Dear Autism Mom™,

Dear Autism Dad™:

I am just like you: I want the best for my kid. His smile and his gaze reset my life. I'm afraid of the unknown. I learn something new from my child every day. I make mistakes. I love listening to my little one sing. I get frustrated. I do my best. I am saddened. I am filled with hope.

I was just like you: I also shared the diagnosis on social media. I wanted to shout from the rooftops and give visibility, raise awareness. I started using the little blue heart and the puzzle emoji on social.

I got into every parent support group I found. I used "person-first" language. I demanded that my husband used all his work and personal contacts to get therapy and intervention for our child as soon as possible.

I watched Atypical, Love on the Spectrum, and had already watched The Big Bang Theory. I haven't watched The Good Doctor yet. Temple Grandin was my idol. I listened attentively to the expert doctors, I followed their advice. They convinced me that the "issue" had a "solution", that the more intensive the therapies and interventions were, the better.

I resented the pediatrician for not telling us about the "signs" earlier. I wanted to buy all the available merch with the primary colors puzzles. I was thinking of getting a puzzle tattoo.

I hated the world as much as I did 2 decades ago.

I hated my genes.

I hated autism. I hated myself.

I wanted to fight, but I didn't know how.

So much negativity. So much ignorance. So much awareness and so many organizations, but few good omens. So many people telling me that they know that autism exists. But no hope, no positivity, no school or social inclusion.

Mothers and fathers licking our wounds in support groups, talking about deficits, delays, solutions, diets, discrimination. Asking desperately "When will my baby speak? When will he look me in the eye? When will he tell me he loves me?"

So many YouTube channels and Instagram accounts, fathers and mothers comparing their autistic kids with the ones that are so famous on those platforms.

And one day ... One day I couldn't take it anymore.

I remember thinking: there must be another way!

This way of looking at autism doesn't serve me anymore.

I'm part of the LGBTIQA+ collective, so I follow several creators of my community on social media. One lucky day, one of them talked about autism. They spoke about it like I never heard anyone talk about autism before: in a positive or at least neutral way.

They used magic words: neurodivergence and neurodiversity.

BOOM!

I was gagged.

That was the perspective I was looking for! I started following more autistic people from around the world and reading their articles, one by one...

In the Facebook groups with autistic people, I started asking questions. I practically demanded customized "solutions" and being cheered on for doing things the neurotypical way.

Today I cringe and laugh when I read my own comments and questions, but anyway...

Days passed and I continued to read the comments from actually autistic advocates, went to the links they shared, and saw their videos. Everything clicked.

I recognized my own ableism. That was the root of my suffering. I myself did not accept that autism isn't a bad thing even with all the love I have for my child. I myself continued to see things from my neurotypically privileged perspective.

I learned that autistic people are proud of being autistic, and that non-speaking people have a voice too. They have the right to self-determination and to the free development of the personality. YES, LIKE YOU AND ME. I learned that each autistic person thinks differently about different topics. And then I realized...

I realized that I had already screwed up by telling everyone my kid's diagnosis WITHOUT my child's informed, explicit, enthusiastic, free, and reversible CONSENT.

I thought to myself: how would you feel if your life was a show all over social media without anyone asking you? Couldn't you wait until he was older to give you his consent?

Yes, at the time I told myself that I wanted to give visibility, but I had to take a fearless look at myself.

I did it for me, so that people would say "what a brave and strong woman! Poor thing that she's in this situation." I needed to feel validated.

I learned about the horror of Autism Speaks, about the Autism Industry and the millionaire profits from behavioral therapies, miracle diets, and merch around the puzzle symbol and the color blue.

I learned about misogyny in autism research that only focuses on autistic men. But how was it possible? ME? An intersectional feminist, wearing blue, just because all the other moms of autistic kids wear it? I did it because I needed to feel less alone.

All the support, all the sense of community, and the understanding that I needed I've found it in the autistic community. Autistic activists gave me hope, knowledge, actionable advice, compassion, and patience. But above all, they gave me perspective.

The autism community - or rather, the autism industry - caused me nothing but feelings of helplessness, sadness, and anger.

One thing the autism industry definitely did was try to sell me shitloads of things, that's for sure! Expensive courses on autism without autistic people talking about their experience, shirts, mugs, key rings, bracelets -the money never goes directly to autistic people, pyramid schemes to sell essential oils, giveaways to get followers, views, clicks and subscriptions to newsletters, YouTube channels and podcasts -again, without autistic people talking about their own life or even quoting them.

Now the autism industry calls me a "separatist" and violent. Why? I don't know.

That industry is the one that literally SEPARATES itself from the autistic community, by not listening to their voices or respecting their rights. By wanting to profit and be famous instead of working towards the unconditional acceptance of autism. By telling me to "stay on my own lane" and "don't bring negativity" to their social media pages.

As women, we complain about patriarchal oppression. Why not stop oppressing neurodiversity?

We demand justice for crimes of all kinds. Why not respect the requests of autistic people when their rights are systematically violated?

I want to make one thing clear: each person has the right to think what they want, but when those opinions mean the oppression of a minority, and you're presented with evidence, why not change your mind?

I'm going to give you an example, you will feel seen for sure:

If something bad has happened to you, and you reach out to your friends and family to tell them what happened, do you like being told what to do?

Do you appreciate being told how you should feel about things? I bet you don't.

What you want is for them to listen to you and respect your decisions. You want them to help you the way you need it.

Why don't we help autistic people the way they need it? They've been telling us for decades now.

Do you know how blessed and lucky you are? You get to ask autistic people about the best strategies to help your autistic child! Personally, I do consider it a blessing from the universe.

Who better than autistic people to talk about autism and educate ourselves on parenting autistic children and teenagers? Why waste that golden opportunity? I wish everything was as simple as listening with an open heart.

Today I am still learning. I have nothing against you, just as I no longer have anything against the Autism Mom ™ that I once was. Deconstructing our bias is a lifelong process.

This is an invitation to learn from the actually autistic voices. To ally yourself with the autistic community. To deconstruct what you know. To stop hoarding resources, spaces, support, attention, cameras, and microphones that should be focused on autistic people. To help in the way they ask us, not the one that makes you famous.

We already are the majority, so inclusion is not about us neurotypicals.

This is about autistic people.

This is not about you. This is about your autistic child. Your little one, who has a voice even if she's non-speaking. It is our obligation to learn how to listen to it without ableist filters.

Autism is part of the human diversity. Disability is not a bad thing.

Nobody is better, nobody is worse.

To love is to accept.

P.S. If you want to talk about all of this you can leave me a message here.

I pledge to only attend, speak at or otherwise participate in autism panels, conferences, and events that meaningfully involve autistic people.

I choose not to give my business or my time to settings that fail to include autistic voices in conversations about autism.