A recent altercation I had with a flight attendant exemplified just how little most people understand about neurological diversity.
To me, being “openly autistic” means not having to hide or mask my autism; it is the freedom to be exactly who I am.
Deaf gain, rather than hearing loss, has long been theorized in capital-D-Deaf cultural spaces. Borrowing liberally from this "reframing," I wish to forward a perspective that I call "mad advantage."
To mark National Autism Awareness Month in April, we spoke to people with autism and their families to find out what autism means to them
As I take a little time out now as World Autism Awareness Day rolls around again and look back at the year in autism, both around the world and in my own home, I'm trying not worry.
Typical public concert venues are inaccessible to those who are unable to sit still and be quiet. Experiencing live music in the fine arts is totally elusive to the growing number of people in our society on the autism spectrum. This is not okay.
It's one thing deciding to tell strangers your child has autism or some other "invisible" disability, but when is the right time to tell your child?
She is both crushingly disabled by autism and absolutely, emphatically her own self. She is a gift, that much is true. But her autism, like my missing fingers or my damaged DNA, is not.
Sesame Street is really good at promoting diversity. The reason my friends are upset is not that Sesame Street wants to focus on autism -- it is that Autism Speaks is involved. And I think they have a point.
I'm not encouraging my children to ignore difference or to pretend they don't see it. Instead, I'm praying that they will.