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.

if this doesn't make sense to you I'm way jealous

(First: I want to say that I might look at this in two days and think all of it is totally wrong.)

As someone who has always found "tumblr social justice" to be at least semi-useful 100% of the time, and funny when it's not very useful, I'm finding myself getting a bit worn out by the idea of privilege.

I actually don't mean this the way people mean it when they criticize the idea of privilege or say it is too widely applied. (Rest your chops and write me an email, please.)

I think what's kind of bothering me is this enshrining of privilege--what's bothering me is actually the idea of criticizing people because they consider something to be an oppressed group/privileged group dichotomy that you don't think is serious.

Yes, it can get very silly.

But it just bothers me when people start drawing a line in the sand about what silliness is. And I totally get if people read this and think I'm ridiculous. But I feel like if some person has felt really erased or somehow less-than, or like she has less of a future, because of some fact about herself, and then she's like, "Wow, this is how it works! This is why I felt like that--this was what was supposed to be the difference between me and other people!" that's, like, really cool. It's pretty cool to start seeing a system or pattern in something that previously just sucked.

Now, going to the doctor and having the doctor assume you are having sex, when in fact you're asexual--for example--is not like having someone follow you down the street and threaten you because they think you are having sex with someone of the same sex. It's not as important or urgent an issue.

But I also think it sucks and is a real problem and I'm happy for any person who is able to think and talk about why it's a problem, and I'm hopeful for the work that person will do--because I think the world will be better when different kinds of people are accepted as real, valuable, and natural.

One of the most frequently mocked aspects of "tumblr social justice," especially the teenage kind, is the way "oppressed identities" are treated like these buttons you can collect. I'm not saying I don't smile a little bit when I see some kid on their tumblr describing themselves as "Queer! Bisexual! Manic! Depressed! Bipolar! Crazy!"--apparently using as many synonyms as possible to make their list of identities longer--but I also feel excited about the buttonlike aspect, because I find it cool that instead of being like, "well my bipolar isn't that severe, and I've never been fired from a job because they knew about my diagnosis, and I'm not a psych survivor, and mental illness isn't a real disability...so I'll just crawl back under this rock," this person can just be like, "cool! I'm in!" and start looking at the world from that perspective for a while, and maybe start to understand some of the things that have happened to them as being part of a constellation of things that happen to mentally ill people.

The way people treat stigmatized identities and the people who carry them is pretty miserable. I think buttony tumblr culture makes this something that people can kind of start thinking about--maybe kind of lazily and shallowly, but shit, they should be thinking about it. And the majority of people have some kind of stigmatized identity that they can think about.

The idea that discussion of "oppression" has to be really hardcore, and that marginalization/abuse/stigma/fear has to be at a certain level before that group of people can be officially considered oppressed, just seems really...well, I get and agree with where it's coming from, but I ultimately feel it makes this stuff WAY less accessible. Because feeling like privilege is this heavy thing that you can't possibly understand doesn't make people interested or passionate.

But privilege is a really deep and consistent part of our world, and I think it's easy to start to understand it.