diversity is beautiful cartoon

Diversity is Beautiful

ableism, Autism, comics, Disability, Education, Infographics, Neurodiversity

One of the most frequent questions I hear from parents of autistic children is, “how do I tell them they are autistic?” They want to explain autism to their child in a positive way; to frame the information as something that empowers.

My favorite way to approach conversations about autism and other forms of disability, especially (but not only!) with children, is rather than singling out the autistic or otherwise disabled child, begin with the larger context of diversity.

Diversity is, after all, an essential ingredient in a thriving natural environment; it is valuable for its own sake.

What I love about this approach is that it de-centers any one “typical” way of being, unlike the old way of explaining autism as a brain with a set of deficits that makes it something other than normal. There is no one correct or even best kind of brain, any more than there is one correct or best kind of dog or bird.

I have this “Diversity is Beautiful” cartoon for sale in my shop, on posters and mugs and a bunch of other cool products. If you choose to purchase something from there, your support is greatly appreciated! But I am also offering free printable PDFs (see below) so that anyone may use this information. As with all of my infographics, you have permission use these for personal, educational, and any other not-for-profit purpose, retaining credit to me (and any other sources listed in my graphics).

diversity is beautiful cartoon

The Simple version of Diversity is Beautiful gives you more space to create your own accessible explanations for the concepts in the image. I recommend this one for audiences with less complex receptive language and/or reading skills.

Image description: title is “diversity is beautiful.” First row of drawings shows a variety of animals, with the caption “diversity in the animal world.” Second row shows an assortment of kids: from left to right is a person with a limb (arm) difference, person using a wheelchair, person with no visible disability, person signing “hello,” person using forearm crutches, person wearing glasses, person using a white/probing cane. Caption is “diversity of people.” Third row shows four heads with smiling faces and on foreheads are drawings of multicolored brains, caption is “diversity of human brains.” ©Erin Human 2017

Printable PDF:
Diversity is Beautiful (Simple)

"diversity is beautiful" cartoon w explanations

The version called Diversity is Beautiful (Explained) has a more lengthy explanation for each form of diversity shown. This is a nice choice for anyone who does not wish to create their own script, or would like people to be able to access the image’s concepts independently (for example, as a poster in a school classroom).

Image description: title is “diversity is beautiful.” First row of drawings shows a variety of animals, with the caption “diversity in the animal world / there are millions of different kinds of animals – more than we can count!” Second row shows an assortment of kids: from left to right is a person with a limb (arm) difference, person using a wheelchair, person with no visible disability, person signing “hello,” person using forearm crutches, person wearing glasses, person using a white/probing cane. Caption is “diversity of people / people come in a great variety of shapes, sizes, genders, abilities, and appearances – we are all unique!” Third row shows four heads with smiling faces and on foreheads are drawings of multicolored brains, caption is “diversity of human brains / no two brains are alike, but we have names for different types – like ADHD, autistic, dyslexic, typical, & more!” ©Erin Human 2017

Printable PDF:
Diversity is Beautiful (Explained)

 

 

 

Autism Acceptance 101

Autism, Disability, Neurodiversity, Parenting

Autism Acceptance 101

Image is an infographic with the following text:
guide for parents
Autism Acceptance 101
Autism Acceptance sounds simple enough, but what does it really mean for parents of autistic children?
[photo of a red tricycle on a sidewalk]
Autism Acceptance is NOT:
– ignoring challenges for parents or children
– giving up on your child or having low expectations
– pretending that life is all unicorn farts and rainbows!
[photo of a smiling child on a swing]
Autism Acceptance IS:
– accepting that autism is an inextricable part of your child
– acknowledging your child’s unique challenges & needs
– providing supports & helping your child thrive….
as an autistic person!
Erin Human
facebook.com/theeisforerin
erinhuman.com
This infographic also comes in a printable PDF:
Autism Acceptance 101

Dangerous Assumptions

Autism, Books, Neurodiversity, Parenting

Trigger Warning: This post will discuss ableism, abuse and filicide of disabled children and adults, dehumanizing language about autistic people, and harmful behavioral therapy. I’m placing a trigger warning here as a matter of courtesy to readers who have forms of PTSD that could be triggered by these topics.

I recently read a book called Ghost Boy by Martin Pistorious. This remarkably compassionate and sensitive memoir relays the story of how Pistorious fell ill with a virus at age 12, went into a kind of waking coma for a few years, and reemerged into consciousness in his mid-teens. When he awoke from that blackout state he had very little control over his body, so that he was unable to signal to anyone in any way that he was again aware, listening, and wanting to communicate.

Eventually an attentive caretaker noticed that he seemed to want to communicate and she advocated for him to be evaluated as a potential AAC (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) user. He was able to use eye gaze to prove that he could communicate, and eventually, with hard work and great passion, learned to use a few different AAC tools, including of course typing out his memoir of these experiences.

Meanwhile, I’ve also been reading Typed Words Loud Voices, a book of essays edited by Amy Sequenzia and Elizabeth J. Grace. It’s a slim volume out of Autonomous Press but I’ve been savoring it slowly. These essays (and a few poems) are all written by people who type to communicate; some are autistic, some are not, some are functionally non-speaking, some are partially non-speaking, and some speak most of the time but communicate better through typing than through talking. A common thread through these works is the experience of typed communication as freedom for the authors – freedom from the pain of being misunderstood.

A book review came out in The New Yorker last week that has set my mind on fire. In “Seeing the Spectrum,” Steven Shapin reviews the new book In A Different KeyThe Story of Autism, but he has a few choice editorial comments to make about autistic people himself. I’ll leave my thoughts on the book for another time as my copy is currently in the mail and I plan to read and review it fully.

One of Shapin’s remarks goes thusly: “It’s a searing experience to have a child who doesn’t talk, who doesn’t want to be touched, who self-harms, who demands a regularity and an order that parents can’t supply, whose eyes are not windows to their souls but black mirrors.”

His choice of words here strikes me as notably harsh and hateful, but the truth is, the sentiment beneath them is far from original. The idea that having a child who does not speak or like certain kinds of touch is soulless and tragic is, unfortunately, not only not new – it’s terribly commonplace. Shapin, like everyone else who parrots this narrative, leaves aside the question of why such a child might self-harm, but let’s not.

A common straw man argument that people use against autistic adults who argue for acceptance is that we are not like those so-called low functioning children and therefore cannot speak for them or even about them with any credibility. This argument assumes quite a lot: it assumes, for one thing, that none of us are parents to autistic children. It assumes that none of us were once non-speaking children who were thought to be “low functioning.” It assumes that functioning is a set of two static, binary categories. And it assumes – and this is so important to point out – that none of the autistic activists fighting for acceptance and equality online, in articles, in blog posts, and on Twitter, is actually non-speaking themselves.

Shapin makes the absurd distinction that “the capacity for independent living is an important factor in whether an individual is held to be ‘high functioning’ or ‘low functioning’.” I’ve also heard it said that the ability to hold a job is what qualifies an autistic person as high functioning. Of course, the ability to live on one’s own and hold a job are things that are only pathologized for disabled people, right? Lots of non-disabled people struggle with those things without being called low functioning.

If you stop to think for even a few seconds about what these labels mean, I think – I hope – you will see how little sense they make. Which label do you slap on a person who does not speak, needs significant daily live-in care, but can write a book? Which label do you slap on a person who speaks fluently, and lives alone, but relies on disability payments for income? I hope that it is obvious how arbitrary it is to qualify a human being’s “functionality” if you really consider it for a moment or two.

Of course, people like Shapin bolster their arguments by dismissing out of hand those who require assistance to use AAC – sometimes called “supported typing” or “facilitated communication” (FC). (The link in previous sentence goes to an awesome post on Unstrange Mind that includes videos of FC users in action.) FC was supposedly “debunked” in the 90s, but that research is now known to have been bad science, and there are many wonderful FC success stories, including that of Amy Sequenzia (co-editor of Typed Words mentioned above) and poet Tito Mukhopadhyay (one of the autistics featured in Spectrum: The Film). By dismissing both the autistics who speak and those who don’t but use assisted typing to communicate, the people who want to discredit the neurodiversity movement get us both coming and going.

Where am I going with this and how does it all relate? I want to return to Shapin’s statement about the searing experience, if you can bear to reread it: “It’s a searing experience to have a child who doesn’t talk, who doesn’t want to be touched, who self-harms, who demands a regularity and an order that parents can’t supply, whose eyes are not windows to their souls but black mirrors.”

By dismissing the voices of those who type to communicate, by erasing the souls of children who do not talk, Shapin and others who perpetuate this kind of narrative dehumanize autistic people. Dr. Ivar Lovaas, the founder of ABA therapy whom Shapin extols in his piece, once said of autistic children, “You have a person in the physical sense—they have hair, a nose and a mouth—but they are not people in the psychological sense.” I hope that if you ponder it for even a moment, that quote runs a chill down your spine.

This dehumanization and dismissal of autistics as not-people, as not really there, as soulless, as without thought, is precisely the kind of story – the kind of lie – that leads to abuse and murder of autistic children and adults. We don’t have to speculate that such awful things could happen; they do happen, with disturbing regularity. What sorts of things would people, in their carelessness, callousness, and sometimes cruelty, do to a person whom they think is not really, in any practical sense, there?

Martin Pistorious tells us in Ghost Boy of the awful things that were done to him when he was unable to communicate. He was treated like a thing, like an annoyance, treated worse than an animal, when people viewed him as not-a-person simply because he could not speak.

Aaron Greenwood tells us in Typed Words, “i was never ok with being treated like i needed to change. it is a horrible reality only to have people in power treat you like an object only without asking you or respecting you.”

It’s inexcusable, inhumane, and utterly irrational to persist in the belief that people who don’t speak do not think, when over and over and over again – given access to some usable communication tool – they tell us that they do.

There’s a concept from Disability history called “the least dangerous assumption.” As applied to people with communication differences, including non-speaking autistics, it means that in a very real way, the least dangerous assumption parents, teachers, caregivers, and the public can make about a person who currently is not able to verbally communicate is that they have complex thoughts and feelings just like any other person, but are not yet able to express them.

What harm, after all, could be done by treating this person with respect and assuming that they do understand you, they do feel a wide range of emotions, they do have thoughts and opinions, and that the ways they do communicate – be it laughter, echolalia, screams, or even self-injury – are meaningful? At worst, they never do find a method of expressing their complex thoughts, but have been treated like a human being.

The most dangerous assumption, meanwhile, is that they don’t understand. Their eyes are not windows to any sort of soul. They are people in form but not in substance. Their communications are disregarded as meaningless or rudimentary. Imagine if, all along, a person treated this way understood absolutely everything they were told, understood that people underestimated not only their cognitive abilities but their very humanity, understood that they were seen as less than, damaged, or not even there. Imagine the danger to a soul viewed as soulless.

Imagine how you would feel in that person’s place. Would you feel angry? Would you want to scream? Would you lash out sometimes? Can you imagine something like an inner struggle to express rage without hurting other people that might lead you to self-harm?

The desire to be seen is perhaps the strongest craving in a human being. To simply be seen or heard by another person is the most basic level of communication; and I don’t mean seen literally with the eyes, or heard with the ears, but to be beheld by a fellow human by any means available. To know that you have managed to convey something of your unique self to another person both roots you to the world and frees you. Martin Pistorious did this with only the smallest movement of his eyes at first – and a person who was willing to see him. Aaron Greenwood (again from Typed Words) wrote of his “life’s longing to be part of this world.”

Everyone wants this: a place in the world. And everyone can have it, if we truly listen. 

Image is a photo of the Earth in space, as a background to the text in capital white letters: “Everyone can have this: a place in the wold. And everyone can have it, if we truly listen. eisforerin.com”