Autistic Hedgehog

That last one sounds about right.

“Mild” autism, like “high-functioning” autism is an expression of ignorance and at times straight up hatred. It’s an allistic classification of us based on what they assume we’re capable of, and has nothing to do with the realities we face in our day-to-day lives. And sadly, it’s used against us by many of our so-called “allies,” by people like Autism Moms (*gag*) and just assholes who want to dismiss us. 

Some people may come across more high-functioning in your average social situation, but have other struggles. Some may function fairly highly across the board. Some may be able to make their own phone calls but be pretty much unable to speak to someone face-to-face. We’re all different, and we all have our areas where we’re strong, areas where we’re weak, and areas where we succeed sometimes but not all times. “Mild autism” is a completely meaningless term.

It may be that some of these people are trying to compliment you (I don’t know the exact circumstances you’re hearing this in). But even so, that’s patronizing, ignorant and offensive. And worse, these distinctions have been divisive for autistics in general. It pits us against each other, both by encouraging some of us to believe that we’re better than others, and by telling us we should shut up because we don’t have it as bad as others. No matter someone’s intentions, using the term “mild autism” is just wrong.

tl;dr version: If someone uses the term “mild autism,” this can be translated as “I don’t actually know the first thing about how autism really works.” 

We all have those days. Every last one of us, even those of us who are otherwise secure and comfortable with who we are.

It’s hard not to, when society constantly tells us that everything about us is wrong. Consider: Anyone could have broken that bin. Absolutely anyone. It’s the sort of thing that could happen to any person, on any day of the week, anywhere else on the planet. But being autistic, a lot of time people blow our mistakes way out of proportion—and that includes ourselves. We’re so used to our behaviors being pathologized, our oddities being treated as if they’re odder than everyone else’s, our mistakes somehow being bigger and more damaging to other people than the ones made by allistics, that it becomes so difficult not to blame our autism—and think there’s something wrong with us—when these things happen. 

But it’s not true. People treat us that way out of prejudice, intolerance, hatred and ignorance. They are the ones who’re wrong.  You’re not worth less than other people because you made the same kind of mistake anyone else could. You’re not a burden because sometimes you’re clumsy or mess up. It might sound a bit typical, but it really is true that no one is perfect; everyone has weaknesses, has things they’re not good at. Do we go around talking about how people need to be cured because they can’t play basketball or do long division or sing well or jump rope or any of a number of other things? Nope. We don’t. 

So why should you need to be cured? You don’t. Society has just trained you to doubt yourself because it views you as different. Because it has a set of “norms” that you don’t meet, a set that is completely arbitrary and narrow-minded, and society is an inflexible bastard that would rather bully you into changing yourself than work to adapt to your needs. Well, society can go fuck itself. You have every right to be you, just like anyone else does, and who you are is not lesser. 

These feelings aren’t truth. They’re not coming from you, they’re not some form of acceptance of what’s “right.” They’ve been forced on you by judgmental asshats, and yeah, there will probably always be days when they’re hard to fight. There will always be moments of doubt. But that’s what we’re here for, me and other people like me. To remind you that the problem isn’t you, and to help you up when you’re down. 

Because the problem really. Isn’t. You.

Yes, actually.

First of all, communicate. Always, always, always communicate. Be literal and straightforward about what you want and feel. 

Be honest, even in cases where it might sting a little. We can be blunt and not always realize what we say may be hurtful, but don’t hold it in. We need to know there are problems if we’re going to fix them.

Don’t assume an autistic person behaves a certain way for the same reasons you might. A lot of times we don’t. I’ll often try to stop arguments with my husband and back away, and he tends to make the assumption that I’m using some kind of strategy to get the last word in, when in fact I’m just overwhelmed and my brain is shutting down and I can’t cope with it anymore. 

Sometimes we’re not very good at holding a facial expression, especially when we’re not doing much, or in a situation that lulls us into relaxation. This has led to many an occasion, for me, where I’ve had to reassure someone a thousand times that I’m perfectly fine. Take what we say at face value unless you have very good reason to think otherwise. It’s false to say we can’t/don’t lie, but even so, a lot of us don’t bother; we don’t see the point and thus can’t be arsed.

Finally, try not to take autistic behaviors personally. Sure, we come in all types, including assholes, but for most of us we just are that way. Sometimes we don’t return hugs or want hugs; that’s nothing against you. We may not like public affection, being in pictures, we may go through periods where we don’t want to kissed or touched, we may have meltdowns or freak out over changes or surprises, but don’t jump to the conclusion that it’s personal. Ask if you’re uncertain, but most of the time it’s just us being us.

(Caveat: Not really sure that I, of all people, should be giving anyone dating advice, considering my abysmal record. Just something to be aware of.)