On Being Human

Like many commuters, I listen to the radio a lot. Something hit me about the way they introduce new songs. The disc jockeys talk about the fact that a new song is coming up, and if we know the artist, they'll mention another song by this artist to jog our memories. If it's an artist they think we may never have heard of, they might say something by way of introduction, something to locate the new music somewhere in our minds, prepare us in a positive way.

Most of the songs on the radio are in heavy rotation, and they phase them in and out like this, with an occasional familiar oldie. These people know what they are doing. Why would they bother doing all this?

And I thought of this thing that happened right around the time in the middle of the eighties when I was getting myself kicked in and out of high school. It was an enormously big deal, and folks my age will remember, and I'll tell you what happened in case you are younger.

Coca-Cola tried to change its flavor to become "new and improved" and this was treated like a National Disaster. I am serious, people were really flipping out about this, and it was all over the news, for some time. It was a major topic of conversation. There was high emotion. Even Bill Cosby was somehow involved, but I don't remember his exact role, just that it was A Thing, because of his standing in the community.

At this time in my life, I believed I was not a human being, not the same thing as a person. But I was just now having this reverie about how everyone else reacts to change...

And here is another thing: people often see the sensory accommodations in my office and ask if I can help them brainstorm getting the whole workplace to be more like my office.  

People often read my writing on things like rushing and social and emotional confusion or distress and say they can really relate to it even though they are not autistic.

People often hear ideas of what can help kids like me handle executive functioning difficulties in the classroom, and declare, "I am going to try that for myself!"

Instead of not being human, what if I am very human, so outrageously human that it sometimes rises to the level of impairment? What if it is really that the things I cannot function without are things that would make everyone function better? My sine qua non might be every one else's sine qua shouldn't have to.

Love, 

Ib

Love, Not Fear

This is my entry for the Love Not Fear Flashblog. In case you are clicking from TGN directly, here is a link to the flashblog site itself, where you can read lots of others, and get yourself very happy: HERE IS THAT LINK. What I love about this is that it's organized by a loving group of people, some of whose kids are Autistic; and some of the people are Autistic themselves, and some are not, and some of them have no kids. Just a bunch of love bringing us together.

[Image: Flashblog logo of a pink and white heart made out of lacy smaller hearts with #PosAutive in it. It says, Flashblog: Love Not Fear, presented by Boycott Autism Speaks, and cites a deadline, for which I am late, of course.]

Lately I have been having a lot of trouble writing, so I will tell a story of Love winning out over Fear, in pictures.

One day a bit ago, we were having an action where we were supposed to take a picture of ourselves with a sign saying something like "I am not afraid to say I am Autistic." This was because something was making the fearmongers smear our name again, as usual, nothing really different. And I support these actions, but I have this thing of being rather precise. So, I couldn't lie. I do say it freely: I am Autistic; however, I don't say it without trepidation, especially when one of these media scarymovie frenzies is going on. This is the picture I made:

[Here is a webcam picture of me sitting on the bed, holding a hand-lettered sign. The sign says: I AM AUTISTIC AND TIRED OF FEAR.]

The boys were napping and Layenie came in and sat next to me on the bed, having finished what she had been doing really quick. She saw this thing I made and gave me a big, much-needed hug. Then she looked at her Facebook and saw a call for participation in another action that our people who love us were taking in support, having to do with This Is Autism. Layenie immediately made this:

 

[Layenie's pic here is of me with the twin boys, age about one, in the transition from baby to toddler. She has inscribed the picture with these words: "This is Ibby. Ibby is a professor, a mother extraordinaire, and a wonderful spouse. She is light, laughter, and love. She is books, trains, twirly things, and cracking up about the word underwear. This is autism, and oh boy, am I glad."]

This made my eyes leak. It also made my eyes leak to look at it again just now, and remember, and do the image description.

In a cage match between love and fear, love wins.

Love wins.

Fear can come back as much as it wants. For me, in my experience of my self, I know it will.

But I also know love wins.

[This is a meme that says "Caring and respect are better than pity and fear. People are better than Autism Speaks."]

Love is better than anything.

Love,
Ib

On What A Bad Idea Rushing Is...

I am still working on the stuff about ABA, which takes forever, and it is taking even longer than I meant for it to take, because I am trying to rush myself.

Which reminded me, I forgot to link to this article I wrote for We Are Like Your Child, about what a bad idea rushing is.

Here's the link: Please Don't Rush Me, on We Are Like Your Child.

Thanks for hanging in there with me, and much love to you all. Nobody other than my own self is trying to rush me in this instance: You all win! xx

Love,
Ib

True Answers About ABA (Part 1)

Hi Ibby! 

I am a Parent to a 3 year old Autistic girl. She is receiving OT, Speech, Music therapy and ABA. I have felt it was the ABA where the progress we've seen has been made. However, as someone who is a staunch advocate for my daughter and her Autistic peers, I want to always be doing what is best and least stressful for her.

I have seen quite a bit of controversy in the Autism community by receivers of ABA, that express having PTSD from the experience and are now staunch opponents of ABA. But what they describe going through and what many of our kids do, seem vastly different. Is there any way to clarify this issue, about just what ABA is and isn't and how, in layman's terms a Parent can avoid and identify it?

This is a topic that causes a great deal of angst, distrust and Parents feeling they are being labeled as abusers if they are using ABA...which I guess, may really not be? Any help at resolving this would be great!
Thank you!

Sandy


Dear Sandy,

Thank you so much for asking.

This question is so very important, and as you say, the things people say and do about it can be very confusing, and from where I stand, I have been able to collect more than the usual amount of information about why they have to do and say the confusing things that conflict with each other, and was wondering if I would be able to help.

I hope I can help.

I will try to keep this a little bit shorter than a big giant book by linking to other related things I wrote before, and breaking it down into parts so you can look at the pieces of the question you are interested in at any given time.

Here are the topics I will touch on:

Why are so many Autistic people who have been through ABA against it, and/or experiencing PTSD?

In that case, why would anyone defend it? What is going on there?

What do you mean by the notion that a type of treatment can be morally wrong?

But I have seen it work well, and you just gave what looked to me a whole lot like an example. Can you explain what is going on here, when it works well?

Why would that still be called ABA then? Why don’t they call it something totally else?

Can you see a solution to this thorny issue? What would it be like?

Meanwhile, before that solution happens, what are practical actions I, as a parent, can take in real life? I want to do what is right for my kids, and I also want to be a good person in the world.

I’m writing back now because I have had your letter for a longish time, I think, and I wanted you to know this is what I’m working on, and I think it’s really important, and I want to get it right. Please write back if my outline above doesn’t hit on all cylinders, but so far I have answers in my head for all the things above that I just need to translate into readable words, so that’s what I’m going for.

Love,
Ib

Sisters of the Road: What a Charity Should Be

The word ‘charity’ comes from the Latin translation (Caritas) of the Biblical Greek word for one of the kinds of love, Agape. This is the kind of love which does not seek anything in return, a kind of love that moves you to action on behalf of other people’s benefit because you really care about how they are faring. It is not an emotional love that needs things in return, and it certainly is not a greed for your own fame or fortune. Real charitable love, or agape, would never, ever seek to tear down, demean, dehumanize or in any other way harm the people it purported to help. Think about love and think about what I am saying and you might wonder how recipients of really decent charities feel about those charities.  Boycotty? No.

You may have heard a lot about Autism Speaks lately, because of the boycott, because we are so weary of being misused by them, because it is the opposite of a real charity; it is the opposite of what I am talking about when I talk about charitable love. It makes me want to tell you about a place I used to go which was quite exactly what I am talking about, and was such a shining example I can use it to explain the positive aspects in graphic detail.

Allow me to introduce Sisters of the Road Café, in Portland, Oregon.  I was a recipient of their charity long ago and when my fortunes improved I became more of a deliberate volunteer. My dignity and status were the same in both events.  This is important because it is the perfect example of what I mean.

Sisters of the Road does nothing about us without us. They feed homeless people and hook them up with resources and community. And the ‘they’ was ‘us’ for me both when I was homeless and when I was not. You could get a really good, filling, delicious, satisfying meal there for $1.25 and a cup of coffee for a quarter.  That was way less than other places. If you did not have the money you could sign up to help wash dishes or bus tables—or even be wait staff if you were that brave (not me) –for just one 15 minute shift casually to pay for that meal.  Also you could do another 15 to pay for a friend. Now that is dignity. The place itself was modest but nice to be around and nobody was all “move along.” For me it was a serious Godsend as I was not able to panhandle because too shy for that direct of social contact with strangers so a lot of times if I had a sore throat or something the singing in the streets thing didn’t happen, but I could get fed and treat a friend to lunch no matter what, in a place where we were welcome.

 [Image: photo from inside Sisters of the Road nowadays. The cafe has nice wooden chairs now and the lovely old wooden siding still. Two apparently African American men but they could be islanders or African of course, also they could be transmen, I don't know them personally, anyway they are in the foreground and the one who has my favorite red beans and rice in front of him is laughing uproariously with his head thrown back. The one with him is pointing at him with a big smile as if to say "gotcha." The one who is totally laughing has a powerchair which you can see the controls. Other diners of a variety of skin tones, gender presentations, ways of looking, etc. are throughout and the place and people just still seem as welcoming and friendly as I remember.]

Which brings me to this too: It was very rare back then to be able to get vegetarian food, but they always had it in addition to hearty meat dishes. They also had this kick ass Puerto Rican salsa, because one of the steady volunteers or workers was from there and knew how to do it. (People who really worked there for a wage or were steady volunteers did not act better than anyone or better than each other. You could pick them out only because they worked for longer than 15-30 minute stretches.) Nobody sneered at vegetarianism and said, “Beggars can’t be choosers.” I am sorry that so many religiously based organizations at that time (late eighties; I wouldn’t be shocked if it’s the same now) had personnel who liked saying that demeaning bromide when I shyly asked if there was peanut butter at all, but I wasn’t just being picky. My vegetarianism is long-standing and stems from deeply held personal beliefs.  And even if I were just being picky, why rub it in that someone’s life is hard if yours is a bit better and you are allegedly trying to help?

Genny Nelson was the boss of Sisters of the Road at that time and also later when I was more on my feet and came back around (she is retired now). She was there a lot and rolled up her sleeves and pitched in. She had been one of the inventors of it and when inventing it what she and her partner had done is asked around and found out what would be useful and good for actual people and what would not. I do not know if she had heard the slogan “Nothing About Us Without Us” but she sure did live by it and also create an organization that was founded on it, as well as the true meaning of Caritas, which is the root word for “charity,” which, as I said, is the Latin translation for Agape, rendered well in English as unselfish love.

So Sisters of the Road is earmarked for homeless people, many of whom are Autistic and otherwise neurodivergent, partially because a lot of the big alleged charities for Autistic folks do not provide much real life help at all, so good people who want to help others are accidentally throwing their money to the greed machine while the people they wanted to help are left floundering.

The straight up Autism charities that exemplify Nothing About Us Without Us are actually run by Autistics. These are Autism Women’s Network (AWN) and Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN).  Autism Women’s Network is working on getting together some more on-the-ground initiatives, to get money and resources back to the right people who need it. Autistic Self Advocacy Network has created a sea change in the way Autistics are able to see ourselves and come together in action, as well as carve a place for ourselves at policy tables, even at the very highest levels. This has literally changed the world for me and many people I know. I think ASAN is also looking into a grants program. Both of these groups increase our dignity and well-being every day without wasting good people’s money lining greedy pocketbooks or financing harmful ad campaigns or research into preventing us from being born. Both of these groups are bona fide what a charity should be, and growing and doing more every moment of every day with your help.

Back to Sisters of the Road: Sisters of the Road, I salute you. The xxx symbol someone anonymously chalked onto the sidewalk to denote good food and hospitality in hobo code was apt and true and I will love you forever. Readers, if you give them a little bit of money too, there is no way you won’t be helping some Autistics, because so many of us are pushed through the cracks into poverty and homelessness at some point in our lives.

Here is their website: http://sistersoftheroad.org/ . Love!

Thank you for listening.

Love, Ib

Autism Speaks: These Mothers Want To Say

A mother who has worked with Autism Speaks and considered some of them her friends felt betrayed and sickened by the way they talk about her daughter. They ignored her. She declined to go to the summit. Please read what she has to say, here.

This other thing happened to her friend, one of her readers.

And here is my friend Kerima.


As for me, I think I have said enough for now. I'm hoarse.

Love,
Ib

Autistics Speaking Day: I Speak To Thank

Today is Autistics Speaking Day, which has a rich and sort of unfortunate history.  I haven't got long to write, but what I have to say is big and cannot be unsaid on this day.

The rich unfortunate history has to do with people going About Us Without Us, and when some of our own tried to say something about it, these 'do-gooders' seemed to express, to put it charitably, irritation. What they did not seem to do was listen, at all, even though they said they were doing whatever they were doing for our own good. We are doing this for your own good lalala hushup you ingrates we can't hear you... 

[Visual is the red-circle-with-a-slash symbol of crossing-out, being itself crossed out by a bigger symbol of the same shape backwards done up over it in rainbow colors. Superimposed on this are the words "Autistics Speaking Day Nov 1 2013" in writing suggestive of how monks illuminate manuscript.]

But I know many people who not only listen but go so far as to seek us out and amplify, and they are basically in three communities, and I am hoping to introduce many of them to one another at TASH if I can, or get started here, and on the other blog NeuroQueer, which others of them are more likely to read, and all of you, see how I switch pronouns here, but I do it on purpose for a change: all of you are beautiful, and I thank you.

You who listen and amplify are some of you parents whose children also are Autistic, and you wanted to find us, and you were not so busy trying to find ways we could not possibly be like your child that we should be invisible forever: so you sought and found us, and you are our beloved friends.

You who listen and amplify are some of you scholars, scholars with other disabilities, queer scholars and scholars of color, community scholar activists who did not just brilliantly theorize amongst yourselves about how we were not at the table: but you decided to get it started and do something about it, and you are our beloved friends.

You who listen and amplify are some of you people of practice, people whose life work is devoted quite literally to making sure the voices of some of the most vulnerable and invisible among us are able to be found and witnessed, and sometimes you are hardly seen, and sometimes you are mistreated and disrespected by bigots who call themselves greater and more acceptable things, but they are not. You are greater, and the greatest: you put yourself on the line for us and our voices, and you are our beloved friends.

When I first decided to write about this I was going to name your names, and I hope you are not sad that I did not, because for me the reason is so happy that tears of joy spill softly from my eyes now. In this small time of being myself in the open, and in community, I have met so many of you. The movement of Disability Justice even only when considered in the Autistic Community has so many true real Allies who are heart and brain and hands, and you who are reading this know you are my beloved friends and know who you are, that my babies would wake up and get hungry if I tried to list all your beautiful selves separately.

And anyway, we are not separate. We are joyously together.

Thank you, my friends, for caring that we speak.

Love,
Ib