity recognized, loved and respected.

Privilege hurts us all, even those who benefit from it, because it divides us as a species and trains us to see the world in terms of “us and them.” No viewpoint could be more harmful, as it diminishes the fact that we are all in fact one species. Autism, Aspergers and any other condition considered to be neurodiverse are as natural in terms of human variation as skin colour, sexual orientation, gender, eye colour, hair colour, body size and any other characteristics which ensure that each human being is unique. None of these would exist had they not provided some evolutionary advantage to our species, and ASD is no different. Rather than attempt to change those we do not understand and force them to fit into a tiny neurotypical box, lets instead throw the box out all together, hold hands and help each other along. For we are all human first.

Yours in Diversity,

Adam Michael

"OH MY GOD WHAT IF...???" A Few Reflections on Generalized Anxiety Disorder

By Adam Mardero

Truthfully, this is a post that I’ve wanted to write for some time now. It’s been a topic that has been on my mind a lot lately, and has prompted me to reflect deeply on how my own life has been impacted by anxiety. The truth is, Aspergers itself often comes with elements of anxiety baked in like one of so many ingredients in a neurosis pie. I’ve always felt the sting of social anxiety, and I firmly believe that it comes as a result of social mores not always being easy to grasp...at least for me. Anxiety can be a debilitating condition to any who have even a twinge of it in their lives...a fact I can attest to.

Even so, this blog post is not about me...not strictly anyway.

This entry of Differently Wired is, if anything, a love letter to all those in my life who struggle with anxiety in any of its many forms. It is a shout out to friends, family, loved ones and anyone else I hold near and dear to my heart. Anxiety is something which has always affected me, whether directly or otherwise, and I know many people for whom it is a constant struggle. This is even a love letter to those I don’t know well or at all; to the faceless masses of humanity, any number of whom struggle with anxiety, depression or countless other mental health conditions. The overarching message I want to convey to all of these people is a simple one, although it is one which is remarkably easy to lose sight of.


You are not alone.

I know, it seems silly to say. The thing is though, to many people struggling with anxiety, it can feel incredibly isolating. Speaking from personal experience, it can often feel as though I am the crazy person for being irrationally nervous about some trivial thing or another. It’s important to remember that you are not. Anxiety may be a condition, but there is nothing wrong with who you are and how you are. You also don’t have to fight alone. I recognize that often times, there really isn’t much of anything that any one of us outside of a panic attack can do to help, and that too is a difficult lesson to learn. Even so, I can say with certainty that even knowing someone you care about is there can help, no matter how helpless they may feel. Having a support circle of people who love you and understand what you are going through (or want to and are willing to learn) can be a lifesaver.

So if you are someone who doesn’t have anxiety, or has it to a lesser or different degree from someone you know, what can you do to help? Based on my own personal experiences, and my own desires from other people, there are a few things:

1)     Be patient. It sounds like a given, but I can’t stress this enough. There will be times where neurosis will kick in. Where I, or example, may stress about the stupidest little thing (whether I remembered to fill the printer at work before leaving my shift, for example). I grant you, it can be frustrating to constantly reassure someone with anxiety, but believe me it is appreciated.

2)     Learn. Educate yourself about anxiety. This has to be one of the most important things that any loved one of someone with anxiety should do. As those kitschy 80’s G.I. Joe ads always proclaimed, “Knowledge is power!”  

3) Look after yourself too. I know it's going to sound selfish, but its totally true. I long ago realized that I tend to act as a conduit for the emotional energies of others, which would then drain and drag me down. Remember, its noble and admirable to want to help someone you care about, but not at the expense of losing your own mental sanity in the process. Balance is key!

At the end of the day, like with every other condition under the sun, having an anxiety disorder does not define someone as a person. As with everyone else, there are moments of laughter and moments of tears, days when the sunrise fills you with hope and joy, and others where you don't want to crawl out of bed. In other words, we are all human beings first, and we all have our challenges to face. Hopefully, this entry has helped some of you out there who have been impacted by anxiety, depression or any other condition.

Remember, there is only one unchangeable thing which should define us, and that is our common humanity.

Yours in Diversity,

Adam Michael

Autism in Hell's Kitchen: Disability and Neurodiversity Rights in Marvel's Daredevil

Good evening to all of you out in internet land! Recently I, like many of you, have become a huge fan of the various movies and TV series published under the Marvel banner and based on their comic books. The stories are great fun, and after all, who doesn't remember growing up with the adventures of Spiderman, Thor, Captain America, The Hulk and other such mighty Avengers? In particular, Marvel recently released their Netflix original series Daredevil, and strangely enough it sparked some thought in my brain about how disability and neurodiversity tends to be portrayed on TV and in other media.

Surely, none of us are strangers to it. While watching a favourite TV show or movie, or reading a book or magazine, a character is presented who has a visible or invisible disability. Who doesn't love that? After all, its nice to see marginalized groups represented in mainstream media, isn't it? Indeed it is, dear reader, but there is of course a dark side to this. More often than not, media portrayals of things such as the autism spectrum tend to present aspies and autistics in one of three lights; negatively (the character lacks any humanity whatsoever), sympathetically, yet condescendingly (“Aww the poor dear, he struggles so much with that tragic condition!) or proudly, yet condescendingly (“We're so proud of him! He's come so far...you know...for someone with his condition!”) The point is, while media coverage is good, typically, mainstream presentations of autism and aspergers (and indeed any condition which differentiates people from the crowd) tend to reinforce prevailing stereotypes against those who are different rather than shatter them.

I could come up with a laundry list of fictional characters who fall victim to this trope, but thankfully one show's characters I could not lump under that group are those of Daredevil. Indeed, it feels as though the entire show is one big love letter to disability pride. Matthew Murdock, the lead character of the show and alter ego of the titular character, is an attorney working in New York's dangerous Hell's Kitchen neighbourhood, attempting to make things better for the people of NYC's impoverished areas. He is also blind, having lost his sense of sight due to a chemical spill at nine years of age. While in most traditional disability narratives, Murdock would probably be afforded sympathy by viewers and writers alike, this is not the case in Daredevil. As a result of losing his sight, Murdock has honed his other senses to a razor sharp degree, and uses them to effectively see without use of his eyes. This enables him to fight crime and bring justice to the people of Hell's Kitchen by night, while using his intellect to do the same thing through the legal system during the day. What I like most about Murdock's story is that it very much parallels the developmental path of many mild aspies and autistics (including yours truly). Essentially, while certain aspects of being on the spectrum are in fact a disability (seriously, being able to distinguish between angry face and serious face? Ugh!), it is never a black and white thing and also comes with many gifts. I can testify that in my own admittedly mild case, while I was slightly handicapped in reading emotional cues based on facial language, I developed my ability to analyze other aspects of a situation and so almost make up for it. I have my moments where I fail, but heck, even Matt Murdock still needs to read brail right?

And I haven't even gotten into the series' big bad yet...

If the positive commentary on disability starts with the Daredevil himself, it reaches its next level with series baddie Wilson Fisk. Portrayed in the comics as the big, muscular bald and highly intelligent leader of New York's biggest criminal empire, the series' version of him follows almost the exact same path. Played by Vincent D'Onofrio on the Netflix series, the live action version of Fisk is also a recluse, one who is visibly uncomfortable in social settings and who, besides his close friend and assistant James Wesley and lover Vanessa, has no expansive social network and a very regimented daily routine.

In short, Fisk is on the autism spectrum. And I couldn't be happier about it.

Now, before any of you start screaming that making a villain autistic effectively ruins the reputations of anyone with any Autism Spectrum Disorder, hear me out. Yes, Fisk is a recluse. Yes, he is visibly uncomfortable in social settings, and yes he has a small circle of close associates, but these are never portrayed as any form of impediment to him. In fact, These traits, when combined with Fisk's clear and shrewd intellect, and his inner conflict between the moral and ruthless sides of his soul serve to make him one of the most interesting and, dare I say, human villains currently existing in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. In the end, Fisk has both good and evil in his soul, just as we all do. Whether neurodiverse or neurotypical, blind or able to see, we all have the conflict between two metaphorical wolves within us; one of good and the other of evil. The fact that Fisk is presented (though never announced on screen) as an autistic with the same inner turmoil and complex character development normally reserved for non-disabled characters is a beautiful testament to the fact that, whatever else we may have to deal with in life, we are all of us humans first.

Marvel's Daredevil is therefore a show that hits a lot of the right notes. While my inner geek is jumping for joy at its tie-ins with the greater MCU, my disability rights activist is also doing the same mental fist-pump for all of the positive portrayals of disability that lie within. It's a great show in its own right, and I seriously can't wait to see where the series goes (I haven't finished watching it yet!). Even still, there is something super compelling about the concept of a blind super hero with highly developed senses fighting the good fight for the poorest of NYC against an autistic villain who is brilliant, evil and a cunning crime lord while also being oh so human.

Whoa.

Depression and Mental Health: A Post in Honour of Robin Williams and a Dear Friend...

Greetings to all you Aspies and allies out there in interweb land! Today, my original plan was to write about something else entirely, but in light of a few developments recently, there’s another important issue I feel the need to address in a special column of this blog. As you are all no doubt aware, recently the prominent comedian and actor Robin Williams committed suicide after a long battle with depression. Indeed, this was a tragedy, and I’m sure I speak for many when I say that the world will miss his manic sense of humour. Through this, many have taken to the internet to raise awareness for mental health and depression-related causes. This is a fantastic thing, but this is ultimately not my motivation for writing tonight. No, my reason is far more personal; you see, just this week, a dear friend of mine also committed suicide after a long battle with depression and other mental health issues.

The friend in question (henceforth referred to as M) wasn’t one of my closest friends, nor was she someone I saw on a regular basis, but she was always someone I got along well with and whose company I thoroughly enjoyed when we did finally find moments to spend together. In light of this, despite knowing that she’d struggled with depression since long before we met, I found myself deeply saddened by her loss. M was a transgendered individual, and one with a long history of being shunned and having to make it on her own without help. Perhaps one of the things I find most haunting about her tragic life story was that much of her misery was caused by the judgments and criticisms of others. Being a member of the transgendered community, while being far less understood than Aspergers, shares that one common element with our own scene; there is an overwhelming lack of correct information and understanding among people. Yes, friends, this is indeed the dark side of being born anything but typical; in fact its commonly known that LGBT youth have one of the highest suicide rates of any demographic, and its due in no small part to the judgments of others and lack of acceptance. I can’t help but feel like if there were more love in this world, my friend, Robin Williams, and the countless others who fall victim to depression each year would still be with us.

Despite this, we must resist the urge to oversimplify the situation. Depression is, after all, an illness. It can no more be willed away with happy thinking than a broken leg can be mended with faith healing. It requires treatment, hard work, understanding and support from all those involved for any individual to make a recovery, and many don’t ever fully do so. For these people, depression is very much like epilepsy or asthma; a condition one lives with on a daily basis. Those suffering with depression and other mental health issues do not need our condescension, nor do they need our well-meaning yet overbearing attempts at help; often times, they just need friends to stand by them and prove to them that, despite what the evil little voice of depression is whispering in their ears, people do in fact love them. As I’ve thought about it over the past few days, I’ve come to the conclusion that I wish I had done this more for M than I did. Even if it meant that long-discussed sushi outing. 

Friends, I realize this is merely one blog entry in a sea of mental health awareness articles, but I felt it was important to share on this site. Being neurodiverse often carries with it the stigma of being different or broken, along with the many tears and frustration such labels bring. Though the idea of being broken couldn’t be farther from the truth, its not always easy to realize that when one is living through a rather nightmarish situation. It’s important that we stand together and help lift each other out of the dark places if and when we fall close to them. Only through education and mutual support like this are we going to make the world a better place.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go play some Super Smash Bros: Project M…in honour of the aforementioned individual with the same initial. She was a huge geek and gamer, and I feel like she would appreciate this.

As always, yours in diversity!

Adam Michael