Something’s been on my mind lately. It’s an anxiety I feel when I sit down to write for this blog- my autistic advocacy. See, I’m writing about my autistic experiences, you know, from my own little bubble. But I worry sometimes that I’m speaking for others out of turn. That I’m not appreciating the whole, beautiful, chaotic range of neurodiversity that exists in this world.
I write because it’s cathartic, a way of understanding myself and reconciling so many of my past experiences. It’s a selfish act, in a way, but one I hope others can find solace in too. But then I stop and think about it all, and the enormity of the ‘autism’ umbrella, and I wonder if I’m just shouting into the void from my singular perspective.
Mapping a Different Kind of Spectrum
For years, I taught. Twenty of them, in fact. And during that time, I had the privilege of working with hundreds of children. I encountered autistic and other neurodivergent children who had high support needs, low support needs, and some who were nonverbal. They were all so wonderfully different, and I could see that the “spectrum” wasn’t a line from one end to the other, but a rich and complex landscape. It’s more like a constellation of traits, with each star shining with a different intensity for each person.
This is the scientific part of it, I guess—the formal validation for what I saw in practice. While it’s tempting to think of autism as a simple line, the reality is that the diagnostic criteria is a toolkit of different traits, and we all pick and choose from them in our own unique combinations. My experience with social masking might be very different from someone who finds bright lights particularly overwhelming, or who struggles with executive function. And that’s okay. That’s the point. It’s what makes us so individually spectacular. The scientific understanding of the spectrum as a multidimensional landscape rather than a linear scale is precisely what gives space for all of our different experiences to exist without invalidating another’s.
When Our Individual Bubbles Overlap
My personal bubble is shaped by so much more than just my autism. We are all multifaceted beings, aren’t we? My life is massively different from yours, just as yours is from mine. I’m a gay, vegan father to two beautiful children through adoption—and these things, among many others, colour my experience in a way that’s completely unique to me.
These different facets of my identity have taught me that we all navigate the world with a unique map in our heads. Being a parent, for instance, has opened my eyes to the complexities of identity in a whole new way, especially when raising dual-heritage children who are figuring out their own sense of self. It’s a beautiful, messy, wonderful experience that has taught me about respecting individual journeys and seeing the value in every unique story. It’s a lens through which I see the autistic community, too. So, while I’m speaking from my ‘bubble,’ I’m doing so with the deep, quiet knowledge that there are millions of other bubbles out there, each one with its own story.
Advocating from Our Own Corner
So, what is the take-away here? It’s not about speaking for everyone else. It’s about speaking for ourselves, and doing so with the awareness that we are part of something much bigger. It’s about the gentle art of advocacy.
So, if you’re also feeling this worry, here’s my advice for us both:
- Embrace your bubble. Your experience is your own, and it is valid. Sharing it is a profound act of self-advocacy. By telling your story, you’re creating a space for others who might see a little bit of themselves in you.
- Make space for other voices. We can be advocates by amplifying the voices of others, especially those who can’t speak for themselves. We can listen, learn, and use our platforms—even if it’s just a social media post—to share their stories, insights, and needs.
- Frame your narrative mindfully. Use language that’s affirming and personal. Say “I’ve found that…” or “For me, this looks like…” It shows that you’re not claiming a universal truth, but rather sharing your personal one.
A Gentle Reminder to Ourselves
This journey of understanding our own neurodiversity is a long and winding road, filled with self-reflection and growth. We are all learning, and it’s okay to feel a little unsure. The key isn’t to become the voice for everyone, but to be a voice, a unique and valuable voice, among a beautiful and diverse chorus. So, I’ll keep writing my blog from my little bubble. I’ll keep writing my truth and my experiences, and I’ll do it with the hopeful knowledge that it will reach another person who feels the same way—and that my voice, small as it is, might help them to feel a little less alone.
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