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Creating Autistic Suffering: The Self-Diagnosis Debate

This article was co-authored by David Gray-Hammond and Tanya Adkin

There are many other nuances to Autistic self-diagnosis debate considering colonialism, racism, misogyny, and transphobia (to name a few) that others with more lived experience would be better placed to highlight. This article is not the whole issue (links at the end). We seek to address some of the most obvious points within the confines of a blog post.

There is a long-standing debate around the validity of people who self-identify as Autistic without formal diagnosis. One of the main arguments we see against self-identification is “what if they get it wrong?”. We would respond with “how can it be wrong?”. Autism is an abstract concept, the diagnostic criteria is fundamentally flawed, based only on white western boys who are displaying trauma responses. Autism does not exist as a tangible entity. You can’t touch it, manipulate it, you can’t interact with it. What actually exists is Autistic people.

So, what if it is wrong?

Notwithstanding the above point that self-identification cannot actually be wrong, lets just pretend that it can be for the sake of this next section. What if somebody identifying as Autistic is in fact experiencing a different flavour of neurodivergence? The rate of co-occurrence between Autistic people and other neurodivergences, conceptualised as “mental health conditions” is ridiculously high (more on that here). Tanya and David often joke that we have never met a ‘ready-salted’ Autistic; that is to say, we have never met an Autistic person that comes in only one flavour, without co-occurring conditions. This means that statistically, Autistic people are more likely to be recognised with co-occurring mental health differences than the neurotypical population.

“It’s trendy to be Autistic”

People who make the argument that self-diagnosed individuals are following a trend fundamentally misunderstand the neurodiversity movement. The neurodiversity movement is born from the collective frustration and mistreatment of neurodivergent people. No one is identifying as Autistic for fun. We come to this understanding because we are desperate to find relief from a world that has systematically oppressed and harassed us. Another misunderstanding here is around what being neurotypical is. We have a false dichotomy of ND vs NT, but neurotypicality is a performance, not a neurocognitive style (Walker, 2021). It is an ability to fit in with the world neuronormative standards. To consider it another way, if you identify with the Autistic label, you almost definitely can’t perform neurotypicality at the very least.

What is the neurodiversity movement and how does it relate to self-identification?

The neurodiversity movement is, at it’s core, a social justice movement. Those who identify as neurodivergent are situating themselves within the social model of disability. It is a political stance, one that places the person in opposition to the medicalisation of human minds. It is a movement that exposes the flaws of our current capitalist and neoliberal culture in the west that seeks to pathologise anything that does not conform to an attitude of profit-driven, self-reliant, neurotypicality. When we tell people not to self-diagnose, or identify outside of diagnostic models, we are inadvertently bolstering the psychiatric industrial complex that serves to medicalise dissent from our current systems of oppression. Therefore, by opposing self-identification, we are policing peoples political expression, which is a product of privilege and frankly makes you a bit of an arsehole.

The validity of the autism diagnostic criteria

Problems with the diagnostic criteria are well documented, we don’t have space to list every single issue, but there is more to be found here. What should we do about identification? Does this mean that nobody should ever be identified as Autistic? Absolutely not. There is research specifically on the flaws within the diagnostic criteria, so what do we have as an alternative? This is where Autistic-led theory comes into it’s own.

Specifically, the double empathy problem (Milton, 2012). Research tells us that Autistic to Autistic communication is more reciprocal and of better quality than Autistic to non-Autistic communication (Crompton et al, 2020). Research also tells us that neurotypical people perceive Autistic people unfavourably (Mitchell, Sheppard, & Cassidy, 2021). Botha (2021) evidences Autistic community-connectedness as a buffer against minority stress. To bring these points together, if you communicate more effectively with other Autistic people, if you find that neurotypical people dislike you for no reason, and if you find being part of an Autistic community massively reduces the minority stress that you experience; the research suggests that these things are far more effective at identifying Autistic people than flawed diagnostic criteria from old white men who studied little white boys.

To conclude

So, next time someone tries to tell you they are Autistic, try believing them. We don’t need old, stale, and pale neurotypicals to validate our internal experience of the world, and give us permission to exist. We are more than capable of knowing ourselves. If it helps us live more authentically, and reduces the stress we experience, then we should not be policing that. To speak against self-diagnosis is to parade one’s own ignorance for all to see.

If you think you’re Autistic, welcome to the community, we hope you find your home here.

Further reading

Racism- https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/10.1177/13623613211043643

Gender-https://www.forbes.com/sites/anuradhavaranasi/2022/08/31/autism-diagnosis-has-a-gender-bias-problem/

Transphobia- https://www.theautismcoach.co.uk/blog/transphobia-and-autism

References

Botha, M. (2020). Autistic community connectedness as a buffer against the effects of minority stress (Doctoral dissertation, University of Surrey).

Crompton, C. J., Sharp, M., Axbey, H., Fletcher-Watson, S., Flynn, E. G., & Ropar, D. (2020). Neurotype-matching, but not being autistic, influences self and observer ratings of interpersonal rapport. Frontiers in Psychology, 11, 2961.

Milton, D. E. (2012). On the ontological status of autism: The ‘double empathy problem’. Disability & society, 27(6), 883-887.

Mitchell, P., Sheppard, E., & Cassidy, S. (2021). Autism and the double empathy problem: Implications for development and mental health. British Journal of Developmental Psychology, 39(1), 1-18.

Walker, N. (2021). Neuroqueer Heresies: Notes on on the neurodiversity paradigm, Autistic empowerment, and post-normal possibilities. Autonomous Press.

Neuroqueer: Neuro-anarchy and the Chaotic Self

This article was co-authored by David Gray-Hammond and Katie Munday

Throughout this blog series, we have been discussing Neuroqueer Theory and the ways that it can be applied to people’s lives. We have considered gender identity, depathologising psychiatric conditions, and how one might embody their psychological wellbeing, to name but a few. In wider work, David has discussed neurofuturism and moving away from normative thinking. In this article, we would like to introduce the concepts of neuro-anarchy and the Chaotic Self to the discussion of Neuroqueer Theory, and consider how the two synergise with each other.

What is Neuro-anarchy?

Neuro-anarchy is the removal of oneself, either consciously or unconsciously, from the neuronormative standards that exist within one’s own neuroculture. Using the Autistic community as an example, our culture has its own set of rules and normative values, as does any cultural group; neuro-anarchy is a radical decentering of normativity. If we consider that our sense of Self is built upon the values and opinions or our prevailing culture, neuro-anarchy invites us to step outside of those values and carve our own space within which to form an identity. Munday (2022) discusses neuro-anarchy in the context of Autistic shielding.

What is the Chaotic Self?

In A Treatise on Chaos Gray-Hammond (2023) discusses the idea of our sense of Self being a fluid and moving entity, constantly changing and reshaping as we receive new information and interact with the environment. He discusses how to queer one’s neurology, we must first consider that changes we make are unable to be reversed. In this sense, the Self tends towards being a chaotic system that is in a constant state of change. You can’t unqueer a queer mind.

What is the relevance of these to each other?

Neuro-anarchy is an act of protest, it is how one neuroqueers in spaces that should belong to us but instead remain external in our relationship to who we are. Neuro-anarchy arises from a level of cognitive dissonance that presents when a person finds themselves an outsider in a group that they should fit into.

In response to this cognitive dissonance, we create our own individual values and concept of the Self that allow us to reconcile the dysphoria of rejection, and bring peace to a bodymind that recognises the fractures and contradictions in it’s own cultures and communities.

Neuro-anarchy invites us to step back from the minutia of community advocacy and consider how one’s community and culture fits into the world’s wider picture. This is where the Chaotic Self comes in. The concept of the Chaotic Self tells us that wider power dynamics and systems within our world inform the discourse around our identities, which in turn become a part of the Self.

A neuro-anarchistic approach to one’s identity teaches us to decentralise all systems of power and instead look to how the individual can build a community from the shared subjective experiences that constitute our culture.

As the individual Self grows and changes, so too must our community.

By stepping away from the power structures that exist in our society, we are able to pick and chose the concepts that form the Self. This in turn allows us to effectively neuroqueer through the subversion of all expectation, and not just those that our community desires us to subvert. Neuro-anarchy allows us to move fluidly throughout cultural identities, and internalise the concepts from within them that we feel are most relevant to us.

By understanding the nature of neuro-anarchy and the Chaotic Self, we are able to see ourselves not as a collection of identities but instead a single Self that belongs (to some extent) to multiple cultural groups. We are able to subvert identity politics while holding an awareness of where we do or do not have privilege.

If neuroqueering is a liberatory act, then neuro-anarchy is the tool we use for that act. The Chaotic Self, then, is the overarching way of understanding one’s sense of Self throughout the process of neuroqueering. It allows us to embrace the fact that once queered, the bodymind cannot return to it’s previous state. By embracing this we transcend normative values and enter a world of infinite possibility (Gray-Hammond, 2022).

References

Gray-Hammond, D (2022) The infinite and I: Embracing my Neuroqueer Self. Emergent Divergence. https://emergentdivergence.com

Gray-Hammond, D (2023) A Treatise on Chaos: Embracing the Chaotic Self and the art of neuroqueering. Independently Published.

Munday, K. (2022) Counterculture: Autistic shielding and neuro-anarchy. Autistic and Living the Dream. https://autisticltd.co.uk

The politics of existence and the regulation of Neurodivergent experience

For a long time now, Autistic people have been fighting to have the contested title of Autism Spectrum Disorder removed from discourse of medicine. We feel that as an emerging culture, being Autistic is an identity rather than a medical matter. When considering one’s identity, we have to consider all avenues of discourse surrounding it. Today, we’re going to consider politics.

Whether you want to admit it or not, politics is relevant to the lives of every single human. There isn’t a single aspect of human life that doesn’t have an association with beaurocratic regulations and inaccessible power structures. In the case of Autistic and otherwise Neurodivergent people, a unique problem is posed to those in power. For a current system to function, people need to assimilate into normative standards. How can one regulate another’s existence in such a way?

The answer is relatively simple. Psychology. More specifically, psychometry. By quantifying and regulating the expectations for people development and behaviour, you can position those who do not assimilate as outliers. You create a binary of in-group versus out-group. This allows those in power to create a disconnect between the normative world and those who do not fit in.

This is how society oppresses neurodivergent people. We are positioned as less-than-human using psychological metrics that have been arbitrarily created. Once a group has been dehumanised in such a way, it’s easier to make people turn on each other. When positioned alongside the idea of finite resources, we can be viewed as an unnecessary drain on resources rather than humans who have rights. People are taught that more rights and resources for us means less for them.

And so, by quantifying human development and behaviour, governments and authorities have effectively regulated human expression of identity through the politicisation of our very existence. This is why the push to have Neurodivergence depathologised is so important. It’s the first step towards a world in which those in power no longer control how we think, feel, and embody ourselves.

Until such time that this is achieved, we have to make peace with the uncomfortable truth that our identity and the wider perception of it is not a matter of our own choice.

Reclaiming Neurofuturism: The identity problem

Identity is of importance to most people. It’s how we describe and define our experiences and relationships with the wider environment. Some may argue that it is how we relate ourselves to the world, I would argue that it is the visible surface of deep metaphysical structures within our conscious being.

The rise of social justice and civil rights movements has created a great many identities. You can be Gay, Straight, Bi, Pan, Ace. Black, white, indigenous. Autistic, neurotypical, neurodivergent. This is far from an exhaustive list of some of the identities that we commonly find in our wonderfully intersectional communities.

The problem is that identity has become a tool to politicise existential matters. In order to establish your identity, one must first distinguish between those like you and those different to you. To give you an example, neurodivergent people know they are neurodivergent by relating themselves to others who share that identity and seeing difference with those who identify as neurotypical.

So now we have not just the Self, but the Other.

Having outsiders as a prerequisite for identity is problematic. When one identifies someone as different, there is a risk of dehumanising that person who is the Other. Perhaps it may not go that far, but there is usually an element of moral judgement. Humans seem to be intrinsically drawn to the belief that they hold a moral high ground.

Fundamentally, we are all linked. At a primal level, we are one in the same. Not just as humans but as facets of the same universe. We are all made of the same matter, the same basic building blocks. Yet, we are drawn to differentiation.

This has given rise to significant power imbalances in our world. The belief that one group or another is somehow in possession of higher morality means that the outsiders of the dominant identity are experiencing oppression. The fact that some have access to epistemological control of the population means that most people are expected to conform to a reality that is subjectively painful.

This control of knowledge production and dissemination results in a great deal of epistemic injustice.

In moving towards a post-normal society, we must start to consider ways of describing our relationship to the world that does not empower the idea of gatekeeping and structural oppression. It is vital that we expand our identities in a way that does not uphold the robust power imbalances that already exist within our world.

What it feels like to be Autistic

Three years ago, I asked the question What does it feel like to be Autistic? By the time I wrote that article, I was quite confident in both my Autistic identity and my blossoming advocacy work, but in the time since writing it, I have learned and grown at an exponential rate. So now I feel it’s necessary to revisit this question and explore it further.

So, what does it feel like to be Autistic?

I’ve always been different. Some of my earliest memories are hazy recollections of feeling distinctly different from the expectations of what a person should be. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was being conditioned by society and its normative values. I was effectively being indoctrinated into the cult of normality. This probably explains why I spent a lot of my twenties despising who I was and wishing I could change it.

Our identities, our conscious sense of being, is a social construct. We internalise the experiences afforded to us by our environment. Autistic people often experience Self-hatred and internalised ableism because hatred and ableism is what we experience in the wider world. The building blocks we are given to construct ourselves are born of normative violence.

There is a fundamental issue with me telling you exactly what it’s like to be Autistic; there is a solipsistic asymmetry in my experience. I have never not been Autistic. I have no point of reference in an experience outside of my own. What I can speak to are the experiences that I have had.

Even calling myself Autistic has, at times, felt strange. It was an identity given to me by the world. I exist as David. Others describe me as Autistic. I have internalised and related that description. It has become a facet of my identity, but it is a surface feature of my deeper Self.

I have at times doubted my Autistic identity. I have been so adept at concealing parts of myself that I have doubted their existence. This is all-the-more complicated due to the abstract nature of autism. It is not a natural kind, it is a social descriptor that existed originally to segregate my mind from those who can perform neurotypicality. For this reason, my Autistic experience is often one of Self-doubt and imposter syndrome.

For me, to be Autistic is to bear witness to the detailed connections between all things at all times. I am Chronically overwhelmed because I can not filter out the complexity of the world. I experience the whole, and not the aspect.

Of course, my experience will differ from another’s because Autistic identity is not my sole identity. I am Schizophrenic, I am ADHD, and I am in recovery from addiction. However, my identity is not a maths problem that sums up to a whole person. The distribution of identities onto my person gives the illusion of multiplicity when, in fact, I am a singularity. I do not exist as many, but as one singular experience that ticks many boxes.

So, what does it feel like to be Autistic?

It feels like being me.

Bigots keep trying to tell us the meaning of words, I have bad news for them

I have repeatedly seen bigots use the “correct” meaning of words in order to try and invalidate and oppress minority groups. An immediate example is the use of singular “they/them” pronouns. Ignoring the fact that the singular use of these pronouns outdates the use of the word “you“, there is further discussion that needs to be had.

The bigots are going to hate this.

Language, at an essential level, is the use of non-verbal symbols and organised sounds. We have, ad a society, decided that particular shapes, sounds, body movements, facial expressions, and actions mean things. The meaning of these things has arisen from our collective agreement. To put it another way, language is a social construct.

Because language is socially constructed, even if words have prior meanings, we can collectively choose a new meaning for those words. This has happened many times throughout history, and in some cases, we have invented entirely new linguistic conventions where prior ones have not been able to convey what we need them to.

The fun thing about language is that you can repurpose it with very few negative consequences. Don’t like a change? Don’t use it. These changes can have huge positive impacts when made in the right spirit.

Language is the biggest social endeavour in history. It is a work of art, and each of us is the artist. By experimenting with language and altering it, we can create new images that we never thought possible. Language is the social construct that controls all other constructs because without it, we can not convey information. This is why we need to honour the words that describe a person’s identity. They are using language as a tool to dismantle normativity. Each time a person uses the words that feel right to then, and not the words they’ve been told to use, the weaker the chains of normative oppression become.

The people who are so attached to their understanding of words that they can not fathom new uses are not the future of the human race. In order to meet the future, we must first cut loose the chains of the past. Normative thinking has so conditioned the bigots that they react with fear at the suggestion of making even the smallest of changes. Mankind can not survive with such aversion to change, and we need to recognise that growth, like many changes, is not always a matter of personal comfort.

Neurodivergence and Normality: The meaning of words

“I understand now that boundaries between noise and sound are conventions. All boundaries are conventions, waiting to be transcended. One may transcend any convention if only one can first conceive of doing so.”

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

The neurodiversity movement is predicated on three deceptively simple ideas:

  • There are as many variations of the human mind as there are humans.
  • Those who can not perform to neurotypical standards are neurodivergent.
  • Neurodivergent people deserve equity and inclusion in our shared environment.

Upon this premise, an entire collective culture of shared knowledge and community-connectedness has blossomed. Creating spaces where neurodivergent people have, for the first time, felt they belong. For many of us, including myself, it has been not just life-changing. It has saved us from an early demise.

But what is neurotypicality? What is it exactly that we diverge from?

Neurotypicality is a performance. It is a set of normative ideas that we have come to accept as “normal”. While those normative ideas my change based on the local environments culture, the truth remains that the word “normal” has been weilded as a weapon to justify the dehumanisation and oppression of all who can not, or will not, assimilate.

Normality is itself a social construct. It is an abstract entity. It is not measurable or tangible. While one could argue that normality is a word that represents that which most have on common, we could just as easily have given it the opposite meaning.

All words are essentially meaningless. The objective truth of a words meaning is something of a social contract between ourselves and those around us. For the context of this essay, let us take normality or “normal” to mean the most commonly found attributes of a given population.

In this sense, Autistic and otherwise neurodivergent people are abnormal. We have diverged from normality, representing what is framed by wider society as an aberration in the status quo. On the basis of this, a global industrial complex has risen up in order to not only force our assimilation into normality but also turn that endeavour into a profitable business.

How does one move forward when the world is at odds with your existence?

Even in neurodivergent communities, we frame ourselves through our differences. Celebrating the idea that we are different to that which normativity requires. While their is beauty to be found in such an existence, I believe that we must transcend the limitations of normality. Not through our difference, but instead by our assertion that “normal” does not exist.

We are not different because of our lack of normality. We are different because we embrace individuality and diversity. The difference between normality and normativity is semantic in nature. Normality is the attractive package that is gifted to us to take into our home. We must challenge normativty at its core and not at its surface.

To move into a post-normal society, one must first be able to conceive of such a place. We must establish new boundaries that turn the sound of normality into background noise. Drowning out normative beliefs with the voices of those that refuse to assimilate.

This, of course, presents a problem for not just neurotypical society but also neurodivergent communities. Even in our own culture, there exists a kind of essentialism in the idea that you are either neurotypical or neurodivergent. In a post-normal world, words like “divergent” and “typical” become redundant. If we have no preconceived notions of normality, then there is no need for a counter-culture. There is nothing to assimilate into.

Such a world would allow for the emancipation of neurodivergent communities but fundamentally alter the meaning of what it means to be neurodivergent. We would not be connecting over our differences but rather our shared culture. Such culture is difficult to quantify at this stage because we still have a long way to travel.

For now, this kind of neurofuturism may sound naively utopian, perhaps even dystopian, depending on your outlook. If I can be sure of one thing, it’s that it’s time for us to conceive of a world beyond normality. It is the first step on a journey toward a world where the oppression of neurodivergent people is no longer possible.

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.

Why is getting diagnosed with autism so difficult?

The Autistic community has written at length about why getting a diagnosis is so hard, especially with regards to those at particular intersections of experience. I myself have spoken about how our diagnostic understanding of autism is based on the Autistic person in distress. Current models used to diagnose simply do not work.

There is a wider issue to consider, though, than race, gender identity, or trauma. We have to consider the individuality of Autistic people.

Humans are never just one thing. We don’t just experience being Autistic. Every single one of us lives at the intersection of multitudes of experiences. Currently, diagnosis of autism is based on a collective understanding of a shared group of observable behaviour. This diagnostic conceptualisation was socially constructed (ironically) by people who rarely share in Autistic culture. This has resulted in very restrictive criteria that boxes out a lot of people.

Due to the intersectional nature of humanity, these criteria will never capture all Autistic people. Allow me to give an example:

I am Autistic, ADHD, and Schizophrenic. This does not mean that I have Autistic, ADHD, and Schizophrenic traits. None of these traits cancel each other out either. A more accurate description would be that I am AuDPhrenic. My experience arises from the interactions of my neurological systems. I don’t have separate parts of my brain for all three diagnoses. I have a human brain, and my observable behaviour has then be put into three categories.

This is why the medicalisation of neurodivergence has been an issue in perpetuity. We try and categorise human experiences despite its propensity to defy expectations. There is no such thing as an objectively neurodivergent brain. Some of us are just wired in a way that stops us from assimilating into normative society. Any categorisation is an abstract concept that is entirely constructed by humanity.

We can see the irony of diagnosis in neuroqueer theory. Anyone can queer their embodiment. It is not restricted to the Neurodivergent. Neurotypical people could, in theory, neuroqueer to the point that their observable behaviour is not neurotypical anymore.

So what does all this mean for diagnosis?

It means that we need to move away from one-size-fits-all approached to diagnosis. We need to move away from diagnosis altogether. In a post-normal society, we need to allow people to use the words that best describe their own sense of identity. As I talk about in A Treatise on Chaos, identity is a knowing target. The nature of the Chaotic Self is that we grow and change, and our identity is constantly shifting and changing.

We need to allow people to use the words that best describe their identity. Locking a person’s identity behind a diagnosis and then requiring them to receive that diagnosis is a paradox and a betrayal of the neurodiversity movement itself.

Neuroqueer: Dismantling our internalised ableism

This article was co-authored by David Gray-Hammond and Katie Munday

Trigger Warning: This article contains references to systemic and structural oppression, multiple marginalisation, and negative wellbeing and identity.

Ableism is prevalent in the wider world, but something that we often don’t consider is the ableist views we hold about ourselves. It is inevitable that after spending our lives surrounded by normative culture, we become conditioned to view ourselves as broken, deficient, or less than. Despite being able to share compassion with others, we still harbour overtly bigoted views towards ourselves.

We internalise the harmful things said to us by our peers and professionals – sometimes even partners and friends. We take them all in and think less of ourselves and we begin to believe that there is something wrong with us.

It is clear that our interactions with other people play a significant role in the development of our sense of Self. Our identity is constructed by interactions with people in our environment, as noted in the golden equation from Luke Beardon:

Autism + Environment = Outcome

When Autistic people are in an environment that constantly belittles and mistreats us for our Autistic embodiment, the materials that we can access to construct ourselves are often self-deprecating.

How does one dismantle a lifetime of criticism and negative views arising from those experiences? First we have to understand the impact that said criticism has had on our psychological wellbeing. We have to recognise the neutrality of human thought, we have to learn that not all thoughts we have are reflective of who we are. It is possible to have negative thoughts without judging them as an indictment on our character. Once we begin to do this we are able to replace the criticisms with authenticity; a refusal to be ashamed of our embodiment. Perhaps, then, this is where neuroqueering comes into play.

It’s important to note the privilege at play when people are safe to queer their neurology. Authentic embodiment of Autistic experience can cost people their lives and their freedom in the wrong environment. Whether we care to admit it or not, not all Autistics are born equal in this society. Many Autistic people are multiply marginalised, and experience more than “just” disability discrimination.

One might ask whether or not neuroqueering is a physical act, or something that can be achieved in the mind. Many of us are at peace with ourselves whilst not openly confessing our Autistic experience. This reflects more on the environments that we inhabit than how we feel about ourselves. We can be proudly Autistic whilst understanding that not all environments are safe to authentically embody those experiences.

We also have to consider the role that the pathology paradigm plays in the existence of neuroqueering. The pathologisation and medicalisation of Autistic experience is the driving force behind most (if not all) of the ableism that we experience day-to-day. The idea that people who do not fit cultural standards of “normal” are broken, has not only created the mistreatment we experience; it also necessitated the existence of a counter-culture- neuroqueering.

How does neuroqueering change our perception of ourselves?

Neuroqueering can involve leaning into our weirdness, regardless of other’s opinions. It can also be radical self-acceptance and showing love to the parts of our Self that others have mistreated and abused. Not only does this allow us to reclaim the narrative surrounding our existence, it also gives us permission to take up the space that we have been conditioned to believe we are not entitled to.

Neuroqueer theory teaches us that assimilation denies us access to ourselves, and thus, denies access to the communities (or environments) that will help us meet our need for connection. Only by being our authentic selves can we find similar others and share in reciprocal validation. Neuroqueering dismantles internalised ableism, and the oppressive structures that have been built in our minds by others. It is a practice which champions diversity whilst appreciating that many of us still need support.

Neuroqueering politicises the nature of disability, centering us as the individuals in control of our own lives. Control that many of us are denied for being authentically Autistic. It allows us to appreciate the aforementioned neutrality of our existence through the lens of pride, and the refusal to be ashamed. It recognises that reduced wellbeing is the result of systemic oppression, and a chronic lack of access.

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