Who Has the Right to Define Me?

As an outlier even in what many consider a fringe population, I constantly find myself in opposition to some of the assumptions about autism and Asperger’s–made by people on the spectrum. I refuse to get involved in pointless debates that prove nothing and change nothing, but I won’t back away from presenting ideas that some will see as a kind of betrayal of “our own kind.” As if there is such a thing.

I find it alternately amusing and sad that the very statement thrown at “neurotypicals,” that when you’ve seen one autistic, you’ve seen one autistic, doesn’t really register with members of the spectrum who insist that autism must be an identity and that there is a community which encompasses everyone on the spectrum.

I can’t say at what point in my life it happened, or even whether it happened as an event, or just slowly came to consciousness, but once I felt a solid sense of who I was, I never succumbed to demands to be this or be that. I consider it fortunate that I grew up and found myself long before autism was a household word. That has given me a very different view of the current controversies than are commonly discussed and written about. It will take a while to work my way through the ifs, ands and buts, but there will eventually be a post about this issue.

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