Breakupversary

It's Autistics Speaking Day. I think I only completed an ASDay post on the first year, 2010, and since I don't blog very often, I'm not sure if I would have decided to write one this year. As it turns out, I didn't even remember November 1 was Autistics Speaking Day, even though I've been watching November 1 coming for quite a while. That's because November 1, 2013, was the day I stopped being in an abusive relationship.

That was your trigger warning. I'm not sure if this counts as an ASDay post or not. It's aimed at Autistic people, disabled people, and to some extent, anyone who is part of a marginalized group and sees that as an important part of their identity.

I have written about my abusive relationship, and I have more to say in the future. What I have to say today is: I didn't know that an abusive relationship could feel the way mine did. I generally didn't feel scared of my abuser or like I was being hurt; instead, from the beginning of the relationship, I was afraid that I was abusing and hurting her. I saw her as a very weak, vulnerable person who I was obligated to protect, and even when I was really unhappy and wanted out, I didn't see it that way. I saw myself as being stressed because my girlfriend needed more help than I could consistently provide. Or, towards the end, I thought that I just was too disabled, or too selfish, or not disciplined enough, to do everything she needed.

It wasn't until after the relationship ended that I became afraid of her. When we were together, my perception of the world was so absorbed into hers that I didn't realize how little control I had over my choices, how afraid I was of displeasing her, and how little she cared about my well-being. It's pretty scary that her thoughts and opinions became mine, that even disagreeing with her in my head was really difficult; but naturally, I wasn't scared at the time, because I didn't have enough control over my mind to be scared.

A few times I cried uncontrollably for hours; I felt hopeless; I got sick. But I always traced it to sources other than my relationship. The closest I ever got was thinking that really bad things happened because I didn't respond to her the right way, and if I just did it better next time, things would be okay. I could handle her.

To be clear, my ex was also Autistic, and had various other disabilities. Her disabilities played a major role in why I stayed with her and was afraid to question the nature of our relationship. At the time, I had a few rationalizations for it:

1. It would be wrong to think that she might be exaggerating or lying about certain needs, or using her disabilities as an excuse for her behavior--even though that was clearly happening sometimes, I refused to consider it.
2. I should be loyal to her because she was disabled. It was right for me to stay with her and help her because disabled people should look out for each other.
3. If I didn't stay with her, she would be alone because other people didn't understand her disabilities and discriminated against her. She wouldn't get the help she needed, and she might even die. A few times she told me that because I had upset her, she might get institutionalized and they would kill her.

As comforting as it might be to imagine that she was faking or lying about her disabilities, that the person who did this to me wasn't Autistic--well, I knew her well enough to know she definitely is Autistic. I also know that it doesn't matter, that if she wasn't really Autistic, or wasn't really disabled, that wouldn't make this any better.

This is a friendly reminder that marginalized people can be abusive or dangerous just like everyone else; and that some social justice ideas are right most of the time, but have exceptions. You don't have to always agree with someone just because they are marginalized. If someone is obviously lying, you shouldn't just accept it because they are marginalized. Disabled people aren't usually lying about their disabilities or using them as an excuse, but it does happen, and you don't have to put up with it if it's hurting you.

Maybe most importantly, not everyone who shares an experience with you is trustworthy. Making Autistic friends was very important to me and I'm now at a point where most of my close friends are Autistic. That does not mean all Autistic people are my friends or have my back, or that I should have their back. This sounds obvious, but it's a lesson I've had to learn a few times, and I hope (maybe unrealistically) that I'll never have to learn it again.

These are some links I find helpful.

The Pervocracy--"Why does she stay with that jerk?"

Myths About Abusers

Off the Rails by Abbey Wilson--particularly the "Why I Don't Believe in God" series--one, two, three, four, five. Additional warning, this is about being in a cult as well as an abusive relationship. It's very different from my experience but for whatever reason, it was the first thing I read that I related to.

Trigger Warning: Breakfast

I like the writing of Lundy Bancroft (like this for example, and that whole tumblr has a lot of good stuff), but the big warning is that he basically doesn't believe women can abuse men. This is ridiculous and makes me uncomfortable.

Also, if you are in my situation, there might come a point when you should take a break from reading and writing about abuse, even if you think it's a good thing to do. It can upset you and make you paranoid; at least, it can for me. When that happens I make an effort to focus on other subjects for a while.

How Indistinguishability Got Its Groove Back

is something that might someday appear in all its parts and might not. Right now I'm primarily interested in writing about staff infection. Spoiler alert though: the answer to "how did indistinguishability get its groove back?" is exactly that.

Or like I said before: it never really lost it.

I think there are two reasons "staff"--very broadly defined as doctors, teachers, therapists, aides, and a million other people--end up trying to control people with disabilities.

1. They believe people with disabilities inherently need to be controlled.

2. They get in a position of power because of people with disabilities' support needs and/or youth, and have the opportunity to make people with disabilities more convenient to deal with.

Whichever reason is not your reason can be used as a straw reason to support the real reason. I could give examples but basically you know it when you see it. Doing this relates to the Harder Fallacy and Shocking Behavior and things like that.

The way indistinguishability got its groove back is that a person with power looked at a person diagnosed with autism and decided they didn't like the way person's body looked or the way the person felt about things. Or (I say when I get angry) the way the person said no.

The person with power started trying to change the person with autism's body (or whatever). The person with autism couldn't defend themselves because they couldn't talk. Or, if they could, other people felt their beliefs, opinions, and arguments were inherently weaker than those of people without disabilities.

The person with power told their coworkers or their employees or the other people in their field to do the same thing. They by and large did.

Occasionally someone was bothered by it but afraid of losing their job, being seen as a pushover by their coworkers, or not being respected by other autism scientists. But most people weren't bothered. Maybe the original person with power was very charismatic and converted them. Maybe they already didn't like how the person with autism's body looked. Maybe they just didn't think about it, accepted it as part of their job, and eventually came to be a little passionate about its rightness. After all, no one was trying to change their bodies.

When I say this happened once I mean that people in power make this decision about people with autism on a regular basis. Probably as you are reading this a person is deciding to be this way, and their decision will spread because it doesn't occur to many people to question it.

To some extent this is true about any decision within that dynamic. Let's say someone decided that all kids with a certain disability have to play soccer, or read Tarot cards. I think this would actually catch on to a greater degree than you would expect. But indistinguishability is such a historically popular thing for people in power to choose to force on disabled people that it has a kind of momentum. You just think about it and it's already there.

Every person in power who unthinkingly chooses or supports indistinguishability is adding to its mass. It's an army of laziness, an army (usually) of feeling safe in your body. Of being able to talk about how much you love The Office in between sessions of training a kid with autism not to make jokes that don't have an obvious punchline. It's easy to do pretty much anything to people with disabilities but indistinguishability has an army.

The pressure of the army makes room for more soldiers. Obviously. This has all been an excuse for a pun. The way indistinguishability got its groove back is that indistinguishability actually is a groove being worn into the fabric of society by sheer constance and bullheadedness. Have a nice day.

I got in an argument with a friend, as one does, and said something I may not have actually come out and said on the Internet before, but it is the basis of a lot of things I think. I really respect her for being willing to have this conversation with me.

her: i don't want to have a child with a disability because i know that if i do i will have to, in fact, love that kid like crazy and put my everything towards its thriving. i mean, depends on the disability but i think that a lot of parents do struggle with that

me: okay well, I don't mean to be a dick, but just so you know people can accidentally have a child with a disability, my mom did, obviously. so, like, keep it in mind b/c I always hear people being like "I'm not going to have a kid with a disability because I can't handle, so I'm getting amnio" or whatever. and I'm like....ehh.

her: no, of course but amanda, i don't mean to downplay whatever your mom went through, but you obviously do not have as severe a disability as someone with downs. if my kid had aspergers it would be really different

me: oh my gosh, for real?

her: yeah of course

me: how many people do you know with down syndrome

her: well, only patients

me: I know a lot of people with down syndrome and when people say things like that I wish they could know all the people I know

her: but anything really, whether it was downs or something like marfans or fragile x. i know that they are and can be really, really awesome people to know. and i'm not saying i wish that they don't exist or anything like that at all, it's just obviously they aren't easy kids to raise.

me: you think marfan's is worse than autism?

her: i don't think marfans is worse than autism, but there is a spectrum with autism

me: okay like, I don't want to be a dick to you b/c I think you're really cool but...this is really silly

her: no it's cool, i want to know what you think

me: and I know you feel like "Amanda's not really disabled, she's my friend, but ~some people are really disabled and I feel different about them~" sorry if that's a harsh way to put it, but something I have noticed about the way people talking about parenting a disabled child: people can frame any disability however they want, like, oh it's really difficult, so difficult that the parent doesn't have to be judged for any decisions they make, ever.

I actually think something that has made this really clear for me is that autism is a really stigmatized disability in terms of kids with autism supposedly being really, I don't know, cold and smearing shit or something, and with down syndrome there's more a stereotype of kids being sweet--so actually you see parents being able to frame raising a kid with autism in a really negative way, much more negative than parents can usually get away with when it comes to ds, even if you compare two essays/blogs/interviews/whatever where the kid with autism is more independent or whatever than the kid with ds. and that is why I find the "your disability is milder" thing to be kind of a red herring.

I grew up disabled in a really stereotypical way, like I felt really guilty and like a huge burden. it doesn't really matter what disability I have, it's a cultural experience that people have across levels of independence, IQ, etc.

(additional note: I was predicted not to be able to live independently, or at least that was implied, and this hangs over like...every conversation I have with my parents. it's a huge factor in our relationship and in how I live--and actually, in my abilities as well. and sometimes it annoys me when whether someone actually CAN live independently is treated as the most important thing when they're talking about disability or ableism. because tons of stuff can happen to you just because of predictions that someone made about you when you were little, and that matters even if the predictions were wrong!)