Time to champion the acceptance of autistics

April is “Autism Awareness” month. By now, nearly everyone has heard of autism, whether this is due to the latest estimates of autism prevalence (1 in 68), any number of research efforts suggesting “causes” of autism or the latest controversy surrounding anti-vaccination parents.

Autism is characterized by deficits in social communication and interaction, as well as restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests or activities. There is no singular known “cause,” and probably no singular “autism,” either. Autism is heterogeneous, complex and almost assuredly of multiple etiologies.

A growing movement of autistic self-advocates, activists and parents of autistic children believe it is time to move past awareness campaigns and, rather, champion the active acceptance of autistic people. We understand autism in the framework of neurodiversity, which argues that atypical neurological development, as seen in autism, is a natural, human variation rather than a disease to be excised from humanity. Autism need not be cured, nor should we be preoccupied with winnowing out “causes.” Our energy should be directed toward creating an inclusive culture and developing resources to support autistics and their families.

Consider how we talk about autistic people. Traditionally, using “person-first” language (i.e. “a person with autism”) was considered the “right” way to refer to someone who has received an autism diagnosis. Proponents of person-first language argued that describing someone as “autistic” was stigmatizing and detracted from their personhood. The new generation of autistic self-advocates and activists have, by and large, rejected person-first language, and instead embrace identity-first language. Jim Sinclair, an autistic activist, explains in his essay “Don’t Mourn for Us”: “Autism is a way of being. It is pervasive; it colors every experience, every sensation, perception, thought, emotion, and encounter, every aspect of existence. It is not possible to separate the autism from the person — and if it were possible, the person you’d have left would not be the same person you started with.”

Also consider the “autism as tragedy” narrative, which describes autistic children as “missing” and emphasizes the toll that these “burdens” take on families. Autism (and by extension autistic people) is a worst-case scenario, a bogeyman. Is it any surprise that one mother, interviewed for a New York Times piece said, when justifying her decision to not vaccinate her child: “Do you want to wake up one morning and the light is gone from her eyes with autism or something?”’ As the parent of a brilliantly lit autistic son, I can tell you that this is patently absurd in addition to being outrageously offensive.

Being autistic is not easy or always some kind of “gift.” The intensity of sensory input and social interaction, bullying, pressure to act “normal,” the lack of reliable communication for many non-speaking autistics, and the sometimes comorbid anxiety, seizures, sleep difficulties and gastrointestinal troubles can all be, without doubt, disabling.

But acceptance means that we consider the social model of disability in the midst of medical pathologizing. Disability has a lot to do with man-made barriers — not just broken bodies in need of repair. An example: If you saw my son in a public restroom, you would likely find him hunched over, hands covering his ears, frightened and looking for an escape. He would probably seem very autistic and disabled to even the casual observer. Public restrooms are horrible places for many autistic people: automatic toilets with industrial-strength flushes, the new generation of jet-engine powered hand-dryers that often start if you so much as walk by them — all encased in a cramped echo-chamber. This type of sensory onslaught is not just frightening; it is painful. Now, imagine a restroom with a stack of paper-towels on the sink, and a hand-dryer designed not to be triggered accidentally. When you see my son here, he will not be cowering; he will be washing and drying his hands like everyone else. He will not seem so disabled, because, in fact, he is not so disabled in this bathroom.

If we accept autistic people we believe that, in the words of autistic activist Nick Walker, “(In) nurturing the development of Autistic individuals, the goal of parents, educators, therapists, etc., should be to produce healthy, thriving, Autistic people, rather than Autistic people trained to stifle their true selves in order to pass as ‘normal.’”

I want my child to be proud of who he is, to never feel broken, and to know that he really did end up on the right planet.

If you see someone different, or “weird,” maybe making unusual noises or moving in an unexpected way, remind yourself and whoever is with you, that autistic people belong here, and are part of the endless, incomprehensible and beautiful diversity of creation.

Dina Bishara is an Iowa City resident.