“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”

We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”

Or “little Jonathan doesn’t talk but does a good job herding the sheep, contributes to the community in his own way, and is, all around, a decent guy.” That happened a lot, too, especially before the 19th century.

Or, backing up FURTHER

and lots of people think this very likely,

“Oh little Sionnat has obviously been taken by the fairies and they’ve left us a Changeling Child who knows too much, and asks strange questions, and uses words she shouldn’t know, and watches everything with her big dark eyes, clearly a Fairy Child and not a Human Like Us.”

The Myth of the Changeling child, a human baby apparently replaced at a young age by a toddler who “suddenly” acts “strange and fey” is an almost textbook depiction of autistic children.

To this day, “autism warrior mommies” talk about autism “stealing” their “sweet normal child” and have this idea of “getting their real baby back” which (in the face of modern science)  indicates how the human psyche actually does deal with finding out their kid acts unlike what they expected.

Given this evidence, and how common we now know autism actually is, the Changeling myth is almost definitely the result of people’s confusion at the development of autistic children.

Weirdly enough, that legend is now comforting to me.

I think it’s worth noting that many like me, who are diagnosed with ASD now, would probably have been seen as just a bit odd in centuries past. I’m only a little bit autistic; I can pass for neurotypical for short periods if I work really hard at it. I have a lack of talent in social situations, and I’m prone to sensory overload or you might notice me stimming.

But here’s the thing: life is louder, brighter and more intense and confusing than it has ever been. I live on the edge of London and I rarely go into the centre of town because it’s too overwhelming. If I went back in time and lived on a farm somewhere, would anyone even notice there was anything odd about me? No police sirens, no crowded streets that go on for miles and miles, no flickery electric lights. Working on a farm has a clear routine. I’d be a badass at spinning cloth or churning butter because I find endless repetition soothing rather than boring.

I’m not trying to romanticise the past because I know it was hard, dirty work with a constant risk of premature death. I don’t actually want to be a 16th century farmer! What I’m saying is that disability exists in the context of the environment. Our environment isn’t making people autistic in the sense of some chemical causing brain damage. But we have created a modern environment which is hostile to autistic people in many ways, which effectively makes us more disabled. When you make people more disabled, you start to see more people struggling, failing at school because they’re overwhelmed, freaking out at the sound of electric hand dryers and so on. And suddenly it looks like there’s millions more autistic people than existed before.

“…disability exists in the context of the environment.”

Reblog for disability commentary.

That last paragraph is absolutely important.

There’s also some disabilities that effectively don’t exist in a modern environment. Shitty eyesight, for example, is 99% of the time effectively and easily treated with glasses, and is not a disability at all (assuming you can afford the glasses, of course). I don’t have to go to my school’s disability services and request accommodations because I need glasses, and I don’t have to alter my daily life because I wear glasses, because today’s modern environment is perfectly navigable to a person with glasses. If I lived 500 years ago and had the same shitty eyesight, it actually would cause me problems. If only we build the world to accommodate other disabilities the way we accommodate glasses.

All. Of. This.

No, It’s Not “In Spite Of” Anything...

I absolutely hate when people say “so and so did x in spite of their disability” or “so and so overcame their disability and did x.” Because really, that’s not how it works. Disability and illness shapes a person and their experiences. Most of the time, it’s not “in spite of” our disabilities, it’s because of them.

Let’s look at some historical examples, shall we?

Take FDR. He was a wealthy, pompous playboy from a political dynasty who Gatsby-ed his way through the Roaring 20s without ever experiencing the real world. He didn’t become president in spite of having polio, he became president because of it. At a time of national hopelessness and desperation, his polio put him into the real world- into a place of understanding for the common man affected by The Depression. It humanized him and it got him 4 terms. It inspired the March of Dimes which consequently ended up funding Salk’s vaccine. That’s not “in spite of,” that’s because of.

Beethoven did not make music in spite of being deaf. In fact, he revolutionized Romantic music because of his distinct lack of high notes. His symphonies, especially his later works, are all much lower than what was common at the time, and it was all because he couldn’t hear high-pitched sounds.

Frida Kahlo did not blur the lines between Expressionism and Surrealism in spite of being disabled, she did it because she was bedridden and bored. Because she was in pain and she was shunned. In the same way her relationship with Diego Rivera inspired her works, so did being disabled. She didn’t overcome anything expect societies limitations.

The truth is, disability and illness are integral parts of our identities and they do shape our lives. The worlds we build and create are not made by overcoming the hindrance of disability, they are made because of the perspective it gives up. 

Erase the idea of in spite of. Erase the idea that our success comes from overcoming anything other than deep-seeded ableism.