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Neurodivergence, disability, and the politics of existence

Neuroqueer theory has been the single most important idea to emerge from the academic circles of neurodiversity into my own life. I say that with a hint of irony; neurodiversity is my life. It’s all our lives. Neurodiversity is a fact of human existence. Yet, to not perform to a cultures normative standards, neurotypically, is a disability.

The cold, hard truth of being neurodivergent is that you are disabled. This doesn’t mean that there is an issue within your body that requires fixing. It doesn’t mean that you are worth less. It does mean that the world will be a harsh place.

This is particularly problematic for those who engage in neuroqueering. The further away from that pinnacle performance of neurotypicality that we get, the more labels of pathology that society will paste onto us. To diverge from normality is to have a relationship with the world that is, at best, indifferent to your pain and, at worst, violently hateful.

In my own opinion, this has to do with the way that society frames deviation from the status quo. As soon as we decondition ourselves or fail to assimilate, we are dehumanised and discriminated against. We are told that our experiences are not valid and that our pain is our own fault.

This neatly absolves the powers that be of any responsibility for the suffering they inflict on neurodivergent people. Disability (to my mind) arises not only from obstacles in the environment but also from volatile and harmful relationships within that environment.

One of the most disabling things about being neurodivergent is the way that society frames our existence.

Our existence is able to be framed as such because there is a distinct power imbalance in our world. It’s not enough to tackle ableism and autistiphobia. We must also dismantle the bigotry and oppressive system that have infected and affected our society en masse.

You can not tackle disability as an issue without tackling white supremacy, homophobia, transphobia, or any form of bigotry. We have to decolonise in order to make the world accessible. All of these forms of hatred and discrimination play a role in the way that neurodivergent people are framed by society.

This is the nature of difference. Because society has a toxic relationship with difference and diversity, we are disabled for not assimilating.

The time has come to not just queer ourselves, but queer society. By abandoning the false hierarchies created by our capitalist systems in the west, we can embrace the anarchy of bringing the fringe to the centre. We can start this in our own communities by Embracing neuro-anarchy and breaking free of the normativity within our own circles.

The first step to decolonisation is to look inwards at our own environment.

We need to consider what parts of neurodivergent culture are helpful and what parts have arisen from the politicising of our existence. We can give rise to a society that is kinder to all, a world where difference is not a disability, but the first step is to realise our own role in that oppression.

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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.

Addiction advocacy and the inspiration paradox: A reflection at 6 years sober

Today I am 6 years sober from addiction. During those six years I have learnt many lessons, but in this reflection I would like to consider something that has played on my mind for the past three years of my advocacy work.

Inspiration.

While not overtly a bad thing, it is often misused to infantilise and minimise the achievements of disabled people while hiding behind a mask of feigned respect. This phenomenon is known as “inspiration porn”.

A good (hypothetical) example of such a thing would be a video of a disabled person doing something completely mundane, like dancing, but they would be dancing with a non-disabled person. The video would centre the non-disabled as some kind of saviour to the disabled person for doing something as basic as treating them like a human being. The implication of the video, albeit in subtext, would be “Look at the amazing things that disabled people can achieve when an abled person rescues them from their shameful existence”.

It’s dehumanising and wrong.

So, addiction advocacy.

As a recovering addict in the public eye, I do what I do because I want to help others overcome similar challenges to my own, and help reduce their suffering. This does in fact require inspiring people. If it weren’t for the sober addict who showed me kindness during my first stretch on a psychiatric ward, I might not have chosen recovery.

The fact that they had turned their life around, and become someone I wanted to look up to was inspiring, and that isn’t a bad thing.

What would be bad would be if people like myself are allowed to become another source of inspiration porn. It’s a difficult line to walk. I want people to have what I have found, not get off on the tragedies that have formed who I am.

Contrary to popular belief, addicts are people. We are not burdens, we don’t deserve our suffering. Regardless of whether or not we are in recovery, we deserve food, housing, health care, support, and kindness.

This is what I want to inspire in people.

So please, don’t look at me and think it’s a miracle that I recovered. My recovery shouldn’t be the inspiration. I was privileged to have a loving and supportive set of family and friends. I had good key workers (although the services they came from were woefully ill-equipped). I was in a place where I was ready to enter recovery.

What I want to inspire in you is the idea that all addicts deserve recovery. I want to inspire you to challenge the systems that keep people like me trapped in a world of suffering.

I want you to know that those with less privilege than myself need us to get in the trenches and help them fight this war.

If that is what I inspire in people, then I am happy with what I am doing. If, however, you look at me and see a walking miracle, then I have not gone far enough.

The tragedies and traumas of my life should not be celebrated. They should be wielded as weapons to dismantle the masters house, and rebuild it into something where we can all coexist and thrive.

Autism, disability, accommodations, and the status quo

Let me start this piece with a massive shout out to Lyric Holmans (Neurodivergent Rebel). Their recent livestream with Aucademy provided a huge deal of inspiration for me to write this, and I can’t go ahead without giving credit where credit is due.

Autism. Is it a disability, or not? That question will have different answers depending on who you ask. The prevailing opinion is that, yes, it is a disability, but under the social model of disability. To define that in a nutshell, autism is a disability because society is not designed for autistic people.

So, why make accommodations?

By adapting the environment to be more comfortable for autistic people, autistic people feel less disabled. Our world is full of sensory bombardment, requirements for neurotypical time management skills, and things that need our attention. All of these things can be distressing to autistic people, and it is when an autistic person is distressed that they are at their most disabled.

But Lyric also illustrated a flip side to this. When we make the environment more comfortable for neurodivergent people, we generally make it more comfortable for everyone. When people in charge respond with “But everyone wants that!”, that’s the point. Make the environment comfortable for EVERYONE. No one group should get special treatment, neurotypical or neurodivergent.

This also feeds into “cure” culture. I am yet to see a “cure” or behavioural intervention that doesn’t increase an autistic person’s distress. However, making accommodations, in general, reduces distress. Lyric Spoke of square pegs being forced into round holes, why not adapt the hole to fit any shape of peg?

It is the status quo in society that makes autism a disability. That’s literally what the social model tells us. What we need is to rethink society to be inclusive of everyone, not just to have special designated spaces where autistic and otherwise neurodivergent individuals can feel comfortable. This applies to Autistics of any age.

Until we liberate society from its neuronormative approach to inclusion, many autistic people will continue to be disabled. It’s on all of us to create a world where anyone, regardless of disability, can enjoy a society free of ableism and truly inclusive of all.

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