For many this answer is obvious, but for those suffering from invisible physical or mental illness, the answer may be more uncertain. The simple answer is having a condition that significantly impedes your life in some way is a disability. But what exactly does that mean?
As a child my asthma was so bad I went to the hospital often and couldn’t participate in sports or other physical activity. (My mom even mistook my social awkwardness as lack of socialization due to always being sick instead of suspecting autism, and I can’t really blame her) I remember wishing I could learn Irish dancing like my sister but I wasn’t allowed because of my asthma. As I got older the severity decreased as medications improved. Now my asthma is more of an annoyance and not something I consider part of my disabilities. I also used to get migraines that prevented me from attending school. Now they bug me as they’ve become milder and more controllable. Of course now I have other severe conditions from anxiety to chronic pain to keep me squarely in the disabled column.
However for other people migraines are disabling. They can’t work, study, drive, or other basic things. They have to try stronger treatments and may need accommodations from work or school. That is classified as disabled.
Disability comes in all shapes and sizes, and especially severity. Being a disabled person and not needing one kind of accommodation doesn’t mean the one you do need doesn’t matter.
We talk about this a lot in the autistic community. Many autistics are considered “high functioning” which is not only ableist against so called “lower functioning” autisrics, it implies that some autistics are not disabled because we can hold a conversation and sometimes make eye contact.
Doctors can help confirm if you’re disabled, but don’t take it as word of god. They can be ableist, they can be wrong and not listen to you. Only you fully know how your condition is affection your daily life.
People will look at those in a wheelchair with a straight face and say the only disability is a bad attitude. If they will discount visible disabilities, of course they’ll downright deny invisible ones. Don’t let their ableism get to you. If you’re struggling in life from a medical condition, it counts and you deserve the help you need to get by.
“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”
We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”
Or “little Jonathan doesn’t talk but does a good job herding the sheep, contributes to the community in his own way, and is, all around, a decent guy.” That happened a lot, too, especially before the 19th century.
Or, backing up FURTHER
and lots of people think this very likely,
“Oh little Sionnat has obviously been taken by the fairies and they’ve left us a Changeling Child who knows too much, and asks strange questions, and uses words she shouldn’t know, and watches everything with her big dark eyes, clearly a Fairy Child and not a Human Like Us.”
The Myth of the Changeling child, a human baby apparently replaced at a young age by a toddler who “suddenly” acts “strange and fey” is an almost textbook depiction of autistic children.
To this day, “autism warrior mommies” talk about autism “stealing” their “sweet normal child” and have this idea of “getting their real baby back” which (in the face of modern science) indicates how the human psyche actually does deal with finding out their kid acts unlike what they expected.
Given this evidence, and how common we now know autism actually is, the Changeling myth is almost definitely the result of people’s confusion at the development of autistic children.
Weirdly enough, that legend is now comforting to me.
I think it’s worth noting that many like me, who are diagnosed with ASD now, would probably have been seen as just a bit odd in centuries past. I’m only a little bit autistic; I can pass for neurotypical for short periods if I work really hard at it. I have a lack of talent in social situations, and I’m prone to sensory overload or you might notice me stimming.
But here’s the thing: life is louder, brighter and more intense and confusing than it has ever been. I live on the edge of London and I rarely go into the centre of town because it’s too overwhelming. If I went back in time and lived on a farm somewhere, would anyone even notice there was anything odd about me? No police sirens, no crowded streets that go on for miles and miles, no flickery electric lights. Working on a farm has a clear routine. I’d be a badass at spinning cloth or churning butter because I find endless repetition soothing rather than boring.
I’m not trying to romanticise the past because I know it was hard, dirty work with a constant risk of premature death. I don’t actually want to be a 16th century farmer! What I’m saying is that disability exists in the context of the environment. Our environment isn’t making people autistic in the sense of some chemical causing brain damage. But we have created a modern environment which is hostile to autistic people in many ways, which effectively makes us more disabled. When you make people more disabled, you start to see more people struggling, failing at school because they’re overwhelmed, freaking out at the sound of electric hand dryers and so on. And suddenly it looks like there’s millions more autistic people than existed before.
“…disability exists in the context of the environment.”
Reblog for disability commentary.
That last paragraph is absolutely important.
“How come nobody ever heard of ‘dyslexia’ until widespread literacy became a thing?”
“…disability exists in the context of the environment.”
on one hand this thread makes me want to cry a lot and on the other I’m like, well, my brain is a complex system and now I have a sort of entry point to figure out how it works, so that’s good
sometimes, people don’t understand that we are hated for being autistic. “But I don’t hate autistic people!”.
That’s right! Because you don’t know how autistic people are.
You know, people never bullied me for being autistic. Because neither me nor they had the terminology. Nah, they punished me for being weird. And what made me weird to their eyes? I spoke weird and often stumbled, and I spoke like a grownup anyway, and I wouldn’t shut up about Ancient Greece. I moved weird too, because I was (am) really clumsy, and I didn’t have any friends. I was boring and didn’t catch jokes (made at my expense) and I didn’t look them in the eye, and so on and on.
If you asked any of the people who bullied me for years whether they hate autistic people, they’d say “no!”. Because they don’t hate autistic people, but oh boy do they hate weird people. Perhaps they don’t hate autistic people, but surely they hated me for being obviously autistic.
I’ve been trying to explain this concept to a lot of people. You did a really good job summing it up.
“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”
We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”
Or “little Jonathan doesn’t talk but does a good job herding the sheep, contributes to the community in his own way, and is, all around, a decent guy.” That happened a lot, too, especially before the 19th century.
Or, backing up FURTHER
and lots of people think this very likely,
“Oh little Sionnat has obviously been taken by the fairies and they’ve left us a Changeling Child who knows too much, and asks strange questions, and uses words she shouldn’t know, and watches everything with her big dark eyes, clearly a Fairy Child and not a Human Like Us.”
The Myth of the Changeling child, a human baby apparently replaced at a young age by a toddler who “suddenly” acts “strange and fey” is an almost textbook depiction of autistic children.
To this day, “autism warrior mommies” talk about autism “stealing” their “sweet normal child” and have this idea of “getting their real baby back” which (in the face of modern science) indicates how the human psyche actually does deal with finding out their kid acts unlike what they expected.
Given this evidence, and how common we now know autism actually is, the Changeling myth is almost definitely the result of people’s confusion at the development of autistic children.
Weirdly enough, that legend is now comforting to me.
I think it’s worth noting that many like me, who are diagnosed with ASD now, would probably have been seen as just a bit odd in centuries past. I’m only a little bit autistic; I can pass for neurotypical for short periods if I work really hard at it. I have a lack of talent in social situations, and I’m prone to sensory overload or you might notice me stimming.
But here’s the thing: life is louder, brighter and more intense and confusing than it has ever been. I live on the edge of London and I rarely go into the centre of town because it’s too overwhelming. If I went back in time and lived on a farm somewhere, would anyone even notice there was anything odd about me? No police sirens, no crowded streets that go on for miles and miles, no flickery electric lights. Working on a farm has a clear routine. I’d be a badass at spinning cloth or churning butter because I find endless repetition soothing rather than boring.
I’m not trying to romanticise the past because I know it was hard, dirty work with a constant risk of premature death. I don’t actually want to be a 16th century farmer! What I’m saying is that disability exists in the context of the environment. Our environment isn’t making people autistic in the sense of some chemical causing brain damage. But we have created a modern environment which is hostile to autistic people in many ways, which effectively makes us more disabled. When you make people more disabled, you start to see more people struggling, failing at school because they’re overwhelmed, freaking out at the sound of electric hand dryers and so on. And suddenly it looks like there’s millions more autistic people than existed before.
“…disability exists in the context of the environment.”
Reblog for disability commentary.
That last paragraph is absolutely important.
“How come nobody ever heard of ‘dyslexia’ until widespread literacy became a thing?”
My child is autistic. He doesn’t do well with change. Even little things that would be meaningless to most people.
For example, his hairbrush was getting old and worn. He had chewed the end of it. The cats had chewed some bristles. It was dirty and dusty. But I didn’t say anything. Because it’s his hairbrush.
Finally, he said he thinks it’s time for a new brush. Ok, I say, we’ll put it on the shopping list, and get one next time we’re in town.
So we go to town and we go to the store. There are many hairbrushes to choose from. He picks one and they even have it in his favorite color. We buy it, take it home, and remove the packaging.
I go to put it on the shelf where the old hairbrush is. Can we throw out the old one, I ask.
That’s when he stops. That’s when he freezes and gets a momentary look of panic on his face. Throw out the old one? That hadn’t occurred to him.
Because here’s the thing. Hair brushing is a part of his morning routine. And not just hair brushing, but hair brushing with that particular brush. To most people, the act of hair brushing is the routine, but not the brush itself. The objects are interchangeable. But not to my child. Not to someone with autism. The brush itself is just as important as the act of brushing.
So I take a breath. I put the old brush down. Think about it, I say. Let me know tomorrow what you want to do with this brush.
He decides. He realizes keeping an old hairbrush is not necessary. But it’s still important to him. So he asks if I can cut off one bristle. To keep. As a memory of the old hairbrush.
I don’t laugh. I don’t tell him it’s silly. I respect his need. I cut off the bristle. He puts it in his treasure box, along side some smooth rocks, beads, sparkly decals, a Santa Claus charm from a classmate, a few other things meaningful to him.
He throws the old hairbrush away himself. He is able to move on, and accept the change.
This is a great way to help an autistic person move on properly, instead of forcing them to get rid of it you let them use their own method and left them feeling safe. Congrats fam👏👏
For me hyper empathy is also part of this and I have to like, grieve for things like this. And approaching it that way, as grief, as legitimate bereavement instead of pushing myself to treat it the way NT’s in my life had taught me (dismissive, mockery, “it’s just a hairbrush wtf why are you like this”) has really helped in these kinds of situations.
I don’t laugh. I don’t tell him it’s silly. I respect his need.
I wish I’d had this kind of understanding and safety in my childhood. It teaches you how to be safe and understanding to yourself.
I’ve held on to shoes and toothbrushes for an insane amount of years because “why would I get rid of them, they still serve purpose”. And the absolute worst thing that could happen to me is breaking routine, or something doesn’t go according to plan and throws my whole daily scheduled out of sync.
Me, autistic: are u telling me u can’t hear this incredibly loud fridge
The lights have sound
Electronics have sound
Appliances have sound
If electricity runs through it, it has sound.
Rarely is there actual silence (and that does bother me due to lack of sensory input).
This is why the barn uses me when they think the horses are reacting to a noise they can’t hear. I’ll likely find it (it’s usually the heating or the electrical box in the indoor).
I also know when the electric fences are on.
For years I was convinced that I was either hallucinating or had hearing damage, because electronics always made this high-pitched whine that was closer to being felt than heard, and nobody else knew what I was talking about.
Then I met other autistic people.
I wonder if it’s an adhd thing too.
I always just assumed it was something to do with my migraines making me really sensitive to sounds other people couldn’t hear, because I can definitely hear things other people can’t seem to. Like the fridge or the tv (remember the old box tube tvs? Those things were loud on standby.) Hell I can hear my phone when it’s plugged in but for some reason not when it’s on a wireless charger. My brother is the same way, but he also gets migraines so we never thought much of it.
wow, what a gorgeous month to remember autism isn’t a disease and there’s no “cure for autism” and there shouldn’t have to be one just because allistic people can’t get the hell over themselves and realise other people experience the world differently and have different needs and require different accommodations. terrific.
autism is literally a neurological and development condition but ok sure yeah keep with the feel good platitudes, you absolute tit
There’s a strong difference between a “disease” and a “condition”, you absolute tit
Think of it this way. 83% of computers (laptop and desktop) use Windows. 13% use Mac. The vast majority of software is developed for windows, with another significant fraction developed for or adapted to mac, because that’s what most people use and it’s all most people understand.
Now imaging you’re one of the 1.4% of computers are running Linux. This doesn’t mean you’ve got a windows machine with a virus, it doesn’t mean your computer is broken, it doesn’t mean it needs to get replaced with a more common operating system. It’s not quite as good at some things most people take for granted, but it’s significantly better at a bunch of other things. But if you have a problem with your computer, the vast majority of people won’t have any idea what you’re talking about. They’ll give advice for how to deal with a similar issue on their own computer, and it will be worthless. The only people with any idea what you’re going through are going to be on linux forums. And you can mostly muddle through all the things everybody else can do with improvisation and lots of WINE, but it sure would be nice if the devs of that video game you were looking forward to would like, acknowledge the existence of your demographic.
Now imagine that on top of all that, the primary linux support system had been taken over by a bunch of assholes who’ve never so much as looked at a command prompt in their lives. but who have declared themselves the Voice of Linux Users and keep spending millions of dollars on campaigns “educating” everybody about how using linux makes you a fundamentally bad and stupid person so your laptop needs to be burned immediately to force you to get a correct computer.
i love that analogy so fucking much
As an IT person who uses linux and as a mother of one, possibly two autistic kids:
This is an excellent analogy.
Except, like, I didn’t choose operating system when I got mine and I can’t change and can’t show anyone and they can’t show me, we can only try to describe, but I’ve never used windows so it’s hard to know the differences and also people say antivirus software can change your operating system to Linux
