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Originally Posted by WatsonSword Hello,
My name is David. I am twenty one years old and live in Portland Oregon. I have Asperger’s syndrome, the mildest form of autism.
How I grew up living with my condition was fairly typical of the stories of parents with autistic children. My mother first knew something was seriously different about me when I began to become a toddler. I would enjoy all kinds of physical contact, but only so long as I initiated it.
Whenever someone tried to touch me, as opposed to my touching them, I would scream and scratch them hard enough to draw blood.
My mother took me to countless psychologists who told her things like she was imagining the problem, that she wasn’t giving me enough attention, and my favorite were the ones who said she was physically abusing me. It was several years later that a specialist recognized my autistic behavior and had me diagnosed.
From there it was a constant struggle to find a place where I could fit in and that could give me the specific attention I needed. Those that accepted me treated me with outdated procedures of harsh aversives and authority, driving me further into violent and outlandish behavior.
This period in my life was filled with suffering and stress difficult to describe for both my mother and for myself.
All this could have been avoided if there was a cure for autism. But curing autism is a course I can never, ever endorse.
I am part of a growing collection of autistic people who believe that high functioning autism at least, is not a disability. Rather we believe it is a fundamental difference in thought processes producing someone who, while appearing to others as alien in thought and behavior, is just as capable in aspects of life, and in some even more so, than so called “normal” people.
Like the others in my group, I do not consider my form of autism at least to be either a disability or a disease. My autism is a fundamental part of who I am, not the only part, but fundamental nonetheless. It allows me to think and to feel in a way differently from those around me, giving me a unique perspective on the world. If my autism should be taken away, then this perspective would be lost, and I would no longer be me, but someone else.
Some people would say to the effect of, “How could you turn your back to the suffering of so many autistic children and their parents?” To that I respond with this.
I went through that suffering myself, and I can tell you exactly what caused it. It was lack of understanding. As someone who was autistic, I needed to be raised and to be treated in ways far different from other people. Affection always had to be on my terms, no one else’s. I needed a environment where I could be free to develop my own behaviors with constant nudging toward what was appropriate, not an environment where appropriate behaviors were dictated to me. I needed people to always push me to do things and explore places outside my comfort zone, as I was unlikely to do so on my own. Being treated in the same way as any other child simply was not compatible with my autism, and the result was anger, fear, and incredible stress.
At the same time my mother’s suffering was also caused by lack of understanding. I can only imagine what it must have been like to go from psychologist to psychologist each telling her that my behavior is somehow her fault and that she’s a bad mother. When my autism was finally discovered, this situation only continued with alternative schools treating me as if I were undisciplined rather than autistic, driving my behavior further over the edge.
I will admit, I am quite bitter about what happened in my early life. But that too I would not change. The pain and stress I went through then I believe is what gives me the strength I have today.
As I have stated before, my autism gives me a unique perspective and way of thinking that nothing else can. I would now like to elaborate a bit more on that.
Many people find me to be cold, distant, without feelings. I assure you I have all the same feelings you do, and they run just as deep. But the way I express my feelings is so different from others that often times it goes unrecognized.
I often see others expressing verbal affection for each other. To me it seems as if they speak to each other in the same manner they speak to their pets. I can’t imagine why they must do that to reaffirm their feelings toward each other, and to be honest I find it rather undignified.
I am one for the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’. If I wanted to show someone I cared for them, I would do so with actions. To show my appreciation I would cook them meals or clean old messes. I would show my affection by helping them resolve their personal problems and coming to their defense when they’re attacked, be it physically or professionally.
The need to show such things through childish speech is something I simply can never understand.
All my decisions, the major ones at least, I base on the most logical and rational course I can. I analyze all potential courses of action for cost, benefit and risk. My emotions and my instincts play little role in my important actions.
As a result of this, sometimes my decisions may seem heartless to others. On the same token the decisions of others often seem to me to be irrational, confusing, and even frightening.
Certain behaviors are demanded of me by the roles I play within society. I cannot see the point behind this.
My role as a student demands that I accept the knowledge and teaching methods of my professors. But when I find a professor that teaches things I don’t believe in, or who uses methods I don’t agree with, I am unable to keep my mouth shut about it. An example of the trouble this has caused me was the time I failed a writing class after accusing the professor of wanting everyone in the class to think like her.
My role as a son demands that I be supporting of my mother and stepfather without interfering with their troubles between each other. But when I see them seriously fighting, I cannot help but try to help them reconcile with each other. It makes them highly uncomfortable, though I cannot understand why it wouldn’t make them happy.
These unique perspectives made possible by my autism may clash with those of society at large. But ask yourself, are they less valuable or valid because of it? And should these perspectives be eliminated?
Many organizations, some of them quite powerful, seek in the short term a prenatal test for autism, and in the long term a cure for it. What would happen if they reached their goals?
Say an easy, low risk, and accurate prenatal test for autism is developed. The test can tell definitively whether a child will be born autistic, that much we know. But I ask this. Will it be able to tell the severity of the autism? Can it tell the difference between those who will never be aware of the outside world, from those like me, who as adults only have moderate difficulty understanding how others think? And even if it could, would it be able to tell the difference between those who will forever be low functioning, and those who begin life low functioning, but become high functioning as a natural part of growing up?
The vast majority of people with autism are either high functioning or will become high functioning with age. These forms of autism do not leave one crippled for life, and with proper knowledge they do not cause unbearable pain. These people have the opportunity to live both functional and satisfying lives.
Pro-choice advocates state that some people, because of diseases that cause extraordinary pain and cripple them to the point that they can never function in society, should be spared the price they would pay for living.
But if a prenatal test for autism is developed, then how many people with autism who can make good lives for themselves will be aborted for every one who cannot?
This thought frightens me deeply. But what frightens me even more is the thought that one day these organizations will develop a real cure for autism.
If a fetus is found to be developing autism, exponentially more people will opt for receiving a cure if there is one, than choosing abortion if there is not. And unlike abortion, a cure for autism may very easily be forced ethically or even legally onto expectant mothers.
Imagine then, a world in which no one is ever born with autism. Prenatal tests would be mandatory and whenever autism is found, it is eliminated in utero. This would not only include the unfortunate few with low functioning autism, but the countless more with high functioning autism as well.
An entire section of the population would be eliminated, for no other reason than that they naturally think in a way that’s different from others. Our unique perspectives, our abilities, our eccentricities, and every quality we have to contrast those without autism, will be gone forever. It will be a great blow to diversity. But more than that, would it not count as a form of genocide?
David C Johnson
aka
WatsonSword |
Congratulations to AcaCandy on her 100,000th post!
Civilized Debate 
Sandra 
