The Creepening – A Tipping Point

My first memory of thinking for myself politically and socially was the Anita Hill, I want to say “trial,” because that what it looked like to me. Really it was an inquiry into the history of Supreme Court nominee and later (like in the next day or two) justice, Clarence Thomas. My grandfather, in a few ways a “deplorable,” had choice things to say about Anita Hill’s credibility, gender, and race. Some of the rare epithets he used were epic and never repeatable. But I couldn’t help but find her very cool and credible under questioning of that nature. Also very smart and patient with a cadre of old white sexist pigs. We used to call them chauvinists.

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Not at all an intimidating setup. 

Although her testimony was considered a “watershed moment” by Time magazine and others, the discussion seemed to stall out and then we were on to the whole witch-burning that was the Monica Lewinsky mess. In fact the 90s and early 00s was the age of “I’m not a feminist, but . . .” statements. Among the few girlfriends I had the party line was “While acceptable to acknowledge that things are difficult for us as women, don’t get all political about it.” In other words, lean on your sisters for support, but don’t join forces and try to change things in an activist manner.

It’s truly remarkable that it’s taken this long for us to circle back around to the pervasive problem of how men treat women and how the powerful exploit anyone they can. An awesome history prof in college announced to us one day that the Internet would change the world in ways couldn’t predict.

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Not with all the monkeys and typewriters in the world. 

A positive consequence is the way in which all people can have access to one another and we now truly have a public forum to tell our similar and awful stories. As amazing Aspie Malcolm Gladwell writes in The Tipping Point:

“If you want to bring a fundamental change in people’s belief and behavior…you need to create a community around them, where those new beliefs can be practiced and expressed and nurtured.”

This particular tipping point is about behavior, obviously. The belief being nurtured at the moment is “Women are credible and this shit happens all the time.” We are expressing our outrage at the sexually exploitative culture that has been protected and ignored. What need to practice is communication and empathy. We need to shuffle off the silence. Due diligence is very important, but numbers don’t lie even if you think women do.

I have this gut feeling that the Cosby exposure was a precursor to the Weinstein thing.  Recent documentaries like The Hunting Ground (campus assault), The Invisible War (assault in the military), Audrie & Daisy (assault in high school) have shined a bright and honest light on the pervasiveness of what has been going on this whole fucking time. And they’re available on Netflix so they’ve reached a wide audience. Enough exposés in print media have covered sexual harassment and assault in various milieus like national parks, the cannabis industry, state legislatures, and media outlets too numerous to link. Yeah, bitches can be crazy but that dysfunction you are seeing is the consequence of a good percentage of the population quietly dealing with trauma and deep disrespect on a daily basis. It wears you down and makes you mistrustful. So does the gas-lighting.

Well-publicized trials of rapists have also flooded the news in the past couple of years. Rapists who don’t get much of a comeuppance. Brock Turner, the (white) Vanderbilt gang rapists, Bill Cosby, Roman Polanski, Donald Trump, Bill Clinton – there’s a long list of people who have yet to face the music for their actions and the subsequent cover up of those actions.

And now there’s a simmering resentment even among women who have been apolitical. The Creepening will become the Reckoning.

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Pictured: ain’t havin’ it anymore

These last few months have been harrowing even if you’ve never personally experienced any kind of harassment or discrimination. How many men I admire will break my heart? Which means it’s been rough for nearly every woman on the planet because it’s a rare women who doesn’t have a few stories. I talk to women who claim they’ve never had anything bad happen to them, but then they’ll tell me about “this one time” when a situation got really weird and it messed them up for a while or they lost an opportunity.

The Women’s March marked the official start of a new wave of feminism. One that, hopefully, will change some policies and attitudes for the better. One that addresses the intersectional difficulties of the multiply oppressed. I’m no idealist who thinks that perfect equity (different from equality) is achievable. Human beings are also naked sex monkeys who are hardwired to assert dominance over one another and establish hierarchies. I don’t see that changing any time soon; in fact, it will be our downfall and the reason we will never populate the stars. ( . . . find new life and new civilizations.)

This time is important, but I can’t help wondering if it will peter out with only minor changes. Here’s hoping it doesn’t.

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How neurotypical women are a huge problem for autistic women

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What a friggin’ weirdo!

For most of my life I have been an observer of normal girls and women in order to figure out a way to not make them uncomfortable and perhaps even make a friend or two. I typically fail at this.

 

Most autistic women, regardless of where they are on the spectrum, have the same problems with neurotypical women: they don’t like us and find us confusing and very annoying. This results in bullying, gossip, and subsequent shunning. You become a pariah and a ghost at the same time.

I’ve always been the first to admit that, whether one can help it or not, it’s not cool to make other people uncomfortable. Annoying is annoying. This is a main reason autistic people isolate themselves. After so many failed attempts at forming connections with peers, we give up and would rather avoid the criticism and pain. But we need a supportive network of relationships and validation just like any other human, even if it’s more difficult for us.

Around the turn of the century, I thought I had finally met a group of women who would accept or at least tolerate me. While some of them liked me, others in the group, let’s call them the “Gin Tuesday Ladies,” were less enthused about me being included in their boozy gatherings. No matter how hard I try to be normal and engage with NT women, I never get it quite right, I inadvertently say things that are inappropriate, I trample their boundaries, and my reactions and interests are not acceptable. I don’t get them any more than they get me. Eventually, I’ll do something that is either misconstrued or a deal-breaker and it hurts horribly every fucking time.

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Dammit – not again.

Most spectrum women have the same problems as I do with normie women and girls.  When I began reading about the consequences of oppression and the gender expectations applied to women, the reasons for this sad pattern began to come into focus.

It’s no big secret that little girls and little boys are socialized differently. The result of this is that men define themselves by what they are good at and the content of their character; women are defined by their relationships and who they are on the surface – both physically and socially. Aspie women are amazingly accurate observers of typical females. This increased ability to “figure out” how to behave and show empathy is NOT because our neurology is significantly different from the guys and we are born with better social aptitude. (This is matter of great contention.)

Being kind and socially adept is the culturally imposed core of female identity. Aspie women systematically study how to converse and help others like our lives depend on it – because as women our survival does depend on our ability to conform to social norms and build relationships.

Isolation puts women at significantly greater risk – physically, emotionally, financially.

So how women and girls are supposed to look and act is very proscribed and enforced – by our families, teachers, peers, the media, and especially other women. For instance, the phrase “She think she cute.” The biggest faux pas a woman can make is admitting out loud that she considers herself smart or attractive. Men can brag on themselves (See Donald Trump, Kanye West) and not suffer consequences, but women have to be consistently self-deprecating. Women get their hackles up when they see another woman bucking the system and deviating from our acceptable roles (See Hillary Clinton.) Self-esteem is OK; ego is verboten.

Autistic women don’t care for gender conformity. We can’t see the sense in it. We don’t recognize arbitrary psycho-social constructions. In fact, I’ve always been able to perceive that the nasty things women do to one another is a result of how we are shit on as women in general. Boys are taught to stand up for themselves, express anger, and confront people who give them problems. Girls are taught to be unfailingly agreeable, say the right things, and never openly show negative or assertive emotions.

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Just read this.

We’re don’t feel free to confront one another about differences and disagreements. We are allowed to judge, sabotage, shun, and be passive-aggressive. Women bully one another in different ways and tend to keep the girls they don’t like in their social groups because – well, I’m still figuring that one out. It’s complicated.

 

I’ve totally fallen out of favor with the Gin Tuesday Ladies, just like in every other group I’ve tried to join. (Hence the title of this blog.) On our closed-group Facebook page I called out a member for being historically harsh to me about my mental illness and differences. She is an extremely neurotypical woman and I’ve always known that she’s not crazy about me. I’ve learned to spot “shade” when it’s thrown in my direction and she’s tossed a metric shit-ton of it.

The final straw for her was when I had a meltdown at a restaurant where we were both employed. While at the time I didn’t understand why I totally lost it and yelled at a table of genuine deplorables at the end of an insanely busy night, I do understand why she and the other Tuesday Ladies were upset about it. I was a liability to the organization they worked for. I was giving the place a bad reputation and potentially scaring away business and their tips. As usual, I apologized profusely to them.

After that incident, I sought an explanation for my emotional and behavioral problems and involuntary meltdowns. I was (incorrectly) diagnosed as having bipolar disorder. One evening we were both at the Gin Tuesday Ladies’ meeting place, The Gherkin Jar, and none of the other Ladies were there. Begrudgingly, and because women in the same groups are obligated to try to get along, we sat and had a conversation. It consisted of me attempting to explain how having “bipolar disorder” made it difficult to control my emotions, be less annoying, and act more normal and her shooting me down. She was kind enough to hear me out, but she was pretty condemning of mentally ill people in general. She didn’t understand why I couldn’t just get over it and handle my shit like an adult. She said all the typical things that reflect the stigma that those with neurodevelopmental conditions and mental illnesses face.

That conversation cemented for me the pervasive awfulness of that stigma.

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Now she works with the mentally ill, and, to her credit I suppose, raises money for NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness. (Please donate if you can.) But she hurt me deeply and things were never the same after that. The Ladies pulled away from me and I from them. I became more aware of how many of them thought of me as a freak to be tolerated because our de facto leader, Denise, saw something special in me. But I noticed none of them reached out or seemed to connect to me like they did with one another. A common enough trend in my life. I was so embarrassed for myself that I never attempted to fix these friendships. I wouldn’t even know how.

You see the irony of her career choice, though. I sincerely hope she has a better opinion of people who struggle with invisible disorders and mental conditions. Unsolicited apologies are nice, but rare. I have to admit I’ve not looked at the Facebook replies yet from the other women in the group. Too chickenshit at the moment. I don’t want to ruin my day because I have this feeling that they will not have my back – they’ll have hers because she’s central to the clique and I’ve drifted away.

Like defends like. Neurotypical women have a tendency to gang up on eccentric women with poor social skills. When I build up the courage to see what they said, I’ll certainly post an update.

 

 

 

 

 

Why Temple Grandin bums me out

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At least I got a good seat

A week or two ago I went to Knoxville for a free opportunity to see the Grand Grandin Vizier of American autism. (Played by Clare Danes, of course. It seems obligatory to mention the award-winning TV movie about her). I had seen her lectures on YouTube and read her many contributions in books about Asperger’s and girls OR Asperger’s and employment. We have the same ideas about the types of jobs that would be nice for us to have if there were more of them.

I was so excited to get out of town for a day and find out what new things she had to tell us about ourselves. The place was packed. The overflow was 500 strong, but because I was there early I got to see her in the flesh.

By the end of the Q&A, I was livid. It took me a minute to figure out why though.

First of all, Ms. Grandin just gave the same stock presentation about “thinking in pictures” and showing her upgrades to a cattle death machine and her functional MRI pictures. Then she berated boys who are into video games as she typically does.

Nothing new.

Secondly, the Q&A was a bit haphazard and perhaps not the best format for someone with her auditory processing difficulties. As far as I can tell she has never directly or satisfactorily answered an audience question. She would mis-hear the querent and then go off on an unrelated tangent she knew more about. Adorably, one little boy, the first one, came up to the microphone and asked her if she likes bugs. He never got an answer even after he asked a second time. Perhaps they need to give her written questions from the audience beforehand.

When non-autistic Americans think of adult autism they think of Temple Grandin and that’s a problem.

But that was merely annoying and not the thing that set me off. I watched person after person go to the microphone in front of her to ask their boring questions that she never answered. Several of the querents were little boys conspicuously dressed like Young Sheldons who had good questions, only one of which I can now recall.

The very last little Sheldon came up and asked (I’m paraphrasing), “How did you deal with peer bullying?” in a professorial and exact tone that I instantly recognized. She said something like, “I was OK in elementary school, but was sent away for high school after lashing out at other students in public school to a school for troubled smart kids.”

Interesting, but not helpful.

This little Sheldon thought so as well. He said something else with a lot of vocabulary words about being into math or something in his tiny, incongruous adult voice. The audience once again laughed, good natured-ly, at way he spoke. He looked around frantically at the laughing people, and it was then my temper reared up and I got this terrifying deja vu.

While the adults in the room thought he was a treasure of a little Aspie child and very entertaining, he didn’t know why everyone in that big room was laughing at him.

I recognized his voice as my own as a child, and the reaction of the adults as one that puzzled and confused me at that age too. I gathered from his question that he was beginning to have the increased difficulties with the other kids that I experienced around age eight. I got really into 19th century adventure literature like Melville, Poe, London, and Hawthorne in the 4th grade. When I spoke I used the same archaic vocabulary and prosody as a syphilitic Nantucket whaler. Adults thought it was adorkable and precocious, but my classmates DID NOT LIKE IT AT ALL.

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Not a good look for a little girl

I wasn’t into trains, or math, or, OK I was into dinosaurs big-time, but I was very verbal and into reading is what I’m trying to say. There seems to be this expectation that Aspie boys should go into manly STEM subjects and girls, well, should shut the fuck up if we exist at all. Not one spectrum woman or girl got to ask a question, which I thought was odd considering here we had a rare opportunity to ask an autistic woman to answer questions about her life experience. Ms. Grandin has never spoken much about how being female has affected her socially or occupationally or personally.

Grandin’s experience is not typical for a person with Asperger’s or autism both in the amount of assistance she received back then and how successful she was at her job.

(TONS of autistic females were there I must point out. The organizers preferred to trot out Young Sheldons and professionals whose questions were beyond her. I think she might not be as smart as we give her credit for. Forgive my blasphemy.)

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I cried the whole drive home. It seems like the most urgent issues facing autistic people, especially females, are not being addressed in favor of turning an androgynous autistic woman, who is nothing like the vast majority of Aspies, into a national mascot for our community. When non-autistic Americans think of adult autism they think of Temple Grandin and that’s a problem.

Temple Grandin does not have Asperger’s Syndrome. She is on a different part of the spectrum and had speech and intellectual delays which put her out of the running for Aspie. These delays also led to her being identified and helped rather early. Apparently there were still schools for poor farm kids to go to who were smart and unruly. Not so now.

Not all of us “think in pictures.” Some of us think in words and patterns.

Grandin’s experience is not typical for a person with Asperger’s or autism both in the amount of assistance she received back then and how successful she was at her job. Her symptoms were more severe and led to her being identified when someone with no speech delay or learning disabilities would be tragically missed. I’m glad she got help and was able to make it so cattle are calmer when being led into mechanized death, but her story gives the impression that autistic people are generally being identified in time and getting proper interventions, AND WE ARE NOT.

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Yes

Nearly everyone with Asperger’s from her generation, and a great deal of other autistics besides, were never identified or accommodated so that they could be successful. There are entire lost generations of failed and misdiagnosed autistics who still desperately need help.

There’s also the fact that if you are an autistic person with great verbal talent, you are kind of screwed. As I have explained, I’m not particularly high-functioning in my day-to-day, but I am articulate, intellectual, and able-bodied. I need some temporary disability benefits, but will never receive any help because of how I present as being more capable than I am.

In fact, I convinced myself for years that I couldn’t be autistic because I could understand humor and sarcasm and metaphor.  Turns out you can have a brilliant sense of humor and not be literal all the time and also have great difficulty with autistic symptoms. Reading (particularly hyperlexia) goes a long way to overcoming these deficits and many female and male Aspies are missed because we are so verbally talented. Reading helps us figure out subtext in some situations where it would be harder for us and allows us to learn better cognitive empathy and conversational skills than some others on the spectrum who have different talents.

Not all of us “think in pictures.” Some of us think in word patterns. Educators and clinicians would do us all a favor to learn this.

 

Not Every Leonard Gets a Penny

The difficulties of befriending autistic men.

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Since discovering that I have been on the spectrum without knowing it my entire life, I have redigested my past like fetid, fermented cow’s cud. The most disturbing part of this process was realizing that so many of the people who were naturally drawn to me and vice versa were also unidentified neurodiverse individuals. Birds of a feather and all.

I know now that the majority of the men I have been involved with for any length of time are likely Aspies. All those relationships were a confusing disaster. When not one but both people in a relationship have communication disorders, intimacy issues, mental illnesses, and are unaware of it, it’s not going to work out and you won’t know why.

I’ve dated a particle physicist (long before Sheldon was created), a renowned author of books on philosophy, a brilliant glass artisan, and a professional classical guitarist. Very talented dudes. But they were all super-annoying after a short while, as am I when trying to navigate dating in the darkness of self-ignorance. These romances were quick to fizzle.

However, the consequences of spending time with and befriending men on the spectrum who you are not romantically or sexually interested in are dire as well.

Why? Several reasons:

  1. Crushes and the subsequent rejection feel far more powerful to us than they do to neurotypicals. All emotions feel much more powerful, and unrequited interest is one of the most hurtful and embarrassing experiences for anyone. Spectrum people have been rejected over and over in their lives and have very fragile self-images. A broken heart can derail us for a long time and lead to terrifying meltdowns and suicidal ideation. There’s a lot of talk about the obsessive, proscribed interests of Aspies, but crushes are also in that category. We can be utterly consumed by an interest in a subject, object(s), or person.
  2. Kindness and social chit-chat are often misinterpreted as romantic interest. I have only three modes for talking to people no matter who they are: Golden Retriever, visiting lecturer, and cold fish. Like most Aspies I have difficulty with both interpreting and expressing finely tuned emotions. When I am very attracted (mentally and physically) to someone, my brain, without any input from me, will choose to interpret his words and expressions as him returning that interest. Then my imagination goes to work and I can’t focus, even though I really want to, on anything else until I know for certain how he feels about me. I build a future with this person in my mind and fall in love with my anticipation. This has led to some mutually humiliating incidents for which I am not proud. I know how devastating this feels and I don’t want to inflict this on anyone else.

Here you are being ignored and rejected for so long and then you meet a pretty girl who is more like yourself than anyone you’ve ever met. It’s easy to feel like a relationship with her is owed to you after all the pain you’ve had to endure.

3. Aspies have difficulty reading subtle, polite expressions of disinterest from the people we get crushes on. When the shoe is on the other foot and I am the one who is not interested in someone on the spectrum, I have no idea how to discourage him without humiliating him and dealing with the consequences of that. I had a wonderful friend for a long time who is on the spectrum (and unaware of it). I tried every subtle conversational way I could without being “mean” or very explicit to tell him that I was not interested and never would be. He just couldn’t figure it out. Every time I tried to set a boundary (“No, you can’t stay over,” “Stop using my yeast infection cream on your psoriasis.”), he had a petulant meltdown. We are estranged now. If there is any way to let an Aspie down without hurting and humiliating him with the degree of clarity that is necessary for him to get the message, I am all ears.

4. Entertainment media has given Asper-dudes (and men in general) unrealistic expectations. If you’ve looked into feminism at all, you’ve heard that media doesn’t portray women’s wants, wishes, or preferences all that realistically. The hero always gets the girl as a reward for his effort and hardship regardless of what her opinion might be, no matter what they look like, how much money they make, or how troublesome they are. And everyone is the hero of their own story. In most sitcoms, video games, movies, and books the male underdog miraculously gets the femme fatale.

This is not real life. Part of it is a double standard in how we expect to choose one another. It’s not considered out of the question for an unattractive, awkward man to bag a very attractive woman on TV shows or in movies, but not the other way around. Men expect that they will attract a woman that they find visually appealing even if she’s a ten and he’s a four (even with money). They feel they are entitled to a princess whether they’re a prince or not.

Women are not the gatekeepers of sexual justice. Even if we have a lot in common with a guy and even if we are also on the spectrum, that does not obligate us to become romantically involved if we don’t want to be. However, I understand how guys feel. Here you are being ignored and rejected for so long and then you meet a pretty girl who is more like yourself than anyone you’ve ever met. It’s easy to feel like a relationship with her is owed to you after all the pain you’ve had to endure. It’s finally your turn for love and sexual intimacy.

I’ve known men so downtrodden for being nerdy and so determined to convince me that they deserve me, that I’ve handed out some sad pity-fucks in my time. I was pressured to be with men I wasn’t attracted to even after I made my wishes known. Since they were so like-minded I was afraid if I didn’t, I would lose my friend forever and friends are hard for me to find and keep. Especially ones who understand me.

I’ve already taken a few for the team and never plan to do so again.

5. Aspie women don’t necessarily have the ability or desire to look after another autistic person. When I was dating my last boyfriend, who was by far the one most on the spectrum of any other, my sister said something about us that stuck with me:

Two wrongs don’t make a right.

Harsh, sis. I’m not suggesting that relationships between two autistic people are doomed or impossible. A great deal of study needs to be done on how some if us successfully navigate relationships and differentiate from neurotypical couples and families. Many of us would rather be with someone else on the spectrum.

I need someone to pick up my mess and help me. Most spectrum men I have known have the same deficits as I do, so our skill sets are not complementary.

However, I am not high-functioning. I am smart, extremely verbal, and very good at masking my autism for short periods of time. This leads people to assume that I am doing alright and don’t need much day-to-day support and that I can take on the hectic responsibilities of a nearly neurotypical woman. But I’ve experienced a lot of trauma in my life, physically and mentally, and I’ve developed a co-morbid mental illness from the destructive effects of not knowing what I was or how to keep myself healthy and safe.

My place is a wreck. I can never sleep or keep to a regular routine. My executive function is so low that I often get appointments and work schedules and due dates mixed up. And birthdays and names and faces. I forget to shower and eat when I need to, even when I really go out of my way to try. I have very little patience for other people, especially if they are co-habitating with me. I am set in my annoying ways and don’t like other people in my personal space. I still struggle to get though my day and I don’t even have a job. I have been sexually and socially traumatized, and my brain is wired to deeply mistrust men. I have scary meltdowns like any other autistic person.

I’m medium-functioning I guess, but my life would improve immensely with a personal assistant and a cleaning lady once a week. And a career and respect and understanding.

These are the reasons why I can’t take over the executive function, chauffeuring, and house-cleaning duties that the wives of Aspie men are often expected to perform. Even if you are also an Aspie woman, those tasks will more often than not end up being yours. I need someone to pick up my mess and help me. Most spectrum men I’ve known have the same deficits as I do, so our skill sets are not complementary. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to be his new mom. That’s reality.

I don’t want to disappoint and embarrass well-meaning, sweet guys on the spectrum, so I unfortunately have to keep the single ones at a remove, socially and often physically.

I hope the other lonely hearts will understand.

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