There’s nothing like the smell of insults in the morning. I checked my Twitter feed and found this little gem:
I did some investigating about the lyrics which @AutisticPoet had referenced and found that they come from Drake’s song “Jodeci Freestyle”. In the last few days, J. Cole has certainly gotten the wrong kind of attention for these lyrics. There are many, myself included, who are upset at him because he chose to use the word “autistic” as an insult. “Autistic” by itself is merely a descriptive word that describes a person on the autism spectrum, or a person with autistic traits – unfortunately, the way in which J. Cole and others use the word can change its connotation to being negative, demeaning, and potentially dehumanizing.
Some in the autistic community are already taking action about this. Anna Kennedy and the Anti-Bullying Alliance have started a petition asking for an apology from J. Cole and Drake for the offensive lyrics. But I think this particular incident is indicative of a larger issue: the severe need for autism understanding and acceptance in the Black community.
One Negro speaks of rivers: change
the term, but the color’s still the same – and I speak
of computer hard drive brains, over-wired
circuitry, and hearts that fracture
at the slightest jolt. The souls of Black Folk?
What about the souls of autistic Black Folk?
We mud colored, we chocolate colored, we
beige colored. We green colored, we alien.
(from my poem, “1 in 88, Nicole Style”)
(Note: This is a continuation of the series”The Souls of Black Autistic Folk”. I encourage the reader to read the introduction, part 1, and part 2 of this series.)
When Paul Robeson was alive, autism was not very well known or understood. By the time he was a young man at Rutgers, neither Dr. Leo Kanner nor Dr. Hans Asperger had coined their terms for what we now call autism or Asperger Syndrome – those discoveries would not come until the early 1940’s, when Robeson was well into his theatrical and singing career. The public was not really aware of autism until at least the 1960’s, and unfortunately, awareness and media coverage on the subject came in the form of articles that declared autistic people as “mental cripples” such as this infamous 1965 Time Magazine article documenting Dr. Ivar Lovaas and his research at UCLA which led to the ABA (Applied Behavioral Analysis) methods of today. (Warning to abuse survivors: this article contains potentially triggering material, as it discusses what would now be considered physical and verbal abuse.) And Robeson lived – and died – before individuals such as Dr. Temple Grandin began to speak public about autism, themselves as an autistic people, and began to allow the public to gain a glimpse into their worlds and realities.
I have done the state some service, and they know’t.
No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am, nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice…
(From Shakespeare’s Othello, Act V, Scene 2, lines 339-343a)
In part I of this series, I provided an overview of Paul Robeson’s life in order for readers to begin to understand who we was. Robeson was a multitalented individual – an academic star during his undergraduate studies at Rutgers, an actor of great renown, and a singer with a power, singular voice. Based on evidence presented by Norm Ledgin in the book Asperger’s and Self-Esteem: Insight and Hope Through Famous Role Models, I also believe that Robeson was autistic. I will present that evidence in this post.
(Please note: Ledgin uses a summary of main points of the diagnostic criteria for Asperger Syndrome from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual-IV. At times I will be referencing more specific criteria for Asperger Syndrome – 299.80 – as posted at the Centers for Disease Control’s website.)
Last Friday was the beginning of Black History Month. Amidst what we will be hearing about it in February 2013 — which tends to be everything ranging from the celebration of African-American historical individuals and events to the usual question of why the shorter year of the month was chosen for this celebration — I will certainly be adding my own voice to the chorus of writers and bloggers.
In my case, I am fascinated with Paul Robeson — one individual where autism and Black history intersect. I first studied African-American history in high school through a (what was considered groundbreaking) semester-long class and found myself introduced to history I had never encountered before. It is where I was introduced to the Harlem Renaissance. It was where I began to explore poetry and where my love of the craft began to take wings through learning about Langston Hughes, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, and Maya Angelou. And I recall a brief mention of Paul Robeson — giant of stage and song and inspiration to the likes of Sidney Poitier and Harry Belafonte. Robeson, best known for his portrayal in the title role of Shakespeare’s Othello, is proposed to have been an Aspie by author Norm Ledgin in his book Asperger’s and Self-Esteem: Insight and and Hope Through Famous Role Models. Ledgin compares some of Robeson’s behavior with the diagnostic criteria in the soon-to-be-superseded DSM-IV and concludes that Robeson fits the criteria for an Asperger diagnosis.
This month, I’m going to explore Robeson — who he was an an artist and a person, and through the lens of Asperger’s. Robeson was born in 1898 and died shortly before I was born (January 1976). I wonder — and would like to explore — about the reality he encountered as an African-American autistic in the early part of the twentieth century, and how that reality compares to the reality I encounter today as a multiracial African-American autistic.
And of course, this exploration will lead me to related questions. I know I am not the only African-American autistic out there. In my journeys over the last three years I have encountered some wonderful individuals, including record producer and autism advocate Michael Buckholtz. Logic dictates that he, I, and the few other individuals I have met cannot possibly be the only African-American Aspies out there. The big question in this case is: where ARE we? Through a bit of exploration, I hopefully may find some general answers (while being careful to respect the privacy of those who cannot be “out”) this month.
I hope you’ll join me on this fascinating journey this month. Hold on tight. It might be one heckuva ride.
In this series:
To be seen, or not to be seen?
I have spent a good percentage of my 36 years of life trying to figure out the answer to this particular question, which has expressed itself as a tug-of-war dialectic in my heart, mind, and soul. And the truth is, some days, I cannot decide which it is that I desire.
I was reminded of this struggle of my own upon reading this post on The Third Glance blog. The author speaks her own childhood growing up with autism and I found some of her account mirroring my own. I’ve quoted some of her post below to illustrate what I mean:
“She knew that if she complained, the consequences would be even scarier at home. When she first told her parents she wasn’t fitting in, she would get ‘talked to’, told she needed to try harder, that she needed to stop using big words, that she was obviously deficient. When that didn’t work, the responses got scarier, so she stopped saying anything…She learned that repeating the big words she heard in books would cause the other students to laugh at her and tease. She learned that no one else cared what happened in her books, or what she had just learned about her favorite things.”
I was reminded of my own childhood and my own struggles. Years before I knew that I was autistic, I knew that I was different. While I’ve said this before, I say it again now because there are people wandering around, like I was, without answers. There are children, teenagers, and adults who struggle with the decision between conformity and difference every day. Some, like the author of Third Glance and me at various points in my own life, choose to become invisible: