But you don't even look autistic!
Imagine unironically saying that to me, 15 years ago.
[This was originally posted on Medium in April 12th, 2024, and on Substack in September 21st, 2024, both in Portuguese.]
“i’m tired of polished phrases
by angels of pale faces
palmtrees calm clapping
passing yet still standing
i now want the pelting
storm of stones words
distributing thuds”
(Paulo Leminski; free translation of my own)
I recently got my Autism diagnostic (level 1 ASD) at 26 years old. For some years, since around 2019/2020, this was already what I expected, and it only got confirmed now in April 2024. I already expected it, because it was a hypothesis so unexpectedly plausible for a life that felt, up until now, “adrift for no reason at all”.
I am told that I look “normal”, but only God knows how much effort it takes to “be normal”: I can’t be too direct with my words without being taken for rude; I can’t use “wrong” words with “wrong” people without being judged for not following the non-verbal rules that permeate all places; I have to greet everyone in a given social environment, men with handshakes and women with a kiss on the cheek — except when I shouldn’t greet them with a kiss on the cheek, like in formal contexts and/or when there are power asymmetries (no one teaches us that); I can’t turn down party invitations without people taking it to heart and perhaps not inviting me again; I can’t make what you so caringly call an “assface”, which happens when 1) I’m exhausted of crowds and all the hubbub and failed attempts of hearing people’s voices which are muffled from ambient noise (because my brain hates separating background noise from conversations), 2) when I try to talk but my voice isn’t capable of trespassing this cruel sound vitrine that surrounds me and forces me to isolate myself further, and that 3) is further induced from the frustration that also this place reminds me that I belong nowhere, and that I was probably misassigned at birth to the animal species which, I’m told, I “belong”. Etc etc etc.
But golly gee, you don’t look autistic! Yeah, and nobody would dare to say that Ricky Martin looked gay 10 years or so ago, but guess what! Who would’ve thunk it that belonging to a social group marginalized by its peculiarities would induce us to imitate you, neurotypicals, so well!? Funny thing is, 10 to 15 years ago this diagnostic wouldn’t be such a shocker: I was already considered a weirdo, so I would’ve just gotten a confirming accolade to the eyes of the oh-so-gentle kids and teenagers with which I’ve had the worst experiences of my life.
Every time we hear yet another “but you don’t even look autistic, you look normal”, it’s almost as if we heard something as rude as “but you don’t even look gay, you look straight” or “you don’t even look blind, your eyes aren’t even white”. Those comments may come from a place of ignorance (in which case I can’t be mad at them not knowing the “sin” in which they may be incurring), but, regardless, to us autistics1, telling us that “we don’t even look autistic” is almost an invalidation: I don’t need to look “autistic enough” to you; I simply am, regardless of your mental image about this group of people. In almost every single time we’re told so, it’s just one of the so-many times in which we are devalued; after all, no person in their clear mind would self-proclaim to be something so stigmatized (almost vulgar) as “autistic” just for “the hype”. No sane person would throw away a neurotypical life’s privileges just for “wokeness”, just to “stand out”; who’d be so stupid as to wake up one day, with nothing to do, and deciding — voluntarily and publicly, for no reason whatsoever — to expose the obsolescence of their “normality” privileges? If you believe that people do this unironically, I can only tell you to sincerely go fuck yourself.
We don’t reclaim the term “Autism”2 to shock and create drama, but because it is something that concerns us3, after an entire life in which we felt deeply conscious of the alienation and silent ostracism, whether conscious or not, from social groups to which we supposedly belonged. After a life in which no word fit our personalities and suffering, it’s nothing short of awe-inspiring4 to discover millions of people around the world which not only feel the same way as we do, but with which we don’t have to keep wasting words while trying to explain how we feel, because they also deeply understand, and feel, many of our own tribulations. As in Plato’s cave alegory, we are briefly fulminated by this self-discovery, to then become able to see ourselves and the world with more clarity and distinction. And, as in the alegory, we become frustrated when we “come back” to the world with this recently acquired self-knowledge, so important to our souls, only to be explicitly disregarded as naive by the very people with which we supposedly shared “normality”; it becomes, then, insufferable to be forced to imprison ourselves in the extraneous categories from those who decide what “normal” is, categories in which we always had so much friction to fit into.
I once read that society doesn’t accept neurodivergents, it tolerates them; if that’s the case, then being a docile autistic5 would only turn me into a puppet for the dominating interests, adorable and harmless at best, or a rug to be stepped on, at worst. Meekness will only guide us toward political passivity6. Autism isn’t inherently political, of course, being, by itself, nothing more than a neurological condition; but being subjected to a life of suffering and deprivations, uncomfortable crammed public transport7, extremely expensive psychological and psychiatric services, physical/psychological obstacles to adapt to the job market and to the arbitrariness of a (no less than) 40-hour workweek, etc — all this makes being autistic an eminently political question, not in the usual “political parties” sense, but in the sense of the constant struggle for self-preservation and survival in a world so inflexible towards our existence.
And all this induces rage. Wrath. Fury. We have much to gain from revolting, and I say we, because we all share these oppressions, and the flames of this fury cannot be put out, no matter how faded they may seem; it’s only through collective action that we’ll have what we deserve. It’s time that we take consciousness of our conditions, that we recognize ourselves in our shared oppressions, and that we fight actively for our inexorable demand for a dignified life. Pretty discourses on the TV and in social media won’t change our material struggles. It won’t be with crumbs that we’ll be calmed down; it won’t be with condescension and infantilization that we’ll feel acknowledged. And, more importantly, it won’t be by adapting ourselves to the neurotypical normativity which prevails in the capitalist society that we’ll feel adequate; it’ll only be when we uncompromisingly impose our existence that we’ll be respected, not merely tolerated. It’ll be by taxing the very rich (billionaires onwards, in particular), it’ll be by reducing the workweek, it’ll be by expanding the public healthcare and transportation systems, and so many other demands. “So little for so many”8…
Let us become the subject of our own history, and let us not tolerate that the neurotypical, capitalist, meritocratic narrative tell us how we should live and act; let us fight for a society free of opressions, not just for us neurodivergents, but for our sisters and brothers LGBTQIA+, black, indigenous, colonized from the Global South and oppressed from the whole world, because either we are all free, or no one will be truly free; there can be no genuine freedom where there are veiled oppressions.
“For a world where we are socially equal, humanly different and totally free” (Rose Luxemburg)
“The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it.
Its only job is to eat or consume everything around it,
in order to protect itself from this mad city.
While consuming its environment, the caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive.
One thing it noticed is how much the world shuns him,
but praises the butterfly.
The butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness, and the beauty within the caterpillar.
But having a harsh outlook on life, the caterpillar sees the butterfly as weak,
and figures out a way to pimp it to his own benefits.
Already surrounded by this mad city, the caterpillar goes to work on the cocoon,
which institutionalizes him.
He can no longer see past his own thoughts.
He's trapped.
When trapped inside these walls, certain ideas take root,
such as going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad city.
The result?
Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant.
Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations that the caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggle.
Although the butterfly and caterpillar are completely different,
they are one and the same."
(Kendrick Lamar, Mortal Man — To Pimp a Butterfly)
Or “people with Autism”, whichever floats your metaphorical boat.
Originally: “autista” (autistic). In Brazil, the adjective is more well-received by the neurodivergent community than in English, as far as I can tell, being more common (and quicker to say) than “person with Autism”.
Originally: “que nos diz respeito”, i.e. that is important to us, that has something to do with us. In Portuguese, we have distinct ways of expressing to concern/”worry” and to concern/”be important”.
Originally: “assombroso”. It should really be translated as “awe-some”, but this has a different connotation nowadays.
Again, the term in Portuguese sounds less “off” than it does in English.
Originally: “A mansidão somente nos levará à passividade política”. Could also be translated as “mansuetude” (also a word in Portuguese, albeit equally archaic), but who in 2024 would write this way?
In Brazil we have public transportation, which is oftentimes precarious, crammed, not cheap (since passengers have to pay for it, regardless of it being public), etc. Not all places are created Europe… but don’t ask them where they got their resources between the 16th and the 19th centuries.
Originally: “Tão pouco para tanta gente…” (Racionais MC’s, Voz Ativa)