Can Genetic Curiosity Kill the Autistic Cat?

NOTE: Eugenics, physical abuse, and depression will be discussed.

Public knowledge of autism is...let's call it a mixed bag. There are people who see autism as a blow to a human development and a burden to those around them that needs "curing". There are people who see autism as a unique gift that gives them a different perspective of the world they can share and shouldn't be "cured". There are people who argue that autism is far more complicated than either of those binaries. I don't want to litigate what perspective is "correct" but needless to say it's a thorny issue. And I personally find the conversation so toxic that I just choose not to talk about it lest I subject myself to people yelling at me at how "wrong" I am. Besides, I've always stated from the outset that this blog is just my own opinion and I don't expect others to be the same but just to respect it.

Then I read about a big initiative that scared me so thoroughly that I need to weigh in.

A collaborative initiative between the University of Cambridge, the Autism Research Center, and University of Los Angeles called Spectrum 10K  launched as the biggest autism research project to examine environmental and biological factors impacting autistic people's well-being. Its stated goals is to look at and address physical and mental health issues autistic people can have to better address their needs and "alleviate unwanted symptoms and co-occurring conditions". It seems like the bulk of the research will be reliant on participants filling out online questionnaires and providing health records and DNA samples via salvia swabs. About 10,000 autistic people were set to participate in this project. The proponents of Spectrum 10K claim that this study will help improve the lives of autistic people and thus further the cause of neurodiversity (a celebration of brain diversity I talked about way long ago).

Why do I feel like this isn't so much championing for bettering the lives of autistic people but a sneaky way to "cure" people like me?

Gus Walz and Neurodivergent Emotional Response

As a political junkie, I watched the Democratic National Convention this week. A lot has happened in the past few months from a disastrous first presidential debate, an attempted assassination attempt on Republican nominee Donald Trump, a chaotic Republican National Convention, and President Biden dropping out of the race in favor of Vice President Kamala Harris. I watched as Democrats gave their speeches in support of Harris and on Wednesday night, her pick for Vice President Tim Walz spoke. In the middle of his speech, Walz gave a shout out to his family after speaking about his and his wife's struggles to start one and cameras cut to his supportive family. A close up of his son, Gus, particularly stood out with tears in his eyes he appeared to say, "That's my dad."

What was clearly a moment of joy and support from Walz's son gained traction as right wing social media (including conservative media pundit Ann Coulter) mocked him for his especially emotional display. They made fun of his tears as signaling male weakness and fodder for online meme culture. This ridicule of Gus felt especially cruel as people pointed out that Gus has a non-verbal learning disorder and the contempt could very well be ableist.

There's so much in this moment to unpack. I think there's a larger conversation to be had about conservatives embracing a particular brand of toxic masculinity that devalues expressions of love, support, and collaboration. Tim Walz himself is a popular subject for writers in talking about how he's an antithesis towards the right's idea of manhood. But for me, Gus' unabashed (and frankly warranted) emotional response hits home for me as notable because it felt bigger than what people are used to. As a neurodivergent person myself, I know what it feels like to have big emotions. And that's what I want to talk about.

Elsa, "Into the Unknown" Power of Not Being Normal

When Disney released Frozen in 2013, it was more than just a family-friendly box office hit. It created a firestorm about the stories we tell and the characters we value. And Elsa, the central character, became an instant icon of the Disney canon. While the Snow Queen of the original Hans Christen Anderson tale was a villain, Elsa in Frozen makes a powerful journey from shutting people out because she feared how she affected them to opening up to those she loves and accepting her inner nature. Even in the conception of the film, “Let It Go” transformed from a villain song to an empowerment anthem worthy of celebration. (Not to mention the go-to song for so many toddlers it created feelings of overkill on James Cameron’s Titanic-levels.) And in the end, the true villains were the fear and demonization of the different.

A lot has been said about Elsa as a character. A rare Disney female character without a love interest. A rare Disney female character who is defined by her relationship with family, particularly the women. An even rarer Disney female queen who isn’t some kind of evil. Many people have taken Elsa to heart as a personal heroine and power media figure. Google “Elsa Frozen thinkpieces” and there will be a bazillion articles about her being a stand in for the LGBTQ experience. I understand and respect that take, although the original didn’t affect me in some profound way upon its release.

The 2019 sequel though? That hit me to the core of my very being.

The last time a film did that to me was the 2016 Pixar movie Finding Dory. Like Finding Dory, I spent the entirety of Frozen 2 with tears streaking my face. Like Finding Dory, it spoke to my experience as an autistic person. And like Finding Dory, I felt the immediate urge to write about the millions of feels I had about what this movie meant to me.

So like Elsa, let us journey “Into the Unknown” together. (And of course, spoilers here on out.)

An Ode to Mentors - How A Compassionate LCSW Changed My Life

A lot has been said about the importance of mentors. Mentors are meant to guide you through life in personal, professional, and other means by setting an example and giving advice and a leg up on where you need to go. There are plenty of mentors who can get you through the basics, but the best mentors take you for who you are and help nurture and enhance you to become a better person to make an impact on the world.

I can't think of a better example of this than my own mentor through the social work and disability world than my first social work supervisor and boss, Linda. Linda's guidance and advocacy has not only given me professional consul and direction, she proved to be an amazing example of what a disability ally can be.

I'm a Complex Human Being, Dammit! or Identity- vs Person-First Language

Of all the things making up human beings, I'd say a strong identity is the most important. Psychologist Erik Erikson agrees, making that the crucial stage in his theory of psychosocial development. Erikson argues that while adolescents are growing and changing into physical adults, they have to grapple with what social roles they'll take and how they'll define themselves in the world. This leads to someone either developing a strong sense of self or causing major uncertainty of where they fit in, known as "role confusion", that could lead to an "identity crisis" of who they are. All of this is dependent on if that person is encouraged or discouraged by their family, peers, and society at large allowing them to explore different possible identities and accepting their conclusion.

I bring this up because there's a lot of controversy over what people call those on the autism spectrum. Autism is a neurological condition that affects social development, making Erikson's psychosocial development model a lot more complicated over how to recognize autism being a part of one's identity. It could be said autism as a concept is in the adolescent years of "identity vs role confusion", as people argue over whether it should be considered an social identity (aka "identity-first") or something separate from one's overall characteristics (aka "person-first").

Again, I would like to reiterate that my feelings on my use of language concerning autism are my own and I won't dictate what others should do. I'm only using these posts on autism language to express why I feel that way I do and why I do what I do. I'm not gonna tell anyone how they should talk about autism because it's not my place to do so and I don't want people angry with me over it. This is just how I personally feel.

With that in mind, let me explain why I prefer "autistic people" over "people with autism".

Practicing Self-Care in Stressful Times

It is a universally acknowledged truth that stress is an inescapable part of life. Stress can come from anywhere at any time, and it's always a pain in the ass. I don't know anyone who enjoys being stressed out, and anyone who says otherwise is flat-out lying. But what matters when it comes to stress is how you deal with it. You can either let it consume you or you can manage it in whatever way you find best de-escalates it. (You can also shrug off anything that might give you stress but that will tend to come back to haunt you.)

I've been trying to find out how to do that second part for all of my life. But I know one thing is always reliable - caring for myself is critical to ease stress and prevent it from consuming me. And nowadays, I feel the need to engage in self-care more than ever before to maintain my well-being.

Watching Myself On Screen, or The Current State of Autism in the Media

When I was young and was unaware of my autism diagnosis, I only knew about autism through a Baby-sitters Club book. The book, entitled Kristy and the Secret of Susan, was about one of the titular "baby-sitters" taking on a non-verbal autistic charge and I honestly don't remember much about it, except that the main character Kristy decides to leave her autistic charge Susan alone after unsuccessfully trying to force her to integrate with other kids. I didn't much care much for the book at the time despite being a big Baby-sitters Club fan, and I'm sure if I read it now I'd be appalled at how the characters were written and treated. Either way, I didn't have a reference point as to what autism was because I didn't really have that much exposure to it in media. I had characters that I liked and related to, but none that felt especially representative of me as an autistic girl.

I think it's safe to say that the days of autism being a non-entity in pop culture are coming to an end. Since diagnoses have risen in the last twenty years, movies and television have slowly come to recognize and insert autistic people as characters. Various television shows like Girl Meets World, Sesame Street, Parenthood, and Community have featured characters explicitly stated or implied to be on the autism spectrum. The 2016 crime thriller "The Accountant", starring Ben Affleck as an autistic accountant was a unexpected box office hit and is green-lighted for a sequel. And this August, Netflix will premiere a dramedy about an autistic teenager looking for love called "Atypical":

It looks as though we're getting to a place where there is real case for meaningful autism representation. So why do I feel that we could do better in portraying autism as a whole?