Originally published April 3, 2018, in Spanish
I’ve been thinking that, were it a medical diagnosis, being Neurotypical would have to be a diagnosis by exclusion. The psychologist or psychiatrist, or some other doctor would tell you: So… we already ruled out attention deficit disorder. And you don’t have autism. Or hyperactivity. Or depression. Or anxiety. Hmmmm… for the time being, we can presume that you are a neurotypical.
And then, what? What would we do after receiving that diagnosis? Would it help us improve certain aspects of our life, of our personality, or our behaviors? After all, people with other diagnoses generally do something: they undergo therapy, take some specific classes, are referred to a specialist, join a support group. Or, at the very least, become conscious that, for instance, they need to give others a chance to speak. Or they start realizing that a terrible situation may not be that awful, in reality. Or they can request extra time to finish a test.
Up to now, it seems—with some valuable exceptions—like our non-existent certificate of neurotypicality has only helped Neurotypicals to look down on others. To pity those that are not neurotypical, but are so beautiful—as if they don’t “deserve” a given disability. and to admire those that “overcome” their “difficulties” and are able to “succeed” despite having a diagnosis of one thing or another.
They are “inspiring,” we tell them. But that inspiration doesn’t turn into much more than meaningless chatter. And, to be honest, it also makes “us” feel better to know that “we” (phew!) can run, or see, or participate eagerly in meetings with many people, all of them talking at once. Stella Young called it “inspiration porn” (her TED talk is very much worth watching). That type of inspiration only helps us feel good about ourselves and, maybe, to do something for those “poor people.”
But that is not accepting. That is just being condescending, without trying to include. Acceptance and inclusion in society, in our society, is accepting that this woman, who is mute, is a very talented professor and gives amazing conferences and the attendees remember them for a long time. Or that this man, with severe attention deficit disorder, is a renowned and innovative researcher who has conducted exhaustive and careful research in nuclear physics. It is being fully aware that a disability doesn’t determine what the person can do in the sense of “OMG listen to this wonderful autistic girl, who sings like the angels” as if autism by itself has anything to do with the vocal cords.
A disability does determine certain aspects of a person. In some cases, it filters how they experience the world and, obviously, the response of the society has much to do with it. But it doesn’t prevent them from achieving their goals. And a disability in one area doesn’t mean they cannot be supremely gifted or skilled in another area.
Instead of just feeling inspired, shouldn’t we start doing? We could learn about the disability our neighbor lives with. Give others time to answer, ignore their filler words when they are speaking, and not pay attention to any tics they may have. Help them advocate for their rights and their needs. Or we could advocate for their rights, without needing a nudge. Is it hard? Sure it is. But it is also important, and valuable.
Neuroamazing 