Acknowledging Me

How my body moves determines how much I know.

I mean, I know this to be the case, because of how I interact with you. The same person, the same people, but completely different interactions. How my body moves determines if my words are worth hearing, or if they're only to be discarded, into the abyss of "we're trying to fix the autism".

If I rock, or sway, or so much as tap my fingers, then how can I make decisions? I don't know that much. How could I? You decide so. You know this about me. You know that people who move like me do not know how to do such difficult tasks.

Yet if I'm still, I can lead. I can provide new information that none of you have seen before. I can teach, and share, and you listen to me!

You. The same people. Depending on my movement that day.

Because how my body moves must determine how much I know. Not the words I speak, not the thoughts I think.

It must be how autistic I look.

Ironic, it is, that these movements regulate me. These movements organize me. These movements help my thoughts fit their pieces together into these words that you hear.

Ironic, that while they don't determine how much I know, they determine how well I can use what I know. And yet, if I am in a state where I am using this self-regulation, then I am deemed not capable of knowing this information. Not capable of knowing about autism.

Ironic, that making it easier to think, easier to share, easier to know what I'm saying, what I'm doing, how to exist in a world not meant for people like me, makes me know so much less in your eyes, that I should not be listened to, even about people such as myself.

But, how my body moves, doesn't actually determine how much I know, and you can't see that. You only see the stigma of a diagnosis, not the person in front of you. You don't see the same me every day, only that who you want to see.

I'm autistic every one of these days, moving or not moving. I'm the same person, with the same strengths and same impairments; same job and same college community; same interests and same need to teach and share and improve myself and what is around me.

I'm always Tuttle.
The same Tuttle.

I'm just actually autistic, and it's sometimes harder for you to pretend that I'm not.

Stim suppression

Why is this done?
Do you ask?
Do you know?

Do you assume
Or even not care.

Does it matter to you why someone is humming
Why someone is spinning
Why someone is flopping to the ground, and lying there

Does it matter to you,
If these are helping
If they have reasons
Does it matter if they are ways you can learn

Do you care if someone can speak more complex thoughts, if they make a few noises before?
Or if you can notice that noises are too much, when their humming begins?

Do you care if the can manage many times as long, if they flap and hum and think
Holding out the bad sensations
Pulling in the good

Do you care about the many ways of communication of hands, of rocking, of noises that aren't words
Or do you not want to bother to learn this style, while forcing us to learn yours

Do you care about the ways that people help themselves
That people manage
That people succeed
And most of all do you care about the pain that occurs when you take all this away?

Or is the only thing you care about "it looks weird?"

Joyful Movements

I want them to see someone gleefully flicking their fingers in front of their eyes as they skip back and forth across a room, awaiting instructions, and the utter bliss on this person's face. I want them to to see the joy of someone simply watching snow fall. I want them to to watch the Olympics, watch the athletes handflap in excitement with their results, and then stop and think about whether they really can say that someone shouldn't do that.

I want them to watch someone just get something for the first time; whether multi-variable calculus, or how to find the formula they need on a sheet. I want them to watch the knowing success of someone, even in something they find trivial.

I want them to let themselves be a child, and skip and jump through leaves. And then think, is it so important that we are so proper all the time?

I want them to let themselves see the smiles on the faces. The joy, even in its own ways.

And say, sometimes, the movements. The spinning, flapping, flicking. It's not disruptive, but it is a delight, among so much else.

Why should we stop that?

Context

One of the blogs I still check up every so often despite the fact she's not posted in years is Just Stimming. Which always reminds me of Quiet Hands. Her post that went viral (for good reason). Her post that I've shown to so many professionals and they've finally started to get it better.

Today though, I think of that post for a different reason. I think of it because of the image at the top. I think of it because of how many different things that image can say, and does say, and how many different ways it says it. I think of it because context is important.

I think of my student, flapping his hands instead of focusing intently on his work. I think of him getting his work done as well as that. And I think of an adult, taking his hands, pulling them down under the table, and holding them for a second or two, telling him to work instead. She doesn't use the words quiet hands. She doesn't need to. She still takes the hands of a child, and stops his stimming, because being autistic is not okay. I flap my hands for him. I flap my hands at all the schools I work at.

And yet, at the same time, I think of my boyfriend, taking my hands, and holding them down, stopping me from scratching my legs for who knows how long. Holding my wrists, putting pressure to try to show my body that there is something okay in it. Trying to help me find a way to make my body feel like something other than a giant thing of wrong-ness, in a way other than scratching it all away until it hurts and the only way to stop the hurting is to scratch some more.

I didn't want to scratch. I wanted help. I wanted to find a way out. I was struggling and every time I tried to keep my hands still on my own I failed, but that was something I was trying to do. He was holding them in ways that were trying to help me, watching out for that.

My student. He was stimming. He wasn't doing anything to hurt himself or others. He was getting his work done. He was stopped against his will.

The same action. The same controversial action of taking someone's hands and holding them down - in two completely different situations. In one situation it hurts, in another, it helps.

But what's so controversial about just doing things for the person, rather than "because autism is wrong"?

Handflapping

I don't remember flapping as a child.

Of course. I also remember it being easier to communicate, and all signs point to me being one of those unusual people who as they go through adolescence and early adulthood, get more stereotypical autistic.

Either way, I don't remember flapping as a child. I might have handflapped some, but I don't remember doing so. I know that in high school and since then I've had stims, and I'd assume I did before then, but what they were wasn't necessarily hand flapping.

I hand flap now. Mostly when alone, but not only. It varies entirely on what's going on.

But, the more I read about what people have gone through, the more I read, about Quiet Hands, the more I read about people having stims taken away and them ending up self harming, the more I end up hand flapping.

The first time I remember handflapping was after spending time with someone who flapped - it was like I picked it up from her. I started using the stim that she was using. From that, it started generalizing. I started having multiple different types of flaps. I now have an excited one, a hurrying one, a wanting a communicate one, a "this person gets it" one, a "I'm proud to be autistic" one (which comes out after reading well written things by autistic self advocates).

And while I don't remember flapping as a child, its a stim that feels like I can communicate through. Of all my stims, its the best to communicate through.

It makes so much sense that people hand flap.

I'm doing it more and more. And I'm not ashamed.

Because, really. Communication is communication. Curling up in a ball because you can't speak, is communication. Typing, and making your phone speak is communication. Hand flapping excitedly is communication.

Whoever says it all has to be speech is just wrong.

I can flap and people can learn what I'm thinking from that.

Quiet Hands might mean to many that they need to stop.

But to me, it means if they got hurt, then really, there's even more no reason to not be open about who I am as this becomes more and more natural. It makes me want to hand flap. It makes me want to not only show who I am, but use my hands to do so.

Flap away.