Neurodiversity » Society

Introverts and Night Clubs

Zygmunt — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 06:00:23 +0000

Night clubs embody a mentality that is inimical to my own. That is exactly why I have been drawn to them on occasion.

To grow we all need challenges and changes. Putting oneself in an unfamiliar insecure place is a good way of doing so.

I hate all the latest pop music and dislike dancing to it even more, yet I would get myself out on the dance floor and experiment.

Strangely, I find there is a place for night clubs in the life of an introvert.
Night clubs are full of crowds so it’s like an arena full of bumper cars at an amusement park.
No matter how much you screw up, there’s no real consequences.
Short of threatening or physically assaulting someone, you can try what you like and see what happens.
You’ll make a fool of yourself again and again, but you’re a stranger. You’ll never again see all those other people.
You can keep trying and trying until you’re up to speed with everyone else.
At a night club, an introvert has that great ally of anonymity on their side.
Really, it’s not so different from posting articles online under silly pseudonyms such as “Gluon the Ferengi.”

You don’t even have to make a whole lot of conversation, the music is so damn loud most of the time that no one can really say anything except by shouting at the top of their lungs into each other’s ears. It really is reduced to raw chemistry.

For introverts who are behind in social development, bars and nightclubs can be a lifesaver. They are a place to remedy HID(Human Interaction Deficiency); it’s easy to satisfy the craving for physical contact with others. They are laboratories for scientific experiments in human social behavior.

Indeed, there’s no better place to take a starry-eyed romantic than a night club. In a night club, the reproductive market is laid bare. About 10% of men get most of the female attention. The rest of men struggle tooth and claw for the crumbs left over from the feast. Women get in free; men pay a cover charge. The currents of supply and demand reign supreme.
The lesson:
Women are valuable, the perpetuators of the species. Each is a bottleneck determining the potential for growth of the human population.
Men are cannon fodder, plain and simple. One man left alive after a slaughter can fertilize thousands of women.
But the top few men are the most valued humans of all.

Now, I have said before that I don’t consider myself to be one of the pickup artists. Their cynical, nihilistic ideas are a moral and intellectual dead end.
I don’t like the whole zero sum mentality of night clubs, but they do reveal our underlying instinctual drives and the social trends that must inevitably result.

If you observe one night in a night club you will understand why it is men who go to war and not women.
All those traditions that were simply handed down to us are suddenly explained.

Pickup artists embrace the nightclub mentality. As for me, going to clubs is a way of getting to know the enemy: ourselves.

If a Subtle person is to turn away from the surface world, they should first know what they turn from and why.
In night clubs, one can find the very quintessence of the Surface world. Everything you need to know to make a decision can be found there.

Ultimately I find:
The surface world has many privileges and pleasures, but is weak when it comes to meaning, purpose, and fulfillment.

Fulfillment is the greater good to me, even if happiness were the price. For the word ‘happiness’ in our modern language is just another of the pleasures.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

Introverts and Night Clubs appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Tired

Lydia Brown — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 06:00:05 +0000

I’m tired of being misrepresented. I’m tired of seeing the principles of self-advocacy misrepresented. And I’m tired of seeing the autism rights movement misrepresented.

Let me be clear. I’m not talking about allies, or about people who were just thrust into Autismland and don’t yet know much, if anything, about the constant conflicts that erupt here. This isn’t about you.

This is about people who write things like John Elder Robison’s “Looking forward at the autism spectrum,” or Mark L. Olson’s “Autism’s Fly-Over Population,” or the comments on Susan Senator’s “The Parents Vs. The Autistics.” It’s been a week of frustrating, misleading, and outright hurtful writing.

And I’m tired.

I’m also a little bit furious and a little bit frustrated and desperate to write something. My hands are numb right now, and it has nothing to do with my feelings. It’s kind of cold in here, actually.

Some background. John Elder Robison, as most people know, is famous because of his memoirs, Look Me In the Eye: My Life with Asperger’s. So he is Autistic, though you’ll almost never hear him use that word to describe himself, as he prefers the supercilious Aspergian. More recently, he wrote a book calledBe Different: Adventures of a Free-Range Aspergian. Fairly recently, I think around 2009 or perhaps 2010, Robison accepted an appointment to the scientific advisory board of Autism Speaks, an organization notorious for its lack of meaningful representation of Autistic people in leadership positions as well as its harmful and ableist rhetoric. I personally cannot comprehend why any Autistic person in his or her right mind, fully informed, would want to work with or for Autism Speaks, but there you go.

And Susan Senator is the non-Autistic mother of adult Autistic son Nat, as well as the author of Making Peace with Autism, The Autism Mom’s Survival Guide, and Dirt (a novel.) I don’t always agree with her, but she writes well and is genuinely interested in engaging and dialoguing with Autistic people as equals rather than interesting curiosities. Her most recent article, linked above, engendered a spat of disgusting, disturbing, and sometimes outright frightening comments, mostly from non-Autistic parents.

I think I’ve read enough disgusting, disturbing, and frightening things last week. I’ve been triggered pretty badly a few times. In fact, I’m slightly worried about opening the tabs next to this one in my browser, where I have those three pages open, just to get the quotes for this post. If you’ve read this blog before, you’ve probably caught a significant change in the tone and style of this post from previous ones. And it’s because I’m sick and tired of stuff like this.

“High-functioning autistic and Aspergers self-advocates who put themselves on an island by arguing that only the disabled can and should decide about the disabled to the exclusion of parents, family, caregivers and outsiders need to accept that they are only advocates for themselves, not the entire disabled population.”

-Mark L. Olson, LTO Ventures and parent

Wrong.

All self-advocates are not “high-functioning autistic and Aspergers” as Olson so arrogantly generalizes. The assumption that Autistic people who do things like blog or use speech must therefore automatically be “high-functioning” is fallacious at best and actually harmful at worst. I know firsthand of not a few Autistic people who cannot consistently perform activities of daily living such as cooking, cleaning, keeping a schedule, traveling, or maintaining hygiene without assistance from a family member, friend, or aide. Yet some of those same people often face ridiculous assertions that because they must be so high-functioning or “just Asperger’s,” their advocacy clearly is illegitimate and unfounded.

Other self-advocates might never be called things like “high-functioning” were you to meet them in person.Amy Sequenzia, of Rockledge, Florida, an Autistic self-advocate who regularly meets with government officials and expresses her opinions rather eloquently in the media and elsewhere, does not speak and travels everywhere with an aide. She communicates by typing via alternative and augmentative communication. (By the way, Amy prefers to refer to herself as“autistic” rather than “person with autism.”That too is not something that only “high-functioning people with Asperger’s” do.)

And Sequenzia is not alone.

Self-advocates Larry Bissonnette and Tracy Thresher are both non-speaking Autistic adults who communicate via AAC. In childhood, they were presumed mentally retarded and ineducable. They were in segregated classrooms and never mainstreamed or integrated with students without disabilities. Bissonnette and Thresher starred in the 2011 documentary Wretches and Jabberers, which follows their advocacy. Both men have served on the Board of the Autism National Committee, an organization that includes both non-Autistic and Autistic people in the fight for civil rights, and whose constituency has traditionally been non-speaking Autistic people (or Autistic people with limited speech) and their families.

They too are not alone in fighting for Autistic rights. Sequenzia, Bissonnette, and Thresher are only three of innumerable non-speaking Autistic people who are self-advocates. The majority of non-speaking Autistics face even more discrimination than do those who have learned to use speech, and by no means are they excluded from the model of self-advocacy, self determination, and autism rights. Olson’s assumption that all self-advocates are “high-functioning autistic or Aspergers” is grossly inaccurate and egregiously hurtful.

Non-Autistic parent Todd Drezner, in his 2011 documentary Loving Lampposts: Living Autistic, further explains why the use of the disputed “low-functioning vs. high-functioning” dichotomy is invalid and not useful when discussing Autistic people, and especially when dismissing so-called “high-functioning autistic self-advocates.” In one segment of the documentary, Drezner interviews an elderly non-Autistic mother to an adult Autistic man in his 60s. “Lyndon is employed and lives by himself in his own apartment,” says Drezner. “Is he high-functioning? His speech is severely limited and he needs support to perform life’s daily tasks. Is he low-functioning? And would it make any difference at all in Lyndon’s life if you could answer these questions?”

And what about people like Dora Raymaker? A board member of the Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) and Co-Director of the Academic Autistic Spectrum Partnership in Research and Education (AASPIRE), Raymaker does speak but prefers to communicate by text-to-voice. When she speaks, her words are not always articulate, as you can hear in Loving Lampposts: Living Autistic, and could lead the uninformed — or people like Olson — to make the assumption that she is “mentally retarded.” Clearly, that is not the case.

Olson’s second mistake is his blanket assumption that the principles of self advocacy seek to exclude “parents, family, caregivers and outsiders.” That is not true. Self advocacy seeks to ensure that Autistic voices are always heard and prominently so in any conversation about autism, along with the voices of parents, family, caregivers, and outsiders. Autistic adults welcome non-Autistic allies. People like Todd Drezner, Susan Senator, Kristina Chew, Kim Wombles, and Amy Caraballo are living proof of that. (And again, these names are only a very representative few of the innumerable allies, many of them non-Autistic parents of Autistic children, and some of children who might be described as “low-functioning” or “severely autistic” — insert a collective gasp of “WHAT REALLY THEY’RE NOT PARENTS OF ASPIES?” here.)

The principles of self advocacy are not that only disabled people can speak for disabled people, but that they must be involved with any advocacy. “Nothing about us without us” has been a motto of disability rights for a long time. There is nothing in that statement that suggests that non-disabled people have no right to be part of advocacy. What is at stake is that the most important stakeholders — the people for whom the advocacy is occurring — are routinely excluded, marginalized, and treated with the kind of contempt that Olson displays.

We, as Autistic people, whether we have been called “high-functioning” or “low-functioning” or both (at different times in our lives), have the right not only to advocate for ourselves individually, but for the rights and needs of Autistic people at large.

What I want to know, really want to know, is what parent in his or her right mind, would not want his or her child to advocate for him or herself? And what parent would not be proud of his or her child advocating for other Autistic people? When a non-Autistic sibling of an Autistic child starts an advocacy or awareness initiative, parents everywhere applaud. Why do you react with horror when Autistic youth and adults want to make the world a better place for your children? That’s what involving Autistic people meaningfully in advocacy means. We’re not in it for ourselves. We’re in it to work toward a world where all Autistic people, children and adults, speaking and non-speaking, can live better, happier lives.

Why would you oppose that?

“The image of autism is going to get lots of attention as more children with autism age into adulthood. Those who don’t see autism as a disability are talking about HF or Asperger’s. The DSMV slated for 2013 will officially expand the spectrum to include Asperger’s and my fear is that ‘Aspies’ will become the face of autism. It’s much less disturbing to talk about autism and include who seems, outwardly at least, like the boy next door. It’s easier to believe that autism has always been around when we’re talking about someone with amazing abilities or high levels of intelligence combined with some quirky behaviors. My friends with severely affected children have tremendous fears about the future. They clearly don’t need their children further marginalized by those who advocate just for awareness and acceptance.”

- Anne McElroy Dachel, Age of Autism

“When self-advocates’ autism talk shifts primarily to rights and entitlement, the need for new therapies, treatments, and services is forgotten. When we focus on entitlement, we create the impression that our problems can be solved by legislative action, much like the civil rights laws did in the sixties.”

- John Elder Robison, Autistic author and parent of an Autistic son

Here comes another grandiose misconception. Autistic self-advocates, with some exceptions, are not people who “don’t see autism as a disability.” If you don’t believe me, read closely the following sentences:

1.) I am Autistic.
2.) I am a self-advocate.
3.) I believe autism is a disability.

If you didn’t catch that, please scroll up a little and read that again.

I do believe that disability is entirely defined by society, but because of our society and our history, yes, being Autistic means that I am disabled. All Autistic people are disabled. Some Autistic people might be more disabled than other Autistic people, but if you are Autistic, you are automatically disabled.

The people to whom McElroy Dachel appears to be referring probably belong to an “autistic supremacy” or “Aspie supremacy” kind of ideology, the kind of people who believe that being Autistic means they are better, more evolutionarily advanced, or more morally upright than non-Autistic people.

Most self-advocates aren’t supremacists. We’re not advocating for “Autistic supremacy.” We just want equal rights. And yes, rights means services. It means accommodations. It means therapies. It means appropriate education. It means employment opportunities. It means housing opportunities. Rights isn’t a vague euphemism for “we don’t need help of any kind.”

It’s a bold, revolutionary statement demanding that the right of all Autistic people to equal access and opportunity as non-Autistic people be honored. And how is that right honored? At least partially, through appropriate services and accommodations, ad nauseaum. We have the right to receive services and accommodations without which we could not have equal access and opportunity. Some Autistic people would benefit from more services or accommodations, and others would benefit from very few.

Advocating for rights is not merely advocating for “awareness and acceptance.” McElroy Dachel misses the point entirely. We want all Autistic people – including non-speaking Autistic people, including Autistic people with self-injurious behaviors, including Autistic people with destructive or violent behaviors, including Autistic people who need an aide 24/7, including Autistic people who cannot complete higher education, including Autistic people who cannot travel on their own, including Autistic people who have not yet learned to communicate with non-Autistic people — to have better lives. And that very often means better services and accommodations.

McElroy Dachel is wrong. And so is Robison.

“Could it be that on the autistic-side-of-the-dichotomy, they are not able to see/perceive/understand/know well-enough outside of their own specific-ability-disability to accept the parental-dimension of autism?”

- Barbara, self-identified as not a parent

This one just blows my mind. I can’t win.

No matter what I say, it can’t be me; it must be “just my autism talking,” as Autistic writer Melanie Yergeau puts it.

So firstly, everything that I say or write is suddenly de-legitimized because (insert sarcasm here)obviously, an Autistic person is unable to understand someone else’s perspective or that someone else might have different challenges or needs. Absolutely and unequivocally wrong. At least one study (I believe there were more, but without citations, [and I'm too tired to find them now] I don’t want to list anything else) has demonstrated that Autistic people not only experience empathy, but in certain cases, experience more empathy on average than non-Autistic people.

And empathy has a lot to do with perspective-taking, doesn’t it? I’m a writer of fiction as well as of this blog. (Currently working on my fifth and sixth novels simultaneously, in fact.) I of all people should know right away that the answer is yes. For one, in my writing, I seek to humanize all of the characters — and I write crime novels that often focus on religious-inspired terrorism. (Disclaimer: I do not support or condone any form of terrorism for any reason. It’s sad, but after the NDAA, that has to be there.) I want the readers to be able to empathize with the characters. …and people like Barbara seem to think quite horrifically that people like me are incapable of perspective-taking and empathy.

It’s sickening and dehumanizing in the worst sense. For my part, I think Barbara is the one lacking empathy here. Sorely lacking, at that. The irony never fails to astound me.

Secondly, her statement is so patently untrue. There are Autistic people who are also parents of Autistic children, such as Melody Latimer or Paula Durbin-Westby or Phil Schwarz (Autism National Committee). So obviously, Autistic people can understand and even appreciate from personal experience, “the parental-dimension of autism.” By the way, all three people listed (who again, are only three people out of innumerable possible names) also happen to be self-advocates.

Thirdly, we Autistic people are more keenly aware of the diversity of disability in our own community than anyone else. How it could be otherwise? And as I’ve noted repeatedly in this rant of an essay, advocating for rights for Autistic people isn’t just advocating for the rights of some Autistic people or of the so-called “high-functioning autistic or Aspergers” people. (Where are those people, by the way? I’m beginning to think they’re almost mythical. At the very least, as Todd Drezner [again, a non-Autistic parent of an Autistic child] observed, it can not only be difficult if not impossible to define what makes someone high vs. low functioning, but also not particularly helpful in helping an individual person.)

“I think the dividing line in the autism community is ultimately if a person can achieve those goals of independence. At some point when a child is in ‘transition’ the parents (finally) have to acknowledge that their child will or will not meet the criteria for adult social service support (medicaid, SSI, and services). At that point, the life paths will differ between those that are ‘high functioning’ and those that need government supports.”

- Marjorie Madfis, parent

Again, it’s not so clear-cut. Kathryn Bjørnstad, one of the co-creators of Autistics Speaking Day, cannot travel independently. Kassiane Sibley, a highly articulate Autistic advocate, cannot cook and clean consistently for herself. Other Autistic advocates have noted that they do not live independently and or receive any number of government support or services. Most of the same people are blanketly labeled “high-functioning” in a frightening attempt to de-legitimize their voices.

If you blog, then you’re obviously high-functioning and very fortunate. Therefore, you obviously have no place advocating for people who are far more disabled than you are.

That’s how the assumptions go. And they’re just that. Assumptions.

Blogging does not equal independent living. Writing does not equal using speech offline. Advocating does not equal being “high-functioning autistic or Aspergers.” A large number of people who get called “high functioning” actually need government supports. And a large number of those people are unable to get the supports and services they need.

“Yes, I am upset that my daughter would rather play Pixie Hollow on her computer for hours rather than visit with a friend or interact on Facebook. And I do think this behavior will impede her from being able to lead an independent life. That is why I try to intervene – even though she does not like it.”

- Marjorie Madfis, parent

What if she’s happier playing Pixie Hollow? What if playing Pixie Hollow is a self-calming coping mechanism for anxiety, sensory overload, or social overstimulation? What if she, like a non-Autistic student in my computer science course this semester, simply sees no use for Facebook? What if she doesn’t have friends who value her for who she is as an Autistic person?

Did you ever think to ask those questions, Marjorie?

ost times, most of those “behaviors” are our way of coping with a world not meant for people like us. It seems another lesson in empathy could be used here.

“So, the argument from HFA’s that the problem is the expectations of society, that people learn to mesh into societal norms of manners, eye contact, and reciprocal language (body and verbal) seems just that……A tantrum over not having it their way……”

- Yvette Hansen, parent

Can’t win. No matter what we say, anything that challenges the status quo must be attributed to some terrible expression of our autism — in this case, throwing a tantrum. A tantrum. It’s reading ableist comments like this that sorely tempt me to actually throw a tantrum. But I don’t. I write these articles instead, hoping (maybe in vain) that people like the ones I’ve quoted will read them and alter their perceptions, bit by bit.

(I won’t even bother addressing the HFA thing here. That horse has already been beaten to death in this piece.)

But all I see here is another profoundly disturbing attempt to de-legitimize the voice of any Autistic person who expresses his or her frustrations. And all those expressions are met with such hostility and condescending accusations as Hansen’s, which inevitable evokes only more frustration.

It’s hard enough living a world where it is expected that a treatment protocol or behavior plan or intervention for an Autistic child or adult is in place ultimately to eliminate “Autistic” behaviors and replace them with “typical” ones. To make the recipient of those types of therapy appear and act as non-Autistic as possible.

That’s not saying that all services and therapies are bad; many are very good and sorely needed — the kinds of services, supports, and therapies that teach coping skills, cater to emotional needs, address sensory problems, accommodate in a classroom, assist with employment, and provide strategies for coping in social situations with non-Autistics. But these practical considerations are not the goals of most therapies or services.

So when we grow up learning that to be normal and healthy is to not be Autistic, when we are told to suppress obviously Autistic behaviors like echolalia or stimming, when we are sent to social skills classes for the purpose of making us appear more “normal” rather than giving us tools to better interact with non-Autistics, it can get very frustrating indeed. Hansen’s utter lack of empathy for the enormous difficulties and anxiety that Autistic people face — and especially the very verbal Autistic people who often get called “high-functioning” — because of the pressure to pass is telling.

It hints at the deep, systemic ableism that penetrates not just society at large, but also an unwittingly large number of the parents of Autistic people.

“At the other end of the spectrum are the Aspies and HFA teens and adults like Jack and Kirsten [from the New York Times article "Navigating Love and Autism"] who are the focus of media coverage, movies, federal programs such as Medicaid and the President’s Year of Community Living. They are also the primary beneficiaries of the Protection and Advocacy (P&A) Network created by Congress and self-advocacy organizations bent on eliminating all barriers to living and working exactly the same lives as ‘typical’ Americans.”

- Mark L. Olson, LTO Ventures and parent

Actually, the majority of so-called “high-functioning and Aspergers” Autistic people are often unable to access or receive the vast majority of supports and services. I don’t understand why so many people automatically assume that the Autistic people who speak and or can go to college are also the beneficiaries of most supports and services. Because for those Autistics, the ones whose disability is far more invisible than visible, asking for any kind of support or services usually results in a metaphorically slammed door.

“You’re asking? You? Well if you can ask, then you obviously don’t need any help.”

And whoever said that we wanted to live the exact same lives as non-Autistic people? Equal access and opportunity means exactly that – access if desired and when desired, and opportunity if desired and when desired. Most Autistic people don’t socialize the same way as non-Autistic people. Sometimes we have a different sense of humor. Sometimes we like to eat, work, and play in very different ways. So obviously, we’re not advocating to live the exact same lives as non-Autistic people.

We simply want to be able to access a theme park. Or a movie theater. Or a church. Or the RMV. We simply want to have the opportunity to go to college. Or join a civic organization. Or vote. Or work in a field related to our skills and interests. Or live in an apartment or house where we feel safe and at home. And what’s wrong with that? What parent wouldn’t want barriers for their Autistic children eliminated? Olson’s line of thinking seems twisted in incredulously ironic ways.

“Some disability self-advocates argue [that my daughter's] only option outside of my home should be in her own apartment or home no closer than 1000-1500 feet from any other disabled person.”

- Mark L. Olson, LTO Ventures and parent

Um, no. The proposed Home and Community Based Services waivers under Medicaid, which you can read for yourself right here directly from the federal Government Printing Office, have no such stipulation about living such a distance from another disabled person.

They state that a home or community based setting

must be integrated in the community; must not be located in a building that is also a publicly orprivately operated facility that provides institutional treatment or custodial care; must not be located in a building on the grounds of, or immediately adjacent to, a public institution; or, must not be a housing complex designed expressly around an individual’s diagnosis or disability as determined by the Secretary [and] must not have qualities of an institution, as determined by the Secretary. Such qualities may include regimented meal and sleep times, limitations on visitors, lack of privacy and other attributes that limit individual’s ability to engage freely in the community.

The proposed regulations further state that

A setting that is integrated in the community is a setting that enables individuals with disabilities to interact with individuals without disabilities to the fullest extent possible. Further, we believe that such settings do not preclude individuals’ ability to access community activities at times, frequencies and with persons of their choosing. Such settings are not segregated based on disability, either physically or because of setting characteristics, from the larger community. In addition, such settings will afford individuals choice in their daily life activities, such as eating, bathing, sleeping, visiting and other typical daily activities.

These do not mean that a group home, a residential institution, or a closed campus setting could not receive government funding. Such settings will still be able to receive funding from any number of other sources.

What they do mean is that a home or community based placement is one where the person is not placed on the basis of being disabled, as in an institution or group home. A place that is not essentially a ghetto, segregated from the community, solely for disabled people. That’s all. It says absolutely nothing about choosing to interact with, become friends with, or voluntarily choose to live with or on the same street as other disabled people. In fact, many of us Autistic adults like to be around each other. It gives us a sense of, you guessed it, community.

And as aforementioned, there are a large number of Autistic self-advocates who do in fact receive home-based services, including the services of part and full time aides to assist in activities of daily life. That can happen no matter where the person happens to live. So living in one’s own apartment, a la Lyndon fromLoving Lampposts: Living Autistic, is not mutually exclusive from receiving appropriate services and support.

“But as we enter 2012, I implore the autism community, media, government and especially those self-advocates who resist progressive thinking and innovation, to not forget the impact they have on our ‘fly-over’ population. Their story deserves to be told too. They deserve the right to choose how they want to live.”

- Mark L. Olson, LTO Ventures and parent

Suddenly we are the ones who resist progressive thinking and innovation? Quite the contrary. We are advocating for more inclusion, more integration, better access, and more opportunity. Equal rights. The right to self-determination. The right to receive appropriate supports and services. The right to live in a fully integrated community setting — with non-disabled and disabled neighbors — or to choose, of one’s own accord, to live in a setting like a group home.

And there have been a number of initiatives, many of them by Autistic self-advocates, to createprogressive, forward-thinking workarounds to challenges with regard to employment, higher education, and even aviation security procedures.

I think we have here a case of selective vision. Censored and redacted vision, perhaps even.

“As the autism spectrum expands to encompass more people with progressively greater verbal and written communication skills, those individuals have begun speaking for themselves. By doing so, they are altering the public’s perception of what or who an autistic person is or may become. This reshaping of perception has moved the public’s concept of autism higher on the IQ range, with more and more people seeing ‘autism’ as a euphemism for ‘eccentric geek,’ or, ‘genius,’ which is [sic] most assuredly is not. Popular television shows like Parenthood and Big Bang Theory reinforce that trend. At the same time, the population of people with intellectual disability and severe autistic impairment remains fairly constant. Those individuals are not generally able to speak for themselves. They are most often out of the public eye, and they may rightly feel they are rendered nearly invisible by this change in perception.”

- John Elder Robison, Autistic author and parent of an Autistic son

Maybe not to you. But in my experience, most people I’ve encountered picture a non-speaking child in a corner growing up to be an adult in an institution when I mention autism. Most people don’t actually believe me when I tell them that I’m Autistic. (And I was diagnosed by a neuropsychologist who specializes in the autism spectrum and sat on the board of an autism organization.)

Furthermore, two studies, which you can read here and here, have shown that not only is the rate of intellectual disability in Autistic people far lower than it has been assumed to be for decades, but that intelligence (or IQ, more specifically) is regularly underestimated in all Autistic people, both those with the Asperger’s label and those without it. So it seems that Robison is a bit behind in his facts.

In my experience, as an Autistic person with fairly invisible disability, I am not the face of autism. People do not look at me and assume that I am Autistic or associate my behaviors with being Autistic. When I disclose, I am frequently met with disbelief, dismissal, or denial. There has been very little change in perception of autism and what it means to be Autistic. And even less change toward the positive — of viewing all Autistic people as neurologically different from non-Autistic people, not diseased or disordered, but genetically and phenotypically divergent. Sometimes in disabling ways. For many, in severely disabling ways. But being Autistic is not a negative or unfortunate or bad or defective or lesser or inferior way to be human. It’s a different one.

“Every time a person with milder autism speaks of his own challenges, those words add to the body of information the public uses to define autism. The more we move that balance from disability toward eccentricity, the more we harm our cause, albeit unwittingly and with the best of intentions.”

- John Elder Robison, Autistic author and parent of an Autistic son

Again. Whoever said that Autistic self-advocates, who again, are not homogeneously “high-functioning autistic or Aspergers,” collectively deny that autism is a disability? Most of us are the first to recognize that being Autistic means being disabled.

And how can Robison not see how awfully offensive and insulting this statement is? So whenever a highly verbal Autistic person talks, he or she “harms” the cause. That’s about as true as saying that whenever a white American woman convert to Islam who does not wear hijab speaks about issues facing Muslim women, she somehow unwittingly harms the cause of advancing civil rights for Muslim women. Is she any less Muslim than a Saudi woman who wears a face-covering niqab or a Pakistani woman from the tribal Pakhtunwala? She may not look stereotypically Muslim or behave (in this case by not covering) in stereotypically Muslim ways, but she is equally Muslim. Her voice is equally valid and equally important.

Autistic people who are not visibly disabled are still Autistic. Just because the average layperson would not immediately assume that I am Autistic does not mean that I therefore have no right to speak about my challenges or the challenges of other Autistic people. In fact, if I do not speak, if I stay silent, then the world will never know that Autistic people are as diverse in our being Autistic as Muslim women are in their being Muslim women. The more Autistic people who speak (literally or metaphorically), the more advanced our cause will be.

Whether it is Amy Sequenzia or me, not speaking is infinitely more harmful toward the autism rights movement than speaking.

“The autism spectrum still includes a large population – several hundred thousand in the US alone – who currently have no realistic hope of substantial employment. That is a tragedy. And it’s not because they are discriminated against. It’s because they are disabled. Not only that, they are disabled for reasons we don’t understand and in ways we don’t know how to fix.”

- John Elder Robison, Autistic author and parent of an Autistic son

Actually, it is because they are discriminated against. Autistic people are routinely discriminated against because of their disability. Autism does not prevent a person from being able to work in a meaningful job using his or her skills and abilities. But discrimination does.

Any Autistic person, with appropriate supports, services, and accommodations, can work in a job using his or her skills and abilities. Some Autistic people can work in professions that might be considered impossible, such as in academia, the law, or medicine. Some might work in stereotypically geek professions, like in computer science or other technological fields. Others might work with animals, or in offices, or doing research in obscure but oddly specific fields. Autistic people can do just about anything non-Autistic people can do.

Can every individual Autistic person do any possible job? No. But neither can any non-Autistic person selected at random.

If a person who is perfectly capable and qualified for a job is not hired because he didn’t make eye contact during the interview, and he doesn’t make eye contact because it is infinitely easier for him to process what is said to him if not making eye contact, that’s discrimination. If a person who is perfectly capable and qualified for a job is not hired because she doesn’t communicate with speech, but can do the job without using speech, that’s discrimination. If a person who is perfectly capable and qualified for a job is not hired because he needs a few minor accommodations and the employer doesn’t want to deal with them, that’s discrimination. If a person who is perfectly capable and qualified for a job is not hired because she needs an aide to accompany her, that’s discrimination.

Robison is wrong.

And he’s wrong again — we understand exactly why autism is disabling. It is disabling because of the society in which we live. Let me quote from an earlier article, “Disability is a Social Construct: A Sociological Perspective on Autism and Disability.”

Our culture says that to be fully functional and able means that one should be able to attend a mainstream school, complete university or vocational training if desired, obtain housing, obtain and keep a steady job, and marry and support a family if desired — all without significant outside support or assistance. While it is considered socially acceptable to speak to a college counselor while in high school, see a math tutor for algebra or calculus, and even depend on one’s parents for financial support through young adulthood (twenties or so), an individual is not considered fully able and functional if he or she is unable to do one or more of those activities without significant amounts of support from others.

By this definition, the definition propagated and permeated throughout the societies in which we live, we Autistic people are disabled. Some of us may be more disabled than others — as some of us are more able to participate in life activities with less amounts of outside support, and others of us do now and will throughout their lives only be able to participate in some of those activities with significant amounts of outside support.

It’s perfectly understandable and perfectly explainable. There’s nothing mysterious about it.

But I’m tired of explaining away misconceptions. I’m tired of picking my jaw off the floor after reading such outlandish accusations that I’m throwing a tantrum for not getting my way, or unable to empathize with other people’s perspectives. I’m tired of seeing such incredulous statements by people who ought to care very deeply that there are other people, including Autistic self-advocates, trying to make the world a better place for their children. And by people who ought to understand a lot more than they do, as evidenced by their harmful and insulting assertions.

Are you tired, too, now? Because I am. And a few days ago, I almost threw in the towel. Because doing this is rarely rewarding and rarely satisfying. It rarely leads to closure and rarely creates lasting or meaningful change. It’s wrought with frustration and disappointment, and frequent personal attacks. That’s not just projecting either. It actually happens, and in public, too. Thoughts of leaving the hard work to other people crossed my mind. Maybe other people could deal with all of this. Maybe other people could accomplish things, and I could sit comfortably from the sidelines and applaud them when they received their due rewards. I don’t have to do anything, after all. I almost made that decision.

But I didn’t. I’m still here. And I’m tired. But I’m not defeated. And I’m far from done.

Lydia Brown blogs at Autistic Hoya, and can also be found at the Autism Education Project.

Tired appears here by permission.

An audio recording of the author reading tired can be found here and also embedded within the original post at Autistic Hoya.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Beyond Introvert Survival: Finding Allies in an Extroverted Society

Zygmunt — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 06:00:59 +0000

For many introverts who find themselves isolated, the advice they receive seems reasonable enough: “Get out more. Meet some people.”

Yet in practice it never seems to work. One ends up exhausted and without having made any real friends. One might continue this routine out of a certain need to be passable within society, but this doesn’t change the fact there continues to be little change.

Eventually, one, might arrive at a certain truth: time spent surrounded by people is no solution to the basic problems of the introvert. Without a genuine sense of commonality, group belonging is in vain.

If the introverted person doesn’t want to completely resign themselves to a hermit-like life or continue hanging with company that does more harm than good, what are they to do?

There is a key error in the typical advice: “Get out. Meet some people.” Get where? Meet who? Most people answer these questions without really having to think about it. Their instinct guides them where they need to go.

For the more difficult introvert situation it becomes important to perform some of these functions manually.

An extrovert advisor might not realize it but ‘some people’ isn’t just any people. In most cases, the extrovert ‘some people’ = the type of people they like to hang out with. They do not realize that an introvert has different needs.

Introverts, being lost already, tend to take their extrovert buddy’s advice literally. They go out and make themselves participate some place where they don’t belong.

Who then is ‘some people?’ One has to find new groups that will bring them closer to the answer.

Instead of trying to subordinate yourself to the common standard, ask yourself: “Where would people who don’t like the common standard go?”

In general, atypical persons are going to group around places, hobbies, activities viewed as atypical according to the common standard. If one examines the extremes of acceptability, the chances of meeting compatible persons rises from near zero to somewhat probable.

Relying on sample size over sample quality is the big mistake introverts make when looking for social belonging. Looking in the right place once will accomplish more than looking in a thousand random places.

The Surface society has manifold ways of weeding people out and sorting people into various categories. An introvert can observe the techniques the larger society uses to eliminate people and then apply them in their own personal life.

The right place isn’t necessarily easy to find or access. This is because the right place by its nature weeds out individuals who are In Tune. The right place has some kind of barrier that prevents most people from accessing it. Insufficient socio-economic incentives? Impossible if one has lots of commitments to the larger society? Is it a category that makes participants socially undesirable, thus only those who are truly Out of Tune would ever want to do it? Does it require a sacrifice or leap of faith a well grounded person would never make?

You know you’re on the right path when you’re meeting a lot of these conditions. And truly passing from the surface realm into the Void underneath it often requires a certain action of sacrifice, severance, and renunciation. Those who remain are the few who were able to perform that act and pass through that trial. These people are highly likely to be viable colleagues. They are the distillate from a seething mass of millions.

If one understands how to follow a process of rigorous social distillation, isolating any sort of person with any sort of proclivity becomes possible.

Moving towards extremes is one way to practice social distillation, but it’s precisely tough hurdles that make it work.

There are easier ways…

One way is finding simple unobtrusive ways of ‘pinging’ groups for compatible persons. An easy way to do this is to simply make subtle in-references to things only the right sort of person would understand. In my experience, nonsensical speech barely registers on most people’s senses. If the ‘ping’ fails there’s not really any consequences. The occasion that it works can be life changing. I met one of my best friends by asking jokingly if he was related to an obscure historical figure sharing his surname. He got it!

We pass our colleagues in crowded places every day. We just lack means of knowing one another. Surface groups usually know one another by a certain fixed style of dress, music. The introverts who feel mostly like hiding also succeed in hiding from one another. This is a paradoxical problem that every isolated introvert faces…

In Korea, the number of U.S. troops is greater than the country’s largest ethnic minority ( about 40,000 Chinese.) The rest are some thousands of guest workers from all over the world.

I lived in Korea for a short time and non-Koreans were highly conspicuous, Japanese tourists most of all. When you’re in a crowd that’s 99.9% locals, anyone that’s phenotypically or behaviorally variant is instantly visible amongst thousands of people. It was not uncommon to run into people I knew even though Seoul is a city of 12 million people. A distinguishing trait is clearly an extremely efficient method of social filtering. A clear difference from everyone else can allow one to completely rewrite the odds.

Yet true introverts are not about to all adopt purple Mohawks in order to stand out. Exposure results in vulnerability after all and this is what we all want to avoid. How is one to proceed? I think the subtle social pinging approach is on the right track.

An idea that’s occurred to me:

Make a custom shirt on a site like cafepress that makes a reference to something obscure or atypical. I would make it in such a way that it would seem normal enough to the casual observer, yet would serve as an ostentatious beacon for the right pair of eyes.

If one was creative, there’s probably many possible Subtle ways to advertise oneself. But we don’t search for these ideas because most of us are stuck in a typical ethic for finding the right people to associate with.

Recognizing the underlying meaning of well-intended extrovert advice is a necessary first step before one is free to construct one’s own ethic of human association. For true introverts, the establishment of such an ethic is tantamount to a declaration of independence from the Surface world. An alternative to social life on the Surface is a ticket out of the directionless, unspoken, heavy sense of disenchantment that seems such a dominant feature of an introverted life.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

Beyond Introvert Survival: Finding Allies in an Extroverted Society appears here by permission.

related: Best Possible Persons

related: Introvert Hobbies

The Sad Art of Gaslighting

Laurel Kendrick — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 06:00:38 +0000

Yesterday, was “one of those days”.

All was going fine—until I stumbled upon something that shook my core: I was going through my voluminous Inbox in an attempt to make room for my life and I found an e-mail from my best friend who died a year ago. For some reason–never opened it. I guess it got lost in the shuffle.

Anyway, I read it and was flooded with emotion.

I didn’t sleep.

I tried watching TV but “The Giant Ladder System” was on 269 of my 280 channels so, that was a wash. I thought I’d try reading, so I went looking through my books trying to find something that would either take my mind off things or one that could help me better understand and deal with my grief.

I found just what I was looking for, but it wasn’t a book that dealt with the loss of my best friend; it was more like a book that would help me cope losing myself. It’s entitled, The Gaslight Effect: Don’t Be Afraid To Speak Your Truth by Robin Stern.

“Gaslighting is the systematic attempt by one person to erode another’s reality. This is done by telling them that what they are experiencing isn’t so – and, the gradual giving up on the part of the other person.”

Stern goes on to say that gaslighting generally takes two to tango: one person who needs to be in control to maintain his sense of self; the other, who needs the relationship to maintain his/her sense of self and because of this, he/she acquiesces—constantly.

The victim ends up giving far, far more than he/she gets. This process invariably erodes the soul.

You know you’re in a full blown Gaslight Effect when you find yourself second guessing your own reality; when you’re unsure of what you really think and feel. Why? Because you’ve allowed someone else to define your reality for you. Invariably, this leads to being told what to think and how to think. And then in turn, you’re told who you are. You’re molded into an entity that someone else deems worthy of his or her love, affection; attention.

And because of the constant whittling away at your psyche, you believe you’re a better person as he or she sees you; as he/she needs you to be.

As the kids used to say….”word”.

Having been “gaslit” in the past, I’d like to share my thoughts with you.

Gaslighting I think, is all that I just mention, with refined manipulation added. And this is maniplation that’s defined by greed and selfishness. It creates cognitive dissonance and it’s this “in between state of cognizance” that women–people, find themselves most vulnerable.

It’s being forced to color inside the lines that others have drawn for us. If we don’t, we’ll be alone and that to some people, is a fate worse than death. Knowing that isolation and lonliness are the dreaded alternatives, we allow gaslighting. It’s not compromise. Hardly–it’s utter relinquishing of the self.

The authentic self.

Then, you find yourself in a horrifically bad relationship but you stay because of that INSIDIOUS goddamn mindset that a bad relationship beats no relationship.

Make no mistake: this IS emotional abuse in every sense and women are almost always the victims. Don’t misunderstand the premise: women can be the culprits too. But women bear the brunt of more negative genetic coding–or so it seems. We’ve been subjugated by primordial design to believe relationships, love….and men, define us.

But gaslighting isn’t limited to love relationships. We also fall victim to it on the job; co-workers and bosses are often perpetrators and it also happens within the family dynamic.

Gaslighting is very real. As I stated, I’ve lived it. I just didn’t know it had a name. Or a book that defined it. Ordinarily, I try my best to avoid partaking from the sump pump of pop psychology. In other words, if Dr. Phil mentions it, I run in the opposite direction. But this book makes sense.

And here’s my two cents.

Integrity (something sorely lacking in the world today) applies to behavior that consistently matches principles. You can’t be a person of integrity if selfishness and self centered behavior are what fuels every motivation. Gaslighters almost always lack integrity; as distorted as this sounds, they thrive on their own selfishness. They are always self-centered. They are consummate liars. Invariably, they will never fail to fail you.

One must then ask, how can a gaslighter expect to be loved if he or she doesn’t know how to love? How can he or she venture into a real, equitable partnership without knowing how to play fair?

The answer? Manipulation passed off as love or affection…or concern

No one will love ever love you like I love you
You’re nothing without me
I ONLY want to take care of you
I only want what’s best for you and only I know what that is
You have changed and grown so much since knowing me. I make you think and
you are better because of it

Furthermore, what these people demand of themselves will rarely work with others. Once again, we touch on “coloring inside the lines” we draw for others. And when someone refuses, that’s how gaslighting starts. I think foisting this on someone else, is the quintessence of neurotic narcissism.

What this book reveals isn’t earth shattering. If you’ve lived it, then you know exactly what gaslighting is all about. For me, it merely gave a name to what I’d experienced.

In remedying the gaslight malady, it goes on to state the obvious:

Women (especially) must be more assertive. We must be fearless about defining who we are, what we are and what we really think. We must empower ourselves to move forward and find real contentment in a relationship as opposed to sanctuary, no matter how fleeting.

I’ll take it one step further:

Some of us, by virtue of childhood experience, seek emotional replicas of our fathers and mothers. If we had a controlling parent, very often we’ll seek controlling partners. We’re most fortunate if we can break that cycle. And just because we find ourselves in abject co-dependence with someone cruel and controlling, well…that doesn’t mean we have to stay. Gather your courage and leave Simon Legree. As the James Gang so aptly sang, walk away.

But remember this: walking away is sometimes much easier than garnering the strength required to take that first step.

And keep this in mind as well: you’ll never gather courage by allowing fear to keep you in a one-sided relationship that’s devoid of romance, passion and real emotion. To do so is a sign of weakness. It’s giving your power away. We should be empowering ourselves. When we relinquish control, we hand over the reigns of our lives, willingly.

Frequently.

Tragically.

But for some, this is the perfect scenario. We’re absolved of all blame if we have no control of a situation. If we believe we’re not responsible, we can’t be held accountable. Especially when it comes to our own actions. Victimhood is extraordinarily convenienct. It all boils down to neglect. We’re being neglected and we’re neglecting ourselves. Well then– here’s your wake up call: neglect kills as often as a bullet to the head.

It kills relationships just as efficiently. And if you sit by and allow it to happen, you’re just as guilty.

In closing, I’ll just say this: Caruso loved the sound of his own voice…some people love the sound of their own opinions being expressed.

This should come as no surprise.

The typical gaslighter defies Copernican theory. They think THEY are, in fact, the center of the universe. In reality, this blustery bravado masks rampant insecurity. Inside, they’re just scared little boys and girls , very much afraid to be hurt, yet they think they’re too smart, too superior to actually feel the pain they’ve so deeply buried.

Sadly, this fear-based arrogance means they themselves have been “gaslit”…made victims by their own actions.

Laurel Kendrick blogs at the eponymous Laurie Kendrick: Life’s a journey….never fly coach.

The Sad Art of Gaslighting appears here by permission.

While the vast majority of available writing on gaslighting concerns itself with “romantic” relationships between individuals or parent-child dynamics, the term has shown up from time to time here and on other autism-related blogs that discuss autistics’ relationship with society. This suggests that there is also what might be called “institutionalized gaslighting” at work in the world which affects not only the lives of individual autistics, but also society’s perception of autism itself. The Sad Art of Gaslighting is presented here as an accessible introduction to the general concept. While at this date a site search of Shift Journal for the words gaslight returns just three posts, as time goes on this number is likely to increase. — ed.

related: Robin Stern at Psychology Today: Identify “The Gaslight Effect” and take back your reality

related: IMDb entries for Gaslight, the movie, from 1940 and 1944

How far can autistic culture develop without excluding neurotypical people? (2011 redux)

Lili Marlene — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 06:00:55 +0000

How far can autistic culture develop without excluding neurotypical people?

For many years I have been married (to the same guy). It’s obvious to me that we are both on the autistic spectrum, even though neither of us are diagnosed and we are not as autistic as some other aspies appear to be. There are also family members who are either aspies or have autistic traits, but most do not acknowledge that they are autistic. Over the years there have been many opportunities to enjoy social events or relationships in which no neurotypical person is present, and I can say that in a number of situations there is a characteristically autistic way of doing things, which I would not describe as inferior or compensatory or incomplete.

One example would be Christmas celebrations. An all-autistic Christmas Day can be substantially different to a regular celebration in a number of different ways, and in some ways more satisfying and less stress than a typical neurotypical Christmas for me personally. I can remember the content of conversations that I have had at aspie Christmases years later, probably because these conversations were quite lengthy and meaningful, while the chatter from NT Christmases past seems to have gone in one ear and out the other. I’m not claiming that there’s anything essentially pure or utopian about AS social life or relationships. Aspies always have many annoying traits, and are just as capable of being an arsehole as any NT is. I’m not saying I dislike NTs, in a prejudicial way, or don’t want to be around them. I just find that the way they socialize and conduct relationships often doesn’t suit the way my mind works, and they appear to (most understandably) not have the slightest understanding of how things are from our point of view.

I’ve found that even one lone NT among aspies in social situations, or an NT in a mixed relationship, may assume the role of the instructing the aspie in interpersonal matters. The aspie or aspies may be viewed as uncultured, inexperienced, unconfident, deliberately unfriendly, argumentative or in some other way incorrect in behaviour. From that point things may go nowhere for the aspie, or downhill fast. The autist is forced into the position of having to explain or defend their habitual ways, but who can be bothered doing that in a situation or occasion in which one is supposed to be enjoying one’s self? The autist may be perceived as being even more argumentative or self-obsessed if he or she tries to explain their own position. This is not an environment in which one can experiment with doing things differently and discover what does or does not feel right. In this kind of situation it is so much easier to pretend to be having a wonderful time while looking forward to spending time in the future in solitude.

Lili Marlene’s How far can autistic culture develop without excluding neurotypical people? first appeared on January 21, 2007, at Incorrect Pleasures and is reprinted here with her permission.

The original posting sparked an exchange of comments also worth revisiting.

related: Does Christmas Miss the Mark?

related: Christmas Scene from Tommy

The Misery of “Happy” People

Zygmunt — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 13:00:16 +0000

Surely a culture where everyone must smile must be a happy culture? Surely a merry holiday must be the happiest time of year? Surely a stunning model makes everyone feel good about themselves.

Alas, that’s not how people really think. Attractive models make people feel horrible about themselves. Holidays are ground zero for depression and social pressure. A culture in which one is disparaged for not smiling is a pressure cooker.

Ironically, all these ‘happy’ things don’t make people happy. Of course no one could publicly admit this without being subject to social censure, so these dreary processes drag on unchallenged, each person a prisoner to the uncompromising mass crowd of their ‘peers’, a faceless multitude with whom in reality they share nothing in common.

In our present modern society false public happiness is exalted into an art form. Never mind that so and so idol died from an overdose of sleeping pills just like all the rest. What matters is the brilliant smile they had in all those pictures on posters, in films, in magazines. In old Aztec times, priests would sometimes wear the flayed skin of their sacrifices. Too often, the very fame that ‘everyone’ craves is just such an Aztec priest, wearing their skin while they languish, exposed and bleeding. Too often, the actual person dies without even ownership of their skin. That bloody priest of fame keeps his garment. Nothing fuels fame and sales like self-inflicted ‘martyrdom’.

When I ask people about favorite holidays anymore, everyone above the age of 10, myself included usually says ‘Thanksgiving.’ Maybe 4^th of July or St. Patty’s day for some. Everything else, the dreaded death of X-mas, birthdays, and especially anniversaries and Valentine’s Day is a horrific minefield. The slightest misstep results in a social explosion. Making it through holidays requires nothing less than a steady hand at disarming bombs.

What do the few holidays people still actually look forward to have in common? They’re still simple holidays that take place mostly in the home with family and friends, revolving mostly around traditional foods and company. There is a minimum of social expectations, demonstrations of loyalty, and pressure to perform.

This is precisely why an introvert secretly cringes when asked “Why don’t you smile?” “Why are you so gloomy?”

As with the nastier holidays, the good will is simulated, the joy forced and false, money and status the bottom line.

For all one knows, the only way the smile police keep smiling is by popping pills prescribed by their friendly neighborhood psychiatrist.

Indeed, if the statistics are any indicator, the present competitive society is so pointless and miserable, legal neuro-active big-pharma drugs are the only way people keep up without wanting to kill themselves.

Consider the ubiquitous candy jar. It usually sits in an office space or cubicle with the usual pictures of family and strong hints of hobbies and a life outside of work. We go into this office for some sort of task or processing, the one time we’ll ever be there. Whether it’s an office building or a local bank, we wonder, “Is the candy in that candy jar really meant to be taken?” We hesitate and then restrain ourselves. The candy jar remains perpetually full. In nearly everyone, some deep seated intuition, ancient as human society itself tells us when giving and hospitality is real and when it is just a façade of generosity. We know when taking from another is okay and when an offer isn’t really meant in good faith but only made for the sake of appearances.

It is exactly this sort of false giving and generosity one experiences when cheerfully ‘asked’ to smile. The ‘asker’ may not realize it themselves, but they are not issuing a request but a warning. They are signaling to the introvert that their member status in the group is in danger if they fail to compete for favor more intensely. In the sycophantic setting of a royal court, those who fail to ingratiate themselves are cast aside and crushed underfoot.

Loud people seem to find the subservient smile of an underling pleasing. To Subtle folk, such an expression is unnerving, clearly akin to the snarling of a cornered animal. Yet until there is a fundamental change in the structures of power, we shall all have to wear perpetual slavish smiles as if we all had the soulless painted features of marionettes.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

The Misery of “Happy” People appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

The Perfect Answer

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 06:09:19 +0000

Why do you stay in the marriage?

An acquaintance recently asked my husband this question. He asked it not because my husband had expressed any unhappiness with our marriage, but because I have Asperger’s.

How do I begin to explain all the ways in which this question hurts?

Let’s start with the assumption that my husband must be unhappy in our marriage, despite the fact that we are both quite delighted to be married to each other. It’s rather common for disabled people to hear others make that assumption. It’s an assumption based on the notion that disabled people are a trial and a tribulation to those who love us. So I knew, at that moment, that I wasn’t alone. It was somewhat comforting to know I wasn’t alone, but mostly, it was very painful to know that I wasn’t alone, and that so many of us still go through these experiences.

And then, there is a stereotype at work here, an assumption that people with Asperger’s are all alike, and that we make relationships difficult simply by virtue of being autistic. Somehow, when one partner has Asperger’s, generalizations replace specifics, and the idea that relationships are a two-way street, in which each party can be a challenge to the other, gets lost.

While I was still reeling from having heard the question, only one answer came to mind, and it was the answer I was hoping my husband had given:

Because I love her.

It’s not the one he gave. I was disappointed at first. When someone implies something negative about me, I immediately go to the place of wanting my husband to profess his love for me, in a very loud and declamatory voice, from the nearest rooftop.

But now I’m glad he didn’t give that answer. Simply saying that he loves me runs the risk of implying that he stays in the marriage not because of what I bring, but out of something akin to heroism. It ignores the ways in which I ground his life, in which I nourish his heart, in which I support him in all of his struggles. It has the potential to reinforce the notion that, because of my disability, I am a burden that he carries with saintly patience. And it suggests that he should have to profess his love for me, rather it simply being a given, as it should be for any husband and wife.

So he didn’t say he loved me. Instead, this is what he said:

Because it works for me.

It’s a brilliant answer. It really is. It takes the entire conversation out of the realm of disability and into the realm of why anyone stays in a marriage. You stay because it works for you. It may be hard work sometimes, and it may be a rocky road sometimes, but that’s marriage. Certainly, you also stay because you love the other person, but that’s not enough to keep a marriage going. Lots of people who love each other break up because the marriage stops working for one or both of them, and because there is nothing that anyone can do to fix it.

So yes, my husband is married to me because it works for him. And I am married to him because it works for me. Each of us can be a trial to the other at times, but the same is true for any two married people. We are not married despite the challenges each of us puts in the path of the other, but because of them. They help us to grow, to love, and to understand life in ways that we could never begin to do without the other.

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg blogs at Journeys with Autism, and presides at Autism and Empathy.

The Perfect Answer appears here by permission.

The most recent installment in Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg’s published memoirs is Blazing My Trail.

[image from original post]

A Hope For Neurodiversity In Education

chavisory — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 06:00:39 +0000

Sometimes when I’m feeling frustrated and pessimistic, I get to wondering if humanity is irredeemably stupid. Sometimes I look around at some of the things we do to each other and the immensity of the problems we’ve created for ourselves through greed and short-sightedness, and the state of politics in this country, and just can’t fathom how we’re ever going to find the unity, compassion, and concerted problem-solving to get ourselves out.

But I’ve been watching TED talks lately…and this conference has found a really astonishing number of people who have totally brilliant ideas and things to say. You can really click randomly on just about any TED talk video, and people you’ve never heard of before in a hugely diverse range of disciplines are saying and doing incredible things. Which makes me think, instead, that we actually have a nearly infinite number of wise and brilliant people on our side.

This talk by Sir Ken Robinson is actually about 5 years old, but for that I think what he says is actually more urgent now and not less. He says that we’re actually educating kids out of their creativity and natural genius, to our own impoverishment…that we actually stigmatize many kinds of intelligence that simply don’t perform well in a confined classroom environment or on a standardized test.

Creativity isn’t just about making art; it’s that misunderestimation that makes it easy to marginalize as impractical or financially untenable. We have environmental problems, health problems, food problems, and budget problems, and they’re all going to require creativity to solve. Balancing our budget will take creativity. Making alternatives to fossil fuels safe and affordable will take creativity. Finding ways to teach kids from the most difficult of life circumstances takes creativity (like setting up a pirate supply store as a front for a free tutoring center, as Dave Eggers explains here).

“It’s education that’s meant to take us into this future that we can’t grasp,” Robinson says, noting that we’re trying to educate kids for the next 50 years of their lives, but we have no idea what the world will be like in 5 years. We have absolutely no basis on which to say that one kind of thinking, one curriculum or set of skills or knowledge, will be the most important one in the future and therefore to stigmatize all the others.

It’s here that I’d like the educational establishment to consider borrowing an idea from the autism community: neurodiversity, or the conviction that there is very broad natural variation in human neurological wiring, in which even difficult differences should be valued on their own terms. It’s become a somewhat contentious term and there are plenty of legitimate criticisms of it, but I don’t believe that it’s a denial of the reality of the disabling aspects of this condition, or a denial that people need and deserve help with things that really impede their quality of life. I see neurodiversity as asking us to understand and accept a way of thought and a way of being on its own terms before we devalue it or decide it should be eradicated from the human experience, to see people first for their gifts and the ways in which humanity needs them.

As Temple Grandin says, “the world needs all kinds of minds.”

To me, neurodiversity’s not just about how we value autistic people, but how we value everyone who thinks differently, anyone who’s out of step with what the culture has decided it values and doesn’t value, and whatever is distinctive about every person.

Very much echoing what I interpret to be at the heart of the neurodiversity movement’s goals, Robinson says “Human communities depend upon a diversity of talent, not a singular conception of ability. At the heart of the challenge is to reconstitute our sense of ability and of intelligence.”

Robinson talks specifically about how dance and performance arts are devalued in the educational system, and I think of the League of Extraordinary Dancers, as well as all the dancers I’ve worked with, who never stop amazing me with how their brains work in ways that mine doesn’t. Skills like these are probably not measurable by standardized test, but, I mean, they only have the potential to revolutionize assumptions about what the human body is capable of and the artistic potential of technology and the internet.

No one gets better or stronger or smarter by being defined and valued according to their weaknesses, but that’s exactly how we educate kids. We sort students out by what’s wrong with them instead of allowing them the resources and freedom to nurture what’s right with themselves.

I think of Hogwarts, by contrast, which begins the process of formal education by sorting students according to their most basic strengths: Gryffindor students are courageous, Ravenclaws clever, Hufflepuffs hardworking and fair, and Slytherins cunning and ambitious. Notice how the Sorting Hat doesn’t sort anyone out by their deficiencies. And how it required the gifts of every single House to save the world from Voldemort. (Even Slytherin, reviled by all the other houses…Snape’s cunning obviously being what allowed him to act as a double agent for the Order, and it was Narcissa Malfoy’s loyalty to her own family first and foremost that led her to betray Voldemort.)

We all need each other. We all need each other’s brilliance.

{I couldn’t exactly weave this in to my thesis, but it’s just beautiful and I wanted to share it: spoken word poet Sarah Kay talks about how she found out what she wanted to do, using poetry to solve problems, and teaching self-expression through performance poetry.}

Chavisory blogs at Chavisory’s Notebook.

A Hope For Neurodiversity In Education appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

School As Introvert Prison Sentence

Zygmunt — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 09:48:38 +0000

I got pretty good grades in school. Homework was easier for me than for most kids. Yet as an adult it’s easy to look back and realize that none of that was important. Once one gets into college it doesn’t matter. Once one decides not to go to college it doesn’t matter. We were told grades were important by all the authority figures, but it was a lie just to try keep us all in line for another day and to justify the system in which every one of us was trapped.

I look back on twelve years of schooling and can’t think of much beyond basic literacy that was truly important in the long run. Even with literacy, my first reading lessons took place at home, not in school. Classes at school did teach me useful things. A lot of the classwork that was boring for other kids was pure fun for me. Yet did it really need to consume 12 years of my life? By the time we’re 18, the better part of our youth is irremediably spent on years of school. Yes, humans have higher life expectancies now but the fact is we start our slide into aging soon after we hit biological adulthood. With schooling, we get barely a decade to be active in the world at our peak. People in past generations generally had begun adult-level activities by their early teens or even younger. Now a college graduate at age 21 is only beginning to be functional in the adult world. Is our increased life expectancy nearly as great when we have nearly a decade less in which to do things?

What is it all for? One obvious purpose is the simple containment of youth who would otherwise be roaming around the streets all day. With child labor laws, there’s nothing better to do than lock them up. The result is a strange combination of minimum security prison and daycare. It just doesn’t make much sense to the Subtle understanding. To really ‘get’ the spirit of school it is most illuminating to examine the extroverted view and justification.

Every well-adjusted person I’ve talked to gives me the same message when I dare criticize compulsory education and public schooling. “But it’s for socialization!” Having tipped my ideological hand more than was wise, I end up with an earful of reminiscences about fun extra-curricular activities. This always confounds me. Whatever happened to the 7 hours a day sitting at a desk doing nothing? That wasn’t fun! It wasn’t particularly social either.

When I express desire for there to be some alternative from regular schooling, I get a blank stare for a second or two followed by “Your kid wouldn’t be able to develop properly. He/she would be lonely and cut off.” Every time I hear this ubiquitous answer, I pause for a few seconds before finding a way to just change the subject.

As an introvert in the system, I felt lonely and cut off. I didn’t fit into the school society at all. I was non-socialized in school. I can pass as mostly normal now, but when I first graduated high school, I still had the social skills of a small child. I’ve spent the last several years learning everything from scratch and I’m finally feeling as though I’m somewhat caught up. I’ve been through several halfway houses, but I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m establishing a life for the first time after a long prison sentence. I spent a good portion of that time, especially the later years in something akin to solitary confinement.

It took me a long time to figure out why extroverts assign such importance to collective schooling. Every well-adjusted person seems to understand the reasons on some intuitive level but lack the ability to analyze their beliefs and articulate them. I will do my best to translate the idea of ‘Socialization’ into Subtle-ese.

I gather that extroverts value schooling primarily for its ability to imbue millions of children with a common formative experience so that they may smoothly interrelate as adults.

This ability to relate to others is like being able to speak the same language. It is one of the most critical things we’re supposed to learn. It’s the base of belonging we need to be able to establish romantic relationships and find careers. In Subtle terms, I suppose we could consider compulsory schools as a massive network of commonality factories. In the Surface world, these factories are not idle or pointless, they are busily producing vitally important social commodities.

I think the idea of social adjustment helps explain why nerds are portrayed in popular culture as morally stunted, silly, contemptible, short-sighted, petty people who have missed everything that is really important in life. The nerds were focusing on all the wrong things in school and they serve as symbols of everything one should not become. They are representative of defective units that were never properly calibrated despite the best efforts of the factory workers. In the movies, nerds are rather unsympathetic characters because they usually rudely reject the efforts of well-adjusted people to save them. The overall thesis: social adjustment is open to everyone, but there will always be a few who insist on being self-destructive.

The truth that they never realize is that most people don’t ask for a clash with the system. Some people are going to have the wrong configuration as they roll down the assembly line. The standardized parts that seem to fit with most other people just don’t apply. The true introvert frame reaches the end of the assembly line not only bare of all the necessary components, but dented and bent from going through a long series of incompatible processes.

When I tell a regular person that “School was awful.” I am often met with agreement. If the conversation goes on, it becomes clear that most of the perceived awfulness for the Surface person stemmed from completely different problems. They don’t complain about homework or classes usually. They talk about all their human relationships and ultimately how it was a time for social learning and tough lessons in human interaction. From the way they talk about it, it doesn’t sound like it was awful at all. Most of the time it seems they were having fun, but it got bad for awhile whenever some conflict arose. When I realized that this is their definition of ‘awful’ it was clear there could be no bridging the gap. In moments like that, it becomes clear we don’t even speak mutually intelligible languages and that we’ve lived our lives in separate universes. I have difficulty explaining my experience precisely because I was never properly adjusted.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

School As Introvert Prison Sentence appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Negative Charisma

Zygmunt — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 06:00:29 +0000

A friend of mine was once wondering what stats we would have if we were D and D characters. We supposed we might have strengths of 12 or so and less than impressive dexterity. When it came to charisma… My friend stopped and thought for a moment. “You probably have negative charisma.” He concluded. I definitely agreed with him. Never in my life had I stood out and taken over a group of any kind. Furthermore, I had a special talent for getting people to dislike me without any effort at all. I’d look back and wonder what I’d done to piss them off. Negative charisma seemed the best explanation.

Over time, I became better versed in social conventions but the idea of an opposite to the classic charismatic personality stuck with me. I eventually started thinking of it as a virtue. Something different than merely being disagreeable, something more than being the sunny, charming, crowd pleaser that everyone seems to worship.

‘Beware the charismat’ I sometimes told myself. It was a warning against the golden boy or girl of the hour who walks into the room and mesmerizes everyone. A charismat is perfect in their mannerisms and dazzling in their conduct. They are too good to be true, almost certainly disingenuous. They lack the most important virtue: a flaw. The charismat is the polished contrived sort of leader that thrives off of mass media in Western nations.

For a Subtle person, the most charismatic and inspirational people are those who act strange and awkward by the standards of Western society, who speak quietly rather than ostentatiously, who know how to share the stage rather than dominate, who know how to collaborate rather than compete.

A truly inspirational person does not conceal all their flaws and does not reveal all their strengths. The inspirational person is calm, matter of fact, never boastful, never sanctimonious, never patronizing.

To the Subtle person, eccentricities are one of the most endearing elements of the human character and figure strongly into the personality of someone inspirational.

Negative Charisma is about substance over form. A true introvert finds a speaker with a weak voice or a stammer to be inspirational if there is solid expertise, knowledge, and insight behind their words. It is not about the means of delivery but the content delivered.

One who has negative charisma strives to be underestimated in order to select against those who understand only what is aggressively, outwardly flaunted. It seemed to me that the fulfillment of one with negative charisma might come in a moment of vindication: When the Golden person overextends, underestimates and is confronted by strength where they expected only weakness and submission as usual. In such a moment, a charismat would be exposed with imperfections before their adoring crowd. The first instance of resistance and refutation to the seemingly unstoppable force of their personality would break their power. One with negative charisma would prevail as the Golden person was cast down by former worshipers.

Those with Negative Charisma never put themselves on a pedestal. They never set out to be the strongest, best liked, most charming person. They have no need to maintain a public image. Their object is never to move all the crowd but to speak to the most thoughtful persons within it. The moment of vindication arrives when one who sits powerfully but precariously on the shoulders of a multitude throws their strength against one who is alone but immovable.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

Negative Charisma appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

I Hate Cold Calling

Zygmunt — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 05:18:48 +0000

For an introvert few tasks can be as daunting and titanic as making a cold call. The very idea of disturbing an unseen stranger over the telephone fills us with anxiety.

-We wouldn’t want to be called by an unseen stranger who just wants something from us. Why would someone else want to be? Any ensuing conversation is bound to be an awkward exchange between two people who really don’t want to talk, but are compelled by some overriding necessity. The tension is bound to be palpable. This type of interaction is about as pleasant as nails screeching across a chalkboard.

-If only we could do it over the internet somehow without having to talk with anyone!

-We tend to put it off to the last possible moment. Almost better to wait until the progression of events makes phone calls a moot point. A mild loss incurred by doing so is probably worth it. For important calls, I used to spend a few minutes just staring at the number pad before being able to spiritually prepare myself for dialing that number. I would even have a few false starts dialing before I got through the whole number.

-There’s that horrible pause before it starts ringing, then the ringing starts. Secretly we hope for every successive ring hoping that no one will answer. If no one answers, we curse our luck that we couldn’t have just gotten it over with.

-It takes a lot of will power to make each subsequent attempt. Like lancing a boil, the longer we wait, the more attempts, the more unpleasant it becomes. The more unpleasant it becomes, the more will it takes to make another attempt.

-Even when we’ve made the call and someone answers, we’re too upset and nervous about infringing on someone else to really push them and demand their services and time in full. Thus, a rep who’s used to dealing with assertive extroverts senses they can spend a bare minimum of time on us and quickly gets us off the line. We end up not really accomplishing what we set out to do anyway! At best we accomplish the bare minimum before we can end the unpleasantness and get off the line.

-An extrovert comes by and asks about the results of the phone call. Their brow creases in confusion at our account of the conversation. They respond:

“Why didn’t you ask this question?”

“Or this question?”

“Why didn’t you get a more detailed answer so we can be absolutely sure?”

“Why didn’t you push them until they gave in by doing this?”

“Why didn’t you make the call earlier?”/”Why did you just get around to making the call now?”

“Why don’t you call again?”

There’s a leaden feeling in the stomach. All that effort and anxiety and it wasn’t nearly enough. Why even bother.

I’ve gotten a lot better over the years out of necessity. It’s no longer a trial by fire and I no longer have to deal with lots of anxiety but it’s still not exactly my favorite activity. I still always check for any way around making a cold call if it can be avoided. Therein lies my problem. I see cold calling as a last resort. An extrovert sees cold calling and taking up time on the line as their first choice.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

I Hate Cold Calling appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Grabbers

Julia Bascom — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 05:00:29 +0000

It’s a grabbers vs. flappers warzone.

On the one side are the flappers. We wave and twist our hands in front of our faces or slap them against our chests. Our heads punctuate our moods and the music against the wall. Our knees don’t bend as we walk on our toes, our fingers pick at cuticles or scratch patterns against our forearms and cheeks, and we’d rather watch spinning pinwheels than drown in another person’s eyes.

(Our joy is own own, and we communicate it differently, perhaps holding privately onto it, or pouring it out into another person. But soon we learn from the grabbers that our joy should be our shame, our movements not our own, and so we withdraw.)

What else is there to do when you are surrounded by grabbing hands but shrink in on yourself?

The grabbers don’t believe that we can be happy or find meaning unless we are exactly like them—and that’s really the goal, being just like everyone else, and so there is not even a second of hesitation in their eyes when they slap our hands down onto the table with a shriek of “quiet hands”.

The hands are everywhere.

They’re at our chins. “Look at me,” with a face pressed in so close to yours that you count the pores until they force your gazes to meet. They grab our hands, “don’t do that, people will think you’re retarded.” They smack away picking fingers, because our foreheads must be pristine and easy-to-look-at for them. You turn away, pull away, try to put some distance in so you can breath, and they grab your hands, your hips, your shoulders and twist you back. You bounce your leg—surely you are allowed this?—and they press a hand to your knee, stilling you. Everyone taps their pencil, but when you start their hand closes over yours and won’t let go.

“Please let me go!”

But protesting just means you need to be grabbed more often, with harder and more insistent hands, until you realize that the way you move is fundamentally wrong, as wrong and deficient and disturbing and dangerous as you are, and if you want to be counted as a “you” at all you must let them grab you until you can stop your self. The most basic human thing is just existing in space, and you quickly realize that you do even this wrong. Is it that you take up too much space, or just that you do it too differently, moving in an entirely alien way and triggering some sort of dormant xenophobia?

In the end it just comes down to you are wrong, and for that you must be punished. It simplifies to your body is not your own, but it is mine. And you learn that a relationship, if you can call it that, always has two roles, a flapper and a grabber, and you will always be grabbed, and never be permitted to grab back.

Julia Bascom blogs at Just Stimming.

Grabbers appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Introversion and Schizoid Traits

Zygmunt — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 05:00:30 +0000

Not so long ago, I was dropped a link by a reader to Wikipedia’s entry on schizoid personality disorder. I was shocked as I read it over.

I read through the descriptions and lists on this page and found that to some degree I could be seen as exhibiting every single characteristic.

Like narcissism, this schizoid assessment can be kind of tricky. Obviously, everyone is narcissistic to some degree. It’s the inevitable result of living as ourselves and no one else. Where then does normality end and disorder begin?

The same problem with a schizoid personality disorder. A schizoid personality type shares many traits with introversion (or introversion is considered part of being schizoid) and is considered to usually be within the spectrum of normally functional individuals. Disorder is diagnosed at the extreme ends of this schizoid spectrum.

Since there’s so much misunderstanding of introverts, I have to wonder if defining schizoids can end up pathologizing introverted traits that are merely incongruent with the mass society.

Here is one of the lists of ‘symptoms’ from the article with my comments on each:

-Emotional coldness, detachment or reduced affection.

(Defensive behaviors against a hostile society force one to emotionally detach in order to cope and survive. It’s hard to be bright and cheerful while being defensive.)

-Limited capacity to express either positive or negative emotions towards others.

(Defensive habits make it difficult to really open up to others. Without regular uninhibited social interaction one really gets out of practice. If one grew up under such circumstances, it’s possible one never learned certain basic social conventions during critical formative stages.)

-Consistent preference for solitary activities.

(If others don’t share your interests, what else are you going to do? Worse, they’ll probably criticize and ridicule if they find out. Solitary becomes necessary!)

-Very few, if any, close friends or relationships, and a lack of desire for such.

(So little in common with others that it can be hard to find anyone who’s compatible.)

-Indifference to either praise or criticism.

(Does so many things outside of regular society that one stops caring whether others approve or disapprove. One has to stop caring to stay sane!)

Taking pleasure in few, if any, activities.

(If one is forced to pursue one’s favorite activities solitarily and secretly then it seems as though one takes pleasure in nothing by the light of day. Could perhaps be rewritten as: Taking pleasure in few if any socially approved activities.)

-Indifference to social norms and conventions.

(Social norms cause pain and inconvenience. They stand against one’s personality and preferences. If permitted to rule over one’s life, the result could only be a denial of one’s deepest self. They are ignored when possible.)

-Preoccupation with fantasy and introspection.

(It’s a great way of compartmentalizing life and getting through all the rough parts without an excess of pain. It’s another defense. Who doesn’t daydream in unpleasant and boring situations? Furthermore, the inner life is where the outer life is interpreted. It is in the inner realm where patterns are seen and truth is discovered. If dreams are a way for our minds to interpret, store, and clean up a day worth of overwhelming inputs, a fantasy life while awake can serve much the same function.)

-Lack of desire for sexual experiences with another person.

(Sexual experiences require lots of social skill and status. Most importantly, it requires revealing oneself to someone who probably adheres to the conventional society. Only criticism and censure could ensue.)

While a true excess of any of these traits could be construed as a disorder, I see many ways that a fairly normal introverted person could receive a disorder diagnosis. Rather than truly being emotionally cold or lacking desire to be with other human beings, such an individual could be easily misunderstood, their actions misinterpreted. I can’t help but notice that solitary activities are a criteria for disorder without any concern for

why the activities are being pursued solitarily or

why there are few friends or sexual relationships.

why there is an unusual reliance on defense mechanisms, emotional detachment, or fantasy just to get through a day

Upon examination it starts seeming less like a mental problem and more like a way of singling out social misfits.

In fact, the social history of an introvert can often be characterized as a long history of misdiagnosis and being singled out. Many people I’ve encountered in life have assumed the worst about me at every turn. So much so that I expect it out of people and have to go out of my way to be extra polite and carefully avoid conflict. I find the schizoid definitions to be an organized list of ways extroverts have misunderstood and then reacted.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

Introversion and Schizoid Traits appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

related: Introverts, Asperger’s, Autism

Autism, Culture, & Representation (course description & reading list)

Melanie Yergeau — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 05:00:04 +0000

TOPICS IN DISABILITY CULTURES: ENGLISH 416 @ UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

Course description

Public discourse on autism has reached critical mass. It’s hard to open a newspaper, change a TV channel, or browse a Facebook profile without catching something about autism—the epidemic, the puzzles, the children, the charities, the discrimination. The CDC currently touts a 1 in 110 autism incidence rate; former Playboy bunnies claim that our government is poisoning children with heavy metals and dairy products; popular TV shows feature unemotional autistic characters with savant-like super powers; and college programs are molding the most autism-centric cohort of disability service professionals our country has seen to date. If we’re to believe anything we encounter in the media or popular literature, we can certainly believe that autism is everywhere and has the potential to touch anyone at any time.

With this supposed increase in autism has come an increase in texts about autism (across media, across genre), much of it volatile and emotionally charged. Our main objective in this class, then, is to consider the rhetorical import of these texts, to develop an understanding of autism as a complex and crucial part of the human experience, to examine the ways in which able-bodiedness (or neurotypicality) has become an invisible default. We’ll work together in exploring how the authors of these various texts aim to persuade an audience that their view is the most emotionally, ethically, or logically sound view.

To that end, we’ll also investigate the many important issues—legal, social, cultural, medical, political—currently at stake in the autism world. Throughout the term, we’ll continually engage popular, literary, and scholarly representations of autism in print, film, and the blogosphere in light of the following questions: What does it mean to be an autistic person? What does it mean to be an autism parent, professional, or advocate? What does it mean to author autism?

Course Reading List

Thursday, 9/8

Reading due:
DSM IV & DSM V entries
Chew & Raymaker, 10 Autism Controversies

Tuesday, 9/13

Reading due:
Burke, Terministic Screens (on CTools)
Broderick, Autism as Rhetoric

Thursday, 9/15

Reading due:
Straus, Autism as Culture (CTools)
Linton, Disability Studies/Not Disability Studies (CTools)

Tuesday, 9/20

Reading due:
View Fixing Autism
Carley, GRASP and the Word ‘Cure’ [PDF]
ABFH, Defining Curebie-ism

Thursday, 9/22

Reading due:
Wallace, An Epidemic of Fear
selections from McCarthy’s Mother Warriors
Rethinking Autism (watch Leeann videos and Autistics Speak video)

Tuesday, 9/27

Reading due:
Selections from the Autism Hub, Autism Blog Directory, and/or other autism blogs

Tuesday, 10/4

Reading due:
Montgomery, “Defining Autistic Lives”
View Baggs’ In My Language

Thursday, 10/6

Reading due:
D.J. Savarese, “Communicate with Me”
Ralph Savarese, “To Persevere” and “You’re Adopting Whom?” (CTools)
Murray, “Autism Functions”

Tuesday, 10/11

Reading due:
View Autism Support Group
Stevenson et al., Infantilizing Autism
Robertson, “Neurodiversity, Quality of Life, and Autistic Adults”

Thursday, 10/13

Reading due:
Selections from Baron-Cohen (CTools)
Choose 2 entries from Autism and Empathy: Voices of Autistics

Thursday, 10/20

Reading due:
Haddon, Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time

Tuesday, 10/25

Reading due:
selections from Grandin’s Thinking in Pictures (CTools)
Robertson & Ne’eman, “Autistic Acceptance, the College Campus, and Technology”

Thursday, 10/27

Reading due:
Cohen-Rottenberg, Music and the Positive Side of Auditory Processing Disorder
Diachenko, The Musical Autist

Tuesday, 11/1

Reading due:
Bumiller, “Quirky Citizens” (CTools)
Baron-Cohen, “Essential Difference: The Male and Female Brain” (CTools)
Cat in a Dog’s World, “Diagnostic Criteria, Stereotypes, and Invisibility”

Thursday, 11/3

Reading due:
Senator, “Is Autism the New Gay?”
Brown, “Intro” and “Emily Dickinson” (CTools)

Tuesday, 11/8

Reading due:
Prince-Hughes, Songs of the Gorilla Nation, 1st half

Thursday, 11/10

Reading due:
Prince-Hughes, Songs of the Gorilla Nation, 2nd half

Tuesday, 11/15

Reading due:
Sinclair, “Don’t Mourn for Us”
Sicile-Kira, “The Real World of Autism: The Refrigerator Mother Club” (CTools)
Murphy, “Proverbs 13:24” (CTools)
Zaks, “I Have Asperger Syndrome, and I Am a Parent”

Thursday, 11/17

Reading due:
Savarese, Reasonable People, 1st half

Tuesday, 11/22

Reading due:
Savarese, Reasonable People, 2nd half
Mukhopadhyay, “Five Poems”

Tuesday, 11/29

Reading due:
Moon, Speed of Dark, 1st half

Thursday, 12/1

Reading due:
Moon, Speed of Dark, 2nd half

Tuesday, 12/6

Reading due:
Prince, “The Silence Between”

Melanie Yergeau is an assistant professor of English at the University of Michigan. She blogs at aspie rhetor.

The reading list for the currently-in-progress course autism, culture, & representation appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Life After Mass Society?

Zygmunt — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 05:00:58 +0000

I received this comment from a reader:

Hey this is Adi. I have been reading a lot of your posts and like this blog a lot and I am posting for the first time.

I have a question that has been bugging me since I first started reading some of your posts. Before that let me clarify that I am your fellow intorvert as well. What I want to ask is, I still don’t understand a purpose of life that doesn’t involve social success and achieving a position in society. Because, the way I have been growing up, a lot of things that you have mentioned are extrovert traits are, the ones I have possessed too in spite of being an introvert. And yes, the way you have stated earlier, I too have wished that I was a person who is sought after by people, can make social bonds easily. But it hasn’t happened and then after realizing my true selves, I have started accepting myself. But still, I do not understand the purpose of life if you remain completely detached and aloof from society. Can you explain what are you living this life for? One example could be living for a very crazy passion if you do possess one. But what if you don’t?

Someone gets all the certificates and learns a skill.
Then the skill abruptly goes obsolete or gets outsourced. All that effort for nothing.

Someone works for a lifetime and then retires.
They ask themselves, “Why am I still here.”

Someone comes up with a great idea or does the majority of the work on a project.
Their manager takes all the credit and moves up yet another notch on the ladder.

Does all that social stuff really give us purpose or does it merely distract us from questions of purpose?
You can get rewards and praise for doing what the society values, but is it all just noise that distracts from asking whether society values the right things, or whether the society is good and just?
What kind of person makes it to the top of society? Are these the people who should be on top? Are they good and just?
Does society care about you to the degree you care about it? Can a mass society care about you? If it can’t care, are you just another insignificant worker bee? How then does society provide us with purpose or meaning?

Does it matter how many gold stars society puts on your forehead if you’ve not learned to be happy with who you are? If somebody took away those gold stars tomorrow, what would remain? If you lived for the gold stars and they’re gone now, who are you?

If one doesn’t have any ‘very crazy’ passions, perhaps they should explore and find some.

You’ve brought up excellent questions. Questions that open up more questions. Questions that can be scary to confront. But there is a much deeper sense of peace and identity when we begin to figure out the answers.

When you don’t let the sum of all people(society) dictate who you are, the result is immense freedom. This freedom has nothing to do with going off to a mountain monastery or living as a hermit. It’s a state of mind that allows you to perceive the world around you differently:
Think of it this way:

Imagine someone living in a fabulously wealthy society where everyone is expected to have a palace.
This person feels stressed out, unhappy, and ‘poor’ because they can only afford a sumptuous Victorian mansion(butler included). So long as social expectations define their world view, they will remain unhappy no matter what fantastic luxuries they might have. Circumstances might change but the big questions are constant. “How will I get what they have?”, “What will they think?”, What will they say?”

As soon as the person begins to derive expectations from within, they see the mansion through new eyes. The person is free to perceive its beauty for the very first time. It is no longer a disgusting source of social shame, it is a house. An enormous house abundantly equipped to fulfill every possible human need. A house far bigger than anyone could possibly need. Suddenly, it seems ludicrous that one’s life purpose could have been chasing after a still bigger house. Surely it was never a purpose at all, just a way to pass the time until death.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

Life After Mass Society? appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

related: The Worlds of Sun and Moon

Indistinguishability and Modeling- or, To a Friend or Three

Savannah Logsdon-Breakstone — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 05:00:25 +0000

I think that for too many of us, we are brought up to look for role models upon which to model our behavior. This modeling is something that I think is sometimes so very encouraged in some of us- Autistic or otherwise neuroatypical- because we are taught from very young age that we need to blend into social environments, to conform to behavioral expectations.

Or, to put it in IEP goal language, to “become indistinguishable from [our] peers.”

A number of us in the Neurodiversity movements believe that this is a potentially destructive goal emotionally, and one that is counter-productive ethically. There are numerous essays out there talking about this in the class room context. There’s even some conversations going on about how this inter-plays with integrated classrooms, and how some of our allies who join with us on integration do so because of this idea of modeling “normal” behavior.

We- that is, self advocates- fight a lot against the idea of indistinguishably as a goal. We talk about it as violence, and we try to find ways to stop it from being so central a goal in how people interact with our younger counterparts. We decry it, and try to uproot it.

Too often, though, the damage has already been done for us, even in places in ourselves we don’t want to look.

Feminism talks a lot about how society internalizes messages about women, as do other movements. The truth is we are all socialized in some way or another. But when we go through that process as neurodivergent, we don’t absorb some things that others do. Some of us of course do internalize messages, but some of our socialization around certain skill sets are not served by the process that typical society uses.

Too often, what this means is that we internalize the pleas for “indistinguishbility” from the norms of society, while finding that we don’t have the skills to meet the expectations.

I’m finally getting to why I started this entry: How we model and expect our relationships- with friends, with family, with romantic and/or sexual partners- to work, and how those are supposed to make us feel.

I have an ex, K, who often talked to me about his relationship with his father. K had been brought up with a certain idea of what a father-son relationship should look like, and how he should feel about it. However, none of these were expectations modeled with him in mind. He would watch TV or his brother’s relationship with his father. K would find himself confused and frustrated when he went through the same motions and still felt disconnected from his father.

He took the (socially pressed rather than IEP directed in his case) directive to strive for indistinguishbility and held that up as the goal, the thing that “should” bring happiness if he did it right. After all, the reasonings that are used in society for why this is such goal is often held up as a way to find happiness in the long run.

But the truth is, following modeled behavior doesn’t mean we will be happy. Too often, it means that we aren’t actually building the sort of connections or environments that make us happy or connected. We are basing our expectations of what these should look like on someone else’s happiness, someone else’s feelings of connection to the things in their lives.

We’ve taken the modeling that people provided as a stop gap for indistinguishability- a goal that ignores who we are and what our needs are- and we’ve added it to the things we count as skills. We’ve allowed for things that tear us down to oversee how we build our lives.

I was originally going to write a poem on this, but prose came out instead. I’m going to get to the point before I devolve into poetry again:

If we want happiness, satisfaction in our friendships (and other relationships) we need to stop basing them on other people’s definitions of what they should look like. We need to define them for ourselves.

Savannah Logsdon-Breakstone blogs at Cracked Mirror in Shalott.

Indistinguishability and Modeling- or, To a Friend or Three appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

When it comes to development differences, environment dictates when it’s a disability

Emily Willingham — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 09:00:35 +0000

The other day, the governor of Texas, Rick Perry, commented that attention-deficit disorder should be a “paddleable offense.” He compares ADD/ADHD to having “ants in the pants,” and says that some kids don’t need medications but instead require attention and “tough love.” My translation of his meaning of “tough love” is, well, paddling.

I recently tweeted that between my son with autism and my son with ADHD, my ADHD child currently has the greater disability. That may sound odd. But my autistic son is someone who is comfortable in his own skin. He’s so comfortable with his autism that recently, in an email to another autistic child, he offered these words of encouragement:

We must learn to love and accept ourselves. It doesn’t matter if we’re different. Being different is hard at times, but being different is a gift, too. It makes you unique in a good way. I’m not perfect but nobody is, and I’m a good person.

In other words, TH is doing great. Right now, comparatively speaking, our middle son Dubya suffers more negative effects from his ADHD than TH does from his autism. They’re such different disabilities. In our current environment of homeschooling with one day a week with a small group of other kids, TH is flourishing. We’re all used to his autistic behaviors. His interests fit in with our family environment because they’re about nature, trees, the outdoors. These manifestations of his autism are a good fit for our family environment, and while he definitely attracts attention when we’re out, it’s nothing deleterious to his happiness or function. His autism right now is a difference, but it’s not a disability.

Might that change as the environment does? Yes, it might. That’d be our society’s version of natural selection.

And in that context, Dubya’s got more deficits, ones that add up to disability for him. In a restaurant, he ends up under the table, sliding like an invertebrate to the floor, all the while not hearing our whispered admonishments to get back in his seat. In movie theaters, he calls out, impulsively and loudly, talking to the screen as if he were all alone. If I softly touch his arm to stop it, the gesture doesn’t register. If I speak in his ear to ask him to stop, his impulse control is so limited, he literally cannot stop and does it again within seconds. After years and years of reminders, he’s still unable to detect when another conversation is in progress and will just interrupt without regard, emerging from his life on Planet Dubya and barging right in, unaware of anything that’s been going on previously.

If you call his name to get his attention, the focal deficit there is so powerful that he will actually look at you, but instantly forget why he did so, and then look away again, back to what he was doing. He also has delayed auditory processing, so he appears to be ignoring what people say to him when in reality, he’s taking so much longer to process it that you can actually count the seconds and see when it finally registers. He is almost incapable of being still–at all times, some part of his body is in motion. I homeschool him now and have timed his attentional periods. I’ve found that his attention drifts within a matter of seconds, several times within a minute. Learning in a classic classroom setting could be almost impossible with this kind of deficit.

There are few environments in which these behaviors–impulse control, attention deficits, constant movement, auditory processing delay–are beneficial but many in which they are disabling. In a regular classroom, his experiences have varied depending on how understanding his teacher was. One teacher consistently publicly humiliated him, expelling him with every transgression into a busy hallway where all the other students and parent volunteers and teachers could see him and know why he was there. That year, his tics went out of control. His obsessions and compulsions became so bad, so overwhelming, and so troubling that we took him to therapy sessions for months. His difference had crossed over into disability at that point. We didn’t realize the real root of these manifestations until school ended and suddenly, the tics and intrusive thoughts and constant confessions and obsessions essentially ceased. No, Rick Perry, paddling isn’t going to benefit this child in any way.

But he had another teacher the next year who understood his disability so well that her accommodations made him able to learn and diminished the magnitude of his atypicality to a difference. It was in the environment that she created that he finally latched onto a love of reading, able to set aside the shame and anxiety that clouded his mind throughout his previous school year, opening the way to knowledge acquisition. He still had his moments in her class. He always will have his moments. But in that environment, his deficits became neutral while his talents–which are multiple and seated in his astonishing creativity–had a chance to shine. Again, environment made all the difference.

Currently, he’s with a teacher one day a week outside of homeschool whose understanding of ADHD may not be of the latest vintage. She’s not like the teachers I remember from my childhood in the ’70s, the ones who took children like my son, mostly boys, and publicly embarrassed and humiliated them. These boys would be isolated from the group or seated in the front of the class alone, or, like my son was 40 years later, sent into the hallway to crumple in ineffectual humiliation and shame as public as a criminal in stocks in the square. The current teacher has kind intentions, and we’ve met with her to describe a few tactics–stolen from last year’s classroom environment–that may help her and him in the current environment so that his differences don’t disable him or her teaching effectiveness.

The isolating and humiliation tactics have probably never worked on a child with this disorder, which, I’ll add, is far more significant than “boys will be boys” or “ants in the pants.” It’s a real deficit, one that I’ve timed. It often goes hand in hand with tics and OCD, and yep, that’s what our Dubya has. I’ve taught a lot of boys. I’ve taught rowdy boys who, at the end of the day, just want to crash into each other. And I’ve taught the boys with ADHD. They are not the same.

There is a huge difference between “boys being boys” and a boy with ADHD. One is correctable with words, consequences. The other interferes with daily quality of life in many settings, which means that it meets the definition of pathology, of disability. And I’ve taught with teachers who viscerally detested these children because of the energy it took to manage them with understanding and grace rather than with anger and abuse. Teachers who would actually talk openly about how they were “going to get” specific boys with this disability. It was painful to see and understand that. And these experiences came before I even had children. When the world sees you that way because of Who You Are, the world is what makes you disabled.

My son’s attention deficits and inability to control impulses translate into negatives for him in many modern-day environments. It may be that in some previous setting not associated with our indoor-oriented culture, ADHD was a benefit. At least one study has found a potential link between success in a nomadic lifestyle and a gene associated with ADHD. Recent results from another study suggest that playing in “green” surroundings softens the manifestations of ADHD. These findings always lead me to thinking about E.M. Forster and his fundamental belief in shaking off constraints and being Who You Are.

Is there an environment in which my son’s being Who He Is might be positive for him, a benefit instead of a liability? Like many people with ADHD, he is an extraordinarily creative child–we’re talking off-the charts creative–the picture at the top is one he did at age 6. His best environment right now is in a room full of Lego blocks, and during his many breaks on homeschool days, I know he’s happy because I hear the familiar sound of his digging through the blocks, seeking that perfect, tiny piece of just the right color and shape. He builds perfectly symmetrical, complex Lego creations of his own making, with functioning parts and always with a backstory. He’s written and illustrated an epic comic book that runs to more than 100 pages. He’s highly gifted, a creative problem solver, a child with a brain light years ahead of his emotional and behavioral maturity. These talents, these skills, must someday find an environment in which their benefits outweigh what are deficits in today’s society.

Because of that society, because we can’t send him out to live in the woods, As He Is, we have to at least protect his spirit. This protection is important because children with ADHD are at greater risk for depression and suicide. Who wouldn’t be after days spent listening to people correct you constantly? Who wouldn’t be from a childhood of the shame and misery of wanting so desperately to be a “good” person but getting messages left and right that you aren’t? Who wouldn’t be after years of teachers who publicly humiliate them, isolate them from their peers, yell at them, purposely embarrass them?

Paddling a child with ADHD or giving them class “tough love” in the form of physical abuse does absolutely nothing to address the deficits these children have. Each stroke of that paddle, each public humiliation just crushes an already fragile spirit, one that suffers a conflicting duality between wanting so badly to be good while constantly feeling like a total failure at it. Given that research has established genes linked to ADHD and brain imaging studies show clear differences in brain function, it is the height of irresponsibility to suggest that these kids could control themselves if they wanted to or be controlled by physical abuse. That simply isn’t the case.

An environment like the one Rick Perry describes is not the kind of environment in which my son with ADHD will thrive. It’s exactly the kind of environment in which his traits will be deficits, in which, in evolutionary terms, they will be non-adaptive. He will not be selected in such an environment, by himself or others, to thrive and, yes, survive. Instead, as we already know, he will become more anxious, more unable to control not only his impulses but his obsessive thoughts and tics and OCD behaviors. Not only will he continue to be different, but he will become increasingly disabled.

We already know the environment that allows our son with ADHD to flourish. And when I say “flourish,” I don’t refer only to extrinsics like good grades or fewer reports of misbehaviors. I mean his own internal measure of himself as a good person. Words matter. Consequences and how fit they are for a specific child matter, too. They can determine the distinction between an environment in which one is merely different and one in which a person is disabled from functioning.

That teacher I told you about, the one who made accommodations both intuitive and experiential for our boy, who eased his anxiety about himself enough to let him grow? The last day of school, the last time she saw him, she hugged him, and she said, “Ah, Dubya. I love you so much.” Months later, as we were driving in the car, somewhere, as we always seem to be doing, he brought that up. He quoted it to me, described the hug, and said, quietly, “No teacher has ever said that to me before. It made me feel so good.” That’s the kind if environment for which my son with ADHD is a fit, the one in which his ADHD is only a difference, rather than a disability.

Emily Willingham is author of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to College Biology. She blogs at A life less ordinary? and contributes to The Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism.

When it comes to development differences … appears here by permission.

[image via original post]

Introverts vs. Extroverts: Learning

Zygmunt — Mon, 03 Oct 2011 05:05:58 +0000

The acquisition of knowledge has a very different meaning to introverts and extroverts.

Extroverts: Learning is a means to an ends

Introverts: Learning is an end unto itself.

Extroverts learn something so they can get something. They usually have a very precise goal for pursuing information. What is their goal? It is almost always to get some kind of socially recognized title or certificate. Without some kind of tangible end result that manifests in one’s social relationships, there is no reason at all to learn. It is a very typical pattern for an extrovert to plow through countless dry textbooks in order to be awarded some crucial social distinction and then be perfectly happy never again reading another book. After all books are a waste of time once one has ‘punched the ticket.’ Thereafter, from the Loud perspective, it’s the water cooler interactions and the networking that matters. For an extrovert, learning is something that is done to you by others. To teach oneself would be unthinkable, and well, even if it could be done, it would be boring. Most importantly, one would go through endless hours of trouble without even a promised social stamp of approval at the end.

Introverts learn something because it is fun. There may not be any immediate or tangible goal. Or rather, there are multiple goals, some of them tangible and others more in the realm of dream. Learning is the lifeblood and life purpose of the true introvert. They will acquire whatever knowledge is necessary to make it in society, but will continue to both broaden and augment their knowledge throughout their lives. Or often, the recreational accumulation of knowledge and skills gives an introvert everything they need to succeed. It is a very typical pattern for an introvert to get the skills they need and then keep on learning and expanding just as before. They read books to get where they are, they keep on reading until the grave. For the true introvert, all learning starts with the personal volition to learn and love of knowledge. Learning starts with the self and not with society and social institutions. An introvert gets formal instruction because they too need formal stamps of approval and because they genuinely enjoy social interaction that revolves around the exchange of information. However, the instruction of others is just a tool that facilitates the process of self-learning. From the Subtle perspective learning is not done to us. Rather we do it to ourselves out of love of knowledge and get help from others along the way. Social stamps of approval are nice, but they never were the source of motivation. There is no end to learning. Instead, it is a personal lifelong journey.

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

Introverts vs. Extroverts: Learning appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]

Advice For Children, Unsolicited

Jack Crow — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 06:47:41 +0000

Do not trust knowingly decent people. It isn’t their native temperament. They want more than simple kindness, or good faith. They want security, the promise of reward, or to pretend that they can have them, and that eventually means: the cops. A person who cultivates good manners wants something. He wants it from you, and doesn’t have enough respect or regard for you to just come out and ask you for it.* He doesn’t even have the honesty of the thief, or the mugger.

Actively suspect the man or woman who demands decency of others. Suspicion is a healthy reply – perhaps the only one – to the insistence on polite discourse and the manners of civilized company. It’s an extraction: show good breeding, and we won’t treat you like barbarians. The school mistress and the proctor are working for the boss. Always. Don’t take my word on it. Look at the signature on their checks.

Hate – and with every possible flavor of that word – the preachers of good manners and polite discourse. They would have the world be what it is not, in favor of a world that never was. Also, they want to kill you. Or have you be an animated corpse. The world doesn’t behave. Look out the window. The cloud doesn’t obey a law of fluid dynamics. It is dynamic. The law at best describes what is no more. People are more and less complex than the interplay of water vapor and air currents. A person who insists on decency, who preaches politeness, wants the stone of suffering to hit the waters of memory and leave no ripple, no wake and not even the sound of its drop.

Laugh at the boldly indecent. Or with them. It doesn’t matter. Really, it doesn’t. The jester can toss a bauble, or slip poison into the drink. Especially when she’s faking it…

* – Gracian would disagree. Or maybe it’s that he agrees with me. Gracian instructs, like Machiavelli. You can read Machiavelli in order to raise a prince. Or bring him down.

(Thanks to Al Schumann for the window to the muse’s fountain…)

Jack Crow blogs on the current situation at The Crow’s Eye.

When queried about who he was referring to as children, the reply was that Advice For Children, Unsolicited was written for

“My kids, mostly. They read this blog, mostly with an eye to mocking me. A practice (the mockery) much encouraged in our household. My oldest is learning to tell me off with panache. And two days ago, he did a caricature impression of me that brought us all to our knees in laughter.

But, as truthfully, I think it unseemly to offer counsel or advice to grown women and men. So, the better to address it to theoretical children.”

It appears here by permission, posted as a companion to the first two related entries listed below.

[image of jester's bauble via Etsy/AKDlampwork]

related: Good Manners Reconsidered

Extrovert Success and the Introvert

Zygmunt — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 05:00:58 +0000

What kind of life in society is considered a success? In obituaries we see ‘was a great person/parent’ and all kinds of statements, but never do we see ‘This person was successful. In their time alive, they accomplished all the most important things in life.”

How are we to be successful anyway according to the mass society all around us? Upon examination it seems nearly impossible.

Even if one has a happy marriage and great relations with all their family members, maybe they have difficulty getting along with their boss at work because of all the time spent with loved ones instead of work.

Even if one does great at work and is the boss’s favorite, maybe they’re workaholics distant from their spouse and family. They’ve done well at the office because they put in those necessary extra hours.

One area of excellence excludes another in a competitive environment and yet extrovert ‘success’ requires excelling in every one of them.

The result is a society of illusion where everyone strives to appear to have the best of everything in their lives. One’s most publicly visible assets, a house and car are naturally the most important means of deception.

Though extroverts try to wake introverts up to ‘reality,’ they in fact live in a fairy tale land of their own making where every family has its own castle and magic carpet. The price of illusion is a lifetime of servitude to the image they wish to project. Never having known anything else, they are driven by vague notions of ‘success’ that they thrust on everyone around them in turn. They devote themselves entirely and without question, but do they ever really reach ‘success?’

Many introverts out of desperation go looking for ways to become more extroverted, but would ‘success’ in converting necessarily be salvation. Even if one got more resources and recognition by becoming extroverted would one have eliminated the ability to experience happiness from these gains? Would one end up lost in the maze of social comparisons, only happy or sad as others seem worse or better off?

To feel anything other than unfulfillment as an extrovert, one must hurry to have(or the appearance of having) a steady and loving marriage/relationship, a steady, highly paid, emotionally fulfilling job, a house, cars, an active social life, a fulfilling family life, a solid benefits and retirement package, above average, well-behaved children.

These criteria might even sound fairly ordinary but most people never come close to actually achieving them, even if they appear to do so. It’s difficult to maintain marriage, family, friends, children when working a job that actually pays and provides benefits. Even if one gets benefits, not many people can spend long enough in a single job to really benefit from them. Even if one actually has the qualifications and social contacts to get one of these salary jobs, it’s still not enough to really pay for a house and cars, just for the appearance of being able to pay for them. Even in the best of worlds where someone manages to somehow have all the bases covered, it’s an exhausting, stressful, demanding, noisy life to live. Even in this best case scenario, this is the bare minimum one must do in the mass Western society before one has permission to be even moderately happy or successful.

In the current social climate, it takes an introvert to step back and realize that real life is by nature messy and imperfect. That one can’t ‘have it all.’ That succeeding in one thing usually means sacrifice in another.

Once one starts asking questions, the whole idea of extrovert ‘success’ is sadly delusional. Happiness or sadness is all about expectations.

If one has unrealistic expectations, one can never really end up happy. Success ends up being a theoretical ideal to which one tries to mold themselves. Happiness is distant and intangible.

If one has realistic expectations, happiness is fairly easy to come by. Success lies in making one’s peace with an imperfect, chaotic, transitory life. Happiness is immediate and obtainable in our everyday lives.

The extrovert path to happiness and success is long, complicated, and comes with no guarantees.

The introverted path allows the possibility of happiness so long as one has clothes to wear, food to eat, and people to bond with.

It all goes back to a fundamental difference.

Loud things are grandiose, convoluted, and bloated

Subtle things are elegant, simple, and minimalistic

Zygmunt blogs at Kingdom of Introversion (and elsewhere).

Extrovert Success and the Introvert appears here by permission.

[image via Flickr/Creative Commons]