The Importance of Found Family

 As a child of divorce, I’ve always known that family is a strange thing. Society teaches us that its the most important bond we can have with other people, while also reserving it almost exclusively for those we’re biologically related to. “Blood is thicker than water,” some say, while others espouse that “family is forever” or some similarly contrived platitude. Certainly, those connections can be important. I’m very close to my biological family, in my own way. We’re the very definition of a tight-knit clan, and even though I’m caught squarely in the middle of two families that don’t really exist to the other because of divorce shenanigans, I like to think of myself as having a good relationship with both halves of my genetic material.

That’s not what I want to talk about today though. Because the thing of it is? There’s another kind of family that I’ve come to cherish as much as – if not more than – my biological one. Found family. It’s a concept that has its roots in the LGBTQ community, where oppression and stigma would often push unrelated people together for mutual support and connection in a world where their biological relations wanted nothing to do with them (or at best, didn’t understand them).

I may not be gay, but I do understand this super well in my own way. And I think that’s true for a lot of people. My parents, bless their hearts, are upper-middle class, and my family as a whole cares a lot more about keeping up appearances than I ever have. They also don’t tend to understand my intense interest in nerdy things, my love of the simple life, and my tendency to not care about clothing and fashion. I’m almost certain that these things all stem from the fact that I’m multiply neurodivergent, but even still, I’ve always felt that there’s a whole side of me that my bio fam just doesn’t get. That’s not to say they don’t get me in their own way – of course they do – its just…different?

My found family understands me in a way no one else does. Part of that is because life circumstances have brought us together and made our bonds stronger through countless trials and tribulations (in some cases stretching back decades). I suspect in some other way, though, its because we’re all outcasts in our own ways. My favourite people in the world are poly, LGBTQ, neurodivergent, hippy, witchy, or otherwise exist outside the bounds of what society considers ‘normal.’ And you know what? I LOVE that. Because normal is a setting on a dishwasher, not a metric of validity for human life experiences. There’s just something beautiful to me about people with intersecting identities from all of these groups coming together and realizing that they WANT to be family. Making that intentional choice to love and support each other. It makes my heart happy that I get to experience that in this world, and not a day goes by that I don’t reflect on how lucky I am.

My found family includes (but is not limited to) my gay best friend of over 20 years, my poly, witchy, pot-smoking, LGBTQ, neurodivergent sisters from other parental units, their partners, and the various offspring they’ve produced (to whom I get to be Uncle Adam, which is so cool!). It’s a diverse, eclectic group of weirdos I’ve collected over my many years on this planet. They’ve all helped me find my place in this world in ways I can’t even begin to fully express.

And I can’t imagine my life without any of them.

As always, yours in diversity,

Adam Michael

Tragedy in Orlando: Why Words And Ideas Carry Weight And Social Responsibility

Today's post isn't strictly about Neurodiversity, but it does relate to that theme in a more general sense. As I'm sure you've all heard by now, Orlando, Florida has played host to one of the most violent gun crimes in the history of the United States, if not North America as a whole. Fifty people were gunned down by an extremist with an assault rife at a gay club, all because they dared to be who they were and embrace it publicly. According to some unconfirmed reports, it all went down because the shooter found the sight of two gay men kissing to be "abhorrent."

Whoa.

I think it's safe to say that we're all outraged by this flagrant disregard for human life. In our haste to condemn it as a tragedy, however, let's not turn a blind eye to the toxic soup of social and religious factors that made this shooting a possibility to begin with. To paraphrase a wonderful Facebook post that has been making the rounds this morning, the physical bullets that were fired by the gunner at fifty innocent members of the LGBTQ community and their allies at the bar were made possible by the ideological and philosophical bullets that conservatives, religious fundamentalists, and other hate-filled extremists have been flinging at the gay, bi, transgendered, pansexual, intersex and related communities for years. Because you can't say bigoted things about those whose sexual orientation and gender identies are anything but straight and cisgendered on the one hand and condemn an act like this on the other. It doesn't work like that.

While the victims in this case were part of the LGBTQ community, this kind of tragedy has a very real possibility of occurring to any oppressed and marginalized group. Any time society pushes certain groups to the fringes, uses religion and social policy to diminish the value of their existences, pathologizes them, and otherwise perpetuates hate against them, we dehumanize people. And to use a rather extreme example, Nazi Germany taught us historically that, whenever others are dehumanized, it becomes that much easier to justify violence against them. This is never okay, and we need to realize that hate-filled political, religious, and social statements are no longer merely opinions; they are the currency by which we as a society purchase violent massacres and allow them to occur.

We here at Differently Wired stand with our brothers, sisters, and siblings of non-binary gender in the LBGTQ community in our opposition to hate and intolerance. We know as well as they the difficulties of living within socially defined boxes that don't suit us, the liberation of coming out in defiance of said boxes and smashing them with our efforts to feel pride and happiness with who we are, and the stigma we face when we encounter others in the world who just don't get it. Because far beyond the "Neuro" prefix, on a more fundamental level Differently Wired has, and always will, stand for "Diversity" in all its forms. We are none of us perfect, after all, but we are all perfectly who we are meant to be.

We stand in solidarity with anyone who is gay, bi, pansexual, transgendered, intersex and others, and with all the victims of this horrible tragedy. Let's work to ensure it never happens again.

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

"With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility" - Understanding Privilege and Guilt vs Responsibility

I'm sorry.

Anyone who knows me knows I utter those two words far more than is probably humanly healthy. Ordinarily, it tends to be about stupid things that I needlessly beat myself up over (since apparently while self love comes easily to adult me, I still have a tendency of holding myself to a ridiculously high standard). Tonight however, I'm saying it because I think I've finally had the concept of social responsibility driven home for me.

Before I continue, I'd like to reiterate that I have always had an understanding of this concept on an intellectual and moral level. I've always understood that it is the responsibility of those who do well by society's various standards to help those that do not. On a moral level, I've also always believed that while an individual member of a traditionally oppressive group may not hold any personal guilt in how the oppressed are treated by his or her peers, they do hold a responsibility as a representative of that group to at least attempt to make things better.

The thing is...as much as I say truthfully that I've always understood this, I don't think I've gotten it more than I do tonight.

My lovely girlfriend this weekend embarked on what I've been told was an epic trip to the small northern town she calls home for the annual Pride festivities. As a fellow activist and believer in equality, my thrill at her going was only matched by my disappointment that I could not also be there fighting the good fight. The weekend was filled with fun and inspiring celebrations of diversity in all its forms, but one speaker in particular gave me knots in my stomach and almost made me tear up when my partner told me about it.

The speaker in question was a transgendered individual who transitioned from female to male. Anyone familiar with such things knows how difficult that can be, and how unaccepting society can still be to what many consider the most misunderstood and misrepresented members of the LGBTQ community. Apparently, the man spoke with much courage and light about his dark past and the difficult journey he faced in coming to terms with who he was. One period he mentioned that was especially dark was his time in middle school. Now, as I've said before, I also had dark times during that period of my life, but nothing I or many have been through can compare to the challenge of coming out as transgendered. This speaker mentioned how he had been bullied not only by peers but also by the administration at the school...in particular one principal who made his life a living hell.

The kicker here is, he went to middle school at one of the schools a certain family member of mine was principal at, during the very time she worked there.

When I realized this, my stomach contorted in disgust and I proceeded to apologize profusely to my girlfriend. For her part, she was amazing and consoled me, telling me I could not control the actions of my family members. It was at that point that I came face to face with the concept of social responsibility. The fact remained that while, yes, I could not be held personally responsible for the actions of a member of my family (and thus could not and should not share the guilt), I do share in the responsibility for the situation because we are both representatives of our family.

I know what you are going to say dear reader, because its an argument that has been used time and again in similar situations involving racism, sexism and countless other judgmental isms. “You shouldn't take the blame for something that someone else did because you didn't do it yourself!” The thing is, this statement is both correct and incorrect. To understand how that's possible, one has to understand how we are all impacted by privilege in various forms. If you are a member of a traditionally privileged group, whether it be being male, straight, white, or any other state of existence that gives you an elevated status in the eyes of society, then while you are not guilty for the crimes of your fellow members of that group who may lack your level of enlightenment, you are nonetheless responsible for their actions.

Consider this example. I work for a medium-sized telecom company. Like most companies, the cost-service ratio is a mixed bag, and we naturally don't do well by 100% of our customers. When someone comes up to me at my workplace with a ridiculously high bill or another beef with some policy instituted by my superiors, the first thing they see is yours truly wearing his company uniform and standing behind the counter. In that moment, while I am not at fault for the particular policy that the customer has called into question, I am still responsible for at least attempting to help the customer in some way since I am still a representative of my company. Many people intuitively understand this in a retail or employment context, but find it more difficult to apply the same reasoning to issues of social justice because quite simply, it hurts to think that someone we may be connected to did something bad, and we don't want to be saddled with the guilt because gosh darn it, we are good people! This, dear friends, is emotion talking. Logically, the same argument applies in both situations.

So, to the awesome-sounding transgendered man who gave the truly inspiring talk at small-town Pride, I am terribly, humbly sorry from the bottom of my heart. In fairness, I don't know exactly what happened during those years, nor could I ever hope to understand how it must have felt. I will say that the member of my family in question is by no means an evil person, and has made great strides in terms of acceptance and belief in equality, but we are all of us human and prone to making mistakes and letting the dark sides of our nature through. I will not make excuses for her or anyone else, but I will take responsibility as a privileged member of the same family and say that I do apologize for what you may have gone through. While I have no doubt that the awesome person you have now become is due to both good and bad times, as is true for all of us, no one should ever have to endure that. You are awesome and beautiful just by virtue of being a human on this planet, and the fact that you have come through with such light just enhances your awesomeness by a factor of a billion. One human to another, even if I've never met you, I just want to say that dude? You rock!

I realize this post is not directly related to neurodiversity, but I think the underlying message is an important one for us all to consider. Every word, action and thing that comes from us directly impacts those around us. We must be vigilant and remember that, in the words of Uncle Ben from Spider-Man, “with great power comes great responsibility.” I am sure that my family member never intended to have such a negative impact, just as I am sure than many who are part of a privileged group do not intentionally want to seem arrogant as they attempt to wash their hands of the mistakes of their ancestors and fellow members. Unfortunately, it is rarely that simple. If it was, we would not have many of the complex social justice issues we now face as a society. While we do need to move onward and upward and leave the past behind us, we must also recognize that moving past the guilt often does and should involve embracing the responsibility of cleaning up the mess and putting the pieces back together. It's not an easy journey to make, but one I believe every member of our species capable of doing.

After all, if we want to build that better world, its where we need to start.

Yours in diversity,

Adam Michael