@noodle-shenaniganery I Promise Im Working On Your Ask About What Soul Is, I Have Just Been Way Too Sick

@noodle-shenaniganery I promise I’m working on your ask about what “soul” is, I have just been way too sick to answer the way I want so will finish answering eventually

How I communicate besides my device (Tw for mentions of shutdowns and catatonia)

I want to talk about how I communicate. Obviously, I use my AAC device for the most part, but I communicate in other ways too, depending on how coinvent it is.

A few minutes ago, my mother told me she was going to Mcdonalds to get a Capuchino, and asked if I wanted a Frappuccino, so I nodded, and then stretched my arms upward to show that I wanted a large one. This is one of the ways I communicate, body language and gestures. Gestures are really useful for me, because if I am communicating a simple idea, such as "I want a large Frappuccino", it is faster than using my device.

I also make noises. If someone is doing something to me that I don't like, I might make a noise that people associate with "no", such as "Mm-mm", or "Mhm" if I am saying yes. Someone touching my device without consent? Making a noise that means no, and pulling away is a good way I communicate that they need to stop.

I also type, because sometimes typing is a better option than my device. For example if I am currently in a catatonic state due to a shutdown, it is a lot easier for me to type a few simple words like "I go now, hurt" in my phone, rather than finding those buttons on my device.

And guess what? Everything I just described is a form of AAC!

AAC is more than just high tech devices like mine. AAC is also gestures, noises, typing, communication cards, pointing, etc.

gender essentialism is what happens when you hear about gender being a social construct and a performance, but don't actually want to stop viewing men and women as inherent opposites. so now instead of saying "women are x and men are y, because biology" you say "women are x and men are y.... because socialization!" & change literally. nothing. else. about how you talk about gender

PSA

Some people who use a walking stick can walk without it.

Some people who use a wheelchair can walk.

Some people who sign/use computerised speech aids can speak.

Some people who use canes can see.

Some people who use subtitles can hear.

Stop policing accessibility.

These things are aids that improve the quality of life for people with a huge variety of needs, abilities, and challenges. We use these things to make a hard task easier, to make fun times more fun, to lessen pain, to improve communication. We shouldn’t have to wait until we’re completely unable to walk/see/hear/speak (etc) to access these things. We shouldn’t feel ashamed for needing help. There’s no magical line where you become “disabled enough”.

Stop policing accessibility.

Important: If a person on Tumblr says that somebody else writes your posts for you, and wants you to prove that you write everything on your own:

Don't respond. Don't upload a video of you typing or using your AAC device. Block that person, or ask someone to block them for you.

They won't listen to you and you can't convince them. They're just mean. It's spam. Really, just ignore them.

Here's a long post I wrote about that today, in case you're curious:

I had to unfollow a blog today because they said autism “wasn’t a disability” and referred to the considering of autism as a disability as a negative, damaging thing.

I am on board with autism being regarded as just a different neurotype–to me it isn’t a disease, an illness or even a disorder. It’s just a word that describes how my brain works and certain similarities I may have with other people who also possess that neurotype.

But, in a world created by, created for and dominated by allistics and the needs of allistics, with allistic expectations for my behaviour and social interactions, and allistic-favoured composition of the settings that surround me, autism is to me a disability. Autism combined with social anxiety means I mumble, which has made a few social situations difficult and stressful. The sensory processing disorder that comes with autism means I can’t bear it when people wear perfume. The prosopagnosia that comes with autism means I can’t remember faces and can’t match names to faces. The sensory processing disorder that comes with autism means I can’t process sound in a loud environment, meaning that I can’t follow conversations. The difficulty I have with spoken communication when stressed or tired, solely a factor of autism, has resulted in my being abused. I had to quit a retail job in part because of customers being unhappy with my facial expressions, expressions that don’t fit allistic norms. And so on, so on, so on. There are many things I cannot do, or cannot do easily, or can only do in certain circumstances or with certain supports, or cannot do in the ways expected of me, because of autism–and yet society unfairly and unquestioningly expects everything I listed above to not be any kind of difficulty. Society seldom even comprehends the difficulty in all of the above, never mind providing suitable and accessible supports in order that I can more easily interact with the world or be understood by it.

All of this is exactly the same as my experiences for my other main disability–chronic pain. Something else that also means there are many things I cannot do, or cannot do easily, or can only do in certain circumstances or with certain supports, or cannot do in the ways expected of me, despite society expecting me to navigate all its demands while unaffected by pain. Something else that is seldom comprehended by society, and something else that doesn’t result in my receiving suitable and accessible supports so I can more easily interact with the world.

The social disability model gives me a pretty clear map for regarding autism as a disability, because it is not accommodated by society in any significant way, and that lack of accommodation is what so often makes a wide variety of disabilities disabling. If my pain were fully accepted and accommodated by society, if I had free access to a variety of technological aids and human supports, it wouldn’t disable me anywhere near as much as it does–it might not even disable me at all. But I don’t have those things, and so it does. Autism isn’t any different.

If we lived in a world where providing for the needs that accompany my neurotype were as commonly accepted as the provision of clothing against freezing or burning (and clothing is an accessibility aid, for it lets us do many things we cannot do without it), then no, I wouldn’t consider it a disability.

I don’t live in that world.

Maybe you don’t consider autism having any relationship to disability, and that’s fine. But please, please don’t erase those of us who do consider autism a disability. Please don’t treat our considering autism a disability as a bad thing that should be corrected or stopped. I don’t regard autism as a disability from a place of negativity. I don’t want to be allistic; if I had the opportunity to become allistic, I wouldn’t take it. Autism shapes how I create and how I think; it is far too entangled in my creativity and identity for me to choose not to have the struggles that come with it. Yet I have needs that still go misunderstood and unaccommodated by wider society, and that is too close to my experiences with chronic pain for it not to be, to me, disability. That’s all it is.

The framework of disability is how I make sense of who I am as an autistic in a world that is set on trying to erase my struggles and provide me the least amount of recognition and support possible. It isn’t a negative thing any more than calling my chronic pain a disability is a negative thing. Disability is, in fact, an empowering term that gives me understanding, connection and community. Rejecting it won’t support me–it only does me damage.

If you want to separate yourself from that, by all means do so–for you.

Please don’t deny me that framework and identity, as someone who considers myself disabled in part because I am autistic.