My kindergarten graduation

Posted on July 26th, 2008 in Uncategorized by Aspie Rhetor

A few weeks back, I played around with a dazzle box and decided to digitize a few portions of my kindergarten graduation. It’s strange how clearly I remember being six years old. I received the part of “Polly Prune” very last-minute, replacing a girl by the name of Farrah. Originally, I wasn’t even cast because I was so painfully quiet and “shy,” but Farrah couldn’t remember her lines, and apparently I knew everybody’s lines. During the last few rehearsals, my kindergarten teacher kept yelling at me to speak up.

I think I did a decent job during my 15-second debut. As for my hat: a woman from church made it. It’s white with little prunes taped on, the prunes being rolled-up garbage bags. My teacher asked if she could keep my hat, and I gave it to her.

To clarify…

Posted on July 25th, 2008 in Uncategorized by Aspie Rhetor

I ranted about Michael Savage yesterday. I think I’ve since calmed down, with “think” being the key word.

Several autism advocacy organizations have combined their energies and submitted a letter to Savage’s sponsors. I keep mulling over his follow-up show, how he treated his guests, how he decided which experts to pick for the discussion. It all reminded me of how much I loathe politicians and political discourse. I suppose that, being entrenched in the study of feminist rhetorical practices (among other things), it’d be fairly ridiculous for me to coin myself apolitical. I also suppose that apolitical is a sort of paradoxical parlance, especially since refusing politics is, in and of itself, its own political alignment.

I’m entirely gullible, I’ve realized. Or perhaps “indecisive” is the better word. That, and I rely too much on other’s perceptions, reactions, and ideas about social propriety since I tend to lack awareness of what is socially appropriate and acceptable. I’m never quick enough to realize when I should be saying “stupid flaming liberals” or “stupid staunch conservatives.” I’ve also come to realize that saying the wrong phrase in the wrong venue has the potential to result in personal injury. More often than not, I opt to say nothing at all, if only because I can’t process nuance fast enough.

Back to Savage. I’m often hesitant to label Asperger’s as a disability, if only because I don’t see my cognitive perceptions as negative constructs, as something horribly, terribly wrong with me. I prefer to think of Asperger’s as a difference, and some of the accommodations that I need aren’t fixes for my supposedly “wretched medical problems” — just alternative methods for me, as a particular individual, to get by. Moreover, so much of Asperger’s is wrapped up in social matters that I’d be committing a form of self-suicide to merely think that every failed situation is the fault of my “miswired” brain: social issues are social issues, issues wrapped up in a one-size-fits-all, more-often-than-not universally designed (or desired) society, a society obsessed with bell curves and misplaced chitchat about the weather. (Yes, I can see the sun, read the temperature on the bank’s LCD display, and feel the humidity against my skin. But thanks for bringing the current environmental condition to my attention.)

After listening to Savage and his claims that the autism spectrum is a bogus way for drug companies and doctors to reap in extra purse change, I feel as though any attempts I have at rebuttal are compromised. On the one hand, I defend my diagnosis of Asperger’s fervently: based on current scientific evidence, academic and medical communities at large define Asperger’s as high-functioning autism. I am autistic. And defensively so. I have a disability.

On the other hand, I’m not disabled in Savage’s sense of the word — there’s a huge linguistic gap emerging here. Sure, I have “problems,” and sure, I need “accommodations” sometimes, and sure, I have trouble “functioning socially” on many an occasion. I do not, however, need pity, and I am not tragic — neither tragically sad nor tragically cool nor tragically trendy nor tragically misdiagnosed. Tragic and I only fit in the same semantic unit when referring to my fashion sense, which is sadly and grossly lacking. According to Savage, “true autism is devastating.” Devastating for who? Devastating for what? His ratings?

Generally, I assume that when parents learn that their child has autism, they rarely jump for joy. Their lives change considerably, and often they lack the support services that they and their child truly need. But these challenges do not mean that their child is necessarily suffering in perpetuity, that their child is somehow lacking as a human being. Savage’s first guest, Wendy Fournier, president of the National Autism Association, unfortunately bolstered this idea, even though she claimed to be defending the interests of autistic children and their families. We have, she claimed, “a generation of impaired children.” Fournier also believes that vaccinations and heavy metal toxicity are in part responsible for autism, which made her seem all the less credible. Despite my many points of contention with Fournier’s beliefs, I was glad to find a letter she wrote in response to her spot on Savage’s show. When I listened to the show, it often seemed as though she was agreeing with a lot of Savage’s claims concerning overdiagnosis and misdiagnosis. As it turns out, she was placed on MUTE for much of the show, in order for Savage to soliloquize. She further maintains that she disbelieves Savage’s out-of-context/pharma defense, especially since most families do not receive governmental support, cannot sue anybody for causing their child’s autism, and are often placed on years-long waiting lists for necessary support services.

Rhetorically and editorially, this is all very interesting. The more I read about the Savage debacle, the more I realize why pathos is so de-legitimized (and demonized) as a persuasion tool within academic circles.

On Michael Savage

Posted on July 25th, 2008 in blog rants by Aspie Rhetor

I don’t really know where to start. For those who are unfamiliar with what’s been going on since July 16, Michael Savage, a conservative shock jock, claimed 99% of all autistics were fakers who needed better parenting:

“I’ll tell you what autism is. In 99 percent of the cases, it’s a brat who hasn’t been told to cut the act out. That’s what autism is. What do you mean they scream and they’re silent? They don’t have a father around to tell them, ‘Don’t act like a moron. You’ll get nowhere in life. Stop acting like a putz. Straighten up. Act like a man. Don’t sit there crying and screaming, idiot.’ … [I]f I behaved like a fool, my father called me a fool. And he said to me, ‘Don’t behave like a fool.’ The worst thing he said — ‘Don’t behave like a fool. Don’t be anybody’s dummy. Don’t sound like an idiot. Don’t act like a girl. Don’t cry.’ That’s what I was raised with. That’s what you should raise your children with. Stop with the sensitivity training. You’re turning your son into a girl, and you’re turning your nation into a nation of losers and beaten men. That’s why we have the politicians we have.”

I’ve been trying to be as objective as possible about all of this — I was really, truly hoping that somewhere, somehow, something was taken out of context. I listened to the first two hours of Savage’s follow-up show (recorded on July 21), and I couldn’t bear to listen for the third hour. First, he refused to apologize. Essentially, even though Savage is claiming the out-of-context defense, his claims for “original intent” sound just as foul, to me, as the original comments pasted above. Savage denies that there is an autistic spectrum. He also believes that, quite literally, somewhere upwards of 60% of autistic people are not really, in fact, autistic.

Savage continually reiterated that the “truly autistic” were not, and never have been, the subjects of his attack. He maintained that his claims were about overdiagnosis and misdiagnosis, that he was merely trying to defend defenseless children, to help helpless children.

Nevertheless, not once has Savage offered a definition of what he feels “true autism” is. After listening, I’ve determined that he supposes true autistics cannot speak (or, at most, cannot speak intelligibly). One of his two expert guests spent quite a while discussing otherwise “normal” late-talkers versus autistic children, using Einstein as an example. While I loathe the tendency to retro-diagnose dead geniuses with autistic spectrum disorders, Savage’s show perpetuates the myth that true autistics must, of necessity, not only be nonverbal, but must also possess a low IQ. Moreover, several callers, in support of Savage, maintained that they had (or knew of) children who’d received diagnoses of autism as toddlers, yet eventually began speaking, so, lo and behold, those kids certainly weren’t autistic!

I don’t deny that overdiagnosis and or misdiagnosis occurs. Just because I’ve never met anyone in those two categories doesn’t mean that the possibility doesn’t exist. Yet, I also think that the children in those examples still might very well be autistic — talking and intelligence (or, intelligence as we arbitrarily measure it) do not preclude autism. Moreover, I’ve read more scientific literature pertaining to underdiagnosis than I have about any sort of overdiagnosis. Call it the “epidemic” or better medicine.

In reality, I feel hurt. I realize that it’s silly for me to have missed a Law & Order marathon for a shock jock’s twisted ideas, but I was curious. And with each passing minute of listening to his rants, I felt personally attacked. I’m pretty certain that he thinks Asperger’s and HFA are bunk, and what’s more disturbing are the throngs of people who wholeheartedly agree with him.

Savage and his supporters say that it’s all the fault of drug companies, that they meant to attack pharma and welfare-leaching parents. While many people with autism are medicated on something or another, there is no drug treatment for autism. Autistics may be medicated for aggression or anxiety or depression — but not for autism. (Unless their mother is Jenny McCarthy, that is, and happens to believe in unscientifically proven diets and/or chelation.) This argument seemed pretty nonsensical to me. I’m autistic and I’m not medicated. I’m in different sorts of therapy, for sure, but my aim isn’t to get a hand-out from the government. My aim is to manage my sensory dysfunction, to be able to hold an everyday conversation, to reduce my anxiety, to live a decent life with a decent job and with decent relationships, and so forth. And I don’t think that AS/HFA individuals are draining funds from some amorphous giant pot of money, as if anything we seek somehow steals from a child with classic autism, who, as Savage has so poignantly noted, needs our pity. (groan)

Savage’s conception of true autism as profound suffering and incapacity goes to the heart of a very important disability/advocacy issue: an extremely medicalized and pitiful view of disability. It is dangerous, and downright discriminatory, to assume that those with disabilities are only defined by their inabilities, by their dependencies. Per Savage, autism is wholly a trial, a tribulation, an extreme form of suffering, something to be pitied and dreaded. Assuming that nothing good or amazing comes from those with autism is extremely damaging. By this definition, those who can talk have no form of autism; those who are mainstreamed have no form of autism; those who are involved in romantic relations have no form of autism; those who blog or take pride in themselves have no form of autism. It’s as though any societal “feat” (for lack of a better word) precludes autism entirely, as though “good” and “autistic” cannot be uttered in the same sentence, as though autistic, to quote an Autism Speaks promo video, is “death.” The only hope is hope for a cure — and if anyone is able to speak, is able to write, is able to reproduce, is able to find stimming enjoyable, then they suddenly were misdiagnosed as being autistic, and they no longer need or deserve educational, medicinal, or therapeutic support.

I’ll come back to this all later, I’m sure. But for now, I need to somehow lower my blood pressure before something pops.