I imagine this could be triggering

Also, one of the reasons that I find it so upsetting to be told that social skills do exist is that I think social skills are about as legit and dangerous as sexual skills--and by sexual skills, I mean the idea that being good/successful/able at sex is a flat line going from No to Yes.

Like lots of kids with autism I was put on antipsychotics and it screwed up my life. One of the things the psychiatrist used to explain why I should be on antipsychotics was the fact that when he asked me how high my sex drive was, I said it was "low," which indicated that I was depressed. I was 15 years old and felt terrible about myself and my body. I'm also queer and an s/m person among other things, so I haven't always felt like engaging with my sexuality because it's kind of alienating. Also, those things aside, some people just have low sex drives.

So we know that--just like not looking people in the eye is a way to have bad social skills--not wanting to have sex as much as other people do is a way to have bad sexual skills, to be bad (worthy of medicalization) in the area of sex.

I wonder what the other bad sexual skills would be. I imagine they'd be a lot like bad social skills.

Not liking the same things other people like.

Not reacting the way you should.

Crying when someone does something you're supposed to like.

Saying no to something that everyone's supposed to do.

Bringing up something weird just because it makes you happy.

Throwing a fit just because someone tried to make you do something you don't like.

Just not being interested at all.

what not existing means to me

Thinking of trying to post here more.

So I'll just say the social skills conversation makes me CRAZY*? It's become yet another of the things I can't even stand to talk about kind of like when someone tries to tell me I'm high-functioning and can self-advocate.

(*I don't EVER think it is a problem to talk about and examine language use but I'm not necessarily for having rules about it, so please don't comment and tell me why you don't think I should use the word crazy, I know why you think that and I think about it all the time.)

and today I flipped out at my friend just because he happened to say something about having social problems, in a kind of "well, you know, you and I are different this way" sort of tone. I think I said something like, "NO! I'm so fucking sick of people like you getting everything and being THE ONLY PEOPLE IN THE WORLD" which after I said that I was kind of like, shit, what am I talking about? what does that mean? why am I mad?

I am not really mad at my friend, or another Autistic friend at whom I blew up similarly about two weeks ago.

I'm mad because before I got to know other people with autism and DD, I thought I was some kind of Super Minority, in fact I did not consider myself to be on the autism spectrum at all, because I was told that "Asperger's" or "HFA" (the type of autism I was supposed to have, being a college student who could talk) was primarily about "lacking social skills" which apparently in a classic form meant not reading facial expressions (which I'd been tested on so I knew I could do it), insulting people by mistake, making people listen to speeches about your interests, not being polite, not knowing what people were feeling, and so on.

So I wasn't like this so I usually didn't consider myself to have ASD. In fact sometimes I knew things about people that other people didn't know.

At the same time, it was pretty clear I was kind of batshit* (in terms of how I processed life and how I felt sometimes) and I also had trouble with things related to friends that no one I knew had trouble with. For example when I was a first-year in college I got really attached to a friend named Clayton and wanted to spend time with him every day, so I would go sit outside his door. He would be happy to see me when he was there but he usually wasn't there so I'd just be sitting there reading and doing my homework and I HATED myself. I liked him so much that I wanted to see him all the time but I got so I hated everyone who lived on the same floor as him because I thought they were watching me and thinking how I wasn't normal and I was some kind of creepy stalker, and the next year when Clayton started living with the guy who had lived next door to him it took me a long time to stop hating him because I believed that he judged me.

The next year I had a friend named Noah who was a good writer but wanted to quit writing because it made him depressed. Noah spent a lot of time listening to me talk because he was a quiet person and it made me miserable because I felt that Noah and I didn't have an "equal" friendship, so I snuck onto Noah's computer and read pieces of his writing that he had forbidden me to ever read. It caused a huge problem in our friendship that I sometimes think has never gotten better, and it happened because I was trying to do what I thought was the right thing. (For some reason not one but two people who read my blog and who I attempted to be friends with have used this story to illuminate something about me they don't like. Thanks guys. I actually already feel terrible about it and find it hard to write about because it was an awful experience, AND I'm not the kind of person who would ever do something like that anymore, so it's not even a good example of whatever you don't like about me now.)

In the last year of high school and the first few years of college, I considered a girl named Lisa my best friend. I stopped considering her my best friend after a fight we had on the phone until four in the morning, my senior year, about ten months ago. A lot of our fight had to do with her feeling that I was mean and overly strident about anti-ableism, something she told me she "just [didn't] care about, I guess I should, because you're disabled, but I just don't." I could be wrong but I wonder if she thinks that identifying as disabled is some new thing I just invented/discovered and isn't who I really am. It's something that makes me feel oddly guilty and start questioning myself--because if Lisa doesn't remember me being disabled, then how is it even real? She's my oldest friend and should be the best judge of things that are phases or poses.

But it was a really long fight, and towards the end Lisa started talking about how when we were first becoming good friends (I was about 16 and she was about 15), whenever we had a conversation I would talk for a while and say, "I've been talking too much, now you talk." Lisa can be quiet with people early on, and it made her feel bad like I was constantly criticizing her for not talking in the way I thought was correct. She was saying that early on things from our friendship still affected the way she felt about me and it was hard to get out of resenting me for them.

Obviously, "I've been talking too much, now you talk," looks to me very much like sneaking on Noah's computer because I thought our friendship was too one-sided, and being upset that with Clayton I always sought him out. Whatever you call that problem, it was the biggest problem I've ever had in relating to other people.

Anyway, before I got to know other people with autism and DD, it was obvious to me that I had some disabled type problems like moving a bit differently and loving things too much and getting so frightened that I couldn't sleep or recognize words, AND I also considered myself to have "social problems" because this stuff with Noah, Clayton, and Lisa wasn't something that most people seemed to worry about. My social problems were not textbook autism problems, so I figured my autism must be very mild, but at the same time they seemed to wreck my life so much more than just being rude or not reading facial expressions. When I would interact with people who I imagined might be "autistic"--people who monologued a lot and weren't very sensitive--they seemed SO much happier and less distressed than I was and they seemed to pretty much have friends and not be killing themselves over whether they were calling their friend on the phone first or their friend was calling them. So how could I be more "high-functioning" than these people? My social life occasionally exploded into these awful periods where I was convinced everyone hated me and I felt sick. Also, it was nearly impossible to make new friends, because I figured that all of my friends' friends would never want to be friends with me because I was such a fucking freak.

Where am I going with this? Well, when I got to know some more people with autism and DD, and I began to think critically about this, I came to some conclusions:

1. A lot of people with autism aren't at all like the textbooks.
2. Autism is a lot more than social stuff, even for people who can talk. (This came out of a long period of thinking of myself as "more like a severely disabled person, except I can talk" because severely disabled people were allowed to have a lot of emotional troubles and problems with transition and stuff.)
3. Eventually: social skills don't exist.
4. I am a human.

I know I am disabled, and accepting that has really changed my life, but so has believing that I'm not socially impaired. In February I went into the first class of my last semester and made an awkward comment/joke to the girl sitting next to me. She looked at me blankly and I started to feel about as low as a Yeerk squashed under an Animorphed elephant's foot. It almost ruined my whole day--then I thought, we have different senses of humor! Maybe she doesn't have much of a sense of humor at all! She isn't a representative of humanity, and I haven't lost a war. We're just NOT THE SAME.

Or, God forbid, someone doesn't understand something I said. This used to be something that I would actually LIE about and argue about to anyone who I perceived as trying to tell me that I wasn't normal and couldn't do everything I thought I could. "Of course they understood me! You're just being overprotective! Maybe there's something wrong with YOU!"

Hey, guess what: my speech is hard to understand. AND sometimes I say things in a way that is jumbled and not connected. Oh no I'm going to drop out of school and delete myself from the universe. No, actually, I'm fine and I'm just going to say it again more accessibly. Life is good.

The problem is

I am very political about disability because politics has saved my life.

I have never been able to finish writing about going to a doctor this winter. I sought out learning testing because I was really confused by how slow I felt and how hard it was for me to do schoolwork, Activities of Daily Living, and other things. I seriously thought some kind of huge mass was missing in my brain because I just was not happening. I considered suicide because my friend gave me the relatively simple, but unexpected, task of taking his car to the gas station when I was driving it. I started crying and begging myself to drive into every truck I passed on the road, because I COULDN'T GO TO THE GAS STATION, it was too hard.

So, the doctor diagnosed me with some learning disabilities which aren't very severe and which I'd already been diagnosed with before. And he kept telling me I was really smart, something I'd also heard before. This increased an already very suicidal winter and early spring to fever pitch. I cried every time I met with him. I wanted a brain hole. Sometimes I still do. What is with the gas station? Why can't I just go there?

I don't know.

So, the worst thing about meeting with the doctor was that he didn't believe I had autism. In addition to getting my learning testing, I was also hoping to get a re-diagnosis of ASD because I hadn't had one in 8 years and I figured I might need more recent documentation at some point. Unfortunately, the doctor was very well versed in learning disabilities, and didn't know very much else about bad brains. Every time I talked to him, I would make the mistake of referring to myself as having autism, and there would be this little record-scritching sound.

"Autism! I thought we agreed to throw that out!" (in the same tone of voice he used when telling me I am smart)

Then he would explain to me that if anything he might be convinced I had Asperger's, not autism, because it is strongly associated with one of the learning disabilities I had (even though I had very good eye contact, he said). Every time he said this, I would explain that Asperger's, PDD-NOS, and Autistic Disorder are all on the autism spectrum, and when I referred to myself as having autism, I was just using the word that my disabled friends and I used about ourselves, which was in fact consistent with how the psychiatric community was coming to classify people, since the DSM 5 would have only the autism spectrum and not three separate diagnoses. He and I had this conversation probably six times, every time I met with him. The final time, I actually started yelling. "THERE ARE THREE DIAGNOSES THAT ARE CONSIDERED AUTISM SPECTRUM DISABILITIES. WHEN I SAY I HAVE AUTISM, I JUST MEAN THAT I HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH TWO OF THOSE DIAGNOSES IN THE PAST, AND I BELIEVE THOSE WERE CORRECT DIAGNOSES. I AM NOT THE ONLY PERSON TO REFER TO THESE THREE DIAGNOSES AS 'AUTISM.'"

"So that's the new thinking?" he said.

I began crying (again).

Now I know what you're thinking. Why didn't I just say Asperger's because that was a label he obviously would have been more likely to accept, understand, and associate with someone as "smart" as he thought I was? Why did I need to have this fight every time I talked to him?

I don't really know. I can't send letters if I think even one word is arrogant, shifty, dishonest, or undeserved (you can imagine this makes it difficult to apply for jobs, as I usually become really unhappy and take on some less urgent project to distract myself). I can't stop saying I have autism if that's what I think I have, and if having it has helped me define myself in a way that has radically changed for the better how I live my life.

I was not diagnosed by him IIRC, and I am not seeking rediagnosis now. Diagnosis of autism would require social impairment. Here's some stuff I could say:

I don't have a lot of friends.
I don't lose friends in fights more than anyone else, but I seem to grow apart from them really easily.
I have no romantic or sexual history to speak of.
I often don't fit in very well in the workplace.
I was bullied a lot when I was growing up.
I had few friends or no friends most of the time, from the time I was about twelve to when I started college.

These are actually true facts, but I don't consider myself socially impaired.

Here are two things that piss me off when other Autistic people argue with me and tell me that social skills DO exist:

1. when they tell me (admittedly, because I'm very confrontational and force them to say it) that they think I do have social impairment. I guess that this is really just a huge trigger/mental block thing where to me it means something much worse than what they mean, but to me, when someone says this, it's like they're saying that I have a false view of the world, and that makes me very upset.

2. when they tell me that I need to acknowledge that some other Autistic people are very different from me and have really different impairments from mine, and that even though my impairments aren't related to socialization, some people's are.

Number 2 makes me start thinking, what the fuck is autism then? Can autism actually be THAT different? But I will bite. Let's say that a few different disabilities look similar enough to have all been categorized as autism, and let's say that while all of my isolation and conflict with people blah blah DOESN'T come from social impairment, but just comes from other parts of my disability and/or me as an individual, other people with autism who have similar experiences with people actually DO have those experiences because of social impairment. The books don't describe me, but they do describe them. In fact, the DSM definition of autism describes them, and it doesn't describe me. So, the DSM and mainstream professional thought about autism at least starts to describe one group of people with autism, but doesn't describe me at all, and if I went to a psychologist and started telling them about what I consider to be my disability--i.e. cognitive and emotional problems and the relationship between those two things--it would take a miracle for them to diagnose me with autism. Because I have the kind of autism that's less real than the other kind.

So, to me, when someone starts saying, okay, well YOU need to understand that other people do have REAL SOCIAL PROBLEMS and REAL SOCIAL SKILLS DEFICITS, even if YOU DON'T, I feel like they are saying I'm fundamentally different from a LOT of other people with autism, the REALLY REAL PEOPLE WITH AUTISM, probably. I feel like I'm being kicked out of my own disability. No wonder I tend to prefer to call myself bad brains and insane in the membrane and Magikarp zombie waste of space. It seems obvious I belong in the Autistic community, and I even have that treasured thing: a fairly early diagnosis (from 1998, when I was nine), but I know that I would be said to have "grown out of it" or been misdiagnosed, by any reasonable medical professional--I know it can be taken away any time, and sometimes I feel that by being inseparable from the theory and values that prove to me I have a right to exist, I am making it easier for people to erase me.

I am saying this because I want to apologize to you, and probably other people I've forgotten doing this to before. It isn't you, and it's probably not logical. I panic and start hitting out.

What should I know about autism that I'm not learning from pop culture?

from my disability page here

I feel like American pop culture is obsessed with autism. It is obsessed with two kinds of autism: very severe autism, which it thinks is kids hitting their heads, and mild autism, which it thinks is people who act weird and are socially impaired. In America and some other places, a person with autism can make a ton of money writing a book about having autism, especially if they make it sound as exotic as possible.

I'm a pretty good writer, and I have autism, but I think I will try to make money in other ways. I find it hard to write about having autism, especially if I have to make it sound exotic. It doesn't feel exotic to me since it is my life.* Also, as everyone knows, being asked "What is it like being gay?" or "What is it like being a middle child?" is very confusing, because you don't know what a lifelong situation is "like" because things have never been any other way. I feel like it's kind of a betrayal of yourself to write a really sensational book about a disability you have always had.

Anyway, I'm just trying to say that I'm not going to spend a lot of time writing about "what autism is like for me" or "what autism is." There are lots of places you can read that (some of them good). But this one page is an exception because I really just want to talk about the pop culture portrayal of mild autism/Asperger's Syndrome (mild autism and AS are not really synonyms, but whatever, pop culture thinks they are). I want to explain why it's not correct.

Lots of people think "Asperger's" is a purely social disability.

According to pop culture, people with "Asperger's" do some strange/geeky things, and don't understand other people's feelings, and don't have any friends. And that's all that "Asperger's" is.

This is fucked up because it's not true. First of all, it leaves out some really difficult parts of living with autism, and leads people to think that mild autism isn't a real disability. Second of all, it means that the severity of an ASD person's disability is often judged by how socially successful they are. This means that if a person has friends and/or seems "normal," other people won't believe that they are disabled, even if the person has a lot of other problems.

What are those other problems?

Well, one of them is called "executive dysfunction." I recommend reading the Wikipedia page on dysexecutive syndrome, which is a disorder caused by a brain injury, but is very similar to what ASD people experience. Executive dysfunction affects many people with developmental disabilities and is a huge issue for every Autistic person I know, but it hasn't been studied very much and isn't officially considered to be part of autism. (I'm guessing this is because so many studies are done on kids, who have a lot of decisions made for them and therefore aren't going to show executive dysfunction as clearly.)

Also some people with autism have trouble transitioning from one activity to the next, have anxiety problems, have intellectual disabilities, have depression, have sensory issues (get upset by certain sensory experiences, like loud noises or stiff clothes), get upset unless everything is a certain way, or have trouble talking. (Trouble talking can mean a lot of things, like having trouble pronouncing words so people can understand them, having trouble putting together clear sentences, not being able to talk at all when you're upset, or talking in a style that other people react badly to.)

One reason I like to say I have autism instead of saying I have "Asperger's," even though there is a stereotype that autism means severe autism and there is a ridiculous stereotype of what severe autism is: my problems are mostly related to executive dysfunction, anxiety, transitions, and having trouble talking. At least the stereotype of severe autism includes people being upset, not liking change, and not being able to talk or take care of themselves. Even though it's overblown, it's more like what my actual problems are than the "Asperger's" stereotype.

YOU MEAN YOU DON'T HAVE SOCIAL PROBLEMS??

Okay dude, here's the thing:

1. Lots of people with disabilities have social problems. Especially people who have developmental delays, because when they're in school, they may not have the skills or interests that other people their age have. Actually, for people with autism, it isn't always that we seem too young; some people with autism seem too old because they are self-educated and know about things that other kids don't know about, or "talk like an old person." But it can go either way. Or both ways in one person. Talking differently or having different interests can make it hard to fit in.

2. Lots of people who don't have disabilities like to ostracize people who are disabled. Some people with mild autism do things that "look disabled" like flapping their arms or clapping their hands when they're excited or running around all the time. This means that many non-disabled people aren't going to want to be friends with them.

3. Some people with autism may want to talk about the same things all the time, or always do activities that are related to those things. There are actually lots of subcultures that are accessible to a person like that, but the average non-Autistic person will want to do a variety of activities, and won't get along with such a person.

4. Some people with autism have very strong feelings and may scare people they want to be friends with, because they are really affectionate and want to spend a lot of time with them right away.

5. Some non-Autistic people may not understand why a person with autism isn't looking them in the eye, or doesn't want to hang out because it would mean breaking their routine. This means that they may think the person with autism doesn't want to be friends with them, when the person actually does.

6. Some people with autism may be shy and anxious as a result of being bullied when they were younger. They may also be kind of self-conscious and distant if they're trying really hard to hide the fact that they are disabled. This can make it hard to make friends.

I'm not saying that I'm 100% sure autism doesn't cause people to have trouble sensing other people's emotions, but there a lot of aspects of autism that could keep someone from being socially successful. I think it's very reductive to say that "Asperger's means a person is socially impaired/doesn't understand other people's feelings/can't make friends."

When I was 16, I was kicked out of a study of ASD kids because the study was about how to make someone better at reading facial expressions, and I was judged to already be good at reading facial expressions. But despite that, I had a lot of social problems at that age, and still have some now.

What is a better way to think about autism?

(In making up this fake question for myself to answer, I'm thinking about a better way than really sensational books and very special episodes of TV shows saying that people with mild autism are super genius geek robots who don't care about other people's feelings, or don't know that other people's feelings exist.)

I wish that autism was more strongly associated with intellectual disability (formerly known as mental retardation). This isn't because some people with autism have ID, although that's true. It's just because I think there are a lot of similarities: a person with autism, ID, or both is born into the world with a certain disability that they will always have. They will develop some skills later than other people. Depending on the severity of their disability, there may be some things they will always need help with. They may have trouble fitting in with other people. They may be abused by other people for being different. They may end up in situations they don't understand (and of course, people may assume they don't understand things they really do understand). They may have trouble taking care of themselves. They may have trouble talking.

This isn't interesting. It's not something to write a book about--which isn't to say that people with autism, or ID, don't often lead interesting lives. But their impairments alone are not interesting. They're just a part of life.

This is not to deny that people with intellectual disabilities are treated terribly in our society, in a different way from people with autism. I'm jealous that they're not seen as curiosities because of their disability, but the awful side is that they are often seen as not interesting at all in a pervasive way. Non-disabled people just want them to be completely kept out of sight. Non-disabled people insult each other using the word "retard" as if it doesn't refer to any real group of marginalized people. Non-disabled people are surprised to learn that a person with an intellectual disability can be funny or cool, and they do their best to avoid finding that out.

However, once people are actually forced to spend time with a person who has ID, such as by being their parent, I think they are more likely to accept the person for who they are and work around the impairments the person has. This isn't really the case with autism. And I think that the movement for people with ID to be treated equally is in a lot of ways ahead of the movement for people with autism, because of this acceptance. At least there are many organizations that encourage people with ID to speak up for themselves--whereas most people with autism are encouraged only to speak about themselves.

*I admit I'm being kind of a bitch what with constantly declaring that I'm not interested in writing about what autism is like. I mean, I know that some people have been recently diagnosed and they are very interested in reading about what autism is and what it's like, which is legit and I don't want to be critical of anyone who's in that situation and happens to wander over here looking for help. I just tend to be really snarky about this stuff because I really don't like the cultural trend of people with autism being expected to educate non-disabled people about autism. But if you actually have autism and want to talk about it, you should get in contact with me on tumblr or gmail or something.

all it takes

Tonight in line at the dining hall I was having a conversation with someone I kind of know. He was strikingly knowledgeable about when, in the mind of the register at the dining hall, the "dinner" period becomes the "fourth meal" period. Many people aren't clear on this, and when I am cashiering people will sometimes try to swipe their card at 9:30 after eating dinner at 5:30, not understanding that it is still the dinner period and their card won't work again until 10:01 when fourth meal officially starts.

So I was like, "Wait did you cashier at some point?" and he said, "No, but when I was a freshman I lived in the dorm in this building so I was here a lot," and I was like, "Dude I know that, we lived on the same floor," and he said, "Oh sorry, I remember." But as soon as I thought about it, I felt much sorrier than he did.

This guy (whose real speech style I am not even attempting to replicate) has ASD and Tourette's. He is probably everyone's stereotype of a person with "Asperger's"--I mean, now I think the unusualness of his speech is what's most obvious, but when we were freshmen he would always monologue about engines--isn't that the most stereotypical thing you can think of? He'd draw pictures of machines and explain them to people, for heaven's sake!

The way I treated him was just...barf. I was always trying to tell him what to do and how to talk to other people. He didn't get mad at me for this, but he'd never asked me to do it. I just couldn't help thinking that I knew something he didn't. I knew the proper way to act if you had ASD. You were careful. You never talked about anything you were interested in. And look, look, some people were ignoring him when he talked! I was right. Why didn't he just pick up on what I was trying to teach him so he could make more friends?

Except, then he did make a lot of friends, and became really popular. I hardly ever see him alone. He's involved in lots of extracurricular activities. Most people don't guess that he has ASD because he doesn't fit into their idea of it; he's not ~isolated~ by his ~pathology~. He's just himself, and almost everyone likes him for it.

I haven't spent a lot of time with this guy since the first semester of our first year. But being in school with him, and seeing how things turned out, was one of the things that made my frame on social skills begin to change. He is fine. He did not need help becoming more like me as I was then, or more like anyone else.

What's so important is that all it takes is to see one or two really naturally, visibly nonstandard people in a state of really awesome social success.

You stop chewing on your tongue while the person is talking, thinking about what they should be like, what they probably just don't understand is the right way to be; you stop cringing for what's going to happen to them if they're not careful. You just see the person. You see that they're really cool. You see that you weren't treating them like an adult, before.

And then you think about all the environments where the way this person is would sentence them to isolation, bullying, unemployment, and other undesirable ends, because of their "bad social skills." And then you start to see how incredibly cruel and ridiculous those environments are, for being the way they are. And then you stop being careful. And you start being super pissed off.

Social Skills Don't Exist

An exploration of the concept of social skills, particularly (but not exclusively) as it relates to people with autism, victim-blaming, and the Power of Love:

1. What are social skills?
2. What this is not

Showing likability and connection, and skill and work, that is unrelated to being normal:

3. About Stephen
4. Social skills and intent
5. Is going to a hospital normal?
6. Mindfulness and modulation (a general look)

7. Break for love

Some more on skill/work/compassion:

8. Mindfulness and modulation (cashiering)
9. Mindfulness and modulation (being practiced, and not practiced, by professionals)

Other things on various subjects:

10. a note on a
10a. input vs. output
11. My year of flops
12. Bird brains

13. Social model of social failure

13. Social model of social failure

I guess this as close as I will get to an ending. I've typed up everything I can find in my notebook related to this, and written the things I had floating around.

Basically I think it's definitely true that a lot of normal people sync up with each other and come off in certain ways to each other, and then when a lot of people with autism don't sync up with normal people, or don't come off properly, the results can be very bad for the person with autism.

I don't think this relates to people with autism not having "social skills."

I don't think social skills exist. Or, if I do, I think they exist like God exists--in everyone. They just may not always be apparent. For example, I may have very good social skills when relating to other people who have disabilities, or people who are interested in the same things I'm interested in. I have much better social skills with men than I do with women. Social skills are not contained in a person--they require the right other person.

With work, I think a lot of people can learn to develop their mindfulness and modulation skills so that they can have good social skills (i.e., capacity to connect) with more people--or, so that more people can have good social skills with them. It's the same thing.

Some people--disabled or not--may not be able to learn how to do that, but they will still sometimes meet a person who is exactly like them, or who is very good at mindfulness and modulation, and they will have good social skills when they are with that person.

Other people will just not let other people in. Sometimes it will be because the other person is obviously different. Such people may have good social skills when interacting with people who aren't different. But with people who are different, they will always have no social skills; and when a person who's different is with someone like that, they will "lack social skills" too. (But if they were told by a professional that they lack social skills, they won't understand the two-way nature of the failed connection.)

A person could be going through life, who can't talk, doesn't like to look at people, and is in a lot of emotional pain which they express with "challenging behaviors." This person may live in an institution where no one engages with them because the person is not judged to be interesting, or interested, or capable. One day a new person comes to the institution who is interested in the first person. They start to walk around together and sit together, even though they don't look at each other. Maybe they play games like the two kids I knew who liked to move each other's arms without looking at each other. Maybe they make noises at each other. Maybe they just physically stay near each other as much as possible. This is what life is about, and for some people, it never happens.

But it just takes people who fit each other, or learn to fit each other.

When someone is isolated or bullied, that is not all about them. Other people are bullying them and deciding not to engage them. Still other people, from a distance, in abstract, are framing the person as Someone Without Social Skills, while leaving the other people involved unmarked.

But everyone involved must have bad social skills, because they are all contributing to what is going on. Maybe we can't in the short term stop people from bullying and isolating other people, but we can in the abstract apply the social model of social failure, and stop saying that social failures deserve to be alone.

12. Bird brains

The classic example of impaired "social skills" in people with "Asperger's" is a person who constantly talks about their favorite subject, and doesn't notice other people's boredom or discomfort. I will explore this by presenting two people who like to talk differently.

Tobias likes to receive a lot of information at once, or give a lot of information at once. When talking to Jake, Tobias will try to talk about his favorite subject, roadkill, and doesn't notice that Jake is indicating he is bored, which he is showing by checking his watch, sighing, and trying to change the subject.

Jake likes to joke around and talk briefly about various subjects. He will ask Tobias how he is doing, then switch the topic to his own family and friends, then just as quickly make a joke that he hopes Tobias will laugh at and build on. Jake doesn't notice that Tobias finds all the agitating and confusing, and is expressing his feelings by humming, rocking around, and constantly changing the subject back to roadkill.

Jake and Tobias have different brains, but they're both acting the same. Neither person is observant about how the other person might be feeling; neither puts forth the effort to have the kind of conversation that the other person might like.

However, if a professional observed Jake and Tobias and wrote a report, the report would be about how Tobias couldn't relate to the "typically developing" or "neurotypical" Jake. Jake kept trying to have a give-and-take conversation with Tobias, but Tobias wasn't having it. The professional might even conclude by saying what a nice person Jake is for being friends with someone like Tobias.

But in fact, even if Jake is being "nice" by wanting to be friends with someone different from him, they're both failing each other in the same way. This is why I don't like the words "neurotypical" or especially "typically developing." People plug those words in to be politically correct, but if they still are framing interactions between "typically developing" and "special needs" people this way, then the words they really mean are normal and defective.

11. My Year of Flops

At the Onion AV Club, Nathan Rabin writes a series (which is now also a book) called My Year of Flops. Rabin watches very unsuccessful movies and rates them as Failure, Fiasco, or Secret Success. I am interested in the idea of people being "flops." A good example is Stephen, described above. Like most people with significant developmental disabilities, Stephen is written off by many normal humans; and a professional could have a great time studying Stephen and writing about all the "social skills" he "lacks." However, Stephen does connect to people, does affect other people positively, and is well-liked. Stephen is a Secret Success.

The opposite of flops, of course, are blockbusters. Some normal people--and I would argue that these are the people who could actually be termed "superneurotypical"--come off to other normal people as really nice, trustworthy, decent, competent, etc. They just hit all the buttons that make normal people feel at home. (And people with autism who are trying to fit in may try to have the same reaction to blockbusters that normal people do.) Blockbusters can be rated as Success, Fiasco, or Secret Failure.

One time when I was thirteen, all the Spanish classes in my grade went on a field trip to a Mexican restaurant. The table where my only friend was sitting was full, so I sat at the nearest table to her. The people who sat down at my table included a boy named Michael who was a Secret Failure. Michael asked why I had to be sitting at their table. I responded "I thought it would be amusing" (this is hard to explain but it's kind of similar to when George Takei said that he wanted to have sex with Tim Hardaway--the idea being that if someone thinks you're disgusting, you try to take ownership of that).

Michael said, "Well, I think it would be amusing if you fell out through that window." (There was a large plate glass window across the restaurant.) I tried to distract myself by writing a poem on the flyleaf of the book I was reading, but Michael carried on in this vein for the entire meal, describing different ways that I could die or become injured. Later my mom made the mistake of repeating this to the mom of another kid from my school. The other mom replied, "I believe that Amanda thinks she's telling the truth, but Michael is a really nice boy."

Michael went on to go to Georgetown and will probably live the rest of his life without anyone finding out he is a failure. I on the other hand actually think of my younger self as a failure for doing things like using the word "amusing" when a more standard word for someone my age would have been "funny." I also used the words "quite" and "suppose." Seriously! What did I think was going to happen?

In addition to using the wrong words, I was also kind of a douche at that age. For example I did (and still do sometimes) make jokes about things that other people were sensitive about. I didn't think about how this would hurt someone's feelings, and I still feel bad when it happens now. But I've never told anyone that I think they should fall out a glass window, so I think I am fairly categorized as a fiasco, not a failure, even though I am a flop.

10a. input vs. output

(Even when you just stay on body language. In my experience it is much more likely to get rejected for your own body language/facial expression/tone--other people read you as a normal person who is sketchy/offensive, or read you as an "other" that they find undesirable, such as disabled/"weird." It actually takes a while to judge how someone else is responding to the way you move and sound--judging the way someone else moves and sounds is much faster. A lot of people with autism could drill themselves forever on how to read other people, and still would regularly get rejected because they haven't changed their own body language.)

10. a note on a

In case you forgot, a means being able to read people via their body language and facial expression and tone of voice, and to be able to adjust how you deal with them appropriately based on that and was posited by Fiona as a "social skill."

Today she said: (C) [is mostly a consequence of having (a), I think. If you recall, (c) is being able to approach people and make friends without experiencing a lot of rejection.

I can nitpick a lot about a, and I love to, but I'm going to try not to do that in this series. There certainly are a lot of people with autism who say that they can't do that stuff, and they may be right. I don't think I need to prove a untrue to prove that it's absolutely ridiculous for c to proceed from a. So I'm going to assume for right now that a is completely true--cartoonishly true, even, to a level that no one claims it's true in real life. Let's say that people with autism can barely read any expressions besides smiling and crying (and can't tell different kinds of smiles apart), can't read body language at all, and can't tell tones of voice apart except for very basic differences like the difference between a question and a statement.

My immediate reaction to this is that if these abilities were objectively important, then blind people would always be socially isolated and their social isolation would be framed as natural in the same way that social isolation is framed as natural for people with ASD. But a lot of people who have no idea how other people are moving their bodies or faces are able to have friends.

However, I guess the difference is that sighted people generally notice when someone is blind, so they don't take the person's lack of appropriate reaction to their expressions as meaning anything other than the fact that the person is blind. But this is really a difference between what a non-disabled person knows about blindness and autism--it's not really a difference between blindness and autism. What if the concept of not being able to read facial expressions or body language was as commonly understood as the concept of not being able to see? Then when a non-disabled person met someone who didn't ever seem to understand their tones of voice, body language, or facial expressions, they wouldn't be offended by specific failures of understanding (like when the other person fails to tell from their face that they are upset).

So, that's said. But the whole conflict I just set up, in my experience, isn't even the main thing keeping a lot of people with autism from being socially successful.

9. Mindfulness and modulation (being practiced, and not practiced, by professionals)

When I think of mindfulness and modulation, I think of floortime. When someone uses floortime, they try to engage with someone who has a disability by engaging with the things that are important to that person, like games, stims, and special interests. If the person doesn't respond to you in obvious ways, you try to get a response by acting differently, or doing something that you know will provoke a response (like picking up something they are playing with so they'll have to take it back from you). I do think reading Greenspan has been helpful for me because it gives specific examples of how to apply this philosophy, but when I hear people acting as if floortime (and its less awesome and inexplicably expensive counterpart, Son-Rise) is some kind of complicated scientific theory, I wonder how those people normally treat other people in their regular lives.

Right now I occasionally get to work with some late childhood/preteen-age kids with ASD, who don't tend to be verbal unless it's required. If I go into a room and see a bunch of kids with ASD (or a bunch of people any age with anything, actually) who are all kind of keeping to themselves and playing/looking at different things by themselves, my immediate reaction is:

1. Go stand or sit near someone but don't get super in their space
2. Maybe mumble about something or other related to what they're doing
3. Try to touch some of the things they are playing with, like if they are playing with trains, pick up a train piece they're not using and offer it to them
4. If they try to hug me or touch my hair or whatever, I try to touch their hair or tickle them or something and proceed based on whether they seem to like this
5. And so on

Once I saw two nonverbal kids with Down Syndrome playing some kind of game which consisted of standing near each other, not looking at each other, but making advances into the other's space (like sticking their arm out), then physically moving the other person's arm down. So I started sticking my arm out to see if they would let me be in the game. I don't really see how this isn't the obvious way to react in that situation.

I mean seriously, it actually makes me concerned that people think there is something weird or groundbreaking about such a basic way of relating to other people. This stuff doesn't always have some amazing effect (it definitely doesn't "cure" anything like Son-Rise claims, which is why Son-Rise is so dumb) but I have had lots of nice interactions/connections with nonverbal people who, if I was stupid enough to go up to them and ask "Hi, how are you?" and expect eye contact and a handshake, would probably strike me as not being interested in people.

It is pretty interesting, if reading other people and changing your behavior to fit them is such a basic skill for people without autism, that people need to even be told about floortime or related methods at all (and that an abnormal person like me finds it really intuitive, at least in its purest forms).

It is also interesting, although I totally admit I'm straying really far from my original "social skills don't exist" germ, to observe the lack of flexibility, compassion, or modulation in a very strict behaviorist program that discourages people with autism from stimming, having special interests, or avoiding eye contact. Especially when behaviorists will say that their clients with autism are being lazy or not paying attention, or intentionally causing trouble, when the person does things like avoiding eye contact, stimming, banging their head, screaming, etc., instead of thinking that perhaps the person is just behaving neutrally, or is even expressing that they are really upset. Many behaviorists cannot read other people's emotions very well.

8. Mindfulness and modulation (cashiering)

You learn a lot about this stuff if you are a cashier. A lot of the time, people will say unpleasant things for no reason, apparently without meaning to be unpleasant. A good example is when they will complain, often rather nastily, to the cashier about the high price of an item. Common sense and logic would indicate that a late teens/early twenties scraggly-looking cashier such as myself is probably not responsible for high prices or able to do anything about them. However, these people either lack the ability to discern this, or the ability to care about being rude for no reason.

(A fun fact: when I was younger, I found it almost impossible to buy anything because of anxiety that I would annoy or offend service people with my facial expressions, eye gaze, and general slowness, or by taking too long to put change back in my wallet.)

At the school dining hall where I work now, there is no cash payment, but there many other occasions to display a lack of mindfulness. Until recently, most people used take-out containers, and I was required to ask them to open their containers. (I'm not some kind of hall monitor asshole, but my manager hates me and would lurk about in the hopes of being able to catch me not looking in a take-out box.)

There were three kinds of people. Some people remembered the rule and would open their boxes before I even had a chance to ask. Some people required a vague prompt (I would gesture at their take-out box and mumble something; it didn't really matter what I said because they picked up on what I was asking them to do). A third group of people, thankfully a minority, didn't understand the prompt and I had to do a lot of word-finding and enunciating to explain what I was asking them to do. (Believe it or not, cashiering is a mostly nonverbal job except for like one script that you use over and over.)

I didn't resent the third group of people--maybe they didn't eat at the dining hall much--but I did feel very affectionate towards people who needed little prompting or no prompts at all. I developed a huge crush on a particular girl who would come to the dining hall to get take-out every day by herself. She would always come up to the register, open her take-out box without me saying anything, and give me this kind of grimace-y, rehearsed-looking (but adorable) smile. The smile made her look sort of scared, but I didn't know if she was actually scared. I just thought that her whole scripted routine was the dreamiest thing ever.

I have seen this girl walking around with other people, so I don't think she is like a social outcast or anything, but she's obviously a bit shy or strange or something and I can see that some normal people might think she is "sketchy" or "off" if she smiles at them that way. But in my limited interactions with her, she has always been observant and done everything possible to make things easier for me, even though she doesn't know me. This makes me think she's great.

7. Break for love

While writing the last post, I felt required to say this.

I know that when I've talked about this before I've been disrespectful to people who identify as socially impaired and I'm afraid of being that way again. And I'm also afraid that bringing up the whole love thing will sound like a cop-out--"you can't disagree with me or be offended if you feel like I'm erasing your experiences, because I'm only saying this because I love you so much."

So I mean, you can still be mad at me, okay.

But I love a lot of people who have autism, and autism-ish things. And I've experienced so much connection and affection and support and sensitivity, with/from these people. This is why I am so upset about the pop-culture-and-even-a-lot-of-professionals concept of people with autism as lacking love, or not knowing how other people are feeling or how to support other people, or not knowing how to connect with other people--because who the fuck has been supporting me and connecting with me, Nailbunny? And I'm really really upset about the medical model, "the person is the problem" way of looking at weird and/or disabled people who are bullied or isolated. Because I love people who were/are bullied or isolated, and it's fucking damaged them, and they didn't and don't deserve to have that happen to them.

I mean, I like arguments. And sure I'm defending myself too. But I think this is a project that comes out of love and the rage that comes from love.

6. Mindfulness and modulation (a general look)

One time when I was making an earlier stage of this post, Fiona commented and defined social skills in the following way:

I think social skills are a cluster of related skills, not just one skill. Mainly I think it revolves around a) being able to read people via their body language and facial expression and tone of voice, and to be able to adjust you how deal with them appropriately based on that, b) being a good communicator; knowing how to bring up sensitive topics and assert yourself without increasing the level of conflict but being able to achieve a sort of win-win situation where both parties feel like they were treated fairly and got what they emotionally needed, c) being able to approach people and make friends without experiencing a lot of rejection.

Right now I would like to zoom in on b (I think c is what a lot of this series is about--rejection is an action undertaken by other people--and I may briefly address a because I think it's the "skill" that has the strongest case and it would be disingenuous for me to ignore it). If you are going to describe social skills as getting along with other people and being diplomatic, then you have to prove that normal people usually get along with other people and are diplomatic. You can't prove this, because almost everything that happens in the world shows that it isn't true. Besides, if all normal people had this type of "social skills" and all people with autism didn't, then people with autism wouldn't have social problems anyway--as long as they only interacted with normal people, they could rely on the normal people to adapt to them. Since this is not how things are, it can't really be true that b is a part of being normal and not-b is a part of having autism.

I actually do think there is a skill set that involves mindfulness and accommodating other people, but it is not particularly associated with normal people. Lots of normal people have it but lots of people with ASD have it too. In fact, I think that some people who have grown up being "weird" or "socially impaired" or "socially isolated" have an almost mathematical sensitivity to other people's feelings, because to them relationships feel more novel.

One time another person with ASD send me an email saying something like, "I'm really stressed and I have to write an email to my sister, but I thought I should write to you first because I know that you might get worried and think I'm mad at you if I don't email you back." This is a good example (and a lovely person), but a better exploration of the same thing was written by Luai and posted here:

I saw a report once about a study where autistic kids and NT kids were asked a series of questions about how they would act in certain situations; one of them was what they would do if they saw their mother crying. While the NT kids answered that they would go over and talk to her and hold her, the autistic kids almost universally said they would do something they knew she liked, like emptying the dishwasher, or making something for her.
And I love this, because it illustrates something I've always felt was true. If you don't know the social script, the set thing "everyone" does when someone is upset, or the set thing that "everyone" thinks is valuable, you have to think it through for yourself. You have to think, what makes person X happy? And this is why that boy caught bugs for you in seventh grade, and why I made a green alligator-shaped valentine for my crush in first grade, and why a friend of mine made a special "romantic dinner" for her boyfriend that consisted of pokemon mac-and-cheese and dinosaur chicken nuggets.

Sadly the article referred to going over to one's mother and hugging her as being the "right answer" (as in, "all the normal kids picked the right answer, but the autistic kids...."). >.<; I honestly don't know how people can continue to be so stupid.

Postscript: I like Fiona and she can have whatever opinions she wants. I don't want her to feel like a frog that I am taking apart.

5. Is going to a hospital normal?

I really love chaoticidealism's blog, but I take issue with something she said in this NPR article about her. I actually don't really like the article at all because it seems to be focusing on how Lisa Daxer/chaoticidealism's ASD causes her to be able to study normal people and their amazing social behavior. I dislike this frame of autism ("autism teaches us about ourselves [ourselves meaning people who have certain abilities and act a certain way]!") and, although I haven't read all of her posts, the ones I have read have been about ableism and disability/autistic identity, not about studying normal people. I feel it does her a disservice to describe her blog that way.

Anyway, the offending passage is:

Daxer learned a lot about empathy from one of her housemates, a young woman she calls "superneurotypical" because she had such good social skills.

At the time, Daxer was feeling increasingly depressed and isolated. This woman seemed to understand. "I think she knew that I was hurting and she didn't want me to hurt anymore," Daxer says.

But her depression got worse. Eventually, Daxer ended up in the hospital.

"She visited me in the mental ward," Daxer says. "In our society, being crazy is considered very, very frightening. You think of TV slasher killers. And this girl, when I had depression, she visited me in the mental ward. That takes courage; that takes friendship; that takes empathy."

Obviously this girl sounds awesome, but I wouldn't characterize her awesomeness as "superneurotypical." To say that someone is "supersmart" would mean that they have more of whatever the average smart person has; to say that someone is "supergay" would mean they have more of whatever the average gay person has; and so on.

So, is the average "neurotypical" person (not a word I like, but I'll go with it) able to kind of judge what a person with ASD is feeling? I mean, is it the case that "neurotypicals" are better able than ASD people to judge everyone's feelings, not just "neurotypical" feelings? Which would lead to the conclusion that "neurotypical" people outperform ASD people at judging ASD people's feelings?

Well, that would be interesting--but it's obviously not true, because many people with ASD say that they can judge the feelings of other people with ASD. I don't know whether that's the case for me*, but I definitely know that lots of non-ASD people are terrible at judging how people with ASD are feeling. If you just noodle around the Internet for a minute, you will find quite a lot of ASD people describing how someone thought they were nervous or sad when they were calm, bored when they were having a panic attack, uninterested in things they were actually very interested in, and so on. In fact, sometimes police officers will harass or physically hurt people with ASD because they misinterpreted the person's behavior.

Lisa Daxer describes the "superneurotypical" girl as not just being able to identify LD's feelings, but as being brave and kind because she visited Daxer in the mental ward of a hospital, an intimidating and stigmatized place. Is this, too, a super version of normal behavior? Would the average normal person do something a little bit intimidating for the sake of kindness, whereas this extra-normal person did something very intimidating? With the implication being that people with ASD wouldn't inconvenience themselves for the sake of kindness at all?

Again, I think this is not true. I think normal people run around hugging each other all the time because that's easy for them. I think all people, when confronted with a scary action that seems like the right thing to do, make a decision based on various things--ability to handle anxiety and stress, bravery, morality, how much they care about the person they're doing it for.

I don't think chaoticidealism's friend was more normal than other normal people. I think she was a normal person who was extremely sensitive, loving, and brave. I think disabled people can also be sensitive, loving, and brave, and I would prefer that those characteristics not be equated with "ourselves" (non-disabled people) at the expense of the rest of us.

(I should mention that the impression I get of chaoticidealism from her blog is so different from the impression I get of Lisa Daxer from the article that I wonder if her comments were misrepresented by NPR. I have no idea whether this is true, but if it is true, the passage in the article is still a good example of how not having autism is associated in pop culture with kindness and sensitivity, to an illogical degree.)

4. Social skills and intent

I also guess you could--well, I mean, I can kind of feel the shape of an argument in my head--"Just because you guys like Stephen doesn't mean that Stephen has good social skills! That's something you guys are doing, not something Stephen is doing." I am sort of intrigued by the surfacing of this idea in me. If someone is severely disabled and doesn't really follow social rules like saying please and thank you, and doesn't seem to modify their behavior based on other people's reactions (I'm now talking about a hypothetical person because I feel like it's not possible to objectively judge that any real person isn't modifying their behavior), can that person really be said to have social skills any more than an object or a baby or a dead person that other people feel comfortable around? How can just being likable be a social skill?

Well I don't know but aren't some nondisabled people also just like a pretty rock that other people respond to because the sight of it makes them feel good?

I'm later going to discuss the idea of "mindfulness and modulation," which is a particular way of relating to people that I think is legitimately termed a skill, but which is not especially underrepresented in people with ASD, and is even overrepresented. Mindfulness and modulation is actually a conscious, intent-based social style. But lots of non-disabled people who are socially successful do not practice mindfulness and modulation, and may not move through the world with any more intent than someone like Stephen.

I mean, I recall meeting a friend of a friend who seemed very normal, and whom I didn't particularly like. Afterwards, my friend said, "She's sort of hard to spend time with because she doesn't pick up on social cues." I remember thinking it was funny because that seemed like such a textbook description of someone with "Asperger's," but this girl didn't have any of the qualities that would cause me to read someone as ASD. It hadn't even occurred to me to think of her as having "bad social skills" because she was normal. I guess I think of "bad/nonexistent social skills" as being something They say about Us--people with DDs or mental illnesses, or people who are part of subcultures. If They fuck up, if they're insensitive, it's just how they are.

If I fuck up, I think it proves everyone right.

Kids with ASD are said to be bullied and ostracized because they "lack social skills." In this equation, people who hurt other people (the normal people who are bullying the ASD people, conveniently erased by the passive voice) are said to be skilled. In this construction, they are the Haves and we are the Have-Nots and the thing they have is the ability to understand other people's feelings and reactions.

But um, then why are they acting like that if they know how it feels? When I was being bullied I remember having a feeling that the people who bullied me weren't real because they didn't seem to care about anything real and they didn't seem to know that I, and their other victims, were real.

(I went on a brief mental tangent trying to figure out if bullying can be considered a social skill--I mean yes they are mean blah blah, but even a bad action can come out of talent. I've concluded that while certain types of manipulation and abuse can be considered skills, most of the people who bullied me were not especially sophisticated at doing so. Obviously I was affected, but it's very easy to make someone feel bad; the tactics they used on me would have worked on almost anyone.

In the "My Year of Flops" section, I will discuss a bully with very good "social skills." I don't mean to imply that no such people exist.)

3. About Stephen

This summer I had a camper named Stephen of whom I was very fond. Although Stephen was not very good at explaining what he wanted or needed, he talked all the time as he was a full-time user of language as maintenance. Some common threads of his were:

"They have to charge the golf cart?"

"No camp in the winter."

"Will I have a good Thanksgiving? Where will I go?"

"Is it mine?" (about various objects)

"I'm on vacation?"

"I'm not going home today. I like it here? Yes, I like it here."

When I was on break I'm told variations on the following occurred:

"Where's Amanda?"

"She's on her break."

"Amanda's at Walmart. Where's Walmart?"

"It's in Rutland."

"Where's Rutland?"

"It's about half an hour from here."

"What's a Walmart?"

"Stephen, you know what a Walmart is."

"Which Walmart? Where?"

"It's in Rutland."

"Where's Rutland?"

I have often seen "asking repetitive questions" used as an example of ASD people's inappropriate social behavior. Setting aside the fact that Stephen was a very nervous person and I would never criticize him for trying to calm himself by confirming that the world continues to work in the same way every day, I felt close to him when I was answering his repetitive questions. I was very stressed out and I can't imagine that session without Stephen's presence and our conversations, which were like verbal massages--straightening out our minds by moving them carefully along the same old tracks. I love old tracks. I miss Stephen all the time.

I guess you could say that even if Stephen had the perfect social skills to socialize with me, that doesn't matter because I'm not normal, but for one thing I know a lot of normal people who like Stephen, and also it's not fair to say that only some people deserve to have their reactions to other humans be so important that they become the yardstick by which other people's abilities are judged.

2. What this is not

Before I start I should say that I'm not trying to write about what autism is and outright deny that there are social issues. I have in the past made the argument that social impairment in autism doesn't exist--that minorities, especially people who perceive reality differently, can be socially isolated without having an impairment that is objectively social at heart. However, I put forth this argument without being sure I was right. It's an extremely complicated question.

What I'm trying to do in writing this piece is destabilize the idea that people with autism (or, for that matter, anyone else) have "impaired social skills" or "no social skills." I think that's a very vague and dangerous thing to say.

When a person is labeled as "lacking social skills" this can cause other people to treat them as less than human. Many people with autism have stories of expressing their feelings or opinions, only to be told that their feeling or opinion is a result of their poor social skills, and therefore isn't valid. (This is a good example of what I mean.)

Another problem is that when you look at a person who isn't fitting in and say, "This is happening because they have bad social skills," you don't acknowledge the fact that everyone contributes to one person's social isolation. Basically, I'm trying to present something called a social model of social failure. The truth is that no one is naturally fated to be socially unsuccessful based on who they are.

This is not a tightly written argument where each section leads to the next. It's a collection of loosely related arguments, many of which are in the form of anecdotes.

1. What are social skills?

When I was in eighth grade, my history teacher mentioned an interesting piece of trivia one day during class. "There's this disorder called Asperger's and people who have it have no social skills." I don't remember why he said this, but since I had recently been told that I had "Asperger's," it was a little more than interesting to me.

I was going to say that saying someone has no social skills is akin to calling them a corpse, but actually I guess some people open up to corpses in a way they don't open up to anyone else. So maybe corpses know something we don't.

I am socially impaired because I'm Autistic, but I'm also socially impaired because I'm gay. Some people are uncomfortable when they learn that someone is gay, so I risk an awkward silence if I mention certain parts of my life. This means I can seem quite withdrawn in certain environments.

If an American teenager's parents are from another country, don't speak English well, and aren't involved in American culture, that person is socially impaired if they go to school with kids who all have American parents.

We can talk about blindness and say that in a country where everyone was blind, being blind wouldn't matter at all. We can say that being blind matters less when blind people are accommodated by people who aren't. We can say the same thing about dyslexia. But while difficulty is constructed, impairment is not--a blind or dyslexic person lacks an ability that other people have.

But what does a person lack if they have no social skills? How can anyone be bad with people? There is more than one person in the world.

Social Skills Don't Exist

I'm finishing my Social Skills Don't Exist post as my birthday present to myself, but because it's kind of a collection of interrelated observations and arguments I don't want to put it in one post because that implies that each section reasonably leads to the next. I would kind of like to put it on my website as a series of links, but coding will take a while and stuff, so for now I'm just going to spend the next day or so spamming you with all the pieces.

Sorry kids.