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Mar 15 2023
Autistic culture and the conservation of neurodiversity

I’ve worn many professional hats over the years. Perhaps it may be surprising to some when they learn that I didn’t spring forth from the womb clad in rainbow flags and infinity symbols. My undergraduate degree was actually completely unrelated to autism (in the literal sense); I studied forensic and archaeological science.

As part of my training in both forensic and archaeological practices, I had to learn how to conduct environmental impact assessments. Right now, you’re probably wondering, “Why the hell is David telling us this?” You will be unsurprised to learn that I’m going to relate this to Autistic culture.

You can’t consider an environment and its health without first considering the biodiversity that exists within that environment. Neurodiversity can, from an ecological perspective, be considered a form of biodiversity.

The world can be considered an environment consisting of a multitude of cultures and sub-cultures. In this context, we can consider a sub-culture to be a group within an existing culture that shares similarities with that larger overall culture but contains variations, or perhaps deviations, from the perceived normative standards. I would then like to position Autistic culture in an ecological class of sub-culture.

We share many similarities with the wider cultures within the environment. Thanks to the intersectionality of our community, we exist within multiple larger cultures. We do, however, have specific language and a sociality of our own. So, within the broad context of various human cultures autism exists as its own diverse nook.

Why is this important?

The ecology of an environment is a complex machination. Each seemingly insignificant aspect creates the balance required for each living part of that environment to co-exist with each other. Removal of even the smallest part of an environment can create a cascading effect that leads to the failure of a given ecosystem. With respect to cultures and sub-cultures, they are a necessary part of human ecology.

As a species that evolved to be interdependent, neurological diversity allows for the development of the means of not just co-existence with our fellow humans but also the survival of our species. This, then, is why Autistic people find themselves so concerned with cure culture and eugenics. The ramifications of the erasure of Autistic sub-culture are far-reaching, beyond the scope of our mere elimination from the gene pool. It is possible that our erasure could threaten the ecological balance of the human environment.

Neurodiversity has a farther reach than merely our right to exist as neurodivergent people. It considers our need to exist. Autistic people are not just an aberration. We are not a deviation from objective normality. We are a necessary part of human cognition. Human existence, like the existence of any species, is predicated on its diversity. Reduction of biodiversity can and will ultimately lead to our failure to thrive.

So, with the consideration that we are necessary for the existence of the human race. Perhaps it is time to stop making us “indistinguishable from our peers.” It’s not just Autistic people who are being harmed by attempts to reduce us, it’s humanity itself.

David Gray-Hammond 2 Comments
Mar 3 2023
Reclaiming Neurofuturism: The disability question

Throughout the neurodiversity movement and wider into parent-led autism communities, there has been one particular question that comes up time and again: Is autism (and neurodivergence in general, for that matter) a disability?

The prevailing opinion of Autistic self-advocates and many people in neurodivergent-led communities is that, yes, it is a disability but only understandable using the social model of disability. Other groups have suggested that autism is not a disability, and use many euphemisms that neurodivergent people find patronising (no, I don’t have superpowers, and it’s definitely not a “diffability”). Then we have those parents and carers who believe that autism is a medical matter. They approach autism through the medical model of disability that views neurodivergence as something that is inherently broken in a person’s brain.

With the obvious caveat that pathologising neurodivergence is a weapon of normative violence, I believe there is somewhat of a middle ground in the way that we view disability. Perhaps we can find a way of interpreting a person’s disability that doesn’t require us to separate a person’s struggles into social issues, and medical issues.

First, let’s draw on the social models wisdom. A person’s access to the environment can often be a deciding factor in the presentation of disability. However, we have to consider what that environment consists of. Environs are made of more than objects and physical obstacles. Our relationships with those in our environment, and the power structures that exist within those relationships also form part of how we interact and experience our environment.

Having different or more intense support needs to the rest of your family will impact on how you relate to your family and how they relate to you. If your particular needs put you at odds with those you love, this will have an impact on your ability to access the environment.

Next, we have to consider the medical models teachings. Not all forms of disability come down to the diversity of minds. Autistic people especially are more likely to experience chronic health conditions. Unfortunately, under the current social model/medical model binary, they are required to separate out these parts of their identity in order to rationalise their support needs.

Consider then that under this approach, chronic health conditions and physical disability arising from traditionally medical issues also impact upon not only our access to the physical environment but how we relate to people in our environment. We can then see that the relationships and power structures in our lives are affected by not just neurodivergence but also those disabilities that are typically viewed through the medical model.

Where does this leave us?

People are not long lists of separate diagnoses that are the sum of their parts. We are whole people with diverse access and support needs, as well as undeniably interwoven relationships and power structures that impact upon our access and support needs. Regardless of the nature of your disability, the support you require will largely be defined by the way you relate to your environment and all of the people and objects within it.

In order to improve a person’s access to the world, it’s necessary to not only engineer physical accessibility features but also to engineer accessible power structures and relationships.

In my mind, I tentatively call this an enviro-relational model of disability, but I am open to suggestions.

If you take one thing away from this article, please understand that both the social and medical models ultimately fail to encompass a person’s entire experience of disability, and for this reason, we have to do further work to understand the true nature of disability in people’s every day lives.

David Gray-Hammond 1 Comments
Feb 10 2023
Drug use, addiction, and neuroqueering

I have extensively explored my Autistic relationship with addiction thus far. I have considered and lamented the inappropriate treatment services, the suffering, and rejoiced in the moment that I came out the other side. I have listed numerous reasons that contributed to my active addiction, but what I have not done is really drive home the core point of why I kept coming back to drugs. I need you to know what gave me that drive to persevere with something that could have very well cost me my life.

I was undiagnosed Autistic for the first 26 years and 7 months of my life. I know that many, if not most of you, will understand the isolation and alienation that comes with such an existence. It seemed as though everywhere I turned, I was met with condemnation and assertions of my inadequacy. It extended far beyond bullying. It was more than abuse. The world taught me that who I was, the very essence of me, was only as valuable as my ability to assimilate into the culture of my local environments.

I had never wished to enter into the culture of normality. I felt that my lack of desire to fit in reduced me to a non-person. In a world where I could be anything, I would give anything to not be me. My fluid identity was more akin to vapour at this point than it was to any tangible form. Society constructs our sense of Self through our interactions with the environment. My environment rejected me like a gangrenous limb.

Perhaps then you can start to see where the twisted beauty of drugs seeped into my life. Not only could I alter my perception of the environment, but I could also alter the way those in my environment perceived me. Different drugs allowed me to put on and take off identities like clothes. They allowed me to explore the inner workings of my mind. I could manifest the Self in whatever way I saw fit.

Much like the sculptor trying to free the art from its marble prison, I was able to shed the constraints of human thought. Drugs allowed me to rewire my bodymind. I was no longer the necrotic manifestation of the universe, but instead the explorer. I was attempting to neuroqueer without even knowing it.

Sadly, this lifestyle was not sustainable. In order to explore the fluidity of one’s identity, it is necessary to be at some level of peace with your Self. At least in my experience. My attempt to neuroqueer my way to peace was fundamentally flawed. I wanted to subvert myself, not normative attitudes. I was trying to diverge into neurotypical performance.

Perhaps that is why I kept returning despite the dangers. Neurotypicality was a performance that I could never manage. What is it they say about try8ng the same thing over and over and the definition of insanity?

The irony in this story is that at almost seven years of tee total sobriety, I can now see that my journey through that time has actually made assimilation not just less possible; The thought is abhorrent to me. For my safety now, I steer clear of “recreational drug use”. My days as a self-confessed psychonaut are over, and quite honestly? I’m okay with that.

Some people falsely believe that addiction is an illness. Personally, I believe that given the right environmental ingredients, it becomes an inevitability. For me, addiction has been a necessary evil. It was necessary for me to deconstruct the Self that had been built on the rotten foundation of subjugation and childhood trauma. That deconstruction allowed me to make space for the infinite possibilities that lay within my neurology.

The world needs us to regularly deconstruct that which society has built. It’s often a violent and painful process, but necessary as we explore what it means to be neurodivergent. Perhaps more so, what it means to be human.

If I could ask one thing of you, dear reader, it is this; when you see a person suffering, do not offer them vague pity and generic platitudes. Offer them your hand to place a new foundation, upon which all can stand to explore the fluid nature of human identity.

David Gray-Hammond 1 Comments
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