Autistic Masking

A recent trend I have seen on Twitter among autistics there involved opposition to “autistic masking.” Not all autistics can mask, but many if not most can. And that creates a number of problems for us.

I’m honestly a little torn on this issue, because on the one hand, I realize that literally everyone “masks”–you are a spouse, a parent, a friend, a child, an employee or employer, and there may be remarkably little overlap among those personas you present–and on the other hand, autistics both have to mask a lot more (like stimming), and masking is much more exhausting for us than it is for neurotypicals.

Over time, though, a lot of masking just becomes second nature. Sometimes you mask without even realizing it. For example, recently Daniel started engaging in palilalia. It was only recently that I realized palilalia was something I also did–only, I did it silently, in my head. I don’t see any particular benefit to my “unmasking” my palilalia. I’m still doing it–silently, in my head–and all it would do would be to cause unnecessary stress on others for me to do it out loud.

There are a lot of things people keep to themselves. People self-censor all the time. It’s called being polite. It’s called having good manners. You learn good manners. It’s not something anyone is born with. It’s a form of masking, and it’s a form of masking that makes you a better person over time.

However, the last century has seen a rise in what I would call the “cult of authenticity.” Everyone seems to think–or at least say they think–that people ought to be more “authentic,” that they need to be their “authentic selves.” I say that’s nonsense. I don’t want people to be their authentic selves. I want them to be better, nicer, kinder, more generous than their authentic selves–even if their authentic selves are good, nice, kind, and generous. The cult of authenticity has ruined art, poetry, relationships, and general civility. Rather than expecting everyone to rise up to greater heights, we want everyone to wallow in the shallows of their “authentic” selves.

At the same time, I can understand why many autistics are truly tired of masking. Masking is, for us, a great effort and, even when well-performed, prone to breaking down. Masking for neurotypicals is easy and relatively effortless. Masks can change in less than a moment. This is hardly the case for autistics. We have to always think about what it is that the person in front of us wants to see from us. And heaven help us if the situation changes and the mask has to change. Worse, we have to mask things that others don’t have to mask. Neurotypicals are sincerely interested in other people and stories about others people, while very often we autistics aren’t. But we know it’s important to others to talk about those thing, so we feign interest. Also, if we are allowing a lot of back-and-forth in conversation, you may rest assured that it’s only because we are artificially cutting ourselves off despite having so much more to say. This, too, is a form of masking.

I suppose the real problem with masking is that while presumably neurotypicals do get times when they can be their “authentic selves” around certain people, we too often feel like we can never be ourselves–even around friends and family. When can I stim without feeling self-conscious about it? (Of course, I also rarely stim when I’m fully comfortable, so I suppose wanting both is contradictory in nature, at least for me.) When can I just talk and talk and talk about what interests me? I pretty much never get that opportunity, and I find myself less and less able to have conversations about my interests that go on for as long as I want them to go on (ah, the beauty of grad school in allowing such conversations!).

I often put up with people touching my wrists (which makes me want to crawl out of my skin), and I have to wear suits and long-sleeve shirts (remember my wrists?) in certain situations. I’ve had to get over being interrupted when I work so that I’m not biting people’s heads off. Even then, I really haven’t “gotten over” the intense irritation I get at being interrupted when I’m working on something, especially my writing. Rather, I mask it, taking a moment to calmly move out of the zone and into a space where I can converse. But let me ask you: should I have just kept biting people’s heads off, or should I have masked that reaction? I think we should probably all agree on the answer to that.

Living in the world means masking. This is true for all people. However, it’s harder for us autistics. And we’re rarely if ever given the opportunity to truly be ourselves. Which only makes it harder. Which is no doubt why there is this movement against masking. We have been pressured into always-masking (and always doing so poorly), and many have gotten sick and tired of it. The answer, for them, is to demand from everyone that we be allowed to never mask anymore. I think there are rhetorical benefits to that approach insofar as it draws attention to what we have to do to get along (and even then, not enough)–especially if it can draw attention to the fact that masking, because it’s so hard for us, actually harms us not only through mental exhaustion, but from people reacting so poorly to when the mask starts to crack. We need people to realize what we’re doing and how it can harm us. But, truth be told, we’ll never be able to stop masking. It’s simply part of being human.

New Social Environments Are Exhausting

This past week I have had trainings for my work. I have been hired as a paraprofessional in a middle school behavioral unit in Plano ISD, and that means I had to go through four days of training. I have been utterly exhausted for four days.

I have had to be in a room with about 30 strangers for four days. On day one, I’m not sure I could have stimmed more or faster. My legs shook and I was fiddling around with my pen. I stimmed less each day, but I didn’t seem to get any less exhausted. I fortunately didn’t have training today, so I was able to sleep in (not to mention going to be a little early)—I got 10 hours of sleep (I usually wake up naturally right before I get 8 unless I’m that exhausted).

My wife noted that I seem to get exhausted that way if I have a day full of meetings. I also get this way the first week or two of a new job. One can only imagine what impression that makes. After that first week or so, though, my brain adjusts to the new situation, and I am back to my old normal self and degree of energy.

Given that this is what a new situation does to me, one can also perhaps imagine why I may not want to participate in these kinds of meetings or trainings, why I may not want to start a new job or switch jobs, or why I may want to avoid situations in where there will be a large number of people I don’t know and with whom I have to interact. I can only imagine what I must look like to others.

Coincidentally, having this level of self-awareness only makes things worse in these situations, because it only makes me more anxious, which only makes me stim more and harder. It’s a positive feedback nightmare. And when your brain is running at full blast for hours on end, it’s exhausting.

Autistics Helping Autistics

Medical Express has a piece on an autistic man, Kyle Barton, who lives in the Plano area and who attended UTD who has had a hard time finding a job. The title of the piece is Man with Autism Helps Design Virtual World to Make Life Better for Adults like Him. The entire thing is well worth reading, and I don’t want to summarize it. The article not only discusses his project, but goes into the struggles he’s had finding a job.

I certainly understand that struggle. Barton certainly should not be unemployed. He is a graduate of UT-Dallas and, very obviously, very intelligent. And yet, he’s struggled to find work. I have a Ph.D. from UT-Dallas, and yet the only work I’ve managed to get have been adjunct professor jobs, and temporary and part time work. I’m incredibly thankful I now have a full time job, but it’s as a paraprofessional (don’t get me wrong, I love the work I’ll be doing, but I should be making far more given my education and abilities).

While I do hope that Barton’s work will help many autistics navigate the world better and, hopefully, find and keep work, there’s a certain absurdity to someone like him or me having trouble finding employment. We seem to mostly be guilty of being socially awkward, spending too much time working at work, being too creative, and treating too many people as equals. The fact is that most people are completely intolerant of any real differences in thinking and behavior and only tolerate superficial differences.

 

A Pathological Look at Neurotypical Behavior

When you read about autism, you typically read about it as a pathology. Autistic people are viewed as being normal people with pathological deviations from the norm. Every so often you will come across an article that delineates a few of the special abilities of people on the spectrum, but even in doing so, it comes across as “well, at least there are a few positive things that come out of this tragedy.”

Autism is a structural variation in the brain’s architecture that gives rise to differences in processing and in different abilities. One may even argue that it gives rise to a different kind of mind. The vast majority of those people are in the “mild” end of the spectrum, though a great deal of focus is on the “extreme” end, with those who often cannot speak and seem to be particularly mentally disabled. This focus further pathologizes the spectrum precisely because it does not fully or even properly represent the reality for most people with autism.

To fully understand my point, I want to treat those not on the spectrum as though autism were the norm and what we now call neurotypical behavior were the minority. That is, I want to treat neurotypical people the way they treat people on the autism spectrum, from the perspective of someone on the spectrum. Because, from our point of view, you are full of deficits.

The Pathology

Irrational behaviors are one of the primary aspects of neurotypical people. Very often decisions are made without a great deal of thought or, certainly, research. This is especially true when it comes to their opinions. Whereas a sensible autistic person will do a great deal of research before developing an opinion or coming up with a proposed solution, neurotypicals have been observed to have an immediate opinion on things without, apparently, knowing the first thing about the topic. This is different from the kinds of errors autistics make from managing to miss something in their extensive research; rather, the neurotypicals carelessly won’t do any research at all before making a decision. And if they do any research, it will be at best a truncated version, as if they are impatient to come up with any answer at all rather than to make sure they have the right one.

It seems that a strong reliance on emotions is a typical reason for this immediate, almost knee-jerk, way of making a decision. As a result, it is not uncommon for them to agree with a solution that sounds good, sometimes regardless of the overwhelming evidence against the proposal, rather than something that has a track record of actually working. This seems to especially be the case in the areas of economics, the social sciences, and government. While this same tendency does allow them to respond more quickly to others, sometimes that is done at the expense of properly assessing the social situation. Fortunately, they do seem to have a particularly strong ability to make that proper assessment, so we must admit that in this particular case their pathological tendency toward immediate conclusions is often beneficial.

Having said that, there are some very strong negatives of that ability that seem to be combined with a kind of empathy that makes them more likely to identify more with people like themselves than with different people. While we autistics have a tendency to not be judgmental or biased, neurotypicals are terribly judgmental and biased. They judge people on things like race, sex, gender, deviations from the way they themselves think, culture, religion, and pretty much any difference one could possibly imagine, often to the point of hating members of other groups. Some autistics who have been raised with these people have learned these behaviors themselves, even though they are not typical to us. This makes associating with neurotypicals potentially dangerous, unless we remain on our guard against their biases.

This note on this particular moral deficit brings me to the topic of the large number of moral deficits commonly associated with neurotypicals. They have an under-developed sense of loyalty, and many do not seem to show any degree of loyalty at all. Further, they seem willing to lie about just about everything. The primary use of language for them seems to be to lie to each other. They will tell each other they look nice when they don’t; they will say one thing to one person, and another to another; they will backstab; they will tell their friends they are right when they know their friends are wrong. I could go on and on with the ways they lie to everyone.

They will also exaggerate and say things they don’t really mean. They will sometimes use words to mean completely different things. For example, I recently heard one of them say, “Give me a smack.” Which seems an odd request. But then I saw their neurotypical partner give them a kiss in response. How strange to ask for the opposite of a kiss and then to get a kiss! As a result, it can be very frustrating to deal with neurotypicals. You never know if they really mean what they are saying, you do not know if you can ever really trust them, and if you make the mistake of thinking they think the way you think, you will too often find yourself screwed over without your understanding what just happened.

Another odd behavior neurotypicals exhibit is their habit of “small talk.” From what we can tell, small talk appears to be talking just for the sake of talking. A “how are you doing” results in the same non-answer of “fine.” It seems unlikely everyone everywhere at all times is truly “fine,” so it seems that that is a non-answer to what is in fact a non-question. It has been observed that if you give an actual answer to the question, the questioner gets frustrated and impatient, as though they are annoyed that you would actually answer them. A whole conversation can actually go on like that, with general questions giving rise to pat answers so that you could actually change out any pair of people and you would end up with the same conversations each time. The vast majority of their conversations are not about anything of any substance, and, again, they seem positively annoyed if you try to engage them in such a conversation. As a group neurotypicals seem positively frivolous most of the time.

This frivolity extends to their work. They treat work as a social experience rather than as work. They don’t seem to treat work seriously or to engage in it with the kind of attention we autistics do. How any of them can keep a job is a mystery. Perhaps their ability to lie to their bosses and to pretend deference to them is what keeps them employed despite their inherent laziness. They also do have a tendency to do things exactly as they are told to do them rather than to find new ways of doing things. While one could view this as a lack of creativity on their part, in many cases it is useful to have a group of people who will unquestioningly do what they are told. If you can keep them from wasting their time socializing, businesses could make good use of this tendency to conform and engage in groupthink.

How It Feels to Be Made a Problem

I’m guessing you didn’t like the above description of yourself. You no doubt agree with many of the things listed, that they are all-too-often traits of the typical person. And no doubt many of you have made positive efforts to overcome those things—especially such things as racism and sexism. Indeed, we on the autism spectrum also make an effort to overcome what are perceived to be deficits. And yet, there are no doubt things I discussed above that you would argue are unusual, to say the least, interpretations of your behaviors. Well, guess what? That’s how we feel about many of the things we read about people with autism.

For example, we read that we do not have empathy or a theory of mind. That’s utterly ridiculous to us. We fully understand you have a mind—we just treat you like you have a mind like our minds, which results in a number of errors on our part. But guess what? You do exactly the same thing. You treat us as though we ought to have your mind, and when we obviously do not, you actually go so far as to declare that we don’t have a theory of mind! In the past people used to dehumanize others from other races and cultures using exactly this same logic. Since the person from the other culture does not act like us, they must not be human like us. We now know this to be untrue—and to be outright racist—but this way of thinking still manages to creep into studies of people with autism.

Yes, there are studies of young children involving hiding a toy, removing the child who saw where the toy was hidden, then moving the toy elsewhere and bringing the child back in where the young autistic children do not properly recognize who knows what, but where are the studies of older children and even adults? Why is it that we autistic adults don’t make this mistake? Could it be that the development of this ability is simply delayed rather than absent? Indeed, I see a great deal of evidence that people with autism have a tendency to have to learn through direct instruction many more things than do neurotypical people, who seem to have a large number of instincts that allow them to learn certain things more quickly. This is a difference in learning, not necessarily a disability or pathology. It is slower, but more accurate. As with anything, there are tradeoffs.

Finally, I want you to consider something else we autistic are always hearing. Given the negative aspects of neurotypicals listed above, what would you think of calls to fix you? From an autistic’s perspective, you would be much better people if you were more autistic. You would lie less, be less biased and judgmental, and be less frivolous. You would waste less time at work and get more work done. You would say what you mean and mean what you say. From our perspective, life would be much better for you if you were more like us. Now how does that make you feel? I can describe you as a pathology, as a problem that needs to be fixed. I am certain you didn’t like it one bit. Well guess what? Neither do we. If people would spend more time talking to us rather than studying us as some sort of black box that can only be understood by external observation of our behaviors, you may have known that by now.

Different Isn’t Worse

People with autism aren’t broken normal people. We are different. Our brains have different architectures, different biochemistry. It is driven by differences in our genes. All of which give rise to a different way of thinking and thus to different minds. Some of our minds are closer to neurotypical minds than others. It is a spectrum, after all. And some people with autism are definitely disabled when it comes to living in the neurotypical world. But then, there are extreme examples of the neurotypical mind as well—people who are pathological liars, people without morals, people who cannot seem to tell the difference between themselves and the external world. The difference is that they are closer to you, and thus seem more normal to you. To me, a man whose autism would be considered “mild,” those with severe autism seem more normal. I get how they are thinking. It is different, not wrong. And if people were more accepting of those differences, I would predict that many of our extreme negative traits would lessen considerably. We are frustrated, and that frustration comes out in a variety of negative ways. But then, consider what would happen if everyone treated you as a disease needing to be cured and not as someone who needed to be truly understood in the least?

Coming to this understanding between autistics and neurotypicals matters. Given the negative social consequences felt by pretty much everyone on the autism spectrum, we can only conclude that autism is one of the last ways of being human for which it is still completely acceptable by everyone to discriminate against. We are punished in the schools, discriminated against there, with the result that only around half graduate high school. Those who go to college don’t do much better. And even if, like me, one not only graduates from college but gets graduate degrees, one finds upon graduation that the work world is almost completely hostile to you. Not because we can’t do the work—because not only can we do the work, we will likely do it better than the average neurotypical person—but because we don’t interview well, we don’t acknowledge hierarchies, we are blunt, we come across as arrogant, and we aren’t social in typical ways.

I wrote this piece in order to help the average person understand what it’s like to be treated as a pathology. It can just as easily be done to you as it has been done to us. Does that mean you are a problem that needs to be fixed? Or does that mean we ought to be considered fellow human beings whose minds are part of the natural variation among human beings, whose contributions to society are vital for social health? We correctly recognize that acceptance of cultural, ethnic, racial, and sexual diversity results in a healthy society. Perhaps we can one day soon include different ways of thinking, different kinds of mind as well.

The Freedom To Do and Be

Wednesday night I attended a talk at Southern Methodist University by Deirdre McCloskey, an economist at the University of Chicago. She is the author of a series of books–The Bourgeois Virtues, Bourgeois Dignity, and Bourgeois Equality–in which she argues that economists have misunderstood the driving force of economic growth and widespread wealth. It’s not savings, and it’s not capital investment–rather, it’s ideas. And it’s a specific set of ideas: treating people equally, equality under the law, and respect for people who engage in business. She argued last night that when people are given the freedom to do what they want to do and be who they want to be, that freedom results in the creation of wealth.

This made me wonder how much wealth the world has lost because autistics are not allowed to do what they want to do, and to be who they are.

 

High-Level Discrimination and Prejudice

On Feb. 10, I posted a piece criticizing Nancy MacLean, Duke University history professor and author of the National Book Award-nominated Democracy in Chains for her anti-autistic statements. To say that my post has taken off–particularly, but not exclusively, in conservative and libertarian outlets–would be an understatement. There are many who are using this for purely political purposes, but as far as I’m concerned, if we can get more people aware of the issues we on the autism spectrum face, it’s all to the good.

For me, Nancy MacLean’s comments are hardly unique to her; if anything, they are quite typical of altogether too many people. In my experience, most especially among academics like her, who can tolerate anything other than different ways of thinking. And autism is certainly a different way of thinking. While one would expect universities to be a place where different ways of thinking would be encouraged, the fact is that all too often autistics in particular are punished by the dominant culture in our universities.

I’ve experienced the explicit discrimination against autism in our universities first-hand. I made the mistake of disclosing to the administrators at the University of North Texas at Dallas, which led to an effort by the administration to not renew my Lecturer contract. I next made the mistake of disclosing to my students at Southern Methodist University, leading to students actually complaining that I was autistic and “acted weird,” a complaint I had never had prior to disclosing my autism to them, with the result that I was not brought back in the spring as an adjunct.

There is a strong prejudice against autistic people. We are treated as damaged–including by so-called supporters who promulgate anti-vaccination nonsense because of nonexistent connections between vaccines and autism–rather than as people who have different ways of thinking. Yes, there are extreme versions of autism that result in a number of serious physical and communication problems, but while these are in many ways the most visible, the “milder” versions such as my son and me are in fact the more common by a long shot. We are people who want to work, but who face extremely high unemployment rates (I’ve seen numbers from 20% to 80%) precisely because of the kinds of prejudices promulgated by even the most educated among us (perhaps by them most of all). Worse, despite these high unemployment rates, primarily due to explicit discrimination against autism, we all too often cannot even get disability.

I hope this issue continues to have legs. I do not want autism to continue to be the last acceptable form of discrimination. But as long as people like Nancy MacLean continue to spread negative stereotypes of autism, it will continue to be acceptable.

Should You “Act Normal” During a Job Interview?

As you can probably well imagine, someone who is socially awkward, who has social anxiety, and communication problems of various sorts isn’t going to do well in a job interview. Think about the issue of eye contact. This article lists 8 reasons someone might not make eye contact with you. Here’s the short version:

  1. Social anxiety
  2. They like you
  3. They aren’t interested in what you’re saying
  4. You aren’t very visually appealing
  5. Low self-esteem
  6. They are hiding something
  7. They are having a bad day
  8. They don’t want to come across as flirty

Now isn’t that a delightful list? The first one comes closest to saying “because you’re autistic.” Most people interpret lack of eye contact as being at least 6 or 3. Can you imagine how your interview is going if the interviewer(s) are thinking you aren’t interested in what they are saying, or that you’re untrustworthy? It’s just as bad if they think you’re not looking at them because you think they’re ugly. And who wants a potential sexual harassment suit (2 and 8), or want to hire someone with low self-esteem?

Of course, we can learn we need to make and maintain eye contact, but then we get into the issues of not actually knowing how to do so properly and thus run the risk of staring or making the interviewer uncomfortable. So that may seem like a solution, but it may not in fact be one.

To many think that if they tell an autistic person they just need to be trained to interview, that that will solve the problem. But that’s essentially telling them that they need to be taught not to be autistic while they’re being interviewed. Even if that were possible (some of us can fake it long enough to get through an interview), what happens when you get the job?

If we could simply learn to not act autistic, we probably all would have done so by now–at least, during work hours. But when you ask us to not “act” autistic, you are asking us to stop being natural in our behavior. And I’m not talking about excusing bad behavior. It’s not “natural” to be a rude little jerk. And I’m not talking about mere cultural or subcultural differences. I’m talking about complaining that your cat isn’t acting like your dog. That being the case, let me ask my neurotypical readers something: why not learn to act autistic? Try it for even an hour. See how well it goes. See how it feels.

Of course, asking us to try to act normal during an interview is just a subset of the larger problem of people thinking we can act normal if we just wanted to do so. We act the way we act because it’s normal according to our neural structures and neurochemistry. Those elements inform the way anything with a nervous system behaves, which is why there is such a wide variety of behaviors in nature. Are gorillas or orangutans inferior chimpanzees because they don’t behave like chimpanzees? Or might they have different neural structures, resulting in different behaviors? Even more obviously similar to the situation I’m talking about would be the differences between chimpanzees and bonobos. Only the specialist can tell these species apart, but their behaviors are completely different. A chimpanzee among bonobos would appear to be “socially awkward,” to say the least.

Further, asking us to fake it during the interview only delays the problem. How are you helped if you get a job with people expecting one set of behaviors, then finding out they are getting someone with completely different behaviors? And this of course ignores the issues of when and if one should disclose being autistic.

I know people think they are being helpful when they make these suggestions, but the problem is that these issues are much more complex than simply doing well in an interview. Quite frankly, if we could just disclose up front without any negative consequences, and be accepted for who we are and how we behave, most of our social anxieties would disappear, and we’d actually be much more delightful to work with.

On (Not) Getting Disability When You Have the Hidden Disability

Over the past several months, I have been trying to get Disability from Social Security. Today I have been denied for the second time. Let me quote the most recent rejection letter:

You said you are disabled because of autism, aspergers, hip displasia, flat feet, anxiety, sensory integration disorder, and memory loss. However, your current symptoms are not severe enough to be considered disabling.

Apparently being unable to stand for long periods of time because of ever-increasing pain from flat feet, being unable to do physical labor because of constant and ever-increasing pain from hip displasia, being diagnosed with general anxiety disorder by the psychologist they sent me to, and all of the issues associated with autism/Asperger’s, including short term memory loss issues and sensory integration disorder, doesn’t make you disabled.

Those who have been following this blog know many of the problems I have had with getting and keeping jobs. If I even get a job after the interview, I cannot seem to hold on to it for long. Literally, the longest I ever had a job was a little over a year and a half. I had two such jobs. One of them I left because I was moving from Hattiesburg, MS to Dallas; the other was at UNT-Dallas, where my contract wasn’t renewed.

All of the problems I have had with remaining employed have stemmed from my autistic behaviors. The problem is that, if autism is a hidden disability, it seems to be so hidden with me that for the longest time very few people, except those who knew me very, very well, would even believe I as on the spectrum When you meet me, I’m often articulate, I can be charming under the right conditions, I’m highly educated (Ph.D.), and I’m highly intelligent. I can fake it for a fair amount of time. Enough for many to think I’m merely a little introverted.

The problem is what happens over the long term, or if I’m not in ideal conditions. If it’s too loud, too bright, too crowded, I start to feel overwhelmed. My anxiety–which I have learned really never goes away, but only waxes and wanes like the tides–increases, and as my anxiety increases, I become increasingly irritable. Over time, you will see me “goofing off,” which really means I’m writing something down to get it out of my head so I can continue to concentrate on work. But of course, you can’t do anything non-work-related on company time (except gossip, of course, which I don’t do and which takes up far more time than it did for me to write the one line of poetry I needed to get out), so I get in trouble. What they don’t realize is that I’m actually doing what I need to do to ensure I can dedicate the maximum amount of time and concentration to work. But how do you explain that to anyone?

The letter I received goes on to state that

Although you said you have various limitations caused by your symptoms, the evidence does not show that your ability to perform basic work activities is as limited as you indicated. We do not have sufficient vocational information to determine whether you can perform any of your past relevant work. However, based on the evidence in file, we have determined that you can adjust to other work.

I find all of this very curious. And it indicates there is something wrong with the way disability is determined, such that autism is almost always going to be discounted as disabiling. The fact of the matter is that my “ability to perform basic work activities” such as editing, proofreading, and writing is not limited at all. I can do that kind of work, and likely similar work, such as data entry.

But work isn’t just “show up, do your work, leave.” If work were like that, the unemployment rate among all but the most severely autistic would be 0%. Rather, depending on how it’s measured, the unemployment rate among autistics is 20%-80%–the latter for all autistics, and 20% for people who are “mildly” autistic. Why is that? It’s because work is primarily social, and when the requirements of employment are being able to be social and not be “socially awkward” that autistics face high unemployment.

My disability only becomes apparent over time, and few would even recognize it as “disability.” It gets interpreted as inattentive, goofing off, having a bad attitude, and sometimes even lazy (I was always working on projects growing up and was always told I was lazy). Each of these are neurotypicals misinterpreting the way I think and behave. In other words, my disability is only invisible to the degree that non-autistics misinterpret my expressions and actions. And even if I tell them what to expect, can we really expect them to always remember not to interpret my interactions with them through the same lenses they use for practically everyone else?

In other words, how can I get Disability if my disability is invisible? How can I get Disability if the people who are giving it out don’t really believe it’s a thing, but is just made up, is just problems with your “personality,” or whatever else they may believe when faced with someone who behaves as I do?

And I know it’s not just me. My guess is that most autistics face these issues on a daily basis, and not just when it comes to work. But where are the advocates for us? I know there are advocates out there, but I’m talking about public advocates, someone people know, out there talking about these things.

Here is where my articulateness, intelligence, and education may be able to come in handy. I’m actually a good public speaker. Perhaps, if I could find the right venues, I could use these very traits that make me an even more invisible member of the invisible disability bring greater visibility to these very issues.

Unless someone does this, how much of a chance do we have to thrive in this world?