So, April 1 is the first day of World Autism Month, also known as Autism Awareness Month, also known as Autism Acceptance Month, also known as “Welp, Here We Go” Month among autistic people who appreciate that folks are at least trying their best.
Why “welp”? Because even well-meaning people don’t always get things right, and it’s not uncommon to see a lot of stereotypes reinforced, assumptions made, and actually autistic people talked over during this particular month of the year. Not maliciously. Just because.
If your organization is one of those that likes to celebrate Months, that’s cool! That’s very thoughtful of you. In honor of your thoughtfulness, I thought I’d provide a few tips for making sure your autism-related messaging efforts are of the accurate, societally beneficial, not-insulting-or-patronizing variety. Because I care.
So here are a few ways to make your Autism Month content the kind of stuff actual autistic people will want to share with their friends.
Go with “Acceptance” rather than “Awareness.”
Why? Because in practice, ”awareness” is generally reserved for stuff people don’t like. Ovarian cancer. Colorectal cancer. Deep vein thrombosis. Things we’re supposed to look out for so we can catch them early and cure them before they make you dead. You can probably see why autistic people, in general, resent being placed into that category. This thing that has heavily informed how I developed and who I’ve become needs to be hunted down and eradicated so there can’t be any more people like me.
Cool.
“Acceptance,” on the other hand, frames autism in a more positive light and encourages, like… acceptance. It doesn’t imply that being autistic is universally hunky-dory and autistic people never experience challenges, even significant ones, because of their autism. It doesn’t imply that everything is super-cool and we don’t need support. But it encourages the general public to see autistic people as valuable, valid members of society, with lots to contribute, and not weirdos to isolate and pity. And it encourages autistic people to accept and value themselves, too. All good things.
Use identity-first language.
Why? Because overwhelmingly, autistic people prefer it. (That’s what “identity-first language” is — saying things like “autistic person,” rather than “person with autism,” which is an example of “person-first language.”) Autism isn’t like a sweater that can be taken off or a tumor that can be excised or a clutch purse that can be set down — it’s literally the way our brains developed and function. It might not define us, but it is integral to us.
(None of this is to say that there aren’t people with autism who themselves use “person with autism,” and if that’s how a person identifies, we should absolutely go with it. But as a default, statistically, you’re not likely to go wrong with “autistic person.”)
Look beyond puzzle pieces.
Why? Because they’re not necessarily great for autistic people. The use of a puzzle piece to represent autism actually started in 1963, with the logo of the National Autistic Society in London. The puzzle piece symbolized how autism is a puzzling condition (get it?) and also included a picture of a crying child to illustrate how horribly we suffer. So… there’s a lot there. And even as it’s been used in different ways since then, with different meanings applied to it, it’s controversial — some autistic people resent the implication that we’re puzzling, have missing pieces, are missing pieces, don’t fit in… To be sure, some autistic people (and a lot of parents of autistic people) do embrace the puzzle piece, but no one’s going to drag you for not using it in deference to the people who are offended by it.
One symbol in common use by autistic people is the infinity symbol — in rainbow colors for neurodiversity in general, or in gold for autism specifically. So that’s something to play with. Or you can just leave out symbols all together and find some other way to express your support.
Look at the positives.
Why? Because autism isn’t a straight-up tragedy, dooming autistic people to a lifetime of misery and isolation. We have lives and relationships and interests and things that make life fulfilling. Again, I’m not going to pretend that autism doesn’t present a lot of challenges to some autistic people. (I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned some of mine once or twice.) That’s undeniable. But particularly if you’re coming at things from an “awareness” kind of perspective, it’s easy to miss the good stuff. It’s easy to fall prey to the lure of sad stories and inspiration porn, and neither of those serves anyone.
So don’t forget to highlight good stuff — the people who are doing and creating and advocating. Not because it’s so great they’re able to do that “despite” being autistic — wow, buddy, good for you! — but because it’s great that they’re doing it, period. Autistic people do great things.
Give functioning and severity labels a pass.
Why? Because that’s not actually how autism works. Labels like “high functioning” and “low functioning” describe how an autistic person appears to be managing, not how much work they’re doing to get there. And labels like “mild” or “severe” autism miss the fact that autism actually encompasses a huge spectrum of traits, tendencies, and challenges that manifest differently in every individual. A person might have significant issues with social interactions, or with sensory processing, or with motor function, or with executive function, or with something else, or might have only minor issues with a whole lot of things at once, or any combination or permutation — none of those things is, on its own, “autism.”
If you find yourself needing to get into specifics about such things… Do you, really? Ask yourself why it’s so important to the content you’re creating that you specify that a person is “severely” autistic. Are you afraid their accomplishments won’t seem like such a big deal if you don’t emphasize their challenges? Are you trying to throw a li’l drama into their story? Trust me — you’ll be fine without it. (For future reference, though, the autistic community tends to speak in terms of low and high support needs, which is less pathologizing and puts less of a value judgment on the individual and their potential.)
Engage actual autistic people
Why?
I mean…
This is a “nothing about us without us” kind of situation. So so frequently, actually autistic people get left out of the conversation during what is ostensibly our own month. With the focus so often being on awareness, the featured voices are frequently those of parents and caretakers, speaking on behalf of their autistic loved ones. Try to include diverse representation, giving autistic people the opportunity to speak for themselves. Remember that even though autism is generally associated with boys, it’s actually gender-nonspecific, and that autistic kids grow into autistic adults who continue to be autistic. And don’t forget that just because an autistic person might be nonspeaking, that doesn’t mean they have nothing to say — their voice is just as valid as anyone else’s, even if it comes via writing or AAC or some other non-vocal method.
Instead of going straight to Autism Speaks, which isn’t heavy on actually autistic representation, look to groups like the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network, the Autistic Women & Nonbinary Network, and CommunicationFIRST for a wide variety of perspectives from people who’ve been there.
Happy Autism Acceptance Month!
Starting tomorrow, I mean. That gives you a good (checks watch) eighteen hours to look over your Autism Month content and make any necessary revisions before it goes live. Thanks for caring enough to want to do something, and especially thanks for caring enough to want to do it right. You’re one of the good’ns.
And if you choose to use Autism Acceptance Month as an opportunity to celebrate your autistic employees, may I suggest turning off the fluorescent lights, skipping the onions on your sandwich, and not trying to make eye contact for the entire month. And red velvet cake. That last one isn’t an autism thing — I just really like red velvet cake, so feel free to celebrate me by sending me one.