To be or to have, that is the question…

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.

Why Adrian Monk has Asperger’s

I’ve always loved the now-classic show Monk, in which the incomparable, soulful Tony Shalhoub plays a man severely disabled by OCD  as well as what I and my therapist believe is clearly high-functioning autism/Asperger’s. It’s surprising that so few people make note of this aspect of his personality, but some traits that are dead giveaways are his difficulty getting jokes, or taking teasing in light heart (everything has a very literal meaning for him and for the autism spectrum mind), and particularly his sensitivities to sound, light, touch. He notably does not like to be touched or hugged; he is overwhelmed by the noises of New York City when he goes there in “Mr. Monk Takes Manhattan”; he moves when his neighbor’s piano playing drives him crazy; and on many other occasions loses sleep and concentration because of a noise that bothers no one else. It is this acute sensitivity that enables him to solve crimes so well, but it makes him very difficult to live with, or even in the same building, or neighborhood with.

Mr. Monk is very gullible, due to how literally he takes things that he is told. He is easily tricked or manipulated, especially by people pretending to be his friend (See “Mr. Monk Makes a Friend”). Because he has very little experience with true friendship, he has an overwhelming wish for it, as well as very naive expectations regarding the sincerity and motivations of other people. According to Temple Grandin, this is very common among the autism spectrum population, due to both radically unfiltered speech and naively trusting natures. Sometimes we want so badly to share our thoughts and experiences with others that we cannot comprehend why this openness is perceived as a weakness, or why others may be more reserved. A lack of awareness of social coding when it comes to “polite” conversation is commonplace, as well as an inability to switch codes between the personal and the public. The tendency to disclose secrets due to a lack of filter will often lead to gossip and misunderstanding; and the inability to tell when others are lying will in some extreme cases, in dating type situations, even lead to rape or molestation because intentions were veiled until the last minute. In Monk’s situation, he was almost killed by Andy Richter’s character Hal, who preyed on his weakness in order to get what he wanted, seeing Monk as little more than a child-savant, an idiot because of his social awkwardness and need for acceptance.

So, Monk is gullible. He takes ideas very literally AND he craves yet never seems to find understanding, friendship, and structure in his life. It isn’t surprising to anyone then, in “Mr. Monk Joins A Cult”, that when Monk goes undercover in a cult to solve a murder, he is soon enchanted by the seductive ecstasies of ritual and song, the promise of a loving and permanent family/community bond, and a simple lifestyle ordered by regular routines and rules. The cult compound or ranch is the perfect place to zone out, where routines are regular, sounds are quietly pleasant, and people are kind. Furthermore, the leader/ “Father” promises to solve all of Monk’s psychological problems.

Needless to say, this episode holds a humorous mirror up to my own recent experiences with religion.

The really great thing about this show is its lack of hipness and irony,  or accordance with any kind of contemporary TV trends. It’s not gritty, ironic, realistic, sexy… It is simply very humane, sincere, and wholesome. I think it is a show about love, at a basic level. This show has soul. It touches people without trying too hard. It is innocent of pretension. In this way, the TV show itself sort of has Asperger’s, I think! It is very genuine and straightforward, without the self-consciousness of many trendier shows. The dead people practically look like they’ve been squirted with catsup!

I love also its generically confusing nature: it is equally mystery, drama, and comedy, and manages to do all three perfectly. The funniest moments exist side by side with the deepest sadness, or the richest expressions of friendship. I love how clear it is who are the good and the bad guys; it seems to be the last hold-out for this type of classic fantasy-storytelling where the villains are absolutely despicable and the detectives are heroic, albeit it with flaws. It also does the very difficult job of portraying mental illness/cognitive difference/disability without retreating into pure pathos or crassly deliberate caricature.

More on Monk as my thoughts evolve…