And being unable to hear all the noise
Society is full of noise. Not actual noise you can hear, but rather social etiquettes and dress codes, as well as hierarchies and social statuses.
Imagine stuffing some earplugs into your ears or putting on some high-quality noise-cancelling headphones in a crowded, noisy area. The noise is there, but you can’t hear it, and it’s incredible.
But social status is important. Just like how one should take off their headphones while crossing the road, there are times when one has to dress appropriately against comfort in order to attend certain social events or give an appropriate amount of eye contact when meeting a stranger for the first time.
What happens when you can’t take the headphones off? What happens, if you’re always a little bit deaf? You know the noise is there, and you can hear a bit of it, but that level of hearing is nowhere near enough to safely cross the road—it’s nowhere near enough to maintain one’s social status let alone improve it, which jeopardises future opportunities and consequently one’s chances of survival; a negative social evaluation can even lead to directly-harmful consequences such as being excluded and ostracised from important groups, or even bullied.
A good life, with some caveats
But noise is bad, isn’t it? Nobody likes noise. That’s why we invented noise-cancelling headphones. It’s great only wearing the same comfortable clothes every day, and the same comfortable shoes, and not worrying about what other people think.
People naturally do that because they can hear the noise. Perhaps it is unfortunate for them that they can, but, again, only in situations where there are no cars to avoid. If one could be safe—one could be free of the disadvantages that come with not hearing the noise, such as using underground tunnels or overhead bridges—then it sounds like a rather peaceful life, doesn’t it?
If one could earn a fair salary in a job they liked without all the social networking, observation of hierarchies, and dress codes, if one could dress however they liked without worrying about losing friends, potential partners, and becoming excluded and lonely, wouldn’t that just be the dream? It doesn’t take autism to appreciate something as mundane and simple as this—anyone can appreciate a life like this because it is really just noise; nobody likes noise. But people endure it for the sake of their survival, their loved ones, and their future happiness. The noise comes with benefits, and the pros usually outweigh the cons. Only to a certain point, of course.
I believe that most people become more laid back and care less about fashion and status or hierarchy as they age—perhaps the reason why the elderly love talking to the young and dress in the most comfortable way they like—precisely because they’re free from these downsides. They have partners and friends they’ve made throughout their lives so they’re not lonely, have saved up enough money to retire, and are thus no longer worried about making money. They can finally relax and no longer have to push through the noise. It’s not that they can no longer hear the noise—it’s that they don’t care anymore or that they’ve simply gotten used to it. After all, they’ve been hearing it their whole life!
One of my favourite stories from my childhood was about a car salesman who saw a middle-aged man dressed in sandals and shorts walk into the showroom. Nobody wanted to attend to him, giving him spiteful and condescending looks thinking he wasn’t worth their time, but this salesman was the only one who went up to him with the same courtesy and respect, diligently and patiently showing him the available models and answering all his questions.
The man ended up buying over a dozen trucks. It turns out, he wasn’t dressed like that because he was poor; he was simply too rich to care. The moral of the story was actually to never judge a book by its cover and how we should be like that salesman (it was actually a true story about my grandfather), but I wanted to be like that customer. I wanted to teach others that they shouldn’t look down on others just because they aren’t as vain and superficial as they are, and not because I’m extremely sensitive to clothing and can only wear the same thing every day “just to be safe” while still not wanting to be ostracised.
You can tell if someone really likes you if they invite you to their child’s wedding even after you wore t-shirts, cargo pants, and crocs to their other child’s previous wedding. I’m proud to say that I don’t know a lot of superficial people, and I don’t envy those who do. There are people who say that caring about fashion isn’t superficial, there are also people who insist that caring about fashion is superficial but “dressing appropriately” isn’t. They’re the same goddamn thing. The only justifiable standard for “dressing appropriately” is when it otherwise presents a health or safety issue, such as wearing sandals for rock climbing.
A different caveat
I am only referring to mild autism. I know that moderate to severe autism presents challenges that affect day-to-day functioning. I still think autism is a spectrum too wide to be classified under the same term, but for lack of a better, more concise, term, I will continue using the term “autism” to refer to the autism that I do experience, as long as it remains clear that I cannot speak for the autism that I do not experience.
Closing
It may be that my point is rather moot. After all, who doesn’t wish to have a partner, friends, and enough money to no longer need to work? Who doesn’t want to eventually be carefree, comfortable, and no longer worried about what people think of them?
Having autism is a bit like getting a headstart in this, but, like a small seedling that isn’t strong enough to stand on its own yet, it often means getting blown over and crushed in this competitive and windy environment.
Maybe the solution is for all autistic children to have rich and supportive parents who will act as stakes for their little seedlings, but, again, who wouldn’t benefit from parents like that? It’s also very subjective, and unfalsifiable.
Imagine seeing a fortune teller and being told that you were destined to become incredibly successful once you “meet the right person”. The only way to know if it’s true is to become incredibly successful first, and if it never happens, then it just means you haven’t met “the right person”. This statement can’t be proven untrue and is extremely meaningless, the same goes for having wealthy, loving parents. All of the terms used so far have been extremely subjective too, so perhaps none of the criteria will ever be met.
People with autism aren’t angels. There are good people, both with and without any neurodevelopmental disorders—anyone can be a good person, but anyone can also be a bad person. There are plenty of selfish, entitled autistic people just as there are plenty of selfish, entitled normal people. Perhaps they will be worse if they had more money because they’d end up just bullying people with their wealth. Perhaps being raised in a loving family will prevent them from becoming the terrible people they eventually become, but no one can say for sure.
I know this isn’t exactly on topic, but I feel like the tone of this post has been leaning too much towards being pro-autism without really providing a sufficiently-balanced perspective. Everyone thinks they’re good people, yet there are plenty of bad people in this world.
I want autism to be understood better. I wrote this because I like having the leeway to dress only in comfortable clothes and the justification to ignore everything about society that I don’t understand, but at the same time, I don’t want to make it sound like autism is a superpower or a privilege; we’re still people on this planet, just like everyone else. Autistic people, as well as those with other disabilities, deserve to be treated fairly, but putting them on a pedestal isn’t fair for anyone.