Tag Archives: empathy

I am Emma

Posted on December 2, 2015 by | 157 comments

“What is your name?” someone might ask.  It’s a simple question, but when I try to make the sounds that form my name, other words push and shove their way forward.  Instead, “you may not spit,” or “Rosie’s not here!” are examples of seemingly random nonsensical, declarations that come out of my mouth.  I call these utterances my “mouth words.”  They could be seen as traitors, belligerent bullies who seek the spotlight, but they are not.  My mouth words are funny to me, but misunderstood by others. My typed words are hard for me, but understood by many.  Mouth words are witty accomplices to a mind that speaks a different language entirely.  There are no words, but instead a beautiful environment where feelings, sensations, colors and sounds coexist.  I often think if all humans could experience the world in hi-res, technicolor, surround sound as I do, everyone would be happier.  I have come to understand that my mind is not like most people’s.

I am Autistic.

Many people believe autism describes a simple mind, and that someone like me has no understanding or awareness of my surroundings.  My hearing is excellent.  Things like the honking noise made by impatient drivers who think the sound of their horn will miraculously clear the road ahead is so intense I can become lost in the key of their horn.  I am compelled to imitate each one I hear.  Car horns I can respond to cheerfully.  It’s the same with light.  The harshness coupled with bloated heavy air is so intense I become overwhelmed.  I wonder if I am too aware of my surroundings.

Some people have suggested I am unable to feel empathy and assume I have no desire for human interaction and friendship.  I feel people’s intentions and feelings so intensely it can be difficult to concentrate.  I am too sensitive to other people’s sadness; it is akin to drowning or like being smothered by the weight of damp earth covering your entire body, filling your eyes, mouth and ears.  Piercing shards of past and present pain cause me to turn away or make faces or laugh outloud to lessen the weightiness.  There is no lack of empathy, but rather an unmanageable abundance that defies my best intentions.  It is during these moments that I flounder because society expects less of me and not more.  I listen to the words spoken by people who are crying or shouting.  They say things like, “I’m okay,” through tears or “No, I’m not angry,” as they clench their fists,  but their words are in direct conflict with their actions.

Others believe that I do not have feelings at all.  How do you defend yourself against such accusations?  Trying to convince those who believe I’m an empty shell is impossible.  Adding to this is my inability to use spoken language as expected.  “No, you cannot put putty in your mouth!” in answer to “what’s wrong with that girl who is crying in the corner?” does not help change the minds of those who believe me incompetent and without feelings.

If I tell my mouth to behave and demand that certain words come out, stress barks and growls, jarring my mind so that it folds in on itself and favorite scripts begin.  “You cannot throw your lunchbox at Kevin!” or “Maddie’s not here anymore” helps me control the waves of anxiety that press up against me.  Hearing my voice keeps the dark, piercing void of nothingness from engulfing me.  Clenching down on my forearm as hard as I can is another way to control the tidal wave of stress.  A complete set of teeth marks embedded into my skin might interest those in the field of dentistry, but for most people witnessing, horror probably best describes their response.

Some find self injury baffling, even terrifying and something that must be stopped at all costs, even if this means far more painful interventions inflicted by others than anything I could do to myself.  I see it as a way to care for and acknowledge the overwhelming onslaught of unruly feelings.  This idea is not embraced by “autism experts” who use words like “behaviors”, “defiant”, and “oppositional” to defend the use of isolation rooms, restraints and even electric shocks for people like me.  It seems abuse by others to prevent self injury is permitted, even applauded, though the logic is lost on me.  When my mind is caught in a downward spiral I need calm reassurance.  My frustration often expressed in screaming, repetitive scripts grind down the patience of those witnessing.  My screams threaten their kindness, I know, but I cannot stop once begun and pounding terror is all that remains.  Only the dedicated few talk of love during my episodes of furious stress and suffering.  Their love is rejuvenate and restores my faith in this awkward world.

I am exuberant, overflowing with energy and love music.  I’d rather gallop than walk, bounce than sit quietly.  I’m happiest with high volume, intense beats, jumping, arms flailing, pounding bass, total darkness or bright stage lights and a microphone in hand.  I want people to hear me.  I am as versed in making silly faces as I am in my favorite songs and my neurology.  My mind is lightening fast, hungry, logical.  I’m a seeker, determined, a lover of laughter in a body trying to keep up.  It can’t, but I’ll keep trying.

Showing kindness toward those who are different and embracing our imperfections as proof of our humanness is the remedy for fear.  Love is a small word, but allow yourself to be consumed by the sensation and the world becomes a place of infinite possibility.  I want my hard won words to give hope and inspire people to change how they think about autism and someone like me.

“What’s your name?” people ask.

My name is Emma.

2015.10.06_Emma_PT_272Photograph: Pete Thompson Photo

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Posted in Autism, autistic, communication

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FC and RPM

Posted on April 24, 2014 by | 41 comments

Both facilitated communication (FC) and Rapid Prompting Method (RPM) while different in practice, are based in a presumption of competence and both are often a bridge to the ideal goal of independent communication.  There are those who may not be able to achieve full independence because of physical challenges. It bears repeating, however that the eventual goal for all who are physically able to, is independence.  And yet both methods are criticized.  In fact, no matter what the initial method used to learn to type by non-speaking, Autistic people who have gone on to type independently, people like Carly Fleischmann, Tito Mukhopadhyay, Sue Rubin, Jamie Burke, Ido Kedar and so many others, there are those who continue to question the authorship of their words.  Even though no one touches them as they type.  Even though there is no physical contact of any kind as they write.  Even though they all talk about the issues they must contend with on a daily basis, things that are specific to them and the challenges they face with a mind and body that are often not in sync.

In the case of FC there are a number of people, now independent, who began typing to communicate, but for physical reasons need the help of another person to provide resistance or to help with physical challenges.  As with Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) where a child is given hand over hand prompts that are hoped to be eventually faded, so it is with FC.  However FC is continually attacked for using, often less, physical prompts than ABA practitioners use.  Some people like Barb Rentenbach, Peyton Goddard, Jennifer Seybert and Tracy Thresher are now typing with a finger placed on their shoulder or the middle of their back.  If one goes back to how they began to type, this shows enormous progress.  All of them are intent on becoming fully independent and work extremely hard in trying to reach this goal.  Yet, it is interesting to note that few people object or question ABA’s use of hand over hand prompts.   What is good for one, seems to not be good for all. Why is that?

Carly Fleischmann who types independently wrote, “I don’t have a hand up my butt like a puppet…”  Despite her words, if you google “Carly Fleischmann” the second search term that comes up after “Carly Fleischmann blog” is “Carly Fleischmann fake”.  Oddly, when entering “Stephen Hawking” into google, the search terms are “Stephen Hawking quotes” and “Stephen Hawking black holes”.  Why is it that Carly Fleischmann, who types independently, is viewed with suspicion, while Stephen Hawking is not?

RPM, the method created by Soma Mukhopadhyay, does not use physical prompts at all.  No one touches the person writing, but instead a stencil board is held in front of the person writing.  The stencil letter board, it is hoped, will be eventually faded and replaced with a laminated letter board with the goal, in my daughter’s case, being able to move to a qwerty keyboard, which is how Emma now communicates with me as well as with the person she has weekly RPM sessions with.  Still, there are those who insist that no matter how steady the letter board is held, the person holding it is manipulating it ever so slightly and enough to influence the person writing.  Or, as is the case with Carly and others who type independently, it doesn’t matter, the fact that they are not able to speak seems to be all people need to discount their words, no matter how they communicate.  All of this would be laughable if it were not for the tragic fact that people’s voices are being discredited and silenced.

My friend Kerima Cevik, of the blog The Autism Wars, recently wrote “My Standing Position of Facilitated Communication” and posted it on Facebook.  It immediately went viral and brings up a number of excellent points consistently ignored by those who seek to discredit FC.  Please read it.  I find it incredible that people, almost all of them psychologists, just as Bruno Bettelheim claimed to be (and not neuroscientists) continue to come up with all kinds of theories regarding any number of things involving autism and Autistic people, things like Theory of Mind and Cognitive Empathy.  All of these are “theories” and not scientifically proven as fact, yet they are treated as fact, while things like RPM and FC are ridiculed for not being scientifically proven and dismissed, while other methods like ABA are applauded, funded and given a golden seal of approval.   One more question to consider, why is it that people who are aphasic are not immediately given ABA?  No one recommends ABA as a therapy for someone who has had a stroke and as a result cannot speak.

I urge all of you to consider, regardless of what other people decide they believe, if a child cannot communicate through spoken language what are their options?  Whatever the approach is, whether it uses pictures, hand gestures, eye movement, pointing, or some other form of communication I have a series of questions I ask.

Does this approach presume competence?

Would I use this system for a non-autistic person who cannot speak?

Does it infantilize?

Is this way of communicating limiting or is it a bridge to more complex communication?

Emma types on a qwerty keyboard

Emma types on a qwerty keyboard

 

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Posted in Autism, facilitated communication, Rapid Prompting Method

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“Barb Doesn’t Talk” ~ Emma

Posted on April 10, 2014 by | 35 comments

I have a friend who, when they met over a year ago, Emma observed, “Barb doesn’t talk“.  “Doesn’t talk” means she doesn’t talk with her mouth to communicate the way she can and does when writing.  Her name is Barb Rentenbach and she and her therapist, Lois Prislovsky wrote a book, I Might Be You.  I’ve written about Barb and Lois before, ‘here‘, ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘.  If you haven’t read their book, you must.  (Continue reading for a surprise later in this post about that book.)

I met Barb at the Autcom Conference in 2012 and though I didn’t know it at the time, Barb and Lois  would have an enormous impact on me that was far-reaching.  You see, it was because of Larry Bissonnette, Tracy Thresher, a boy I saw writing to communicate, and finally Barb, all of whom I met at the Autcom Conference, that I began looking into other ways for my daughter to communicate.  (You can read more about the process by clicking “How We Got Here“.)  Even though Emma can and does use her voice to speak, she has described her attempts to communicate with spoken language as, “I can’t talk the way I think.”  Later Emma wrote, “Please remember that my mind tells my body and my mouth to do all sorts of wonderful things constantly, but they don’t obey.”

In Barb’s most recent blog post (I urge everyone to read it) – Open Hearted Letter Quilt to Andrew Solomon –  she writes about autism, empathy, and how autistic people are often misunderstood:

“It’s like Saxe’s (1873) poem, “The Blindmen and the Elephant” where each blind man is partly in the right as he describes an elephant piece he studies, but all are in the wrong in knowing an elephant.

This autistic pachyderm will expand perceptions by presenting more pieces.”

Barb goes on to describe herself, “I don’t look normal.  I appear quite messed up and a prime candidate for nothing but pity and patronization, with a sprinkling of repulsion and fear.  I am disguised as a poor thinker.”

Still further along she quotes Emma:

“To quote my mentor Emma who is 12 (This old dog is all about learning new tricks) who wrote this by saying each letter aloud she pointed to it on a stencil board, “Autism is not what parents want to hear, but I hope that will change as more people get to know someone like me.”

This short video shows Barb typing just a few days ago.

Now there are some people who have suggested Barb is not typing on her own.  They believe that the person whose two fingers are tentatively touching her back are actually guiding her and that it is their voice and not hers that we are reading. This is a video of Barb writing four months ago…

And here is a video of Barb typing in 2011…

I am showing you these clips so you can see Barb’s obvious progress and please note, Barb is not a child.  I know that’s obvious, but it seems many people forget this or have trouble believing that people of all ages can and do progress.  Just as Barb works hard to become more independent while typing, so does my daughter.  Emma’s way of writing is slightly different in that no one is physically touching her and she points to letters on a letter board,  but she is working hard to move from pointing to the stencil letter board to the laminated letter board to a qwerty keyboard, with the eventual goal – being able to type on a computer regardless of who might be seated nearby.

As all these videos show, none of this is easy.  Barb is working hard and so is Emma.  Some days go more smoothly than others.  As Barb writes –

“I often politely ask my brain to please move my hand to do this or that only to be told, “We’re sorry due to high autism volume we are not able to answer your call at this time.  Please try harder later.”

For any of you who would like to have a hard cover copy of Barb and Lois’ terrific book, I Might Be You, I am giving away five hard cover copies.  Please comment below, saying something about yourself and why this book is of interest.  I will place all comments into a hat and will choose five at random.  If your comment is chosen I will contact you, via the email you use to comment, for your street address, where I will send you your copy of Barb and Lois’ MUST READ book at no cost to you and in appreciation to Barb, Lois and Emma for their hard work in bringing much-needed awareness to all who are like Barb and my daughter!

Emma, Barb Rentenbach and Lois Prislovsky

Emma, Barb Rentenbach and Lois Prislovsky

 

 

 

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Posted in Autism, Barb Rentenbach, communication

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Some Thoughts on Stereotypes and Empathy

Posted on March 25, 2014 by | 34 comments

Stereotypes are more problematic than not and yet most people, even though they may be unconscious of this, behave according to what they’ve been told or have observed to be true, even though it may not be true.  So, for example, if we are told Autistic people lack empathy, we will unconsciously be on high alert for any example of this.  In doing so, we behave in accordance with the very stereotype we are critical of.  In other words our own empathy suffers.

In the case of war, where we are fighting an “enemy” this type of stereotyping is actively sought and pursued so that those who are on the front lines can justify their actions.  We are told the enemy are “radicals” or “terrorists” or “fundamentalists” or “extremists” or unduly aggressive, thus justifying our own aggression toward them, which is seen as “good” and “necessary”.  Often we are told the enemy is deceitful, even “evil” or “bad”.  Stereotyping is usually negative, but not always.  It is a way to claim pride and feel a sense of belonging to one group, while seeing the other group as different, lacking understanding and often threatening.

To take this a step further, the people, usually a group of people who are not the majority, such as those who are being grouped into the “lacking empathy” category, may also internalize this idea and be on the look out for instances where they “lack empathy.”  And yet, most of us can find examples of this if we look hard and long enough, times when we have behaved in ways that would be seen as “lacking empathy”.

Empathy is both a feeling and the ability to sense another person’s emotions as well as imagine what they might be thinking or feeling, coupled with the ability to communicate all of this.  If communication is even remotely an issue, expressing one’s empathy will be difficult.  If you are in a country where the spoken language is not one you understood or know, its culture one you are not familiar with, would you be able to adequately express the empathy you felt in a way that would be recognized and understood?   Is it possible you would be misunderstood and labeled as something that you are not, simply because the cultural norms did not come naturally to you or you had not learned them and could not express yourself in a way that the other group recognized?

Additionally being on the defensive, feeling constantly attacked and criticized might also erode your ability to express yourself.  Feeling anxiety, judged, and ill at ease might put you on high alert.  It’s really tough to feel for other people when you are in a state of almost constant attack.  This is counter intuitive to all human beings regardless of their neurology.  But saying that those who are under almost constant attack (and for those of you who will argue that this is hyperbole, please know I am not suggesting every single person whose neurology is Autistic is feeling attacked, rather I am pointing out that many are and have been saying so for quite some time now) lack empathy is an interesting twist, exonerating one’s own actions and part in all of this, while holding another to a higher set of standards.

While stereotypes may help one identify with a specific group, they are largely negative and encourage assumptions that, more often than not, exclude rather than include.   I keep hoping we are heading toward a more inclusive society, but so many of the current debates suggest otherwise…

Emma, Mark Utter and Ibby at the ICI Conference - July, 2013

Emma, Mark Utter and Ibby at the ICI Conference – July, 2013

This post was inspired by yesterday’s post over on  Diary of A Mom, that Jess alerted me to.

Related Links from others:

Empathy as a Form of Communication by Michael Forbes Wilcox
Not Guilty by BJForshaw
I am in here by Mark Utter
The Sound and Worry By Arianna
Inventing Empathy by M Kelter

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Posted in Autism, Autistic Role Models, Parenting

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“Crayons Have Feelings” By Emma

Posted on February 14, 2014 by | 30 comments

I’m always so excited when Emma tells me “put it on the blog” because my dream has been that this blog will be something she wants to, one day, take over as her own and where she will permit me to, occasionally, make a “guest” appearance.

What follows was Emma’s response during her RPM session to write about something she cares about in a persuasive manner.  She skillfully demonstrates theory of mind, empathy and an abundance of compassion I wish the rest of the world would try to emulate.

                     “Crayons Have Feelings”

“The colors are many in a box of crayons.  All over the world people use crayons to make them happier.  It is never used as a way to punish.

“Did you ever think of what the box of crayons felt like when they were opened?

“Notice which colors are used the most.  They are ripped and sometimes broken.  The less popular colors, like brown, look so new they can be displayed in a museum.  Nobody plays with them.  They watch the other colors play and roll with their friends in the mud.

“Brown crayons are lonely.  Red crayons get the most attention.

“You should show the lonely colors on the front of the box.

“Do you have questions?”

I am persuaded,  Emma.

A Box of Crayons

A Box of Crayons

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Posted in Autism, communication, empathy

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Conversing With Emma

Posted on February 3, 2014 by | 27 comments

I asked Emma if I could write about a conversation she had with Soma last week.  She told me I could.

Emma told Soma she wanted to open a day care center.  When Soma asked her what she’d call it, Emma wrote, “Emma’s Hope Care.”  Soma then asked what the philosophy of the center would be and Emma wrote, “No Autistic child left behind.”  And then a little later Emma wrote, “early education” and “no behavior management.”  Soma asked Emma where this center would be located, Emma wrote that she intended to have several, but that the headquarters would be in Chicago.  I smiled when she wrote that as my brother and his wife live nearby as does our friend Ibby, or as Emma calls her, “Ibby from Ibbia”.  Emma also said there would be a center in New York.

This was an easy back and forth conversation, with Soma giving her thoughts about things then asking Emma for her thoughts or Emma volunteering her opinion without being asked. Emma pointed to letters on a laminated alphabet board while Soma spoke, and on it went.  It was an example of something most speaking people take for granted.  We do not think twice about exchanging an idea with another, asking questions about things we don’t understand, listening to the other person, formulating an opinion, discussing, perhaps disagreeing, but in the end each person coming away with more information than they had before entering into the conversation.

I was fascinated to hear that my daughter knew about the “no child left behind” bill, passed by the United States Senate in June of 2001 and signed into law in January, 2002.  I also wondered if her comment, “No Autistic child left behind”,  was said with a touch of irony and humor, perhaps even sarcasm, as the current situation in so many special education schools in New York City, both public and private, are leaving a great many Autistic children behind.  In fact children, like my daughter, are regularly put into classrooms where a high school diploma is not a given, much less a goal.  Not only has Emma told me she wants to get a high school diploma, but she intends to go to college as well.

But what I loved most about what Emma wrote was her obvious compassion for others and her desire to do good.  Last fall she wrote about wanting to visit “old people” and then added, or “people in a cancer hospital.”  Funny how when you listen and watch what Autistic people are saying and doing, it is not in keeping with what so many non autistic “professionals” are saying about them.

A completely unrelated photograph of Emma holding Teddy.

Emma holding Teddy

Emma holding Teddy

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Posted in Autism, Education, Parenting

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A Short Interview With Emma

Posted on January 27, 2014 by | 50 comments

This is a short interview I did with Emma this morning about speaking, writing, and words.  

Ariane:  Do you have an inner dialogue?  You know, where you have a running conversation in your head?

Emma:  I do not think in words.

Ariane:  So that must make it hard to articulate what you are thinking and feeling.

Emma:  Yes, it is frustrating.  I am often unable to express myself even in writing.

Ariane:  Any suggestions for those of us who think in words?

Emma:  Do not think so much.  Empathy and love are not conveyed with words.

Texas ~ September, 2013

Texas ~ September, 2013

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Posted in Autism, communication, Parenting

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Can One Be Too Sensitive?

Posted on October 11, 2013 by | 29 comments

When I was young I was told I was too sensitive.  I was told this by many, many people.  I cried easily and often.  I didn’t take criticism well.  When scolded I felt awful about myself, took all the words said, mulled them over and concluded I was a terrible child.  I remember wondering how it was that I could be so awful?  Why did I make so many dreadful mistakes and so often?  I believed that I was unusual in this way.  I thought there was something very wrong with me, confirmed by all the things I did that caused me to get into trouble so much of the time.

This thinking caused me a great deal of pain and suffering later in life.  I was not able to step back from what people said to me in annoyance or anger.  Even when they would later compliment me about something I’d done that they approved of, it was tempered by the last admonishment.  I didn’t know how to hold two opposing ideas about me at once and make sense of them.  It never occurred to me that it was my behavior that was being objected to.  It didn’t dawn on me that teachers and adults were talking about things I’d done and that my actions were separate from who I fundamentally was.

This morning I awoke and my child bounded out of their room in an exuberant flourish of happy energy and good cheer.  I urged them to lower their voice as I busied myself with preparing their breakfast and my coffee.  Over the course of the next hour I admonished my happy child to not pound the floor by jumping in gleeful abandon for fear of waking the downstairs neighbors and again to lower their voice for fear of waking their sibling and reminded this joyous child to not slam the door to our apartment (which slams on its own without anyone’s help) and while waiting for the elevator to lower their voice yet again.  And by the time the bus had come to take my wonderful child to school I had tried (I am hoping, unsuccessfully) to tamp down their enthusiasm a dozen times.  As I made my way to the subway I realized I had not shared in their joy for all that was joyful and wondrous.  I had not joined them in greeting this beautiful day with such untethered optimism.  And that old crushing feeling came down upon me like an avalanche.  I felt terrible.  I reflected on all those days when I was a child and how it felt to be hushed and told to lower my voice and how I would try with all my might and yet never could lower my voice enough.

As awful as I felt, as sad as it made me to reflect on all of this, by the time the subway came to my stop I saw how being overly sensitive is highly under-rated.  How can one be “overly” sensitive, anyway?  And what’s the alternative?  Even now in my mid-fifties I still am extremely sensitive, too sensitive, or so people tell me.  I no longer believe I will be able to develop a thick skin as so many predicted I would at some point obtain.  And honestly I no longer strive to.  Besides, if I weren’t too sensitive would I have noticed how I was shushing my child more than was necessary.  Without being overly sensitive I might not have made a mental note to be extra playful and bouncey when I see them this afternoon.  Without being far too sensitive for my own good, I would not have connected my child’s awesomeness with my younger, often exuberant and very sensitive, self.

Joy

Joy copy

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Posted in Gratitude, Happiness, Parenting

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((((((Emma)))))), Facebook, Twitter, Blogs and Other Joys

Posted on June 15, 2012 by | 18 comments

When you look at the title to this post do you read it to mean – Hugging Emma, Facebook, Twitter, Blogs and Other Joys?

(If you answered yes, you are correct.  ((((Insert name)))) = Hugging.  The more parentheses, the bigger the hug.)

Within the autism community where Facebook reigns as the ultimate gathering place, the use of emoticons, ways of expressing emotions and physical actions, are commonplace.  I would argue that within the autism community the use of emoticons is more prevalent than within the neuromajority population.  But I need verification from my Autistic friends before I make such a statement.  It’s a thought based on my observations and interactions.  Which, by the way, speaks as much against Simon Baron-Cohen‘s various theories about Autists lacking empathy and a desire for interactions as it does to the level of support, gestures of kindness and friendships that are developed and maintained over the internet.  (I just submitted an amended version of my recent post – An Empathic Debunking of the Theory of Mind – to Huffington Post so he’s very much on my mind these days.  I’ll give an update when I see if and when it’s been published over there.)

Facebook, a crowded virtual space where conversations overlap, people you’ve never met interject themselves into a conversation before moving on, friendships are formed, rekindled and developed, strangers “poke” you to say hi, even if the only connection you have is that you both occupy space in that crazy mosh pit that Facebook single-handedly created.  If you think about it in these terms, Linkedin has a more conservative, suit and tie required at the door feel to it, I haven’t figured out where twitter falls in all of this, maybe it’s akin to speed dating, while blogs are the mothership, making the insanity over at Facebook all the more raucous and surprising.

It must be said, I hated Facebook when it began.  I refused to join, I felt indignant when people would discuss their “friends” or about something that had gone “viral.”  Who cares?  Who has the time?   I scoffed.  This is just a bunch of people with way too much time on their hands.   And then I would settle back to my tenth game of Spider, while reminding myself that I really should get some sleep.  But eventually I joined.  For business reasons, I told myself.  This is a pattern for me.  I observe, remain on the side lines, dip a toe in the murky waters, sit back, observe some more and then dive head first into the deep end, blissfully unaware of any rocks that may lurk under the surface.  I’m not encouraging this approach, it’s just an honest assessment of what I have a tendency to do.

Yesterday I was a mess.  For those of you who reached out, thank you.  I was teetering on the edge, trying to keep it together, not doing a great job, but doing my best to work, taking on one small task at a time.  And then my friend stepped in and held out her virtual hand.  (((((( Insert Name ))))))  Like a life line, she held her hand out and gently pulled me off the ledge.   Lots of emoticons were used.  I’m not fluent in emoticon, but she’s been a kind and patient teacher.  Did I mention she’s Autistic, not that it matters, except that it does, if only for this reason:  Autistics aren’t suppose to be like that.  That’s what we neurotypicals are taught.  Right?  It’s what all those autism specialists tell us, right?

She sat with me, literally, while I wept.  ((((((((((Insert my friend’s name)))))))))   She said all the right things and by the time we both went back to work, I was laughing.  But wait, that can’t be right.  She must not be autistic, because she doesn’t fit the mold.  Right?  Isn’t that what we do when someone defies a stereotype, instead of re-examining the stereotype, we relabel the person?  Can we all agree to toss this insane theory about Autists lacking empathy, lacking a desire for interaction and friendship?  Can we please just stop it?  Imagine if you tried to reach out to someone, only to have them reject you because of some mistaken idea they had about who you are and how you are supposed to behave?

Which brings me back to Emma.  My beautiful daughter.  I don’t know if she’s already aware of these stereotypes and how they apply to her.  My guess is, she is.  It’s one of the many things I wish I could control and change.  But I cannot.  What I can do is make sure she knows that I am here, supporting her, encouraging her, with my arms open for those times when she needs to feel them wrapped around her securely in loving embrace, just as my friend did to me yesterday.

(((((((Emma)))))))

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An Empathic Debunking of the Theory Of Mind

Posted on June 12, 2012 by | 30 comments

Simon Baron-Cohen, the man who has single-handedly done more damage to the perception of Autistics than any other human being (though there are arguably a number of people vying for that title), depresses me.

I need to say that before continuing.

Simon Baron-Cohen developed the “Theory of Mind” based on the results from the now famous “Sally-Anne” test.  The Sally-Anne test, where the child is shown two dolls, is an example of dubious “science.”  Sally has a basket in front of her, while Anne has a box.  Sally, presumably made to move by an adult, which further complicates the test, puts a marble into her basket and leaves the room.  While she is gone, Anne takes the marble from Sally’s basket and places it in the box.  When Sally returns, the child is asked, “Where will Sally look for the marble?”  Only 20% of the Autistic children were able to correctly answer the question – Sally will look in her basket.

Emma, typically, when asked what one of her doll’s name is, will reply, “Doll” or “girl.”  This is just one example of Emma’s literal mind at work.  She is not wrong, her doll is a doll and yes, she is a girl.  To take away any other conclusion from her answer would be ridiculous.

Yet, from this “test” Simon Baron-Cohen concluded, “that the core problem in autism is the inability to think about other peoples, or one’s own thoughts.”

Except that his test did not take into consideration the level of anxiety, stress or mood of the Autistic participants at the time of testing.  Nor did it take into account the language issues, pronoun challenges or literal thinking many Autists have, which the test inevitably presented.  In addition Simon Baron-Cohen based his theory, which is taken by many as proven fact, on assumptions that the Autistic participants understood the question.  He then set about publicizing his theory, which inadvertently or not, is used by many in the neuromajority to abuse and mistreat the very people whom he categorizes as lacking empathy.  Does anyone else see a problem here?

When Emma was diagnosed I came upon the Theory of Mind paper early on in my research.  I remember thinking that this explained why, when any of us were upset, Emma seemed oblivious.  But as I continued along the road of educating myself, coupled with observing my daughter, I began to question his theory.  I read about Autistics who avoided looking in people’s eyes because it was too intense.  One Autist described it as akin to seeing into a person’s soul.  Other’s talked about how they could sense immediately upon entering a room, the various occupants emotional state and became so overwhelmed they would seek refuge in a corner, try to leave or would stim as a way to counter the intensity of what they were experiencing.

There are times when Emma will, with outstretched arm, put her hand out in front of her face like a shield.  Often it is done, I believe, as a response to the intensity of feelings, either hers or others or both, or as Jessy Park, Clara Claiborne Park’s daughter was quoted as saying, “It’s too good.”   Landon Bryce over on his terrific blog, thAutcast has a wonderful video of an Autistic artist, Tina, who talks about how she trained herself to look into people’s eyes because she paints portraits.  It is a beautiful video, as is she.

What struck me, after reading half a dozen articles and interviews by and with Simon Baron-Cohen, is the damage he is doing.  His most recent book, Zero Degrees of Empathy, (which I am not providing a link for on purpose) where he includes Autistics along with psychopaths and borderline personality disorder as examples of groups who lack empathy will further the suffering of Autistics.  For a man who claims Autists lack empathy, he is bizarrely unaware of his own lack of empathy.

For those who would like to read an opposing theory and one that seems much more in keeping with what I see demonstrated by not only my daughter, but the many Autistics I have had the honor of getting to know, read this interview with Henry Markram.

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Feelings

Posted on January 6, 2012 by | 2 comments

Emma’s friend, Charlie was upset yesterday.  No one knew what was wrong or why he was so sad.  However Emma went over to Charlie and comforted him.  These are the kinds of things parents are always pleased to hear.  As our children grow older, we come to expect such displays of empathy, even questioning our children when they do not respond this way.

In 1985 Simon Baron-Cohen developed a theory he called mindblindness, suggesting that children with autism have an impaired ability to make sense of others and their own feelings.  He has since amended mindblindness to E-S theory (empathizing-systemizing theory.)  Many people, when confronted with an autistic person’s inability to acknowledge or respond appropriately to their emotional state, assume that person does not care.

Before Emma was diagnosed, I learned of a friend’s death and was crying.  Nic ran over and immediately asked what was wrong and why was I crying, while Emma continued to look at a book.  At the time I thought she was more interested in her book or perhaps didn’t notice I was upset, but I remember feeling a certain uneasiness about, what I believed was, her lack of empathy.  As I have read more about autism and the problems in reading people’s emotions, I see her non-responsiveness as an inability to make sense of  my emotional state rather than indifference.  As Emma grows older, she has become increasingly curious about emotions of all kinds.

“Rip Good Night Moon, make Becky angry.  No you cannot rip Good Night Moon!”  Emma has said, referring to something that happened well over a year ago at her school.  One of Emma’s favorite books is “The Way I Feel.”   A book describing emotions with illustrations reflecting those feelings.  When Emma’s brother Nic is upset Emma, much to Nic’s annoyance, will attempt to make sense of Nic’s upset. “Nicky’s crying.  Nicky wants to go on the carousel,” Emma will say.  Or “Nicky’s angry.  Nicky doesn’t want to go to bed.”  Emma will apply her own reasons for being sad or angry with things that make her feel those things and becomes confused when we explain that Nic is upset or angry about something entirely different.  Still, she is doing her best to make sense of what she is seeing.  She will almost always try to comfort Nic, even if she has come to incorrect conclusions regarding the reasons for his feelings.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   Emma’s Hope Book

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Empathy and Autism

Posted on July 15, 2011 by | Leave a comment

My thinking on this topic has changed since I last posted about Emma and Empathy over a year ago.  I am not convinced that Emma “has a terrible time figuring out what another person is thinking or feeling.”  Today that is not something I would say.  I often wonder if Emma feels things in the extreme rather than not at all.  I have read a great many articles written by people on the spectrum who describe their feelings and responses to other people’s emotions as being too much for them.

One young woman, Dora, says:  “I often feel things too deeply or have too much empathy and have to run away, not because I am callous, but because I feel so strongly it causes my brain to shut down or freak out.”    Her statement is similar to another woman with autism, who’s amazing mother, Clara Claiborne Park wrote two books about her daughter, Jessy.  She describes how Jessy would cover her ears and could not tolerate certain words because they were “too good”.

When one of us is upset and Emma appears to completely disregard our emotional state, whether by ignoring it or making sympathetic comments, which to our ears strikes us as insincere, I have to question whether our interpretation is accurate.  How can we know what she is really experiencing?  We cannot.    I choose to believe Emma is deeply sensitive to her  own and our emotions, but just as she has trouble expressing herself verbally, she may express her feelings differently as well.

Dora goes on to point out:  “The notion that we don’t have feelings frees up people to commit atrocities against us without accountability.”

When I hear neuro-typical people discussing autism I am often surprised by the conclusions they come to.  How differently might we treat someone if we believed them to be fundamentally unintelligent?  How would we speak to them?  What things would we say because we believed they have a low IQ, lack empathy, could not understand us?  How would we treat them as a direct result of our assumptions?   If we decide a child’s behavior is a form of manipulation or because the child is “spoiled” or because they “think they can get away with it”, do we not treat them differently?  Isn’t it true we can behave in some pretty horrific ways when we make assumptions about other’s actions?  Isn’t it easy to rationalize our behavior when we’ve decided a person or child is “dumb”, “less than”, “inferior”, cognitively unaware”?  And what if all those assumptions we’ve so quickly and easily come to are completely wrong?  How does our response stand up under further scrutiny?  Have we not behaved with callous disregard?  Have we not completely “disregarded” their “feelings”?

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism and her relationship with her brother, Nic go to: www.EmmasHopeBook.com

Emma in Union Square Park – Summer, 2011

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