Dear Kevin Rudd,
I have something I wish to say to you. Not just on behalf of myself, but on the behalf of many people who live on the scrap of land that you have been re-appointed to “lead”. Somewhere around 150,000 of them if we use credible rather than scaremonger estimates.
As I stated on your Fudgebook page, where the hell do you get off taking credit for the signing into law and eventual implementation of what is now being called Disability Care? In case you had your eyes closed during the last few years, let me bring you up to speed on something. You have done nothing for it. All of the fighting for and implementation of what was then called the National Disability Insurance Scheme that I bore witness to was done on Julia’s watch, not yours. To parade around in front of banners for it as if it was all your idea is a classic example of what made me happy to see the back of you. And equally unhappy to see your front once more.
Having got that out of the way, you will never live down the fact that you were the one who thought it was a good idea to bring into being a policy entitled Helping Children With Autism. In just four words, this piece manages to offend twice over. I will explain the reasons below:
- Separationist language is extremely offensive.
One would have to be utterly blind today to go to places on the Internet where autistic adults congregate and fail to notice how strongly they feel about everything concerning being autistic. But there is one that gets a particular amount of wrath going in all directions. But just speaking personally, I find “[whatever] … with autism” the height of rude. It is no different from calling my paternal grandfather a person with Scottishness or one of my neighbours a woman with Irishness. It is, in fact, worse, because nobody from Scotland or Ireland is fighting a battle for their very existence or right to exist solely on the basis of being Scottish or Irish.
I have been told that you inherited this bill title from your most immediate predecessor, a gerbil who thought the working class he had spent three terms gutting had never had it better. This only further proves the disgust factor involved in the bill’s title. You were and apparently now are the final decision maker in matters concerning the entire population of a nation. Surely it would not have been that hard for you to find a group of the most badly disenfranchised autistic individuals and ask them how they feel about being separated from the aspect of their identity that makes them different from prior abusers? Which brings me to…
- If we use credible (as opposed to scaremonger) estimates of the autistic population’s size, there are 150,000 autistic individuals living in Australia. News flash! Not all of them are children.
Contrary to what a moronic example of Hollywood celebrity culture gone wrong thinks, autistic individuals do not suddenly become not autistic anymore, nor do they vanish into thin air, when they reach adulthood. Quite the opposite, in fact. They have all supports and aid yanked out from under them and are just thrown out into a normie world where nature is left to take its course. A reasonable strategy if the autistic now-adult in question is from an upper-middle or upper class family and can buy all the assistance that is needed.
But what of my kind? You know, the ones from a middle class or lower-middle class family who have been given much of a good case of PTSD by the education system that you said passed muster, and the doctors said education system called on to bully them into the ever-shifting goalposts of compliance? What about them, Rudd?
Oh wait, that is right. Just like when your three predecessors during my lifetime were running the show, we do not count. Got it. And yet you want to take credit for a legal/policy initiative advertised with the catchphrase “Every Australian counts”?
(This, by the way, is why I find it offensive to be called Australian. The compulsion to use one’s brain in a creative or explorative fashion and the mentality that is encouraged as part and parcel of being what you call Australian, they happen to be mutually exclusive states. Odin gave me a brain for a reason. And wasting my brain on behaving like an Australian was not it.)
In fact, this goes back to something that came up whilst I was in a conversation with a service provider. They told me, frankly, that services for autistic adults were non-existent or minimal at best. The saying that pets are cuter when they are little came into the conversation. That is how your policies make me feel, Rudd. Like I am the pet that is not cute anymore. Except that I have the mind of a Dobermann Pinischer that has been injected with PCP every day of his life post-puberty.
When you add all of this up, well, it is like this, mister Rudd. I went into an electoral commission office and told them I wanted to be taken off the electoral roll because, partly because I am autistic, I do not feel my vote counts for anything in your society. Please do not feign surprise, it will only make me even angrier. Yes, that is Humanly possible.
But the sight of you and your Helping Children With Autism ignorance in office actually motivates me to enrol and vote. Not for you, but rather for the dick wiggler who sits in opposition to you. You heard that right. I, an uncle of two very lovely little girls whom I am sure you would prefer remain little girls forever (especially if they turn out to be autistic), would rather vote for a twat who thinks women living in an overpopulated world should be deprived of the fullest possible control over their reproductive systems. All because you have demonstrated to me that you would rather be ignorant than informed.
Well, mister Rudd, ignorance is only blissful for the ignorant. The stories I have heard have it that one of my grandfathers participated in a war on behalf of the country that you now lead. I kid you not when I say that if he could see the way that existing in this country makes me feel, he would renounce it and take me back to his country of birth.
Dolores O’Riordan has a song that was featured in the soundtrack for the 1997 film The Devil’s Own, the song being titled God Be With You. Neither the song nor the performer particularly do anything for me, but I think the oft-repeated refrain from this song sums up my attitude not only to you, mister Rudd, but Australia as a society.
God be with you, I tried.