Don’t I look scholarly? Don’t actually answer that it’s a purely subjective question. As you may or may not know (depending on if this is your first time here) I am currently in year 5 of my PhD and it’s time to get this show on the road. I still have a few requirements that I need to meet called comprehensive exams before I can start on my dissertation properly.
I am forever a PhD student and never a PhD candidate (you aren’t a candidate until you are in dissertation phase)
My future dissertation is tentatively titled “We Still Hide Mad Women in the Attic: An autoethnographic study of how disabled/mad women are treated when I try to take public space.
The dissertation will be an in depth autobiography of my life largely lived in both socially curated and physically forced isolation. My story will be juxtaposed with the real life stories of the mad women history hid away n attics or asylums. The story of hidden disabled and mad women now and in history would not be complete without an understanding of the mad woman in culture. Am I my own person or am I little more than Bertha Rochester raving in her attic for the sole purpose of creating the moral conundrum “is it wrong to cheat on one’s mentally ill wife” (the answer is yes by the way).
In order to complete this research I am going to need to do a lot of reading (of course). My preference for reading academically is to use kindle books on a iPad because it makes taking and organizing notes simple There are, however, a number of books that cannot be had in kindle format. To that end I have created an amazon wish list specific to the books that cannot be gotten in kindle format (I may add more later). That list is
Unfortunately, ebooks are themselves not free and while the selection of academic books now available for kindle is growing but so is the price of ebooks. If you would like to help with my real book fund. You can send me an Amazon Gift Card to
(this is not my personal email, I will not be answering queries through it. Find me on Twitter if you want to talk)
You can also support me directly financially in a number of ways.
You can sponsor me for a monthly amount on patreon
If you are only able to make a one time contribution you can transfer money to my paypal
If you enjoy a little whimsy with you direct giving you can buy me a coffee (contributions must be in multiples of three uses paypal)
If you prefer to buy me something that would improve my quality of life
The strike was hard for a number of reasons. Initially simply participating with the strike was a struggle. I believed in the principles I believed we were fighting for but I learned quickly standard picketing daily was a physical impossibility. Accommodations for union members who couldn’t picket or who couldn’t picket full time were very poorly organized. This remained a stressor throughout. By the end of the strike (months after it began) I had become so confused by work expectations on and off the picket line, I sometimes just didn’t go.
This was not helped by the inevitable strike staple of being threatened with near constant vehicular death. I was body checked by pedestrians on several occasions regardless of whether I was blocking the sidewalk. The disruption to campus was enough to incur the violent wrath of pedestrians.
Then there were the drivers who always thought that they had special reasons to skip the predetermined picketing schedule.
For those unfamiliar with a legal picket. Picketers are allowed to delay but not stop traffic. Courts have been forgiving in how they define delay versus stopping in a strike scenario.
Picketers usually pick a set period to delay traffic before allowing it to proceed before picketers again take to the streets to delay traffic.
A picketers job description is essentially to walk in a circle in the road and try not to die. Whether that’s getting off the street fast enough when the current delay is over or because some driver has decided that they don’t care about the people in the road. We had people zip through on motorcycles (not safe) or simply drive on the sidewalk to bypass our picket line.
Through it all through the incident that sticks in my mind the most was when a member of staff for York’s Counseling Services decided to oversell the importance of her job to skip the line. It worked a couple of times and at least one coworker started copying her.
The problem? There is no reality in a university campus counseling office where students lives are endangered by an entirely predictable delay. She just didn’t want to shift her morning schedule. When the people who make the decisions on which cars get special treatment (emergency vehicles obviously, parents taking their kids to daycare, I think there were a couple other) were informed of her exaggerated status, she got angry and actually began suggesting that if we did not continue to give her special treatment “people might die”. We didn’t give her special treatment. I wrote a strongly worded letter about using clients as pawns and how that reduces faith in counseling services at York (I’d certainly never trust anyone who works there, I never got that lady’s name).
A strike that started in March plodded straight through June and I actually got a bit of a respite, though not the respite I’d hoped for.
Last year I fundraised to go to a disability law summer school in Galway, Ireland. I enjoyed the summer school as much as possible but unfortunately had some serious medical side effects from traveling. I ended up missing more than a day sorting out how to deal with a bad drug reaction in a foreign country. I was on the drug because medical marijuana isn’t legal in Ireland so, I needed a replacement med for my chronic pain.
I ended up leaving the school early on the second day, to wander around Galway, looking for a health food store so I could pay an ungodly sum of money for CBD oil. I spent the next day in bed purging the demon drug from my system.
Ireland is pretty though
I did return to the summer school when I fely better and enjoyed what little time I did spend at the summer school.
Hey look they even gave me a certificate.
As much as I enjoyed my short respite from the strike, it was still going strong and tensions were running high. I experienced some horrific in person ableism from a fellow union member. On top of the stress from the threats and the near constant messaging of unwelcome we got from the university, I no longer felt safe on the picket line. I rarely went after that.
We were ultimately legislated back to work by our incompetent premier Doug Ford. Who couldn’t even be bothered to include a return to work protocol.
The end of the strike was a confusing nightmare. There was pre-strike work that needed to be done quickly because the Fall semester was imminent. We needed to find out how much we would be paid for that work (there was no standard).
It is around this time that I started dissociating. I was still able to mostly function. I was able to complete my TA duties but that only lasted a few weeks. I was falling apart. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get grounded on my own again. So I did something that was a long time coming. I went to my doctor and got diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety. I’m pretty sure the anxiety has always been there. The PTSD has been around since at the latest 15. I’ve spent a long time coping.
It’s no wonder that it took events as dramatic as a strike to crack me so bad I couldn’t find the glue to ground myself and move forward. Both my doctor and I agreed that I needed therapy.
Whether we work relationally and/or somatically, my practice is grounded in the frameworks of intersectional feminism, anti-oppression, social justice, queer theory & harm/risk reduction. I am sex & kink-positive, sex-work positive, class-conscious & anti-racist.
She also directed her ad at the most vulnerable people
Services Provided: Counselling/therapy
Client Groups: Men, Women, Trans people, Children, Youth, Adults, Seniors,
LGBT parents, Family members of LGBT people, Two-Spirit, Intersex, People Living with Disabilities, Racialized Communities, Gender Independent Children
This quote from her website seems particularly ironic,
I work with individuals using Relational Somatic Psychotherapy, Trauma Therapy & Sex Therapy. My approach creates an empathic, non-judgmental & safe space where you are the expert of your experiences & where we can explore deeply the feelings, memories, thoughts & experiences you have. We will start wherever you are at & moving at your pace using my gentle but direct approach.
As someone looking for trauma informed therapy that would consider my particular location of intersectional oppression seemed perfect. In our first session I laid out my goals and what I felt my current issues were. I made it very clear that I was autistic and would not be masking during sessions as masking has been connected to suicidality. She agreed.
She gave me a brief overview of her approach and we began what I thought was the joint work of therapy. I would discover about nine months later that my therapist and I had never been on the same page. Not only that in the misguided (I really don’t know what her motive was) to heal me, she was in fact doing psychological damage.
I recently received a copy of her clinical notes. Nine months of therapy was summed up in 8 pages single spaced. Nothing that resembles me can be seen in those pages. She got annoyed that I would let her “regulate me” whatever that means.
Those clinical notes paint the picture of someone who had no life whatsoever during the time I was in therapy. While this wasn’t true, in hindsight I can see the way she actively isolated me from my support networks.
Regaining control over one’s ability to regulate one’s emotions is not an overnight affair. I’d been trying to take positive steps even before I set foot in a therapist’s office. Stepping back is why I stopped blogging last year. It is also why I pulled back from a lot of the Twitter activism I was involved in.
My therapist however sought to compound that isolation. She encouraged my justified anger at my sister and expedited an inevitable estrangement but would that sister have called the cops on me when I couldn’t handle processing the abuse I experienced at the hands of a trusted therapist and started making delusional phone calls to my brother, getting weird and inappropriate in certain people’s DM’s and posting weird shit on my timeline.
I was barely conscious at the time, I almost never left my bed. I was the definition of not a threat to myself or others but my sister convinced the police that I was potentially violently unpredictable. This woman initiated the estrangement by the way. She blocked my number and blocked me on social media. I couldn’t threaten her if I wanted to. Not to mention she lives somewhere that requires a car to get to and I can’t drive.
The psych ward wasn’t helpful in sorting anything out. It felt like the attending psychiatrist on the rare occasions I interacted with him was just looking for the volatile and potentially violent person that I have never been. I have asked my doctor to get my notes from the psych ward stay. They should be interesting.
Perhaps, the worst thing my therapist did to me was keep me uncomfortable stasis. I was never ready to return to blogging and shouldn’t I really spend less time on social media? The whole time directing our discussions as much around horrific trauma as she could manage. I genuinely expect my chattiness saved me from a lot worse damage. It’s also probably why I missed the signs of abuse.
According to her notes, I never advanced much past being able to recognize when I’m in a manic state. She maintained this misconception by frustratedly pointing at a terrible visual aid (think basic science over head slides with psych 101 terms and some graphs)and telling me I was in hyper arousal (her word for being manic). I would inevitably have an autistic meltdown because I was trying to tell her what I was doing to regulate my emotions during this time and she kept interrupting me with vocabulary.
Once I got upset though she would swiftly smooth the situation over. I suspect she managed get me to trust her by making the early days of therapy very much about getting me at least vaguely emotionally balanced. Which meant getting me medicated.
After about a week of horrific side effects my anti-anxiety meds worked extremely well. I was also actively doing the work of healing my body to the closest I can get it to whatever its original factory settings will allow for.
In hindsight the fact that I remarked on more than one occasion “it’s weird, I seem to be in the best physical shape of my life but the worst mental health”
It was only very late in our professional relationship that she began overtly telling me to let go of things that I as a disabled person cannot let go of. I remember one incident where she was telling me to let go of some ongoing discrimination I was experiencing.
I was genuinely in tears just repeating “I can’t escape my body, I can’t escape my life or how it is impacted just by living in this world”
Apparently, my therapist thought I was having an epiphany about just laying down and taking it I guess, because I was telling her quite clearly that her method was not survivable.
Clearly,I should listen to myself more. The reason I wasn’t making as much mental progress was because I was being held back.One of the reasons I never saw the control and the danger was because I was accidentally thwarting her by controlling the sessions through chattiness. Everything I aspired to do, the therapist got in the way. She was subtle about it. She’s not even consistent in her 8 pages of notes whether I should be pursuing any goals, long-term or short-term. I have no doubt she was looking for more trauma triggers. That she successfully found so few and the triggering moments of therapy were rare is probably why I failed to notice what few red flags there were until I had escaped her.
I suspect our professional relationship came to such a sudden and dramatic end because I wouldn’t let go of school. This meant that I couldn’t let go of the baggage I had around school because she hadn’t helped me process it. An end was inevitable. School necessitates more social interaction. She would never have been able to maintain the degree of control that she had over me if I was actively a student.
Our last session she was clearly desperate. Much of her advice (when she was egging me on into unhealthy levels of anger about abusive family members who may never be held accountable) involved telling me “to let it go”
This is great advice in moderation. You always have to know when to choose your battles. The problem is that when you experience oppression sometimes you don’t get to choose whether you fight or not. You just get to decide how much fight something is worth.
Which is why I filed a complaint against my abusive therapist. It’s going to be a long hard fight but it’s a fight that regardless of outcome is worth the battle.
Historically, I have survived by jumping from opportunity to opportunity but in my current situation, there was no way but forward. My therapist tried to cut me off socially and put me in a cage that I did not know how to get out of until I fired her.
Now I know my road forward is to get back to my PhD and working on an autoethnography (academic memoir) about how we still treat mad and disabled women tentatively titled “We still Hide Mad Women in the attic” (there will be a shameless plug for help with funding this and just surviving my PhD in general at the end).
This last year I was stuck and I was isolated and I survived this year not because I finally asked for help (that didn’t turn out so great) I survived because people reached out. People reached out just because they were concerned. The incomparable Alice Wong, who actually reached out to check on me the day I got my PTSD diagnosis. The people on social media who respected that I was pulling back from activism but who never let me lose those ties of friendship. Inside jokes save lives. And to the people who reached out because they too were going through their own brand of shit and decided to offer to help carry my load while I lightened theirs.
I was never truly completely isolated but that therapist took a lot of my choices away. She had financially bled me dry. Of course I had to come back to school, I can’t eat or pay rent without that student loan.
It really is only in hindsight that I am seeing the level to which she controlled my life both financially and socially.
The way forward is to focus on my complaint against her but also get back to learning about myself in healthier ways. I’ll probably need therapy again but for right now, I’m energized by working on my dissertation proposal and the journey from being a PhD student to a PhD Candidate so that I can get to the real work of my dissertation and telling my story.
So now for the very in depth appeal for support for mu PhD. Please read through there are so many ways to help, including just sharing this blog post on social media.
Kindle ebooks read on my iPad are the easiest way for me to read and take notes unfortunately Amazon does not allow people to buy ebooks for others through their wishlist system. I have an amazon wishlist anyway as some of the books can only be purchased in print or from third party sellers because they are out of print. If you could buy me one of the books that can only be had in print, I would greatly appreciate it. If you want to help fund the ebooks I’ll need you can buy me a gift card and send it to the following email address
The email is firstname.lastname@example.org
I will not be answering queries about my research through this email.
It is solely a way for people who want to support my work to be able to
do so. (this is a safety boundary). If you want to talk to me, find me
My research and supporting myself will get past the reading phase and
there will be field work in my future. If you would like to help me
fund my PhD in the long term you can
Thank you for your ongoing support. and just an FYI I’m changing my
name socially to Kimberley Jane Erin. You can call me Kim or Jane but I
prefer Jane. I am however, not the least uncomfortable with Kim so don’t
worry about messing up.
It’s time I really leaned into my identity as a scholar. I hope you’ll support me
Image Description: The cover of Nicola Griffith’s book “So Lucky”. The title and author’s name appear in a large font made to look like scraps of burning paper. They appear on a black background
When I was asked to write a review of Nicola Griffith’s upcoming novel “So Lucky” (to be released May 15) I had no idea that the most frustrating part of the process was going to be figuring out how to summarize the book without spoilers. I have ultimately decided to give up on that entirely and just copy and paste the summary of the book provided by the publisher. I will only preface this summary with the opinion that I think this summary is both misleading and does not do the book justice.
So Lucky is the sharp, surprising new novel by Nicola Griffith—the profoundly personal and emphatically political story of a confident woman forced to confront an unnerving new reality when in the space of a single week her wife leaves her and she is diagnosed with multiple sclerosis.
Mara Tagarelli is, professionally, the head of a multimillion-dollar AIDS foundation; personally, she is a committed martial artist. But her life has turned inside out like a sock. She can’t rely on family, her body is letting her down, and friends and colleagues are turning away—they treat her like a victim. She needs to break that narrative: build her own community, learn new strengths, and fight. But what do you do when you find out that the story you’ve been told, the story you’ve told yourself, is not true? How can you fight if you can’t trust your body? Who can you rely on if those around you don’t have your best interests at heart, and the systems designed to help do more harm than good? Mara makes a decision and acts, but her actions unleash monsters aimed squarely at the heart of her new community.
I went into reading this book knowing very little about it beyond the fact that the main character was dealing with the transition of becoming disabled as an adult. The main character, Mara gets a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis early on in the book. I also knew that the author, Nicola Griffith has multiple sclerosis. Griffith also co-hosts the #criplit Twitter chats with Alice Wong, founder of the Disability Visibility Project.
I genuinely think that the less you know about this book before reading it, the better. I also think that you should definitely read this book. It is a good story that is engagingly written. It also offers a great and realistic depiction of disability.
Any attempt to more clearly describe the book or even sections of it would inevitably lead to spoilers.
Now I fully admit that I don’t have MS. The closest I’ve ever come to experiencing MS is when a former coworker became convinced that my cerebral palsy was really MS and spent a week trying to convince me that I didn’t understand my own body. That said, there are a lot of moments in this book that deal with situations that are not diagnosis specific.
What I love most about this book is how real those moments of the disabled experience are. I loved reading about how Mara engages with her newfound disability and how she shifts how she interacts with the rest of the world. I love that she makes decisions that I disagree with. I love that she makes decisions that I wouldn’t because she considered an angle that I hadn’t. I love that she is a whole character with a real life.
Mara also offers a level of intersectionality that we rarely get to see in media representation of disability. She is a woman, she is queer, we get to see her navigate relationships, she isn’t desexualized, and she surrounds herself with a diverse group of friends and colleagues.
My only real criticism of the book is that the ending feels rushed. It’s a complete ending and all the loose ends are tied up but it just feels rushed. Basically, I finished it and wanted more.
The book is good and you should read it but I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge why this book is important to me. There have been so few opportunities in my life where I have been able to see myself in media. While, Mara and I are very different people with different disabilities, we still share common experiences. The way that Nicola Griffith navigates the nuances of disability feel more real than anything I’ve read by a nondisabled person. It is real and raw. Griffith doesn’t pull any punches just to seem more approachable for a nondisabled reader and even among what little fiction writing about disability by disabled writers there is, this is still a rarity.
I really hope that this will be the start of a trend and that there will be more books with unapologetically disabled characters that are written by people who really understand what that means.
So Lucky will be released on May 15, 2018 for more information on where and how you can purchase a copy click here.
How to support my work
I am currently fundraising to attend the International Disability Law Summer School. You can donate to that on GoFundMe
If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.
If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.
If you want to support my work but are unable to do so financially, please share this post on your various social media accounts.
Image Description: Text “BoycottToSiri” in white on a black background
Dear Judith Newman,
I have not read your book To Siri With Love and I frankly don’t intend to. I know this will frustrate some people, maybe even you but I don’t actually think it is relevant to the thing that I want to criticize. I have seen my fellow actually autistic people in pain from your book. I have read their critiques and there are things about your book that quite frankly are unlikely to be saved by added context. The transphobia that exists in the introduction to your book, that you wrote that you wanted the power to sterilize your son, the sexist and disrespectful way you referred to Amythest Schaber.
Yes, yes I know, you’ve since said that you no longer plan or intend to sterilize your son. The thing is it’s too late. You published that awful bigotted sentiment in a best selling book, you can’t take it back now. The damage of that awful statement is already done. Even if you remove it from subsequent editions, it’s still out there and that message will be stronger and longer lasting than any weak backpedalling you do now.
You claim that you apologized to Amythest but as far as I’ve seen you’ve at best made a fauxpology and at worst you’ve simply made excuses. You also still clearly don’t understand why what you did was wrong, so I will again try to explain it to you. There are two major issues.
You described Amythest as a manic pixie dream girl. This term describes a narrative device where a female character (usually quirky) exists entirely for the benefit and consumption of a straight male protagonist and the presumed straight male audience.
You did somewhat address this critique but I have yet to see an actual apology. You have so far only been sorry that your intent was not effectively conveyed. You say that you thought the term was just a more modern version of gamine (a word so obscure I admit I had to look it up). You were just trying to be down with the kids. This response shows that you didn’t understand the other part of why calling Amythest a manic pixie dream girl was inappropriate.
You shouldn’t have been describing Amythest at all. What does what Amythest looks like have to do with the YouTube videos you were citing? Nothing. Reducing Amythest to a physical descriptor regardless of the underlying meaning of the intended compliment was itself inappropriate. People did not need to know that you think Amythest is gamine (a girl with mischievous or boyish charm) to know those videos are full of great information.
The thing I really want to talk to you about though is your response to the backlash from actually autistic people. You brushed off those criticisms by saying that you did not write your book for us.
This is a big problem especially for someone who claims to be autism friendly. With this statement, you prove that autistic people are just props for you. You did not care about the impact of this book on us. You also hide behind stereotypes to deflect from criticisms.
Apparently, we can’t understand your book because you put jokes in it. I can’t speak for all of us but I assure you there are many autistic people who understand jokes. We also know when they are not funny or at our expense.
There is something so utterly isolating about being told that a book where autism is central to the narrative was never intended for autistic people. Are we not part of the population? Do we not read? Shouldn’t you have considered that we might read it? That we are hungry for good representation?
If you are as autism friendly as you claim, shouldn’t you care more about what we have to say? Did you consider getting a sensitivity reader before you published?
You did not write for us and because of that regardless of the content of your book, you promoted our continued marginalization.
You wrote about us without our input to be consumed by people who already think of us as other. By erasing us from your inteded audience you turned us into zoo exhibits.
You did not write for us and the only real reason for forgetting that any part of the population might be part of your audience is because you forgot or don’t acknowledge that we are.
I write this for you because you did not write for me and I want you never to forget that autistic people read your book anyway. autistic people had opinions on your book anyway and you did not listen. Worse than that you have tried to actively silence us.
You did not write for us. Well too fucking bad, we remember that we human even if you and Harper Collins forgot. We’ll read whatever we want and protest when it hurts us. Rave reviews from Jon Stewart be damned.
I write this to you to remind you that regardless of your intent you have caused harm and your response to that has been erasure.
I write this also for anyone who thinks they can write about a marginalized group to which they do not belong and deflect backlash with “well I didn’t write it for you” as though that erases the harm instead of increasing it tenfold.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but silencincing autistic voices hurts far more than me.
Kim Sauder (Actually Autistic)
How to support my work and give money to an actually autistic person who does not have a book deal with Harper Collins
If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider becoming a patron on patreon.
If you can’t commit to a monthly contribution consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Contributions help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.
If you want to support my work but are unable to do so financially, please share this post on your various social media accounts
“For some reason, Netflix has classed all of this as a dramedy. The thing is it actually has the basic structure of what could have been a pretty good gritty drama. The show presents Sam and his actions as inherent and unavoidable because he is autistic.And sure there are autistic men who display the same degree of entitlement and sexism. The thing is that this is learned behaviour. So I have tried to reimagine Atypical as if it actually dealt accurately and honestly with what is going on.”
“Netflix did not confirm whether there were concerted efforts to include autistic writers, creatives, or actors in any large roles. Onscreen representation isn’t the same as behind-the-scenes representation, especially if that camera-facing depiction is flawed.”
“On one occasion, when he is about to lose his virginity, he has a freak-out in which he punches a girl as she takes her shirt off. Another time, when trying to seduce his own therapist (ick), he breaks into her house by sneaking into an open window. Elsewhere, he humiliates his girlfriend by proclaiming that he doesn’t love her in front of her entire family.
These aren’t classic signs of autism — they’re violent, creepy, cruel and make the autistic character seem like a monster. When the show then shifts gears to make us feel sorry for Sam, the characterization becomes more offensive. Arguing that those with neurological conditions shouldn’t be held accountable for hurting others is as patronizing as it is socially irresponsible.”
Sarah Luterman has done episode synopses of all eight Atypical Episodes on the website NOS Magazine
“Sam then points out that his therapist’s bra strap is showing, and it’s purple. For some bizarre reason, Julia doesn’t tell him that this is an inappropriate thing to do. The scene caps off with Julia asking if Sam would like to donate his brain for research purposes. What kind of research? Apparently that isn’t important. She then reassures him that she means she would like his brain after he dies.”
“As Sam narrates how roosters attract hens for mating by putting on a display, we get a flash of Sam’s mother, Elsa, in the bar, seriously considering infidelity. We get more Discovery Channel narration from Sam as his sister waves to the boy she’s interested in. He’s come to watch her track practice. This is dehumanizing. And it’s not just Sam doing the dehumanizing. It’s the show’s writers, making deliberate choices to juxtapose Sam’s discussion of animal mating with human women.”
“In the kitchen, Sam narrates to himself about how humans can’t be perfect because we’re not machines, thereby checking off yet another square for autism stereotype bingo. Some on Twitter have suggested that I create an autism stereotype drinking game for Atypical, but I don’t want to be responsible for any deaths from alcohol poisoning.”
“A core part of the family dynamic on Atypical is that somehow, Sam’s autism makes everyone around him’s life worse. How, exactly, is unclear. It seems that the mere fact of Sam’s autism negatively impacts everyone around him to a degree where any and all terrible behavior is excused and justified. It’s a completely toxic dynamic. It’s not funny. It’s not even sympathetic. It’s horrifying. I feel sorry for Sam. He’s not the only one who is poorly written and hollow. The people around him are too.”
“After six episodes of a show ostensibly about autism with dozens of characters, an actually autistic actor, Anthony Jacques, has a bit part as Christopher, another autistic teenage boy. Apparently he originally auditioned to play Sam but didn’t get the part. Robia Rashid, the creator of the show, claims that instead, they hired the “best” actor for the role. The scene Christopher and Sam have together make the artificiality of Keir Gilchrist’s autism act even more obvious than usual. Admittedly, I don’t think that an autistic actor always has to play an autistic character. But in this instance, it would have lent authenticity and subtlety that Atypical completely lacks.”
“Doug takes Sam to Olive Garden to “case the joint.” This means Sam is exploring the space and the menu before his big dinner with Paige’s family. For once, I actually find Sam relatable, although his continued preference to ask people questions while making eye contact instead of just Googling the answers continues to be strange.”
“Treating women like sex objects is not a natural extension of autism. Limiting how often someone is allowed to talk about what they love is abuse, not a real relationship. Autistic women, autistic people of color, queer autistic people and transgender autistic people exist. Autism doesn’t cause families to fall apart. It isn’t even true that families with autistic children have higher divorce rates than the general population. The fact that Netflix could release something like Atypical and run a campaign like #FirstTimeISawMe at the same time shows that Netflix completely fails to understand what disability even is to the people who live it.”
“The most annoying thing about the responses by Doctor Christian Jessen, a qualified medical professional in general medicine, infectious disease, travel medicine, and sexual health, is that it’s assumed by non-autistics―or allistics―that all medical professionals are experts on mental illnesses, diseases, developmental disorders, neurological conditions, and disability in general. I’m very sorry to inform all of you but you’re wrong. The only experts of a condition, illness, or disability are those who live with it or those who study it extensively and listen to those who have whatever it is they research.”
“Hey everyone, you should totally watch Atypical it’s super informative about autism except for the pathologizing of misogyny, the uncritical look at the cult of compliance, the portrayal of autistic people as one dimensional more uncritical takes on using disabled family members as props for personal gain, serious misrepresentation of effective therapy and interventions but yeah, you should totally watch it anyway”
Let me know in the comments if I missed anything.
If you liked this post and want to support my continued writing please consider buying me a metaphorical coffee (or two or more). Donations help me keep this blog going and support my ongoing efforts to obtain a PhD.