Last updated on November 26, 2023
A Facebook follower asked why I do not use “Au” after my name to indicate I support the Au manifesto, the Autism Union statement of ideals. Do I not support the 10 points? Do I not like the community members? Is there something wrong with Au?
What does the Âû after my name mean?
- I am Autistic. [or] I support those who are Autistic.
- I embrace my Autism as a very significant part of my identity.
- I embrace those who would sacrifice to protect all Autistic life.
- I embrace the belief that Autism does not need any “curing”.
- I embrace the self-advocacy goal of “Everything about us, with us”.
- I embrace the definition of Autism as a neuro-social difference.
- I embrace measures directed at protecting Autistics from attack.
- I embrace a person-centered approach to all Autism issues.
- I embrace rigorous scientific approaches to co-occurring conditions.
- I embrace Autistics leading their own welfare organisations.
The Au notation serves as a bright sign, a neon gold sign, that proclaims, “I am proudly autistic.” Maybe that’s not a proper reading of the meaning, but that’s how I perceive it. Autistic pride is something I have called for in place of autism awareness. We should have Autistic Pride Month, not Autism Awareness Month.
Yet, I’m not “proud” of myself, not autistic me nor any other me.
For me, the “Au” suggests an emphasis on the autistic identity. That’s not me. It’s an important aspect of my life, obviously, or I wouldn’t blog as The Autistic Me. Still, I am not C. S. Wyatt, Autistic Writer. Please, no. I’m not C. S. Wyatt, Autistic Parent, either. I don’t want to be judged as a writer or educator or parent based on being autistic.
Including “autistic” as a qualifier suggests somehow any critique of my writing, teaching, or parenting must be weighted with some sort of autism bonus points. Of course, that’s another meaning of “handicap” — giving a few points extra to someone, or shaving a few strokes from a golf score. I don’t want the benefit of an “autistic handicap,” some pity points for being neurodiverse.
“You’re ableist, like a colonized member of a tribe,” another autistic informed me.
I’m not going to change the opinion of such an advocate. My explanation is for other readers.
Judge my writing without regard for the author. Judge all my creative works by the same standards applied to other artists. Don’t condescend or infantilize me. If my works don’t win a blind peer-review process, so be it. (Thankfully, my plays have won such contests, so I am confident of my abilities.)
I don’t normally add my academic titles, either, and I worked hard to earn those. I do use the academic titles when it seems appropriate to the topic on which I am writing or speaking.
I’ve also been asked about the symbols I don’t use when promoting The Autistic Me projects. Why are there no infinity symbols? Where is the rainbow? The colors gold and red?
It is an interesting coincidence that I attended two universities with gold and crimson red as their colors. USC and the University of MInnesota both use colors I’d consider close enough to the autistic pride colors. The Golden Gophers and the Cardinal and Gold of Troy. (I did not choose the schools because they matched colors, but that is convenient.)
The infinity symbol and Möbius strips are cool. I like them. But, I think of the infinity symbol as “belonging” to some autistic-led groups. The rainbow flag represents the LGBTQ+ community and belongs to them.
I’m uncomfortable using the infinity or the rainbow as a group identifier.
Another autistic complained that I have used the puzzle symbols for blog posts. That’s somewhat accurate.I do use puzzle piece imagery when I critique the shape and its implications, but I don’t have the same passionate opposition to the symbol that some younger autistics express. I don’t like it, but it doesn’t traumatize me.
The puzzle piece annoys me.