Often, when an autistic adult calls curebies or separationists out on their bullshit, they will often make a comparison of how they perceive you to someone closer to them. They try to make their audience believe that their perception of you as doing “better” than their pariah example is a reason that your view should be discounted.
The problem is, as with a lot of assumptions, that their assumption tends to be very, very wrong. I am not going to name names here, or go on about their lack of courtesy in terms of not even bothering to properly check their English when putting their argument forward. I am going to tell you an awkward little reality of life on the autistic spectrum. Just because I am able to communicate my distress to you effectively does not necessarily mean that I am doing well. Do you understand (I will not use the word grok here because you are incapable of that) that? If so, good, because it will become important later.
As I have written elsewhere, I am not even forty years old yet, and one of my worst nightmares has come true. Worst nightmare as in I have had actual nightmares with this theme, and felt them throughout each subsequent day. Namely, after noticing a solid lump in the side of my face that has already undergone extensive surgery to rid it of a skin cancer, multiple tests have indicated that it is indeed another skin cancer. And in spite of the fact that I noticed it relatively early this time, in a matter of months rather than years, to my sense of touch it seems rather large. Large enough that removing it will entail a lot of poking around under the surface of that cheek by surgical professionals. An operation that will entail several hours under general anaesthesia.
Even discounting that surgical problem, which has the potential to leave me with permanent facial sag I might add, I am not what you would call well-integrated with whatever society it is I happen to inhabit. In spite of multiple attempts to secure employment for myself, solicit help in doing so from multiple specialised services that appear to have severe disincentive to fulfil such requests, and work with community inclusion groups, I have been employed for less than twenty percent of my adult life. I am not a mathematical person, especially with units of measure that do not divide evenly by five or ten, so I will just guesstimate it at less than twenty percent.
Nor has my outcome with education exactly been anything to write home about. Once, one of the abusive teachers I was left at the mercy of in spite of repeated pleas and act-outs that I did not want to be in that environment anymore, told me in a dramatic voice that I could be “dux” of the school that year if I did this or that different. Had I known then what I know now, my response would have been the same one I am writing now. That I do not fukking care. What would sucking up to you sufficiently to have this non-substantive title conferred upon me have gained me? As opposed to, say, being removed from an abusive environment and placed somewhere where I can actually be treated as a person instead of a thing to bash into whatever shape it is you desire?
Every time I so much as look at a school, or on some bad days hear a school being mentioned, it sets off reactions that no Human being in their right mind would want to have. I will not kid anyone about the severity of the reaction. I am sure that the sign saying “albeit macht frei” (roughly, “work makes you free”) outside of Auschwitz I, when I ramp up my own reaction by a factor of hundreds, produces the same reaction among survivors of the Auschwitz concentration camp. This is a reaction I have been feeling since I was in my teens. Imagine… what do you have to do to a child to make them react this way to not just the buildings, but what they represent and stand for? When they are at an age where all they should care about is how fast they can drive their car, what job they can find to pay for it with, and how to get into the pants of whichever female they happen to find sufficiently pleasant to be in the company of.
Now, I am sure that people are wondering what the point of all that was. Here it comes: this is a very disabling, very unhappy way to live. And it is not a chosen one. Contrary to what those bullshit self-help books that seemed to spew in precipitous amounts from the mouths of persons who were surrounding me during my later teens will tell you, nobody chooses to live in fear, pain, and heartbreak. It was not until I was about twenty-one or so that I began to realise that this was not a normal state of affairs. That I was being done wrong, and that I should get as far away from this as I could. And for so many years, more than I should have to recall, there was almost nothing else on my mind. As anyone who knows me can tell you, the desire to never have to speak to another person claiming to be related to me, not even on my deathbed, has only grown.
Clearly, if you want your child to defeat me in a competition of disability or tear-brimming desire to have a better or merely different life, then you are going to have to pick up your imaginary game just a tad, oral word-shovers.
Another major problem with the people who want to neutralise the rights of autistic adults by turning what they perceive as disabling into a competition is this. How would they, the oral word-shovers, feel about themselves if their children came back to them as young adults (or even late adolescents) and told them that everything they have been putting into the childrens’ mouths has no correlation with what the children want the audience to hear? Seriously, would you be able to live with yourselves, oral word-shovers? I know I would not.
And of course, they love to question how we can know that in ten to twenty to thirty years, the little perpetual babies (listen to me retching) they want to hold up as pariahs and excuses to wipe us all out will come back to them with expressions of disgust for them. We know this, suppressionists, because it has already happened. It is happening right now, in fact. If you continue to pretend your will and your child’s will are indivisible, and work to disable rather than empower them, well you can consider individuals like my good self a good preview of what your child will be like when they reach this age. Does that idea frighten you, normie negationist? Because let me tell you something, I am like Ben Bagdikian‘s view of media deregulation in this sense. If, in thirty years time (assuming I live that long), I wake up one day and see incontrovertible proof that I was right when I made this prediction, that your current behaviour towards your children will make them more like me than the angels you want in their place, I will not be happy. That is the reason I am not happy now, and will not simply sit here and say “oh… okay” when you attempt to rebut my statements about how your portrayal of the autistic in general is not acceptable in my eyes with “my child…”. This might sound awful to you, but when you say “your child”, what we know you really mean is “me”, and nobody who is autistic and old enough to have to struggle with the kind of indescribable pain I have exhausted so many words of this journal about gives two fukks what you think.
Nor is disability a competition amongst the people who are disabled in the real sense of the word, as opposed to being disabled by a mere matter of reversion. Oh wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Negationist word-shovers, I need to explain something to you. You see, in my words about disability, and I am sure people who actually work with (as opposed to against) autistic individuals of all ages will agree with me about this, there are two kinds of disability. Kind of like there are two kinds of compression, but that is a matter for another writing. You see, there is the kind of disability that, irrespective of how prevalent in society it is, is a disability. Many of these disabilities are medical conditions that would get a person living with them labelled “4-F” by the categorising services in the armed forces. Diabetes is just one of many, many examples of that. Flat feet, asthma, certain kinds of colour blindness, and Odin only knows what else, are also on that list as far as I know.
But I am sure both curebie, or word-shoving asshole, and those who are with me are waiting for the punchline. Here it is. There is no autistic spectrum disorder listed in the eligibility guidelines for military conscription or recruitment, at least so far as I am aware (if you work in a relevant branch of the military and have something to add to this, I am all ears). Being autistic will not make you pass out repeatedly and require medical aid whilst trying to run however many miles military trainers require of recruits. Being autistic will not impair your aim when firing a rifle you have learned to use comfortably. In fact, in cases like myself as a younger man, it may even enhance it. Being autistic may impair your decision-making process in the sense of picking a target, but when you are told that that target must go down, it will also make certain that target (or you, depending on who gets there first) will go down. Autistic individuals are often useful not in spite of what the normie asshole lobby terms their disability, but rather because of it. Science has found that to be the case, as has applied engineering. Show me a field or trade that does not benefit from focus upon a singular detail to the point of learning all that is learnable about it, and I will show you a field or trade that is doomed to perpetual mediocrity.
So, in conclusion, I have the following to tell those who want to negate my will to speak for myself or others on the spectrum with a disability level competition. Your attitude sucks. Your attitude towards the rest of the world sucks, and your attitude towards your child sucks. In a world that was truly autistic-friendly, your being allowed to have children would elicit the statement from the public that the society you are a part of has some explaining to do.