Another Spectrum

Personal ramblings and rants of a somewhat twisted mind


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To speak or not to speak, that is the question

That dear readers, is a question I’m unable to answer. At (almost) 68 years of age, I still don’t have a clue when it’s my turn to speak. And it’s not for the want of trying.

I often get it wrong even in one on one conversations, but if I’m in a group of two or more other people I’m like a fish out of water when it come to practising  conversational turn taking.

It appears to me that conversations consist of one person leading and others following, adding variable length interjections from time to time  (the nature and frequency of which varies from culture to culture), and then by some mysterious mechanism the lead is transferred to another member of the group.

To a person like me, the ability of others to smoothly navigate a conversation is more than an art or skill. It has the appearance of the participants having some sort of ESP or supernatural ability that is used to negotiate who says what, and when. In fact there was a period in my childhood when I was convinced this was true, which goes a long way to explain my brief fascination of the paranormal at that time.

I’m sure there’s a discipline of science that studies the mechanism by which people negotiate  conversations, but the average person seems to have no idea how they do it. Believe me, I’ve asked. Typical responses are “I’ve never thought about it” (so I gather), “It comes naturally” (no it doesn’t), “It’s instinctive” (no it’s not), “what a stupid question!” (why?), “everyone can do it” (really? I can’t)), “just take your turn” (when is it my turn?), “just observe and you’ll learn” (I’ve been observing for more than 60 years, so how about a hint or clue?).

It was only eight years ago that I learnt there is an explanation for the reason I find conversation so difficult: I discovered I am on the autism spectrum. However being armed with the knowledge why I fail to recognise non-verbal clues (a skill most people don’t realise they possess), does little to help me. If I concentrate exclusively on another’s body movements or tone of voice, I can maybe recognise something that possibly might be non-verbal clues. However, it’s a moot point as the concentration required means the words spoken have gone in one ear and out the other and I’m unable to relate what might have been expressed non-verbally with what the person has said.

When I first learnt I was on the spectrum, my only “knowledge” of autism was through the film Rain Man. I wanted to prove I wasn’t autistic, and tried many online tests in an attempt to prove the experts wrong. I failed totally. One test I tried (on many occasions) is the Reading the Mind in the Eyes test. This test measures one’s ability to identify emotions in others by looking at an area around the eyes and without any other input.

The test consists of looking at a total of 36 pairs of eyes and choosing one of four emotions to match the image. The mean score is roughly 27/36 for women, 25/36 for mean and 22/36 for people who have been identified as having Asperger Syndrome or “High Functioning” Autism. I’ve tried this test on numerous occasions, and the very best I have achieved is 16/36. However most of my results have been close been between 10 and 13, which is only marginally better than one would expect from a tossing a dice to choose an emotion.

So the next time someone appears to be rude by interrupting inappropriately, just consider the possibility that they might struggling, almost to the point of exhaustion, of trying to fit in and having no idea why they don’t. They struggle to fit into your world almost every moment they are awake. It won’t hurt you to try to fit into their world sometimes.

For those who would like to try the test for themselves, there are online versions at http://socialintelligence.labinthewild.org/mite/ and https://www.questionwritertracker.com/quiz/61/Z4MK3TKB.html. The latter requires Adobe Flash, and provides the answers, both of which are good reasons for me to avoid it.

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I am atheism

I am atheism.
I’m visible in your children, but if I can help it, I am invisible to you until it’s too late.
I know where you live.
And guess what? I live there too.
I hover around all of you.
I know no colour barrier, no religion, no morality, no currency.
I speak your language fluently.
And with every voice I take away, I acquire yet another language.
I work very quickly.
I work faster than paediatric aids, cancer, and diabetes combined
And if you’re happily married, I will make sure that your marriage fails.
Your money will fall into my hands, and I will bankrupt you for my own self-gain.
I don’t sleep, so I make sure you don’t either.
I will make it virtually impossible for your family to easily attend a temple, birthday party, or public park without a struggle, without embarrassment, without pain.
You have no cure for me.
Your scientists don’t have the resources, and I relish their desperation. Your neighbours are happier to pretend that I don’t exist—of course, until it’s their child.
I am atheism. I have no interest in right or wrong. I derive great pleasure out of your loneliness.
I will fight to take away your hope. I will plot to rob you of your children and your dreams. I will make sure that every day you wake up you will cry, wondering who will take care of my child after I die?
And the truth is, I am still winning, and you are scared. And you should be.
I am atheism. You ignored me. That was a mistake.
And to atheism I say:
I am a father, a mother, a grandparent, a brother, a sister.
We will spend every waking hour trying to weaken you.
We don’t need sleep because we will not rest until you do.
Family can be much stronger than atheism ever anticipated, and we will not be intimidated by you, nor will the love and strength of my community.
I am a parent riding toward you, and you can push me off this horse time and time again, but I will get up, climb back on, and ride on with the message.
Atheism, you forget who we are. You forget who you are dealing with. You forget the spirit of mothers, and daughters, and fathers and sons.
We are Qatar. We are the United Kingdom. We are the United States. We are China. We are Argentina. We are Russia. We are the Eurpoean Union. We are the United Nations.
We are coming together in all climates. We call on all faiths. We search with technology and voodoo and prayer and herbs and genetic studies and a growing awareness you never anticipated.
We have had challenges, but we are the best when overcoming them. We speak the only language that matters: love for our children.
Our capacity to love is greater than your capacity to overwhelm.
Atheism is naïve. You are alone. We are a community of warriors. We have a voice.
You think because some of our children cannot speak, we cannot hear them? That is atheism’s weakness.
You think that because my child lives behind a wall, I am afraid to knock it down with my bare hands?
You have not properly been introduced to this community of parents and grandparents, of siblings and friends and schoolteachers and therapists and pediatricians and scientists.
Atheism, if you are not scared, you should be.
When you came for my child, you forgot: you came for me.
Atheism, are you listening?


Are you an atheist? Did the message above appal you? I hope it did.

Are you religious? Did the message above appal you? I hope it did.

In some regions of the world, atheists are victims of the attitudes displayed in the transcript above, and many of the religious in those regions would support the sentiments it contains, even if they would be reluctant to voice them openly. Fortunately I live in a region where all forms of religion and non-religion are accepted and valued. Atheism along with the world’s major religions are regarded in a positive light by around 90% of the population.

That’s about all I’m going to say about atheism and religion in this post as it is not really about religion (or lack of it) at all.

Huh? I hear you say? Truly it’s not. The transcript above has been very slightly modified from the original by replacing one word with the word atheism. I could have changed a few additional words the make it more consistent, but I think the message is very clear as it is, and that is that atheism is a very bad thing indeed.

While I concede that the harm manifest in the transcript will not be recognised by some fundamentalists of any religious flavour, I think the rest of us, religious or not, can see it. In some parts of the world, the transcript might be considered hate speech and the speakers sanctioned accordingly.

Most people like me will recognise the transcript, and know what word originally stood in place of atheism. We know it is hateful and harmful. People like me experience the result of the demonising of our person-hood that voices such as the ones in the original transcript cause – every day.

Can you imagine what it would be like to be subjected to not just disapproval or hatred, but intense compliance-based training to ensure every action, every deed, every word that you utter or write makes you indistinguishable from others in a devout religious community? Many like me don’t need to imagine. We’ve lived it.

Although the analogy of atheism is not perfect, if it’s made you uncomfortable or angry,  or given you food for thought, then I’ve succeeded. If you don’t know what the original word is in the transcript that I replaced with atheism, I’ll help you out. It’s another word starting with “A“. The transcript is of an advertisement put out by an organisation that supposedly has our best interests at heart, but fails to consult us or allow us to take a part in its activities, and makes others fear and hate what we are. No matter where we are in the world, we cannot escape the attitudes expressed in the transcript.

The original word in the transcript that I replaced with atheism is autism, and the advertisement is I Am Autism put out by Autism Speaks. I’m not going to put a link to the video, but if you want to see it in all its horror, search YouTube for “I Am Autism commercial by Autism Speaks”.

It does not speak for me!


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Autism is nothing to fear

Over on the silent wave, Liana makes a plea not to demonise autism. Get to know us. What makes us different is nothing to fear. Look, I am surrounded by non-autistic people, and while I might never understand their way of seeing the world, I see no reason to be afraid of them, or their condition. The same applies in reverse. The only thing to fear is the public perception of autism, not autism itself.

I live in the US, where the predominant feeling surrounding the autism spectrum is fear. Parents decline to vaccinate their children because because they’re afraid they’ll wind up autistic. Parents, I hear you, on a certain level. Some children really do react badly to vaccines. I’ve heard too many stories, even from people I know–reasonable […]

via Autism is nothing to fear. Are you scared of me? — the silent wave


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Theory of mind(reading)

Theory of Mind is a concept that autism “experts” have come up with, but as is amply illustrated in Laina’s post, one must ask whether it’s the autistic or the expert that lacks it.

the silent wave

Realizing that you’re autistic when you’re an adult means you get to do a lot of searching. This takes multiple forms – soul-searching, Google-searching, memory-searching, and often, people-searching (the journey of finding others just like you).

In my internet searching, I tripped over a staggering number of tidbits that clicked my entire world into place. It was like being given the instruction manual to my brain, and having it translated into my native language.

There was one particular concept, however, that did not click in line quite so easily: Theory of Mind.

What the hell was that, this “Theory of Mind” of which so many speak? The term stoically hides any further information.

Many a mention, nary a definition. At least, not a definition that helped much.

At first, my Inner Smartass came out. ”Well duh–of course we have minds. That’s not a theory!”

Har-har. 😉

It took me…

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Aspie Challenge #5

Face Blindness

If you change your hairstyle; if you change your usual lipstick colour; if we cross paths in a different environment than where we usually meet; if I usually see you wearing a neck tie but today you are wearing an open necked shirt; if I usually see you in jeans but today you are wearing a dress, then

I WILL NOT RECOGNISE YOU!

You will need to provide me with some clues. I find women are particularly troublesome in this respect as even a change in eye lining or the wearing/not wearing of mascara can throw me.