On the bus I am screamed at for trying to cope. For doing the things that I need to do. People, all around me, grouping together, in a mob against me, for being different.
This is the autism awareness we have.
I am told, time after time "you are not autistic", because I don't match there stereotypes. Because I can speak, or type (because it might be online). Because my communication is clear, or because they can relate to things which I say. I cannot be the kid rocking in a corner, hands on their ears, humming, to keep out the horrors of the surroundings, no matter if that is something I will do.
This is the autism awareness we have.
"Autistic adults don't matter" I hear, in those words. I am told my words don't matter, that people like me do not deserve help. I am told it only matters if we do things for the children, and those who are over 18 can be on their own. We are not part of the picture.
This is the autism awareness we have
This is the reality of our lives as it is. The hatred thrown at us. The denials of our lives. This is the reality of the fighting for acceptance - that every day, its meeting more people who've been misinformed and cannot believe that our words about ourselves are the truth.
Asking for help, is a quest to find acceptance. Traveling in public, a question of whether or not challenges will come up. Our words are not valued, our stories not told. We share, but we are overwhelmed, denied, and pushed out, by those who want autism to mean other things.
And still, we go out there, we face the world. Still we tell our stories. Still we go and do what we need to do, to make things better for ourselves. Still, we work to make things better for those who are like us. Because that's what needs to be done.
Even when it makes it harder right now, we work for understanding. Even when it is painful, we work for acceptance. Even when it is a struggle, we work against the hatred that right now, is the primary message available about autism.
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