The debate in neurodiversity circles is often how to identify oneself. Do I align myself with disability and disorder? Do I say “I have Aspergers Disorder”– which feels very strange, identifying myself as disordered, when I tend to have a rather blissful superiority complex—Or do I take a kind of giddy pride in being different, exclusive of neurotypical behavior? This seems more natural, but also uncomfortable, to say “I’m an Aspie” when this means different things to different people, and I really do not want to have to defend myself to someone. Yes, I am highly-verbal. Yes, I have a sense of humor. No, it is not your sense of humor. When I came to that non-mandatory meeting and left abruptly, it was because I couldn’t sit still and you guys were driving me nuts with your stupid jokes that weren’t funny and your self-important incredibly generic “graduate student lifestyle” anecdotes that seem to come off a “top ten list”. If I am only going to sit in the corner juggling Hershey’s kisses and being bored, I would rather leave. Tell me to lighten up? How can I when I know my name’s been on the gossip menu and you seem to be making fun of me? I am very sensitive to sounds. I am very sensitive to touch and light. I cannot wear high heels or synthetic materials. I am sensitive to fragrance and chemicals. I have had to drive across town to the grocery store for over a month now due to construction odors in the one down the street that make me want to pass out. “I am an Aspie –” I have a heightened sense of justice and purpose and a lower tolerance for superficiality, generic knowledge-gathering, and logical fallacy, and I will tell you exactly what I feel. I won’t go to your parties because you are all just trying to prove your intellectual credentials. I’d rather be at home IMPROVING mine.
As someone in the high-functioning realm of Asperger’s (who nevertheless has experienced a lot of cruelty and discrimination due to misunderstanding) I am still afraid of taking advantage of the diagnostic label to create a public identity. I’ve never really liked the idea of a public identity anyway– I don’t much see the point. It can so easily be ,or in place just to make noise and draw attention to oneself. Nevertheless, from what I’ve been told, I am one of the most eccentrically memorable–either positively or negatively, depending on how much of an asshole you are 🙂 — people that many have met. So if I’ve already established some sort of “public identity” why not give it a name and take advantage of having a community?
In a way, however, I feel like a word oversimplifies and pathologizes my personality and temperament. I also feel like it makes it seem as if I can’t or don’t want to grow and change — just because “I have Aspergers” or “I am an Aspie”, doesn’t mean I WANT to stare at the wall while you talk to me, or become aggressively argumentative, or cry way too easily at inappropriate times. I know that there are things I could do better, and I am working to change them. I have a really sweet story about eye contact coming up soon, actually.
Also, I don’t want to reduce my complex self and mannerisms to a vague term people associate with an even vaguer term, autism, that people associate with disease. I am generally very proud of who I am, an iconoclastic, socially rather immature, intellectually highly focused and obsessive, queer woman with a mental illness that has allowed me to deeply understand what it means to depend on others and be grateful for their strength. If I didn’t have such experiences of intense struggle and disabling illness, I don’t know if I truly would have learned to love and to love the right people, those who have proven their sincerity by “coming to my rescue” and accepting me, no matter what.
Gayatri Spivak’s concept of strategic essentialism works well here. Identity politics often require us to essentialize ourselves whether ethnically/culturally/religiously or as gendered/sexual/disabled beings, in order to speak for and gain recognition and acceptance for a marginalized population. Nevertheless, essentialism only ever applies to us up until a point. I have a professor who wrote a book about being bipolar, and I hate to admit it, but I think of her in terms of her capacity to identify with me on this level. When I think of Temple Grandin, I think of autism. When people think of me, what will they associate me with? A label, a stereotype? If I give myself a label, will they distrust it and ask me to “prove” my Aspergers? And in that case, will I find myself directing them to traits of mine that appear negative or like shortcomings, rather than strengths? Why would I want to initiate THAT conversation? (How are you messed up? Exactly? Tell us so that we can think even more poorly of you and ask you to just “get over” it.)
Because of the complexity of my mixed-diagnostic experiences and my rather fragile emotional state at this time, it is possible, at this point anyway, that it may be best to simply speak for the neurodiverse community without being unnecessarily specific. And make a point to talk about Monk whenever possible.
aspieswimmer 