Reading "The Dictionary of Bullshit" by Nick Webb, I saw a reference to "lovably eccentric aristocrats" in an explanation about some political BS about the alleged golden ages of the past. Why, I started to wonder, were aristocrats of the past allowed to be eccentric, while today's middle and lower classes are expected to all be clones of each other?
Then I remembered back to Alfie Kohn's book "No Contest" (which my boyfriend regretted pointing out to me in the bookstore because it solidified my aversion to competitive games, which he likes to play because they're one of the few ways he knows to really engage with people, but I liked the book because it validated my feelings as a lifelong sore loser.) Kohn asserts that the nature of competition promotes conformity: we all have to try to be the best example of the same thing if we want to win the same prize in the same contest.
So insofar as we want to play these commercial games, in this large economy that can apparently afford to willfully expend people as long as the corporate leaders can adequately pad their paychecks (compare to what Sigrun writes about people in old Northern Europe needing everyone to contribute in whatever way they could given their abilities), we have to try to conform to some narrow standard. Society often - but not always, given the expendability factor - rewards people who are most able to fit the narrow standards that are necessary to win the contest. If you can play office politics just right, dressing like and mingling with people above you and making sure not to offend anyone or miss anyone's birthday or whatever, you climb the corporate ladder. May the best drone...er...get the consolation prize. Winning is only for those who are already winning and cheat to maintain it, or who are endowed with enormous luck, charm, and craftiness and diminutive conscience.
People probably did...er...as well as anyone in the social class they were born into could do...in less competitive and less heavily populated societies, whether they showed their quirks or not. Communities were small and geographically bound (or in hunter-gatherer days, kinship bound), so everyone in the community would interact with and have a chance to get to know those who had more trouble mastering superficial charm. And if they cultivated talents, then they would put those talents to use in whatever way was appropriate for their social class.
Since the business sector seems to dominate our society, employing very large percentages of the middle and lower classes, and we have factories to do the kind of work that individual craftsmen and craftswomen used to do, the demands of business seem to dominate popular culture. And business jobs tend to require a lot of conformity, and especially in the white-collar sector, superficial charm. So these qualities seem to be valued by society in general to a certain degree. It's harder to employ people who can't fake the factory standard of business well enough to ditz about in a white collar job until their sociopathic boss decides to fire them to increase his or her bonus during a bad or average year.
Schools are set up, mostly, to train people for these kinds of business jobs.
I don't know how hard it would be to develop a more cooperative society where the disabled and those who can't hide their quirks well (everyone has quirks, but some are better at hiding them than others) can thrive, and those who can play the "normal" game don't have to and can thus enjoy more of what their own personalities have to offer. At this point, it might require a dangerous and costly revolution against the CEOs of all the major American-based megacorporations.
Showing posts with label society. Show all posts
Showing posts with label society. Show all posts
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Typecasting
When I'm active in communities centered around personality typing, I find myself wanting to really be whatever type I think fits best at the moment, so I can play the social role of an example of that type and, as such, critique anything that's said about the type and talk about it "from the inside." It gets to the point where I actually kind of take pride in the negative aspects of the type because, if I see them in myself, they're confirmation that I am who I say I am. But if I can't seem to exemplify my supposed type, seeing evidence that I might be another one, I get cranky and restless and uneasy. My social role is gone.
From what I've read, people with ASCs and other neuro-psychological or disability labels go through the same kind of thing sometimes. They're expected to live up to their label, and in order to confirm the label for themselves and for others, they might display and even take pride or comfort in the "negative" aspects.
In fact, in order to get help with the things they need, they may have to play up negatives they don't even have, because disability services are only available oftentimes to those who fit a global disability stereotype. In that sense, it's a lot worse than what I've put myself through with personality typecasting: at least with personality, it's only a game and I can stop playing at any time (were it not for addiction/habit and not wanting to part with the internet friendships I made through it). People with disabilities and neuroquirks, though, have to play their game as a trade-off for survival and well-being.
It can also be a matter of survival for those who make a career out of speaking "from the inside" about their condition. In that case, people have pre-conceived notions that they want parroted back, and if those notions are not parroted back, there are probably going to be a lot of people saying, "Well, then, you must not be what you say you are." At least if the label is neuropsychological. Physical disability such as paralysis or amputation of a major limb should be pretty obvious, and blindness too...but even then, there will probably be radical opponents who will try to accuse the person of faking it.
Being aware of the neurotypical tendency to be good at false empathy but not necessarily as good at real empathy, I won't have the hubris to claim that I can imagine the pain and frustration people go through as a result of typecasting themselves according to social stereotypes of "disability." I don't WANT to imagine it, to be honest. But I know from my own experience that even in the sphere of an unnecessary social "game," if you attach a significant portion of your identity to that game (and attaching one's identity to social games is not unheard of among, e.g., Halo or Warcraft players), typecasting oneself can be a source of lots of negative self-fulfilling prophesies and anxiety over losing a valued social role. If little things like that can get to me, I wouldn't blame neuroquirky and disabled people from getting frustrated, upset, or even crazy about the pressure to typecast themselves and the prevalence of others typecasting themselves.
From what I've read, people with ASCs and other neuro-psychological or disability labels go through the same kind of thing sometimes. They're expected to live up to their label, and in order to confirm the label for themselves and for others, they might display and even take pride or comfort in the "negative" aspects.
In fact, in order to get help with the things they need, they may have to play up negatives they don't even have, because disability services are only available oftentimes to those who fit a global disability stereotype. In that sense, it's a lot worse than what I've put myself through with personality typecasting: at least with personality, it's only a game and I can stop playing at any time (were it not for addiction/habit and not wanting to part with the internet friendships I made through it). People with disabilities and neuroquirks, though, have to play their game as a trade-off for survival and well-being.
It can also be a matter of survival for those who make a career out of speaking "from the inside" about their condition. In that case, people have pre-conceived notions that they want parroted back, and if those notions are not parroted back, there are probably going to be a lot of people saying, "Well, then, you must not be what you say you are." At least if the label is neuropsychological. Physical disability such as paralysis or amputation of a major limb should be pretty obvious, and blindness too...but even then, there will probably be radical opponents who will try to accuse the person of faking it.
Being aware of the neurotypical tendency to be good at false empathy but not necessarily as good at real empathy, I won't have the hubris to claim that I can imagine the pain and frustration people go through as a result of typecasting themselves according to social stereotypes of "disability." I don't WANT to imagine it, to be honest. But I know from my own experience that even in the sphere of an unnecessary social "game," if you attach a significant portion of your identity to that game (and attaching one's identity to social games is not unheard of among, e.g., Halo or Warcraft players), typecasting oneself can be a source of lots of negative self-fulfilling prophesies and anxiety over losing a valued social role. If little things like that can get to me, I wouldn't blame neuroquirky and disabled people from getting frustrated, upset, or even crazy about the pressure to typecast themselves and the prevalence of others typecasting themselves.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Prejudice is Cultural
I was just reflecting on my last post, about how automatically I use disability-related slurs. And an interesting thought hit me.
Prejudice and discrimination are often not personal matters. They're cultural.
If you confront your average person on the street (APOTS), they'll say, "I'm not prejudiced." (It's a well known fact, by the way, that we normies are often kings and queens of denial. We always think we're better than average, so don't believe a word we say when we assess ourselves. Make your own assessment of us.) Yet, chances are, they use words like "gay," "lame," or "retarded" as insults all the time, even if they have never actually done anything to directly harm a homosexual, mobility impaired, or intellectually disabled person.
"I have nothing against mentally retarded, gay, or handicapped people," the APOTS might protest. "I don't mean it to insult anyone or any group; I just say these words because they're what people say. They're just words."
And their protest might very well be valid: the APOTS may, in fact, harbor no personal resentment against disabled people or homosexual people. They may even treat a gay or disabled person kindly if they met one.
The problem is that the popular words reflect a cultural attitude that needs to be changed.
And since the problem is not personal, it might be harder to get people to look at it from a personal perspective and try to make changes on the personal level.
But there may be an advantage to the fact that it's not personal: rather than accuse individuals of being bigots and triggering their need to defend themselves, we might be able to present them with an opportunity to make a difference, to use their good intentions to make change on the cultural level. After all, almost everyone in this culture is raised to want to help the disabled, and to not want to be a bigot (well, at least when it comes to race and sometimes sex). Now, if more of us normies could be exposed to the ways in which traditional forms of help are NOT helpful, and how our colloquialisms and stereotypes simply reinforce an excessively pessimistic view of disability, and how it might be helpful to disabled people to see them and treat them as equals, maybe things could get somewhere.
Disablism is an ancient prejudice, though. It won't be an easy one to overturn. And as with all prejudices that have been accepted by society in the age of science, some folks claim that disablism is scientifically justified, in a way: it is an evolutionary strategy to keep the tribe strong by weeding out the members who cannot adequately contribute. Well...my answer to any scientific argument in favor of prejudice or discrimination is that human beings also have evolved to be able to find creative ways around problems - including the problem of making it so that the disabled can use the abilities they do have to contribute to the tribe. And if they cannot hold jobs or communicate much...well...we can still think of them as contributing via our relationship with them (which may not be reciprocated in the ways we want, but that doesn't make it have to be any less of a relationship), or hope to find untapped abilities they have and a way to bring them out.
Prejudice and discrimination are often not personal matters. They're cultural.
If you confront your average person on the street (APOTS), they'll say, "I'm not prejudiced." (It's a well known fact, by the way, that we normies are often kings and queens of denial. We always think we're better than average, so don't believe a word we say when we assess ourselves. Make your own assessment of us.) Yet, chances are, they use words like "gay," "lame," or "retarded" as insults all the time, even if they have never actually done anything to directly harm a homosexual, mobility impaired, or intellectually disabled person.
"I have nothing against mentally retarded, gay, or handicapped people," the APOTS might protest. "I don't mean it to insult anyone or any group; I just say these words because they're what people say. They're just words."
And their protest might very well be valid: the APOTS may, in fact, harbor no personal resentment against disabled people or homosexual people. They may even treat a gay or disabled person kindly if they met one.
The problem is that the popular words reflect a cultural attitude that needs to be changed.
And since the problem is not personal, it might be harder to get people to look at it from a personal perspective and try to make changes on the personal level.
But there may be an advantage to the fact that it's not personal: rather than accuse individuals of being bigots and triggering their need to defend themselves, we might be able to present them with an opportunity to make a difference, to use their good intentions to make change on the cultural level. After all, almost everyone in this culture is raised to want to help the disabled, and to not want to be a bigot (well, at least when it comes to race and sometimes sex). Now, if more of us normies could be exposed to the ways in which traditional forms of help are NOT helpful, and how our colloquialisms and stereotypes simply reinforce an excessively pessimistic view of disability, and how it might be helpful to disabled people to see them and treat them as equals, maybe things could get somewhere.
Disablism is an ancient prejudice, though. It won't be an easy one to overturn. And as with all prejudices that have been accepted by society in the age of science, some folks claim that disablism is scientifically justified, in a way: it is an evolutionary strategy to keep the tribe strong by weeding out the members who cannot adequately contribute. Well...my answer to any scientific argument in favor of prejudice or discrimination is that human beings also have evolved to be able to find creative ways around problems - including the problem of making it so that the disabled can use the abilities they do have to contribute to the tribe. And if they cannot hold jobs or communicate much...well...we can still think of them as contributing via our relationship with them (which may not be reciprocated in the ways we want, but that doesn't make it have to be any less of a relationship), or hope to find untapped abilities they have and a way to bring them out.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Mor(e)on IQ
Not long after my last post about intellect and "orders of being," I decided to browse the psych section of a book store while I was out, and what did I find? A highly relevant book called "IQ: A Smart History of a Failed Idea" by Stephen Murdoch.
Juicy.
The forerunners of IQ tests were created by a staunch social Darwinist and father of Eugenics, Francis Galton. Another eugenicist, Henry Goddard, brought the more refined intelligence tests of Binet to the US, and he helped promote mass hysteria about "feeble-minded" people (the euphemism of the day for the mentally retarded), especially the "morons" (mildly retarded), passing for normal, breeding, and filling our jails because their weak minds make them more likely to become criminals. He thought that retarded people should be institutionalized and, though treated nicely, prevented from breeding. Intelligence measurements were also used to restrict immigration so as to keep "feeble minded" people out of our country...and gene pool.
And I haven't even gotten to the chapter about the Nazis yet.
On a more positive note, as long as there have been IQ tests, there have been skeptics of IQ tests.
If you think I'm on an emotionally reactive rebellious tirade, you're right. This is a painful issue for which I've always sought some kind of resolution...usually, reassurance that I was plenty smart and had nothing to worry about. (And there has never been a way to completely reassure me, as there are always people who have done better on IQ tests, in school, and so on.) When I learned at 20 or so, via finding some of my mother's old papers lying around, what my IQ score had been at the age of almost 9, I was devastated. I was not "gifted" after all, as I'd previously assumed and hoped - my score was 120, above average but below the 130 cutoff for giftedness I'd learned about in psychology. (Granted, I actually remember getting nervous on the timed jigsaw puzzle section, and my verbal subscore was just above 130, but I don't have enough of the Normie trait of positive self-delusion to run with the higher subscore or blame my lower one entirely on performance anxiety. I've been a pessimist since childhood.) I was one of the Damned, not one of the Elect. Calvinism is my metaphor of choice because, emotionally, that's what it's always felt like. To be smart was "good" and to be dumb was "bad," in a very absolute and final sense, and either I was born "good" or I was born "bad."
Even though I was never taught about eugenics in school that I can remember - at least not in the formative years - somehow I caught onto the insidious idea that one's intelligence was somehow a measure of one's quality of being, one's overall worth. Issues of quality of being, and the fear that I may have been born without it, are a major source of self-harm for me.
A major reason why I've been so drawn to the world of disability advocacy and acceptance of difference is because it exposes me to anti-hierarchical perspectives. These provide more than just narcissistic fuel for an ego that at least wants to be good and just and fair in spirit if it can't be smart or great or special. They provide something that could help me heal some childhood wounds and build basic self-esteem regardless of how I "measure up."
My current experimental viewpoint is to view what's normally seen as "intellect" as a matter of specific skills and interests that, like any other skills and interests, are just neutral tratits and not some magical measure of human worth and worthiness. People who "aren't very bright" just don't have a lot of academic-type skills or interests. And there's no more point in envying people who have academic skills or interests that are beyond mine in a related area than there is of envying soccer fanatics. They're not "better people" than I am, they're just different.
That's probably the hardest part: letting go of the fear of being a "lesser person" than those who skipped grades or could win Jeopardy or who have studied and aced more academic subjects than I have. As a pessimist, it's easy to obliterate the notion of classes of being below my own and consider myself a human equal to the slow, but not so easy to obliterate the notion of classes of being above my own and consider myself a human equal to the swift. But if all humans are equally deserving of basic dignity, that means all humans. I don't think it's possible, at least not the way I tend to think of things, to value the smart solely for their smartness without devaluing the dumb solely for their dumbness. The people are to be recognized as people, their skills and interests are to be recognized as skills and interests, and their accomplishments are to be recognized as accomplishments. Nobody is more or less of a person than anybody else. Nobody is undeserving of basic rights, or a chance to pursue, develop, and use their own skills and interests.
Status fear is primal, but neurotic status fear leading to shame and angst is probably taking it too far, delving into self-fulfilling-prophesy territory.
Juicy.
The forerunners of IQ tests were created by a staunch social Darwinist and father of Eugenics, Francis Galton. Another eugenicist, Henry Goddard, brought the more refined intelligence tests of Binet to the US, and he helped promote mass hysteria about "feeble-minded" people (the euphemism of the day for the mentally retarded), especially the "morons" (mildly retarded), passing for normal, breeding, and filling our jails because their weak minds make them more likely to become criminals. He thought that retarded people should be institutionalized and, though treated nicely, prevented from breeding. Intelligence measurements were also used to restrict immigration so as to keep "feeble minded" people out of our country...and gene pool.
And I haven't even gotten to the chapter about the Nazis yet.
On a more positive note, as long as there have been IQ tests, there have been skeptics of IQ tests.
If you think I'm on an emotionally reactive rebellious tirade, you're right. This is a painful issue for which I've always sought some kind of resolution...usually, reassurance that I was plenty smart and had nothing to worry about. (And there has never been a way to completely reassure me, as there are always people who have done better on IQ tests, in school, and so on.) When I learned at 20 or so, via finding some of my mother's old papers lying around, what my IQ score had been at the age of almost 9, I was devastated. I was not "gifted" after all, as I'd previously assumed and hoped - my score was 120, above average but below the 130 cutoff for giftedness I'd learned about in psychology. (Granted, I actually remember getting nervous on the timed jigsaw puzzle section, and my verbal subscore was just above 130, but I don't have enough of the Normie trait of positive self-delusion to run with the higher subscore or blame my lower one entirely on performance anxiety. I've been a pessimist since childhood.) I was one of the Damned, not one of the Elect. Calvinism is my metaphor of choice because, emotionally, that's what it's always felt like. To be smart was "good" and to be dumb was "bad," in a very absolute and final sense, and either I was born "good" or I was born "bad."
Even though I was never taught about eugenics in school that I can remember - at least not in the formative years - somehow I caught onto the insidious idea that one's intelligence was somehow a measure of one's quality of being, one's overall worth. Issues of quality of being, and the fear that I may have been born without it, are a major source of self-harm for me.
A major reason why I've been so drawn to the world of disability advocacy and acceptance of difference is because it exposes me to anti-hierarchical perspectives. These provide more than just narcissistic fuel for an ego that at least wants to be good and just and fair in spirit if it can't be smart or great or special. They provide something that could help me heal some childhood wounds and build basic self-esteem regardless of how I "measure up."
My current experimental viewpoint is to view what's normally seen as "intellect" as a matter of specific skills and interests that, like any other skills and interests, are just neutral tratits and not some magical measure of human worth and worthiness. People who "aren't very bright" just don't have a lot of academic-type skills or interests. And there's no more point in envying people who have academic skills or interests that are beyond mine in a related area than there is of envying soccer fanatics. They're not "better people" than I am, they're just different.
That's probably the hardest part: letting go of the fear of being a "lesser person" than those who skipped grades or could win Jeopardy or who have studied and aced more academic subjects than I have. As a pessimist, it's easy to obliterate the notion of classes of being below my own and consider myself a human equal to the slow, but not so easy to obliterate the notion of classes of being above my own and consider myself a human equal to the swift. But if all humans are equally deserving of basic dignity, that means all humans. I don't think it's possible, at least not the way I tend to think of things, to value the smart solely for their smartness without devaluing the dumb solely for their dumbness. The people are to be recognized as people, their skills and interests are to be recognized as skills and interests, and their accomplishments are to be recognized as accomplishments. Nobody is more or less of a person than anybody else. Nobody is undeserving of basic rights, or a chance to pursue, develop, and use their own skills and interests.
Status fear is primal, but neurotic status fear leading to shame and angst is probably taking it too far, delving into self-fulfilling-prophesy territory.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
psyched out
I stumbled upon this...
The earlier portions made me think about how I always feel I need to "fix myself" before I can move on with life or be happy with myself. I've fallen prey to this psychotherapy culture too, and I'm "normal" and haven't had a psychotherapist since I was 12 or any kind of head doctor for the last 3 years. (I had a neurologist I used to go to for AD/HD treatment.)
Perhaps it will be good for me if I can get back to my roots as a social being and focus more on the joy and meaning of producing things to share with the world than on my own self and its various hang-ups. If there's an obstacle, I can navigate around it, rather than getting obsessed with whether I can fix it for all time and then giving up on everything valuable and perhaps even on value itself when I find that I can't fix it for all time.
After all, if "autism" is orignally supposed to mean being overly withdrawn into the self, then doesn't that mean that we "non-autistics" are supposed to be focused on the world outside the self? Or are we supposed to focus on ourselves so that we have no energy or motivation left to focus on the BS that's happening in the interpersonal world at all levels, or on sharing our joys and interests with others without thinking or caring about whether it has therapeutic value for ourselves?
Even we "normal people" are encouraged to think about ourselves as ill and in need of cures for all our little neurotic hang-ups and bumps on the road of life, apparently so hucksters can exploit us and trick us into thinking that their wares are improving our lives. Before long, there could very well be a DSM diagnosis for everyone. And then the Scientologists will still be there like they are now, hoping to rope people into their own brand of "mental health" fraud (the notion that development in their religion will expel the alien ghosts that cause mental distress from your body) by pointing out the endless absurdity of mainstream psychology. Hucksters and their attempts at convincing people they need something for a happy life that only they can offer just keep proliferating endlessly. Heck, by the time we reach the dystopian age where everyone has a DSM diagnosis, maybe everyone will be a professional huckster as well.
"I'm not just the president of the Psychotherapy Club for Suckers, I'm also a client."
The earlier portions made me think about how I always feel I need to "fix myself" before I can move on with life or be happy with myself. I've fallen prey to this psychotherapy culture too, and I'm "normal" and haven't had a psychotherapist since I was 12 or any kind of head doctor for the last 3 years. (I had a neurologist I used to go to for AD/HD treatment.)
Perhaps it will be good for me if I can get back to my roots as a social being and focus more on the joy and meaning of producing things to share with the world than on my own self and its various hang-ups. If there's an obstacle, I can navigate around it, rather than getting obsessed with whether I can fix it for all time and then giving up on everything valuable and perhaps even on value itself when I find that I can't fix it for all time.
After all, if "autism" is orignally supposed to mean being overly withdrawn into the self, then doesn't that mean that we "non-autistics" are supposed to be focused on the world outside the self? Or are we supposed to focus on ourselves so that we have no energy or motivation left to focus on the BS that's happening in the interpersonal world at all levels, or on sharing our joys and interests with others without thinking or caring about whether it has therapeutic value for ourselves?
Even we "normal people" are encouraged to think about ourselves as ill and in need of cures for all our little neurotic hang-ups and bumps on the road of life, apparently so hucksters can exploit us and trick us into thinking that their wares are improving our lives. Before long, there could very well be a DSM diagnosis for everyone. And then the Scientologists will still be there like they are now, hoping to rope people into their own brand of "mental health" fraud (the notion that development in their religion will expel the alien ghosts that cause mental distress from your body) by pointing out the endless absurdity of mainstream psychology. Hucksters and their attempts at convincing people they need something for a happy life that only they can offer just keep proliferating endlessly. Heck, by the time we reach the dystopian age where everyone has a DSM diagnosis, maybe everyone will be a professional huckster as well.
"I'm not just the president of the Psychotherapy Club for Suckers, I'm also a client."
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
We are great! We're like this famous person and smarter than everyone else!
Who cares if Einstein was autistic, Edison was AD/HD, or a gazillion great writers were bipolar? If you're autistic, AD/HD, or bipolar, you probably don't have whatever made them famous (including any sheer luck factors not related to their neurology).
Ronald Reagan had Alzheimer's, probably even during his presidency from what I heard. Does that mean that anyone's senile grandma could run a country, due to the Alzheimer's gift of being able to conveniently forget recent self-incriminating information? Hell no.
This isn't to say that all neurological differences are diseases. I just used that example to point out the absurdity of the notion that sharing a vague category of brain functioning, which will play out completely differently for every individual brain affected, made you any closer to the famous people. I have the same neurotype as Paris Hilton (assuming my AD/HD dx was in error). Same gender too. Does that make me like Paris Hilton? God I hope not!
The identification of celebrities of different neurotypes, disabilities, or other groups, I suppose, does help to disprove notions that people of these groups are useless to society.
But...damn. Haven't celebrities gotten enough attention already? Why bask in the reflected glory of famous people instead of enjoy your own life and self as they manifest? Why do you have to achieve something "great" or become famous for your life to have meaning? Nobody wants to be a regular person anymore, except maybe those who are told that they are lesser beings than regular people and believe it. But most of us are and always will be regular people. And I don't want to accept the idea that it's a dire fate, nor do I want to lie to myself and associate with some arbitrary category I can put myself in (personality type being one example of such a category I've used) and its supposed "rarity" or "gifts."
I also don't want to hound myself anymore for not being special enough, and envy people in arbitrary "rare" groups for being special. And I don't wish that fate on anyone else. It's turning the notion that a regular person is a bad thing to be into a self-fulfilling prophesy, precipitating an episode of Closedmindedness.
Regular people can have unique and beautiful experiences, all to themselves: sipping a cup of tea, pursuing a passionate interest, advancing a passionate romance, looking at the rich colors of flowers and leaves. They can have a perspective on life that nobody else has, or will ever have (even if they're afraid to share it for conformity's sake).
Ronald Reagan had Alzheimer's, probably even during his presidency from what I heard. Does that mean that anyone's senile grandma could run a country, due to the Alzheimer's gift of being able to conveniently forget recent self-incriminating information? Hell no.
This isn't to say that all neurological differences are diseases. I just used that example to point out the absurdity of the notion that sharing a vague category of brain functioning, which will play out completely differently for every individual brain affected, made you any closer to the famous people. I have the same neurotype as Paris Hilton (assuming my AD/HD dx was in error). Same gender too. Does that make me like Paris Hilton? God I hope not!
The identification of celebrities of different neurotypes, disabilities, or other groups, I suppose, does help to disprove notions that people of these groups are useless to society.
But...damn. Haven't celebrities gotten enough attention already? Why bask in the reflected glory of famous people instead of enjoy your own life and self as they manifest? Why do you have to achieve something "great" or become famous for your life to have meaning? Nobody wants to be a regular person anymore, except maybe those who are told that they are lesser beings than regular people and believe it. But most of us are and always will be regular people. And I don't want to accept the idea that it's a dire fate, nor do I want to lie to myself and associate with some arbitrary category I can put myself in (personality type being one example of such a category I've used) and its supposed "rarity" or "gifts."
I also don't want to hound myself anymore for not being special enough, and envy people in arbitrary "rare" groups for being special. And I don't wish that fate on anyone else. It's turning the notion that a regular person is a bad thing to be into a self-fulfilling prophesy, precipitating an episode of Closedmindedness.
Regular people can have unique and beautiful experiences, all to themselves: sipping a cup of tea, pursuing a passionate interest, advancing a passionate romance, looking at the rich colors of flowers and leaves. They can have a perspective on life that nobody else has, or will ever have (even if they're afraid to share it for conformity's sake).
Monday, August 20, 2007
musings: diagnosis, normality, and cure
After an internet friend saw some of my bf's answers to questions and thought he sounded normal for someone of his sort of temperament/personality, I've been wondering if my bf is even on the spectrum.
He doesn't seem to have much in the way of sensory integration issues anymore - or at least, I don't run into them in my interactions with him - but he still avoids things he found unpleasant as a child, like hair-washing, fingernail-clipping, and eating foods with textures he dislikes (e.g. any vegetables besides green beans, fresh or cooked spinach, romaine lettuce, and raw carrots), as much as he can.
He also doesn't seem to have much in the way of rules and rituals besides Jewish observances, though he reports having taken a shower and gone to bed at the exact same time everyday as a child, and having been afraid to put a car in reverse when he was learning to drive because the rule was that cars drive forwards.
He's definitely got some unusual cognitive quirks, especially his "binary mind" where social and emotional inputs and outputs are on an all-or-nothing scale, and from what he describes of his childhood he could have been diagnosed as AS or PDD/NOS back then if those categories existed yet. But as an adult, he functions as a normal eccentric, and failed to get diagnosed as on the spectrum when he went to a psychopharmacologist during a low point. (He got diagnosed as depressed.)
But I would expect a psychopharm to underdiagnose anything s/he can't prescribe SSRI's or other popular meds for, and overdiagnose anything s/he can prescribe them for. Because that's what their job is all about - determining if people need drugs.
On the other hand, a specialist might be inclined to overdiagnose, or oversuspect, autism-spectrum conditions or whatever s/he specializes in, because that's the nature of THAT job.
So what's the point of diagnosis at all? Legally securing services? Benefitting from the ADA?
It seems like these are not much help to a lot of people out there, anyway, because official help for anything is expensive and the people responsible for giving help want to make money just like anyone else. Hence the lousy state of health insurance and the thing I recently read about the Army not covering people discharged for hereditary health problems. (I'd link it, but I'm having trouble finding it now.)
Ultimately, I get the impression that "reforming normal" would lead to what a lot of the autism and disability advocates want: to be treated as equals, and accommodated where they need to be without being made to grovel or experience shame. Basically, to not be seen as these Others who are threatening and should be eliminated or assimilated. The "normal" category seems to be, in large part, the category of people that society accepts as they are, sees as fully human. Why must we write off disabled people?
You know what? There are a lot of human traits, likely inherited, that are debilitating and dangerous and should be eliminated to make the human race healthier. Like the tendency to be excessively paranoid about outsiders or "different" people and bully them into compliance, assimilation, or shame. It might have once served a useful evolutionary function, but in today's society, it just causes a lot of war and destruction. So maybe everyone who has ever bullied someone or denied services to a disabled person unless said person proved to be dependent or compliant should be sterilized and institutionalized so they and their genetically defective descendants can no longer harm our society, or be sent to ABA classes where they'll be rewarded with their favorite junk food every time they treat a disabled or nerdy person nicely and have said food withheld from them otherwise. Cure bigotry now! Prevent war and abuse!
He doesn't seem to have much in the way of sensory integration issues anymore - or at least, I don't run into them in my interactions with him - but he still avoids things he found unpleasant as a child, like hair-washing, fingernail-clipping, and eating foods with textures he dislikes (e.g. any vegetables besides green beans, fresh or cooked spinach, romaine lettuce, and raw carrots), as much as he can.
He also doesn't seem to have much in the way of rules and rituals besides Jewish observances, though he reports having taken a shower and gone to bed at the exact same time everyday as a child, and having been afraid to put a car in reverse when he was learning to drive because the rule was that cars drive forwards.
He's definitely got some unusual cognitive quirks, especially his "binary mind" where social and emotional inputs and outputs are on an all-or-nothing scale, and from what he describes of his childhood he could have been diagnosed as AS or PDD/NOS back then if those categories existed yet. But as an adult, he functions as a normal eccentric, and failed to get diagnosed as on the spectrum when he went to a psychopharmacologist during a low point. (He got diagnosed as depressed.)
But I would expect a psychopharm to underdiagnose anything s/he can't prescribe SSRI's or other popular meds for, and overdiagnose anything s/he can prescribe them for. Because that's what their job is all about - determining if people need drugs.
On the other hand, a specialist might be inclined to overdiagnose, or oversuspect, autism-spectrum conditions or whatever s/he specializes in, because that's the nature of THAT job.
So what's the point of diagnosis at all? Legally securing services? Benefitting from the ADA?
It seems like these are not much help to a lot of people out there, anyway, because official help for anything is expensive and the people responsible for giving help want to make money just like anyone else. Hence the lousy state of health insurance and the thing I recently read about the Army not covering people discharged for hereditary health problems. (I'd link it, but I'm having trouble finding it now.)
Ultimately, I get the impression that "reforming normal" would lead to what a lot of the autism and disability advocates want: to be treated as equals, and accommodated where they need to be without being made to grovel or experience shame. Basically, to not be seen as these Others who are threatening and should be eliminated or assimilated. The "normal" category seems to be, in large part, the category of people that society accepts as they are, sees as fully human. Why must we write off disabled people?
You know what? There are a lot of human traits, likely inherited, that are debilitating and dangerous and should be eliminated to make the human race healthier. Like the tendency to be excessively paranoid about outsiders or "different" people and bully them into compliance, assimilation, or shame. It might have once served a useful evolutionary function, but in today's society, it just causes a lot of war and destruction. So maybe everyone who has ever bullied someone or denied services to a disabled person unless said person proved to be dependent or compliant should be sterilized and institutionalized so they and their genetically defective descendants can no longer harm our society, or be sent to ABA classes where they'll be rewarded with their favorite junk food every time they treat a disabled or nerdy person nicely and have said food withheld from them otherwise. Cure bigotry now! Prevent war and abuse!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Why I Call Myself Normal
Because, frankly, it's a dime a dozen these days to declare yourself "different" for the chic factor. And it's also something that I'm ordinarily quite tempted to do: I'm attracted to that whole counterculutre chic thing and have a strong narcissistic desire for a distinguished identity.
I'm also trying to emphasize the heterogeneity of the category, so as to weaken it and blow the stereotypes. If a narrow and exclusive definition of "autistic" is problematic, I think a narrow and exclusive definition of "normal' or "neurotypical" is also problematic. In fact, I think a lot of the problem with modern neuro-psycho-politics is that the definition of normal is becoming more and more exclusive (and going too much in the dangerous direction of superficial charm, ignorance as bliss, and materialistic ambition), and salespeople are selling more and more quackery to get more and more people to re-enter the shrinking fold of normalcy.
As I was writing the paragraph above, I had some flashbacks of reading a post or two on ballastexistenz discussing the things people assume about Amanda Baggs (the author of the ballastexistenz blog) based on either her online or her offline presence, or random facts like not speaking. They assume things like she'd been in an institution all her life, that she learned to type before she learned to talk, that she cannot do anything that her speaking autistic friends can't do, etc.
And I thought of the assumptions people might have about me, based on my self-identity as neurotypical or normal:
-I had an easy time in school and was never bullied, and might have even been a bully myself. (I was picked on aplenty.)
-I never required any kind of special services or special attention. (I had shrinks, counsenling, and some kind of affiliation with the special ed program in my school, for unexplained neurotic behavior patterns.)
-I've never been suspected of or diagnosed with any kind of neurodifference. (I was diagnosed with ADD at age 13. But I don't feel ADD really has any substance behind it, and I also don't see symptoms in myself anymore, so I strongly suspect the diagnosis was a mistake, a product of the fad.)
-I am hypersocial. (There are introverted NTs, you know.)
-I am only comfortable with polite, indirect communication. (I've been accused of being too blunt, and socially inept, all my life.)
-I liked hugs and kisses from my family as a kid. (Hated it. And they made fun of me for it too, making it even worse.)
-In my relationship with my Aspie boyfriend, I often feel starved for affection. (Quite the opposite. He's TOO affectionate sometimes.)
I did not have the stereotypical "normal" childhood. When I was 12 or so (sometime before the ADD diagnosis, which I believed in up until about a year or two ago, because there seemed to be nothing else to explain my quirks and problems as a kid), I wondered whether I was normal or crazy, 'cause I seemed to be neither. I was instant messenging with my little sister the other night, showing her this blog and the AS And Their Partners forum, and reading the latter, she said she would describe me as more "NQ" (neuro-questionable or neuro-quirky, neither neurotypical nor autistic) than "NT." I could claim my difference, make a big deal out of it, and wear it as a badge of honor if I wanted to. "Look at me! I'm a nonconformist!"
But the differences that people wear proudly on a regular basis, like being a nerd or a hippie or an artsy person or some relatively rare Myers-Briggs Personality Type, are actually pretty much still normalcy anyway. If non-conformism or countercultureness were truly "abnormal," you wouldn't see the kind of playful intergroup rivalry and narcissistic parading that you do, you'd see widespread, blatant, volatile prejudice and fear. People would react to these normal people who reject the "normal" label in much the same way they react to people with mental retardation or other obvious neurological disabilities, or people with birth defects, dwarfism, or other physical deformities. Only very sheltered people would react to the purple-haired chain-wearing pierced-nosed teenage punk in a way comparable to how they'd react to people with physical and neurological disabilities.
So there's no way out of the fact that I'm normal. I might as well embrace the label. And to be honest, I probably wouldn't want a way out of it either. Being able to fit in and obey the social norms to a safe degree and fly under the radar makes life a lot easier. I may want to parade my nerdiness every now and then or share some of my minor eccentricities like my love of hot humid evenings, but whenever I felt like I'd REALLY be considered "screwed-up" if I shared something, I've tended to hold back until I overcame that fear. Yes, I actually *like* having the "normal" shell to hide in. I am a conformist when it suits me to be one, instinctively making use of my "normal privilege."
So now, it's time to narcissistically parade my utter lack of difference.
Aspie-quiz results, old version:
AS: 48
NT: 132
Newest version:
AS: 49
NT: 151
Look at Me! I'm a flaming Normie!
I'm also trying to emphasize the heterogeneity of the category, so as to weaken it and blow the stereotypes. If a narrow and exclusive definition of "autistic" is problematic, I think a narrow and exclusive definition of "normal' or "neurotypical" is also problematic. In fact, I think a lot of the problem with modern neuro-psycho-politics is that the definition of normal is becoming more and more exclusive (and going too much in the dangerous direction of superficial charm, ignorance as bliss, and materialistic ambition), and salespeople are selling more and more quackery to get more and more people to re-enter the shrinking fold of normalcy.
As I was writing the paragraph above, I had some flashbacks of reading a post or two on ballastexistenz discussing the things people assume about Amanda Baggs (the author of the ballastexistenz blog) based on either her online or her offline presence, or random facts like not speaking. They assume things like she'd been in an institution all her life, that she learned to type before she learned to talk, that she cannot do anything that her speaking autistic friends can't do, etc.
And I thought of the assumptions people might have about me, based on my self-identity as neurotypical or normal:
-I had an easy time in school and was never bullied, and might have even been a bully myself. (I was picked on aplenty.)
-I never required any kind of special services or special attention. (I had shrinks, counsenling, and some kind of affiliation with the special ed program in my school, for unexplained neurotic behavior patterns.)
-I've never been suspected of or diagnosed with any kind of neurodifference. (I was diagnosed with ADD at age 13. But I don't feel ADD really has any substance behind it, and I also don't see symptoms in myself anymore, so I strongly suspect the diagnosis was a mistake, a product of the fad.)
-I am hypersocial. (There are introverted NTs, you know.)
-I am only comfortable with polite, indirect communication. (I've been accused of being too blunt, and socially inept, all my life.)
-I liked hugs and kisses from my family as a kid. (Hated it. And they made fun of me for it too, making it even worse.)
-In my relationship with my Aspie boyfriend, I often feel starved for affection. (Quite the opposite. He's TOO affectionate sometimes.)
I did not have the stereotypical "normal" childhood. When I was 12 or so (sometime before the ADD diagnosis, which I believed in up until about a year or two ago, because there seemed to be nothing else to explain my quirks and problems as a kid), I wondered whether I was normal or crazy, 'cause I seemed to be neither. I was instant messenging with my little sister the other night, showing her this blog and the AS And Their Partners forum, and reading the latter, she said she would describe me as more "NQ" (neuro-questionable or neuro-quirky, neither neurotypical nor autistic) than "NT." I could claim my difference, make a big deal out of it, and wear it as a badge of honor if I wanted to. "Look at me! I'm a nonconformist!"
But the differences that people wear proudly on a regular basis, like being a nerd or a hippie or an artsy person or some relatively rare Myers-Briggs Personality Type, are actually pretty much still normalcy anyway. If non-conformism or countercultureness were truly "abnormal," you wouldn't see the kind of playful intergroup rivalry and narcissistic parading that you do, you'd see widespread, blatant, volatile prejudice and fear. People would react to these normal people who reject the "normal" label in much the same way they react to people with mental retardation or other obvious neurological disabilities, or people with birth defects, dwarfism, or other physical deformities. Only very sheltered people would react to the purple-haired chain-wearing pierced-nosed teenage punk in a way comparable to how they'd react to people with physical and neurological disabilities.
So there's no way out of the fact that I'm normal. I might as well embrace the label. And to be honest, I probably wouldn't want a way out of it either. Being able to fit in and obey the social norms to a safe degree and fly under the radar makes life a lot easier. I may want to parade my nerdiness every now and then or share some of my minor eccentricities like my love of hot humid evenings, but whenever I felt like I'd REALLY be considered "screwed-up" if I shared something, I've tended to hold back until I overcame that fear. Yes, I actually *like* having the "normal" shell to hide in. I am a conformist when it suits me to be one, instinctively making use of my "normal privilege."
So now, it's time to narcissistically parade my utter lack of difference.
Aspie-quiz results, old version:
AS: 48
NT: 132
Newest version:
AS: 49
NT: 151
Look at Me! I'm a flaming Normie!
Saturday, August 11, 2007
The Relative Invisibility of Autistic Adults
This is something of a political rant.
I found myself wondering why there seems to be much less visibility in the general culture and in official, offline-based resources for autistic-spectrum people for issues related to autistic adults and their relationships than there is for issues related to autistic children and their parents.
You hear all the time about the statistics of 1 in 150 kids being diagnosed with autism, speculation on what causes so many kids to have autism, therapies for kids with autism, and resources for parents of kids with autism. My boyfriend gets a periodical flyer/newsletter from an AS advocacy group, and most of the articles in it are geared toward children and teenagers. Most of the offline groups listed on itswebsite are geared toward children and teenagers and their parents.
I remember going with my boyfriend to a class on adolescent and adult autism-spectrum conditions for therapists and social workers looking to work with autistic-spectrum people. He was serving on a panel in that class. After the panel, the panelists were allowed to interact with people in the class, and I followed my boyfriend along to some of those small discussion groups so they could talk to both of us about the relationship. Some of the people asked us where they could find more information about adult autism, and we directed them to the online forums we knew of.
Why the invisibility of the autistic adults? Why do you have to go to somewhat obscure corners of the web that few non-autistics would hear about or seek out?
I wonder if it's because all these people who sell or buy into the popular model of autism as a disease are hoping to convince themselves and the world that, if you choose the right therapies, your kid will either grow up not to have autism anymore, or not have to rely on strategies to accommodate their autism in their adult relationships. That isn't so, for better or for worse. Quite likely for the better, IMO, because I find that trying to maintain an intimate relationship with an Aspie and understand the issues of adult autism in general has been encouraging me to question things I take for granted, and to become more compassionate, even towards myself. If it is not fair to judge autistic people as being less valuable because of the things they find difficult, how is it fair for me to judge myself as lacking value because I'm "too normal" and thus "not special?"
Some quacks and so on would want to perpetuate the notion that autism rates are indeed exploding rapidly for reasons other than the recent recognition of the broader spectrum - which would require there being many fewer autistic adults than autistic kids - so as to get people to buy into the reasoning behind their "cures," which is that some avoidable or reversible external agent such as mercury in vaccines, pollution, or allergies to increasingly genetically and chemically altered foods is causing all or almsot all autism, and therefore avoiding these agents with their special diets and treatments will cure it.
But perhaps the reasons behind the invisibility are not so dire. Perhaps it's simply a matter of autism being easier to recognize in children than in adults, since autistic adults have often taught themselves coping mechanisms or learned to communicate effectively. Or maybe it's a simple matter of people naturally wanting to invest in the children, who are the nation's future, in genral.
The idealist in me wants to see more people questioning their assumptions and treating and valuing all people as equals, regardless of their neurology. And I think greater visibility of adult autism, in theory, could help with that: it will alert us to the fact that not everyone around us thinks and feels the way we do, and some of the people we encounter in our daily lives could feel and think in ways we usually don't imagine. But the cynic in me says that as long as people don't see easy money or other shortcuts to satisfaction via learning to consider that the people in our daily lives might think and feel in ways we do not expect (and that those differences might be useful), adult autism will stay under the popular radar. Or if it does become more visible, it will be the same miracle cure quick buck angle that we see with childhood autism.
I found myself wondering why there seems to be much less visibility in the general culture and in official, offline-based resources for autistic-spectrum people for issues related to autistic adults and their relationships than there is for issues related to autistic children and their parents.
You hear all the time about the statistics of 1 in 150 kids being diagnosed with autism, speculation on what causes so many kids to have autism, therapies for kids with autism, and resources for parents of kids with autism. My boyfriend gets a periodical flyer/newsletter from an AS advocacy group, and most of the articles in it are geared toward children and teenagers. Most of the offline groups listed on itswebsite are geared toward children and teenagers and their parents.
I remember going with my boyfriend to a class on adolescent and adult autism-spectrum conditions for therapists and social workers looking to work with autistic-spectrum people. He was serving on a panel in that class. After the panel, the panelists were allowed to interact with people in the class, and I followed my boyfriend along to some of those small discussion groups so they could talk to both of us about the relationship. Some of the people asked us where they could find more information about adult autism, and we directed them to the online forums we knew of.
Why the invisibility of the autistic adults? Why do you have to go to somewhat obscure corners of the web that few non-autistics would hear about or seek out?
I wonder if it's because all these people who sell or buy into the popular model of autism as a disease are hoping to convince themselves and the world that, if you choose the right therapies, your kid will either grow up not to have autism anymore, or not have to rely on strategies to accommodate their autism in their adult relationships. That isn't so, for better or for worse. Quite likely for the better, IMO, because I find that trying to maintain an intimate relationship with an Aspie and understand the issues of adult autism in general has been encouraging me to question things I take for granted, and to become more compassionate, even towards myself. If it is not fair to judge autistic people as being less valuable because of the things they find difficult, how is it fair for me to judge myself as lacking value because I'm "too normal" and thus "not special?"
Some quacks and so on would want to perpetuate the notion that autism rates are indeed exploding rapidly for reasons other than the recent recognition of the broader spectrum - which would require there being many fewer autistic adults than autistic kids - so as to get people to buy into the reasoning behind their "cures," which is that some avoidable or reversible external agent such as mercury in vaccines, pollution, or allergies to increasingly genetically and chemically altered foods is causing all or almsot all autism, and therefore avoiding these agents with their special diets and treatments will cure it.
But perhaps the reasons behind the invisibility are not so dire. Perhaps it's simply a matter of autism being easier to recognize in children than in adults, since autistic adults have often taught themselves coping mechanisms or learned to communicate effectively. Or maybe it's a simple matter of people naturally wanting to invest in the children, who are the nation's future, in genral.
The idealist in me wants to see more people questioning their assumptions and treating and valuing all people as equals, regardless of their neurology. And I think greater visibility of adult autism, in theory, could help with that: it will alert us to the fact that not everyone around us thinks and feels the way we do, and some of the people we encounter in our daily lives could feel and think in ways we usually don't imagine. But the cynic in me says that as long as people don't see easy money or other shortcuts to satisfaction via learning to consider that the people in our daily lives might think and feel in ways we do not expect (and that those differences might be useful), adult autism will stay under the popular radar. Or if it does become more visible, it will be the same miracle cure quick buck angle that we see with childhood autism.
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