Last updated on November 26, 2023
Podcast 0053; Season 04, Episode 17; January 26, 2021
Autism encompasses social and physical disabilities. Traits become disabilities when they limit “normal” daily routines and life activities. My sensory sensitivities exist whether or not I interact with other people. I’m not going to cope well with bright light (including sunlight) or loud noises (wind, thunder) even if I live in complete isolation.
Social “deficits” however, exist entirely because humans evolved as communal animals. See my last podcast on introversion for my take on the social human. It’s not that people consciously reject us; it is an unconscious rejection that occurs within milliseconds of meeting us. We are different… and that’s a challenge.
Autistics want to be understood and accepted, not merely tolerated. I’m frustrated that people don’t listen to us or read our words. Too often, others speak for autistics.
Transcript (lightly edited)
Welcome to The Autistic Me Podcast. I am Christopher Scott Wyatt, speaking as The Autistic Me.
In the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic, I’m again facing the realization that my life experiences and academic background are what I can market. The Autistic Me is my identity, no matter how often I’ve declared my desire to be known for my other interests.
Since 2007, The Autistic Me has been about my autism-related experiences. Occasionally I have referenced research and books that either reflect or seemingly contradict my experiences. But, for the most part The Autistic Me has been narrowly focused. After all, it started as a graduate school project, nothing more.
I’ve restrained myself a lot when writing or speaking as The Autistic Me. Carefully regulating my language, my tone, and even the topics I address didn’t work. I posted just enough honesty to cause problems and not enough to build an audience for the outrageous truth.
The Autistic Me must go where it hasn’t gone before if I’m going to claim to be a self-advocate. People need to know more about what challenges I have faced. Audiences can decide what lessons to take from my experiences and analyses.
What follows are some specific changes for The Autistic Me Podcast and blog.
Relationships
First, I will ease into providing more information about relationships and how my autism affects those.
While preparing content for The Autistic Me, I’ve sought to respect the rights of other people by not including names or too much identifying information. Though it is important to respect the privacy of others, that has led to some awkward content.
Followers of The Autistic Me have commented on the perceived superficial treatment of my wife. Most blog posts and podcasts refer vaguely to “my wife.” It’s the rare post or podcast that includes her name. What I intended as a gesture of respect has been interpreted as something else.
My wife’s name is Susan. Some people call her Sue and I have heard her mother call her Susie. With her consent, I’ll try to use Susan’s name after first reference as “my wife” in posts and podcasts. She does have her own identity and I’m the first to admit that Susan is far more than my wife. She’s a highly educated professional, a crafter, a reader, a great mother, and even a Girl Scout troop leader.
Susan and I discussed the interest people have in parenting experiences.
When we were foster parents, of course I did not (and would not) post about the children and their situation. Post-adoption, I’ve also been careful not to violate the privacy of our children.
Referring to the girls as “youngest” and “oldest” or by their current ages bothers some followers of The Autistic Me. I’m not going to use their preferred names, however, because they have a complex past. When I asked the girls for suggestions, they both wanted to be “Belle” or “Rose.” They argued over who would get which alias.
After some brainstorming, we agreed that I’m going to use the pseudonyms Anne and Leigh to identify the girls.
Education and Employment
The second set of changes will deal with how I address education and employment. I’ve already shifted my tone with some recent content.
In blog entries from 2014 and 2015, I proudly asserted that I wasn’t reading about autism. I wanted to be known as a scholar in rhetoric, interested in digital media and the rhetoric of economics. I added a master of fine arts degree to my doctorate, trying to prove my digital media research and teaching agenda.
Yet, autism kept slipping into academic job interviews. Once hired for posts, autism became a clear obstacle on the path towards tenure.
Writing about the dominant role of autism in my failed efforts at secure employment, I’ve still been too timid, too polite, and too deferential. I didn’t want to intentionally offend people, institutions, and organizations that deserved to be publicly called out for their lack of supports for disabled colleagues.
I also avoided writing about topics people might consider too personal. Yes, a professor within an MFA program for creative non-fiction would be respected for openly writing a confessional memoir, but I wasn’t and am not an established literary figure.
The Autistic Me has had a negative effect on me professionally as I chased the dream of teaching full-time.
Although I don’t share as much about my life or my opinions as many bloggers or social media influencers, I share enough to worry or offend academic departments.
Even if I only posted “happy thoughts” about being autistic, I’ve never used a pseudonym as an autistic self-advocate. Anyone searching for me via Google Scholar finds my academic papers, including a doctoral dissertation addressing autism and online education. The dissertation begins with self-disclosure.
For all their protestations of tolerance and inclusion, people seem to fear autistics. We make others uncomfortable.
Since I’m going to make people uncomfortable, and that’s going to limit my career options, I might as well embrace The Autistic Me. Instead of trying to carefully reframe who and what I am during interviews, masking my autistic identity, I need to stop this exhausting social game.
If I’m going to be known as “autistic” above all else during job interviews, I need to accept that it is impossible to redirect committees. Maybe that will change for future autistics, but I’m over 50.
I would tell any student of mine to keep a blog or social media presence safe, avoiding controversial topics and issues. Most of all, never comment on workplaces or colleagues, even in the vaguest manner — because they will recognize themselves.
Contradicting my own advice, I am compelled to comment when students, colleagues, or I experience direct and obvious discrimination.
Educators have said incredibly cruel things to me. They say similar things to many other students, so I am compelled to take a stand. Coworkers have demonstrated ableist attitudes and outdated assumptions about autistics. Again, I am compelled to take a stand.
It is time to be blunt, because trying to be cautious yet honest enough to expose inequities was not working. As a 52-year-old autistic, I need to focus my energy, my anger, on changing things for my children and other neurodiverse individuals.
Most schools are doing a lousy job supporting autistics, or making no effort at all. Neurodiversity isn’t afforded the same respect as other differences among students or colleagues. Being somewhat nice wasn’t getting enough attention.
The majority of my teachers openly derided me and dismissed my needs. I have journals dating back to elementary school with notes about those teachers. The teachers who did support me tended to be outcasts in their own way. I owe a lot to the educators who didn’t reject me. I wasn’t an easy student to mentor.
Our daughters have not been served by their schools, but I must say their teachers were — as far as we know — caring and supportive. Unfortunately, our daughters clearly slipped through the system and didn’t meet grade level objectives.
Schools and employers keep failing autistics. When they make the slightest effort to support autistics, it’s suddenly a news item. I’m sorry, but doing what is right shouldn’t be news.
Schools have embraced teaching strategies and values that suggest autistic traits are personal failings. I’m going to be a loud critic of where educational theories have taken us. The best of intentions can be, and are, exclusionary for neurodiverse students.
Enough. Classroom structures imply extroversion is the human norm, that constant socializing is the only acceptable way to learn or work.
Attempts to create “communities” in our classrooms are horrible experiences for some autistics. We don’t want to play social games or work exclusively in groups. Stop this pedagogical nightmare. What is “right” according to educational theorists is wrong for my daughters, wrong for me, and wrong for many neurodiverse students.
Employers have adopted physical spaces that exclude us. The world is naturally difficult for autistics, yet employers make functioning more difficult.
I have a lot of thoughts on education and employment that haven’t been shared because I cared too much about being hired as an educator. No more self-censoring what educators and employers need to know about neurodiversity.
Information, Analyses, and Reviews
The third set of changes expands the purpose of The Autistic Me as a source of information and as a platform for ideas.
Followers of The Autistic Me know that I have rarely commented on autism-related news. Maybe I should call attention to reputable, peer-reviewed studies. I’ve also avoided commenting on books that address issues important to autistics and our extended autism community. Maybe that needs to change, too.
Many blogs and social media accounts in the autism community perform those services, but I certainly have my own perspective.
During my doctoral studies, and for a few years after, I read memoirs by neurodiverse individuals. I read to understand how other autistics experienced social spaces. My research explored the experiences of autistics within virtual spaces. I hoped to explain the intersections of disability, design, and economics.
Once it became clear I was not going to be a tenure-track professor, I backed away from books about autism. I read for research, I read with a goal.
In 2015, my motivation to read about mental health returned with parenthood. Although I’m autistic, I have no experience raising children with neurodiverse needs. I don’t know what I’m doing as a parent, so I read books, watch documentaries, and listen to podcasts.
Autistic self-advocates will continue to be my primary guests. However, I want to expand The Autistic Me to include more people who effect our lives.
It’s time to feature authors and experts more prominently on The Autistic Me. I’ll review more books. I’ll discuss documentaries. I’ll offer my analyses of new research studies.
The Autistic Me will be more than an abridged reflection of my experiences. I want to be a source for information. Already, I’m posting book reviews to The Autistic Me blog. Next, I’ll be featuring authors on the podcast.
I am not going to agree with every author or expert featured on The Autistic Me, but I also don’t want to be a combative host. I’ll let people speak for themselves, doing my best to be polite while asking questions and expressing any concerns I have.
There are people I will never have as guest on the blog or podcasts. There are some viewpoints to which I will not provide a platform.
My audience knows that I dislike most current therapies for autism. I despise the history of Applied Behavior Analysis and have detailed its ugly origins. Still, it is important to have reasonable mental health professionals on The Autistic Me, without angry confrontation.
As a parent, my daughters, Anne and Leigh, have received beneficial therapies. They have also received therapies that were pointless. I believe their experiences mirror those of other neurodiverse children. Our daughters aren’t necessarily autistic, but they are neurodiverse. Therapy needs to be tailored to the individual. I do not believe that many therapies for neurodiverse individuals meet the needs of the patient. I also don’t particularly like that we are “patients” with mental health issues.
Concluding Thoughts
Now, some concluding thoughts on being The Autistic Me with a revised plan of action.
Even as I surrender to the reality that my professional life needs to center on The Autistic Me, I will continue other pursuits.
Yes, I’m The Autistic Me. I’m also a produced playwright, published author, magazine columnist, rhetoric scholar, and computer programmer. I was those things long before I was diagnosed as autistic and I am more emotionally attached to those labels.
It frustrates me that autism defines me more than my creative writing, my research interests, or my teaching.
If I could be known for my writing, that would be great. I am a writer, if I have to choose a label for myself. But, when I speak about writing for stage, I’m an autistic playwright. I understand this, but it detracts from the works I help create.
I am extremely passionate about the need for rhetorical scholarship within economics. I wish I could contribute to the field, but that’s unlikely without a university position. Economics studies how and why resources are allocated by individuals and within communities. Debates within economics are excellent studies in rhetorical techniques.
Instead, colleagues in academic wanted me to focus on disability rhetorics. But I don’t want to be an autistic rhetorician… studying autism.
However, people need The Autistic Me. Young autistics need mentors. Older autistics need supportive peers. The neurotypical world needs to be challenged by autistic voices seeking more than tolerance and awareness.
If I have to market The Autistic Me to earn a living, that’s a reflection on society’s failure to accept autistics for who we are. In an ideal world, I wouldn’t be frustrated by schools and employers who approach autism with fear and suspicion.
Misunderstandings about autistic traits have led to challenges most of my life. I blamed myself for the prejudices of others. I embraced and internalized ableism, disliking myself for being me.
Enough. Five decades of feeling like I’m inferior? This must stop. I’m far from alone, as other autistics bring their energy to this cause. I hope to feature those voices on The Autistic Me platforms.
I’ve been told I’m too intense and too serious. Okay. I’ll be intense and serious. I want a better future for my daughters. They shouldn’t have experiences like mine in school or in a workplace. All neurodiverse individuals, all individuals, should be treated with respect and their voices heard.
Listen to what my guests and I say. Read our words. Pay attention to our needs and our dreams, without imposing your expectations of normalcy on us. We’re not normal. Nobody is, but some people hide their uniqueness much better than we do.
I want to educate people on the diversity within neurodiversity. As always, if you have comments or questions, please send them to me.
I am Christopher Scott Wyatt, speaking as The Autistic Me. There are many other voices you should hear, too. Thank you for listening.
The Autistic Me:
- Blog: https://www.tameri.com/autisticme/
- Podcast: https://autisticme.libsyn.com/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/autisticme/
- Twitter: https://twitter.com/autisticme
- YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/CSWyatt
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/autisticme