Born in the Wrong Decade Part 3: The Naked Emperor

In the first and second installments of this series, I talked about the perverse level of awareness I had by the age of nine as to how different I was, particularly as it pertained to my focused interest in Back to the Future, and the pathologizing word "obsession" that was often associated with it. These posts illustrated that I was born in the wrong decade because of the lack of acceptance of brains that operate differently; even I didn't accept my own brain, and I made fitful and fruitless attempts to change it and hide my focused interests, which felt "wrong". Had I been born in the 21st century, I would have been spared this self-criticism, as well as criticism from the adults in my life. But what about my own differences that I didn't try to hide, ones that I continually asserted that I shouldn't have to hide? 

Let's segue a little bit: As a rabid fan of the Back to the Future series growing up, I eagerly anticipated the arrival of the 21st century, imagining a world of hoverboards, flying cars, and other advanced technology. Deep down, I didn't believe these particular things would be invented, but I anticipated some incredible technology that I couldn't wait to see. I wasn't disappointed; the me of the 1990s would have been thrilled to learn about the technological innovations of the 21st century, and the me of today is thrilled to witness it. But I don't associate the 21st century with advanced technology as much as I do with something else: a more open and accepting society, one in which people are owning up to their mental quirks that the social sin of thoughtcrime would have silenced them about in the 1990s and earlier. And, in contrast to my "thoughtcrime" about focused interests that I tried to hide, this "thoughtcrime" was something I didn't shut up about-- the thoughtcrime of rejecting the concept of expected gender norms.

As a gender-nonconforming girl in the '90s-- a tomboy, as was the common parlance-- I was expected by many of the adults in my life to be going through a "phase" that I would have to outgrow. Many movies of the era seemed to reflect this expectation: a 12-year-old tomboy gets her first crush on a boy, and by the end of the movie she looks, dresses, and acts more feminine; her sudden conformity a symbol of her maturity. Although I didn't question my mother's condemnation of the concept of "obsession", I vehemently questioned the orthodoxy of the concept of "tomboy" being a characteristic that I was expected to leave behind with the onset of adolescence. I also didn't understand why people even cared: I wasn't hurting anybody; why on earth should it matter to them if I dressed and acted more traditionally masculine than other girls? Sometimes my mother would comment that if I dressed and wore my hair a certain way, people wouldn't be able to tell if I was a boy or a girl. At least once, I said, "So the problem is people won't know what's in my pants? Why is it anybody's business? So they know if they can potentially reproduce with me?" And no, this isn't me retrospectively analyzing the situation as an adult. I was thinking and saying stuff like this by the time I was seventeen. Around then, I also said it shouldn't matter if a boy wants to wear a dress, which was seen as even more radical than the idea of a girl being a tomboy past the age of twelve. And, of course, all of these things that I said were dismissed by adults as the whims of a young, idealistic teenager, one who just didn't understand at all how the world worked. 

But guess what? I was just stating the obvious, that the emperor was naked.

Born in the wrong decade indeed! All these things I was vocal about and that fell largely on deaf ears are now talking points on the mainstream left, particularly as they pertain to transgender and nonbinary people. To suggest among your fellow liberals that being a tomboy at fifteen is a sign of "immaturity" won't go over very well today. Saying that your daughter should wear certain clothes so that people know that she's a girl? You would be laughed out of the room, after being told to get into the habit of asking people-- at the very least when you're not sure what gender they're presenting-- "What are your pronouns?" with the understanding that "they/them" could possibly be the correct answer to that question. 

After years of being told that, no, the emperor was not naked, and that I was the only one who thought that he was, more and more people are admitting that they, too, knew what they saw, but feared they were the only ones and so did not come forward about it. Today, hundreds of thousands-- if not millions-- of people are declaring the emperor naked, and others in their lives have to accept that, yes, he is. He's stark naked, and his nudity can be understood in many ways. It can be understood in the sense that you are someone who has weird focused interests-- or focused interests of any kind. It can be understood in the sense that you are gay, bisexual, transgender or gender nonconforming, or nonbinary. It can be understood in all of the above, or any other form of nonconformity. A lot more people than you realize always understood this.

Welcome to the 21st century. It's great to be here.

The emperor is naked.

Born in the Wrong Decade Part 2: Thoughtcrime

In the previous installment of this series, I talked about how by the age of nine I realized just how different my internal experiences were from the people around me. This was crystalized in my mind when Back to the Future became a focused interest and I felt a strong sense of shame and "wrongness" from the intensity of it. As my childhood continued, I developed focused interests in other movies and television shows, such as The Simpsons and The Addams Family. The shame gradually became less intense as I became more familiar with this pattern, but it was still there. Whenever a new focused interest grabbed my attention, I felt an impending sense of dread-- dread that I was becoming obsessed with something. 

I was aware of the term "obsession" by the time I was eleven, and I even recall how I learned it. My mother had made a passing comment about someone being "obsessed" with something. When I asked her what it meant, she said, "It means it's all the person thinks about or talks about." The negative subtext inherent in her explanation was clear: what could possibly be acceptable about someone thinking about and talking about only one thing? Growing up, I questioned a lot of the common wisdom inherent in society-- such as that it's somehow worse when a girl tells a dirty joke than when a boy does-- but for some reason I did not question the idea that "obsession" was a bad thing. Perhaps if I hadn't already felt a sense of shame before others began commenting on my propensity to hyperfocus on certain movies and television shows, I would have questioned it.

In an assignment for my English class during my Freshman year of college, I wrote about the overwhelm of emotions I felt the day after my introduction to the Back to the Future films at age nine, the urgent feeling of wanting to watch them again so badly. It was my first time writing about this moment in my past, which I looked back on with a lot of self-criticism: liberally using the word "obsession," which I described as "ludicrous." I wrote about my brother growing tired of my watching the films so often, and the undertone in my piece clearly implied that I had been responsible for his irritated reaction. Not once did it occur to me that if he was so put off by my viewing habits he could have just left the room instead of making it about me. I accepted that I was the Problem, and my obsession was the root. When I wrote this essay in 1999, I believed that I had overcome this "Problem". After all, if I hadn't, it meant I was immature, out of control, and perhaps even, somehow, unethical. Only recently has it occurred to me that it was fair to describe my brother's reaction as "immature"-- after all, he was a child, too.

The real Problem is that inherent in everything I describe is a lot of question begging: that is, I began with the conclusion that what other people called "obsession" was wrong and that it was something I needed to learn not to do, that it somehow violated them in an egregious manner. If someone told me I was "obsessed" with something, it meant I had failed in some way and I had to figure out how to fix the Problem. It honestly occurred to me only a few years ago that I was looking at this through the wrong end of the telescope. Ironically, it was because of a conversation I had with my mother, who has evolved in her thinking over the years, especially in light of how autism and its quirks are understood in the more-enlightened 21st century. She admitted that it simply took her a long time to understand my internal experience as a fan geek, and that there is nothing wrong with enjoying something with such an intense focus. While it is, of course, important to be mindful about whether the other person you are talking to is interested in the topic, that is a completely different issue than whether it is "wrong" for someone to be hyperfocused on something. More recently, I have realized that the only thing I was guilty of was the social "sin" of thoughtcrime. It is now clear to me just how pervasive societal shaming of "thoughtcrime" is.

Take being LGBTQIA+, for example. Up until very recently LGBTQIA+ people were expected by an overwhelming majority of society to hide their thoughts about same-sex attraction, feeling like they were a different gender than what the world perceived them as, and even a lack of interest in dating and sex. Yes, thoughts that people didn't have, or at least had less frequently than most of the world, were something to be hidden. This type of "thoughtcrime" can at least easily be explained by the fundamentalist Christian-based attitude that has shaped many parts of the world, including the United States, for centuries: any sex act other than the missionary position between one cis man and one cis woman is a sin against God. 

But what, then, of other "thoughtcrime," such as a focused interest on a movie? I think what it comes down to is people being unable to acknowledge their own discomfort around something they don't understand, even if it is not rooted in a social taboo such as non-hetero-cis-normative sexuality or gender identity. A lot of autistic fan geeks know this and, like me, have expressed frustration about people angrily telling them, "You're obsessed with that!" Additionally, I have observed a lot of quirks in other fan geeks (many of which I suspect are on the spectrum) that I don't understand, and I realize I need to be okay with not understanding. 

For example, a lot of fan fiction writers create stories where the main focus is graphic sex acts between their favorite characters. One popular "shipping"-- as such relationship-creating for these characters is called-- is Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. I don't have an issue with someone writing about one or both of these characters coming out as gay, but why would they want to pair characters that hate each other? Why on earth is scene after scene of graphic sex the focus of these stories? A friend of mine, a fellow Back to the Future fan-- who is, incidentally, a phenomenal writer-- wrote a graphic story about Marty and Doc going at it (thankfully, Marty was written to be eighteen, the age of consent). I told this person, "I just read it. That was HILARIOUS!" and they said, "It wasn't meant to be funny." Well, I don't get it, and that's okay.

I don't know why so many fan fiction writers focus on stuff like this, and out of curiosity, I asked my friend about it. My friend said that they aren't "getting off" on it, but rather it's some type of "curiosity" for them, like they're watching to see where the scene will go. I suspect that other people actually are "getting off" on it, but I guess everyone is different. With the exception of a few sporadic and unremarkable attempts to write "how-Marty-met-Doc" origin stories, I don't write fan fiction. But even if I did, I can't imagine a time or a place where I would have written something like this. I've also come to realize that if I'm uncomfortable with others writing it, that's my problem. To make it about them is akin to policing thoughtcrime. Why do so many fan fiction writers create stuff like this? Does it matter? As long as they're not, say, stalking the actors who portrayed the characters, they're not hurting anybody. 

I guess what I've learned over the years is that people are just weirder and more complicated than we've historically acknowledged. More people are opening up about their quirks, essentially declaring that the emperor is naked. 

And the emperor IS naked.

Born in the Wrong Decade Part 1: Tears of a Baby Fan Geek

I have long told people that I was born in the wrong decade. 

I'd even go so far as to say the wrong century because, ideally, I wouldn't have been born any earlier than 2005.

Unfortunately, I was born in 1980, and the final two decades of my native century were not a welcoming era for autistic people, who were largely unidentified.

The world has come a long way since then, and the 21st century is far more enlightened. Today, autistic children of a variety of presentations are routinely identified, and adults who spent years thinking that they were "defective" are also able to find answers. I am one of those adults, diagnosed in spring of 2003 at age twenty-two.

I always knew there was something different about me, and between being a little kid and being a little kid in the 1980s, I didn't have the vocabulary or even the point of reference to describe what was somehow also excruciatingly clear. I constantly found myself feeling like I didn't belong, realizing that not only did people perceive me as "different" but also that my internal experiences diverged vastly from that of my family, my (few) friends, and my peers.

I began to realize with greater clarity just how unusual my internal experiences were when I was nine years old and saw the first two Back to the Future films for the first time, just after Back to the Future Part II was released. I saw both movies on the same day, and I was immediately hooked; it became my "focused interest"*. I was extremely fascinated with the idea of time travel, with the hoverboards in Part II, and with the wonderfully bizarre character of Doc Brown. Throughout my childhood, I had gotten very single-minded about other movies and television shows, so this was nothing new. But for some reason, my focus on Back to the Future was more intense than any I had ever experienced before. I recall the day after seeing the first two movies in the series that I wanted to watch them both again so badly that it practically hurt. It also saddened me somewhat that I would have to wait several months for Back to the Future Part II's release on video as well as the theatrical release of the already-promised Part III, a trailer for which was teased at the end of Part II. Although I was only nine, I knew that what I was experiencing was strange. I was aware that my parents and brother were no longer thinking about these movies and the fact that I was, let alone so intensely, was odd. It didn't take long before I began to feel like there was something wrong with me, and I quickly grew self-conscious about this unknown weird thing that was going on in my head. 

My self-consciousness about my focus on Back to the Future reached the point that I would break out into a sweat if I overheard someone talking about it. I was acutely aware, too, that this physiological reaction was abnormal. To this day, I don't know why it happened. When I tell people about this, I often end up saying, "I can't even explain it; it's like trying to describe what the 5th dimension looks like." However, my suspicion is that I felt like I had been "found out," for lack of a better way of putting it. The more this internal turmoil unfolded, the more I felt like I was harboring a shameful secret that I shouldn't reveal to anybody. I hate the word "obsession," but even then I didn't at least have that word to describe what I was feeling.

My self-consciousness about this Weird Thing in My Head reached a point where I was waging war against my own brain: One part of my brain "wanted" to think about, talk about -- and watch-- Back to the Future all the time, but another part of my brain said, "No, this isn't right. You need to hide this." Back then I managed to rarely bring it up in conversation, probably because my self-consciousness stopped me from doing so (This would sound strange to people who know me today, as I have since mostly stopped caring what people think, and talk openly about whatever interests me-- Back to the Future or otherwise-- no matter how intense the focused interest is.**). I ultimately made a compromise with the two conflicting parts of my brain: I would only watch movies in the Back to the Future series every three months. In my nine-year-old mind, that was infrequent enough not to arouse suspicion of my family, lest they think there was something wrong with me. Of course, three-month intervals seemed a lot longer to me than to other people, and my older brother had no problem drawing attention to this reality when walking in on me watching the films: "This again?" he'd quip with a pronounced roll of his eyes. 

After Back to the Future Part III at last arrived in theaters, I was once again in the position of having to wait several months for it to come out on video. The eventual video release was, unfortunately, on the weekend of the Bar Mitzvah of the son of a family friend. I recall asking my mother if we could rent the movie after the Bar Mitzvah. "We'll see," she had said. At the service and the party that followed, it was all I could think about. Once again, I was engaged in warfare with dueling mindsets: the one that wanted so badly to watch this movie again, and the one that was aware that I was at an important event and that wanting to leave was inappropriate. During the party, I asked Mom if we were going back to the house of the Bar Mitzvah boy's family. I felt that it was wrong to want to leave just to watch a movie, so when I repeatedly asked my mom if we were going back to the family's house-- we hadn't decided yet-- I made it sound like I wanted to go. I think part of me also wanted to convince myself that this was true. I also recall repeatedly finding one of my parents and asking what time it was so that I could have an idea of how long it would be until I could finally watch Back to the Future Part III again; I normally wore a watch, but as it was a digital sports watch, it was deemed too casual for this event.  

We did end up going back to the family's house after the Bar Mitzvah party. I was acutely aware of the passing time, knowing that the video store could close before we got home. I suppose by then I had surrendered to the whims of the part of my brain that I tried unsuccessfully to silence, because I told my parents I needed to get home and do my Sunday School homework for the next day. It wasn't entirely a lie; it wasn't done, but I rarely did my Sunday School homework anyway. My intent, of course, was to be able to go home and rent Back to the Future Part III. I think at some point one of my parents commented that I should have thought about that during the week. Eventually, I was frustrated that my ploy didn't work and wracked with guilt for lying to them-- I was also wracked with guilt about my hyperfocus. I've always hated lying, and I realized that I needed to confess my true motives. Following my mother upstairs (I have no recollection of why she was going up there), I told her the truth. She made a noise of disgust. Already ashamed of myself, I wasn't sure how to react, so I said, "You're angry?", but in a tone that made the question sound more like a statement. The next two seconds, where I looked aimlessly around the room, seemed much longer. Finally, she broke the awkward silence and said, "I'm disappointed. I can't believe you would give up someone's good time just for a movie." I was already self-conscious about my hyperfocus on Back to the Future, and hearing the disapproval from my own mother further cemented the idea in my head that it was wrong.

Keep in mind that I was nine and ten years old when I was going through all of this. Was my focus on Back to the Future a bit extreme? Sure. Was it out of the realm of some of the weird things kids do? Not if they're autistic. But I think the level of self-awareness and self-consciousness I felt about it-- especially to the point of the mental warfare and guilt coursing through my mind-- is unusual for a kid that age. I had absolutely no point of reference for what was going on, and, as all of this happened between 1989 and 1990, neither did my parents. Had I grown up in the 21st century, I could have avoided this inner turmoil, these feelings of having committed some protracted abstract thoughtcrime. In terms of the situation at the Bar Mitzvah, a parent raising an identified autistic kid today would have responded to my confession with something like, "I understand that you're disappointed. But you will watch the movie again. You just have to be patient. Let's make a family movie night of it next week and we'll all watch it together," rather than reprimanding me for something that, unbeknownst to my mother, I was trying in vain to control. A parent today might even say to the kid, "I know it's hard to wait, and I know that this gathering here might be overwhelming for you. Why don't you go off in another room and draw the characters, or write a story about them? Won't that be a fun thing to do before you can see the movie again?"

I would also like to point out that I think my mother might have been reacting to my confession with some level of unconscious bias. How many times do ten-year-old boys-- ten year old neurotypical boys-- complain about how boring some event is that their parents dragged them to and say they want to go home and play video games? I think that people expect girls, even little girls, to be sensitive to the needs of others in social situations. I feel like things such as focused interests typical of autistic people are largely more tolerated in boys, just as are social imperfections. It is true now, and it certainly was truer back then.

What it really comes down to is that I was an undiagnosed autistic who, like a lot of kids on the spectrum-- especially girls-- was in the process of growing up to be a fan geek. Just so there's no confusion, my distress over my focused interest in Back to the Future wasn't caused by the interest itself, or even its intensity, but rather by my own perception that it was wrong, which was compounded by people's reactions to me. Unfortunately, to this day I still am occasionally at the receiving end of aggressive and dismissive accusations to the tune of, "Julie, you're obsessed with that!", and my childhood self-consciousness resurfaces. Some people in my generation still don't yet understand the reality of what it is to be autistic and thus react with 20th century sensibilities.

I was truly born in the wrong decade, the wrong century. Even being born in 1990 instead of 1980 would've been an improvement in terms of the kind of childhood I would've had, but what a universe of difference it would've been had I been born in or around 2005. Experiences like mine are no longer unheard of, and are less frequently ones that people believe they have to feel shame about. In fact, thanks to the Internet, highly-focused autistic fan geeks regularly find each other online and have in-depth discussions about their favorite books, movies, and television shows. They post fan art, write fan fiction, and intensely debate how to interpret certain scenes of their favorite stories. Had I grown up in this more enlightened and open era, I would've been spared accusations-- from others and from my own tormented brain-- of what amounts to the absurd social sin of "thoughtcrime."

"Thoughtcrime" will be the subject of the next post in this series.

*I find the oft-used term, "special interest" for the subjects of intense focus of autistic people to be patronizing and infantilizing. I also abhor the word "obsession." I would like to propose the term "focused interest" as an alternative to both of these.

**Yes, I realize that I should be mindful about whether the other person is interested in talking about any of my focused interests, and if the person tells me that they aren't interested, I'm happy to change the subject.

SEX! Now That I Have Your Attention, Read this Blog Post!

If you've landed here because of the word "sex", I'm sorry to disappoint that this is not a blog post meant to titillate you. But hey, the title got your attention, right? And that's exactly the point. Sex is something that is so heavily ingrained in our society, penetrating both the conscious and unconscious bits of our brains. In fact, that is the point of this long blog post: it is a huge part of everybody's lives. 

Well, almost everybody's. Believe it or not, there are exceptions to the rule.

Only in the past ten years (or less, perhaps) has society begun to accept the notion of life being on a spectrum. There's the autism spectrum, of course, which this blog was created to address. Even more recently-- I think in 2007 specifically-- did we begin to learn that gender exists on a spectrum, well beyond the binary that humankind has believed it to be (in most cultures) for thousands of years. I identify as a tomboy, somewhere in the middle of that gender spectrum. And finally, sex is found to exist on a spectrum, and I don't mean the gay-straight spectrum (though that is another spectrum that is becoming more accepted). It's a spectrum that includes being very sexually inclined at one end to being asexual at the other end.

The funny thing is that many of the same liberal, open-minded people who accept the autism spectrum, the sexual orientation spectrum, and even the gender spectrum-- one of the most difficult ideas for people to accept-- have an enormously difficult time accepting the sexual/asexual spectrum. Some people-- including professionals-- don't accept that it's a spectrum, believing that it's unthinkable that anybody could not have an interest in sex or at least a reduced interest in sex unless they have been abused in some way or unless there is something psychologically wrong with them. Sometime in the past decade, many people have been coming out as asexual. Yes, that's right. These are people who have no interest in sex. Some of them are interested in romantic relationships without sex, but some are not even interested in romantic relationships.

Then there are the demisexuals, who are in the middle of the spectrum. They're not sexual in the conventional sense, nor are they asexual (however, some people consider demisexuality to be a subset of asexuality). What is demisexuality? Well, before I define it, let's look at how most people experience romantic infatuation. First, a woman (or a gay man) might see a man and find him attractive. "Hey, that guy is cute. I'm going to go over and say hello". They say hello. The man might be interested in the woman (or the other man) because he finds her (or him) attractive. They know nothing about each other, but they continue to talk, trying to get to know each other as lust intensifies and tension builds. Depending on their inclinations and personal beliefs, they might have sex that very night. Or they might date first and have sex a few days, weeks, or months later. If infatuation usually didn't work out that way, many of us would not have been born.

Demisexuals experience infatuation in the exact opposite way, the way that I experience it: I am a demisexual. First I meet a guy and start talking to him as a friend. Nothing else is on my mind except that we're just talking, getting to know each other as friends. After I start to get to know the guy, I might find something attractive in his personality and then develop a crush. Only after I become infatuated with the guy as a person do thoughts of, "Wow, he's really cute!" enter my mind. And only sometime after that do the lustful thoughts finally surface. For this reason, online dating would never work for me.

For years I had chalked up my experiences to part of having Asperger's Syndrome, but only a few months ago did I learn that there was a term for my sexual orientation: demisexual. I have only experienced eight crushes (the last was in 2008), and only one reciprocated, back when I was 18. We did not "officially" date, let alone have sex: he was from Germany and only in the U.S. temporarily. We were friends with (limited) benefits, meaning we "fooled around" a little and that was it. I wasn't ready for sex at the time, and he didn't push me. If we had met more recently (I'm 33), I might have felt differently.

Last week I was at a Boston-area Meetup for people who identify as asexual and demisexual. Some of these people have had sex, some haven't yet, and some never will. One guy there had Asperger's Syndrome (many people with AS are asexual or demisexual), and another was a transgender man. The group was a nice blend of people, some representing more than one spectrum. We all found it cathartic to talk about our experiences: we all grew up wondering why everybody was always obsessed with getting dates and getting laid and why our parents-- sorry, our mothers-- were so worried about us. 

All of us had eerily similar stories about invasive questions our mothers had asked us. For example, when I was fourteen, my favorite actor was Alan Arkin and I was obsessed with some of his movies. Oh, so of course I must have had a crush on the then-sixty-year-old man. At least in my mother's perception. One night we rented Catch-22. My mother said, "We're going to watch Catch-22 with Alan Arkin-- sexy Alan Arkin." Then my mother suddenly asked, "Julie, what traits do you find attractive in boys?" Years later, when I told Dad this story, he told me, "You should have said 'Mom, you have the subtlety of a hand grenade.'" Other awkward, hand grenade-subtlety questions and comments from Mom included, "Look at [insert male celebrity's name here]. He's so cute. Don't you think?"; "Have you ever had a crush? Are you sure you haven't?" which later became "Have you ever had a crush? Are you sure you have?"; and "Are you sure you're not gay?". These questions made me feel worse, like there was something wrong with me. Others in the group felt the same way.

All of us in the group had one very specific experience in common: Growing up we were very uncomfortable with the topic of sex. It has been my experience that kids on the autism spectrum (and, according to psychologist Tony Attwood), girls especially are very uncomfortable with the topic of sex. These asexual/demisexual people, on the autism spectrum or not, had also been very uncomfortable (we eventually got over it). None of us could articulate why. But I have two ideas: 

1) Parents of kids with Asperger's sometimes get very uncomfortable with the things their children are obsessed with. My mother was very uncomfortable with my obsession with The Addams Family movie when I was 11-12. This was because she didn't understand why. Isn't it natural that people for whom sex is not on their radar, if at all, feel uncomfortable that the whole world seems to be obsessed with sex? 

When our mothers had tried to figure us out, they only made things worse. Universally, our mothers told us what a beautiful thing sex is between two people who loved each other. All of us had had the same reaction: "I don't feel the same way, but I'm expected to. And Mom is practically demanding I feel this way. There must be something wrong with me. And I must be narrow-minded for not feeling this way!"

2) For girls specifically, I think the pervasive objectification of women in movies does not help. In movies, sex is often depicted as a service that women give to men. And often women in movies are love/sexual interests first, characters second. I don't believe in censorship, but I think this aspect of movies is an important issue to discuss (perhaps in another blog post) and how it affects girls with Asperger's in particular. I think as a kid I must have thought on some level that I was supposed to eventually be like these women. It's harder as a kid with Asperger's to sort out these messages. 

At the Meetup, all of us recounted dealing with misunderstandings about asexuality/demisexuality in our adult lives. The women, myself included, were tired of going to their OB/GYNs and having to explain, "No, I'm not repressed; no, I wasn't abused; no I'm not religious; it just hasn't happened yet and I'm not losing any sleep over it." Likewise, we women also expressed frustration at the inevitable, patronizing response to this comment: "Oh, that's wonderful! You're waiting for the right person," as if our not-having-yet-been-laid status is due to discipline rather than a different set of inclinations. It's like praising a skinny person for being disciplined when the reality is that she may just not be as interested in food, not because she is a hardcore athlete.

And no, we're not afraid of sex, nor are we narrow-minded about it. Narrow-minded is an educator at the LGBTQ center in Manhattan telling me that I must have some "issue" because I can count on my fingers the number of crushes I've had.

Oh, and another misunderstanding is that we have some moral agenda. No, we are just differently inclined. We respect the inclinations of others as long as consenting adults are involved. We are sex-positive people who are just not as into sex as most others.

The Memory That Won't Let Go

It has become almost cliché to say that people with Asperger's Syndrome have a difficult time "letting things go." In fact, I've heard "Jeez, Julie, let it go!" more times than I prefer to count. I've been working on that over the years. I usually end up doing self-talk: "Okay, is this really worth obsessing about?" or "What are you going to accomplish by continuing to replay that incident in your head?" What works the best for me is engaging in vigorous exercise, like running or swimming. The activity is a distraction, and for some reason it helps me think things through more rationally. Maybe it's the endorphin release.

But there is one memory that I have a difficult time letting go of. Rather, it won't let go of me. In 1999, I moved to New York City from my hometown in Pennsylvania to go to art school to study animation. During my second year, I had an animation teacher, Doug (not his real name) who I ultimately developed a crush on. It was some bizarre perfect storm between a childish "hero worship" and, well, a crush. Eighteen years my senior (unusual for me-- I have never before or since then had a crush on someone that much older), he was an excellent teacher, and was intelligent and funny. I was aware that having a crush on him could ultimately lead to a frustrating obsession, and I was determined to handle this one well. I knew that Doug was married and (as far as I knew), monogamous. Besides, I didn't think for a second that he was interested in me. The first two months went well. Doug initially seemed nice, but by the middle of my third year, he was constantly snapping at me and even telling me that I was wasting his time and had no talent. 

I felt confused. Surely Doug didn't really mean these things, did he? And, hell, perhaps I should have been understanding that I was probably making him uncomfortable. The self-blame came from past experiences of inadvertently scaring off guys I had crushes on who figured out how obsessed with them I was. I accepted that what was happening was my fault, and if only I did better animation and behaved better, Doug would accept and like me. Everyone else seemed to like him, so I was certain I was the problem. Aside from that, I had already put so much energy into my crush that I could not-- no, would not-- see very clearly that Doug was just a nasty person. What I failed to acknowledge was that while the guys I had crushes on in the past sometimes snapped at me, they almost always apologized later and tried to be friendly. Doug didn't even try. In fact, his behavior towards me became nastier and nastier.

By the end of my fourth year, Doug was unpleasant and vicious to me on a regular basis. He never wasted a moment in favoring me with a scathing remark: in response to a conversation with someone else that didn't involve him, in class if my animation wasn't up to his standards, and even on the school's animation listserv. Every time I commented on something on the listserv, he would make a nasty, bitingly personal comment. Once he even said something like, "I hope certain people get hit by a crosstown bus." 

By the time I graduated, I was a wreck, and my self-esteem was destroyed (fortunately, I have since regained it, but that's another long story). This man whom I respected and adored hated me, and I couldn't accept it. Doug had even lied to try to keep me out of a class, saying that it was full when I knew damn well it wasn't. He was a remarkably good liar, able to make the most outrageous lies look like the truth and make the truth look like an outrageous lie. I ultimately got into the class, but only because I all but twisted his arm, so to speak. Deep down, I knew exactly what I was looking at: a vicious person. But I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge it. It was just easier for me to believe that I was the problem. Sometimes believing in nonsense is easier than accepting the reality, swallowing the red pill.

If there was something that should have brought me to my senses, it was Doug's arrest in fall 2004, about a year and a half after I graduated. Yes, that's right. Doug was arrested. He was caught in an undercover FBI sex sting for trying to solicit sex online from someone he believed to be a thirteen-year-old girl. My immediate reaction-- and the one I should have stuck with-- was, "I hate him." But, again, I couldn't swallow the red pill. I tried but then puked it up. I felt bad for Doug, making myself think things like, "Oh, he's just complicated" and, "Oh, he just has a problem and needs help." So what did I do? I wrote him a letter. It said something to the effect of that I was sorry about what happened and that we all make mistakes. 

For another year and a half, I continued to trumpet my support for Doug and that what he really needed was help, not prison (he ended up being incarcerated for 4 1/2 years). In the summer of 2006, however, I reached an epiphany (another long story). I finally acknowledged that Doug was a horrible person, and that he was possibly even a sociopath. His arrest did not reflect a brief lapse of judgement on his part. He knew what he was doing. It made sense in light of the way he had treated me: in both cases, he preyed on someone he perceived to be insecure and vulnerable. I have met many nasty people in my life, but Doug has to be the worst human being I have ever known. After Doug's arrest, I was proud of myself for being able to see the situation as "complicated", but now I'm just embarrassed. 

Now to the heart of this post. Why won't this memory let me go? Because every time I see someone do something unethical, my mind goes there, goes back to Doug. My reflexive thought is, "Is s/he another Doug? Is s/he harboring dark secrets?" I talked about it tonight with my therapist. It is a very traumatic memory that I need to work through. My friend from art school, Flora (not her real name), tells me that she actually struggles with the same thing. She doesn't even have Asperger's Syndrome. But I think that just speaks to the kind of person Doug was. And that is the kind of bizarre, horrible memory that could hijack anybody's brain. 

I'm Not Asexual, but...

A bit over a month ago, someone who I do not know well expressed interest in the book about Asperger's that I'm trying to get published, so I sent it to him to read. After reading about half of it, he gave me a little feedback and commented on my being asexual. I explained to him that I am not asexual, that I'd been attracted to people before but just hadn't been in a relationship. He said from reading my book that he knew I'd had "crushes" on people, but that there didn't seem to be very lustful (to clarify, he was simply commenting on it and did not mean it as a criticism). 

Well, it's true. Any crush I have ever had has not been very lustful, at least not lustful in the way most people experience them. Let me explain:

First, let me say that online dating would never work for me. Why? Most people look at a profile, see that the person has similar interests and think, "Hey, this is a possibility." But usually they first feel something from looking at that person's picture. "Wow, he's hot!" or "Wow, she's sexy!" And then they  look at the interests. And then they get together for a date (and possibly sex as well). And then it may or may not work out. In other words, lust comes first, then feelings about the person as a person come next. For me, it's the complete opposite. 

Whenever I've felt attracted to a guy, it has always happened after having a few in-depth conversations with him. After I realize he's interesting and intelligent, then I might start to think, "Oh, he's hot!" And then other... thoughts... eventually follow. But this just does not happen very often. I know plenty of guys whom I find very interesting but, for whatever reason, have not resulted in Cupid's arrow. If I rarely feel lust, and if lust only comes after knowing the person somewhat instead of before, then it stands to reason that I, of course, have not been in a relationship. The fewer attractions I feel, the less likely the chance of one being reciprocated. And yes, my never having been in a relationship means exactly what you think it means. There was one guy who returned my feelings, but he was only in the states for a few months; we were friends with (limited) benefits. I was almost 19 at the time that I knew him, and he is the only guy I've ever kissed, let alone had any other (limited) "experiences" with. Though perhaps had he been around longer something might have happened. I don't know. In any case, at the time I wasn't ready for sex, and he didn't push it.

Apparently, it is very common for people with Asperger's Syndrome to either be asexual or, like me, just rarely attracted to people and to experience attraction in the "reverse" way that I do: person first, lust second. However, when they do get attracted to people, they tend to become very obsessive. That, of course, causes a lot of pain when the person with the crush sees the person they yearn for avoiding them at all costs. For this reason alone, I hate getting attracted to people if it's not reciprocated. Hey, I know people like to say, "Well, just enjoy the feelings you have for them." For us Aspies it doesn't work that way. Imagine how you'd feel if you hadn't eaten in days and there was a three-pound bacon cheeseburger constantly a few feet away from you... and you were told you weren't allowed to eat it but to just enjoy the smell. Well, that's what it's like for us. Mercifully, my last crush was in 2008-- six years ago as of this writing-- and what a shit storm that was. I won't get into it.

Just for the record-- and I know people are going to ask me this because they always do-- my being rarely attracted to people is simply how I'm hardwired. Many people assume that if you are asexual or comparatively so then you must have had some bad experience, must be religious or have some moral objection, or must be repressed in some other way. No, I was not sexually abused. No, I am not religious. I don't care what other people do as long as it's between consenting adults. No, I am not repressed. When I was living in New York City, I went to the GLBTQIA center one day to listen to a guest speaker. I mentioned that I have only been attracted to eight people in my entire life. He said something to the effect of, "Well, that tells me that you have some kind of sexual problem." I don't remember his exact words, but that was the gist of it. I told him, "Excuse me, you don't know anything about me. And you know what? I think your theory sucks!"

No, We Don't Have Just ONE Interest!

The other day I was telling yet another person that I believe that Dr. Jack Kevorkian had Asperger's Syndrome. The woman I was talking to said something like, "I don't think so. He was interested in everything, and many people with AS are interested in only ONE thing." She went on to say that she has worked with kids with AS. Isn't it important to keep in mind that A) she's talking about KIDS whereas I'm talking about an ADULT; and B) she only sees a small sample of the AS population in these kids?

Yes, it's true that SOME people with AS are only interested in one thing, but MANY others-- myself included-- are interested in many things. It's just that at any given time we may be more intensely interested in a particular area; it does not mean we don't have other interests. We can also be intensely interested in many areas at once. Dr. Kevorkian indeed did have many interests, and he was quite hyperinterested in all of them. Yes, he was very hyperinterested in getting euthanasia legalized (how could any neurotypical person pursue that for almost a decade?) but that was one of myriad things in which he buried himself. 

I, too, am someone with many interests. Having more than one interest does not disqualify someone from having Asperger's Syndrome.

Coming Out

Whoa, it's been almost 6 months since my last blog post! Sorry about that! They will be more regular from now on, promise!

Today I want to talk about coming out of the closet, and I don't mean as gay: I'm not gay and there is already plenty published on that subject. No, instead I want to talk about coming out about the "thoughts" that I had growing up that I felt were somehow wrong; these thoughts were generally related to my obsessions. In fact, they were usually my obsessions themselves that I felt were wrong. My parents didn't openly question the obsessions I tended to have with movies and television shows until I hit adolescence, but long before that I was aware that such persistent and constant thoughts about one thing were not "normal."

For example, when I first saw Back to the Future and Back to the Future Part II at age 9, I was hooked immediately. Obsessed. Couldn't get my mind off the movies. The day after seeing them, I just wanted to talk about them non-stop. But because I was so aware of how strong and unrelenting this desire was to intensely revisit these movies the day after seeing them-- and how odd such a desire was-- I barely spoke two words about them. 

As another example, when I first saw The Addams Family movie at age 11 I became obsessed with it, much in the same way I was with the BTTF movies. Uncle Fester was my favorite character (Doc Brown was my favorite in the BTTF movies; I think Christopher Lloyd's frenetic characters just appealed to me!). On a children's radio show that I was listening to, a girl who called in mentioned in passing that she did not like The Addams Family. (For those of you not familiar with the plot, please read this article in Wikipedia before continuing reading the blog entry). The girl stated that the Uncle Fester that was in the movie turned out to be an impostor. Instead of laughing it off, I obsessed over this for several months until my older cousin cleared it up for me. I think it bothered me because I felt that the "parallel universe" in which my obsessions lived was at least in my control, but this girl's statement threatened that control. The idea of my being that grossly wrong in my comprehension of the movie was unacceptable. 

My next obsession, from ages 12-14, was the Cold War comedy The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming! I always greatly enjoyed the background music composed for the film, particularly the scene in which the Russians first come ashore. Of course, the soundtrack was not available. One day, when I was 13, I set up a tapedeck next to the television to record when scenes with the soundtrack came on. I did this one day when I was home alone. Why? Even though my parents wouldn't have given it a second thought, I thought it was weird that I wanted the music from a film so obscure to my generation. Let's not forget the fact that I knew that being obsessed with this movie was bizarre. Whenever I listened to the music, I did so on my Walkman so my parents wouldn't hear it and ask what it was. 

If I, as the person experiencing them, had a hard time accepting these weird thoughts as "normal," why in the world should I have confided in my parents about them? Eventually I did come out of the closet, but very slowly. At age 14, I began talking to my Dad a little about my obsession with The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming!, but I didn't talk to him about recording the music. At age 16, I began speaking to my parents (usually through tears) about my obsessions in general and how "wrong" I felt they were. They tried to assure me that nothing was wrong but I knew that they were just trying to make me feel better. They had no idea what obsession meant, at least as I defined it.

When did I finally come out about my obsession over Uncle Fester's authenticity? At age 18, nearly SEVEN YEARS after the incident occurred. I was THAT embarrassed about it! Keep in mind how long seven years is when you were a kid. In tears, I confessed to my dad about how long this weird concern had, well, festered inside me and how I knew that it was "abnormal." My dad asked me, "Why didn't you just ask us if it was the real Uncle Fester or not?" Why? Let's put it this way: My parents were concerned about my obsessions in general. They-- especially my mother-- would have been freaked out had I asked them 3 months or so after seeing The Addams Family whether or not it was the real Uncle Fester. And I'm not being paranoid. Even as a kid, I was fully aware that they thought there was something psychologically wrong with me. Years later, Dad may have thought that my asking the question was a non-issue, but I guarantee in the context of my 11-year-old self he would have wondered why I needed to ask that question.

Well, that's coming out, Aspie style. I suspect these stories are more common than one would think. Anybody who has similar anecdotes, please tell them!

P.S. I have since obtained from eBay a tape of the soundtrack from The Russians are Coming! The Russians are Coming! My parents are not only aware that I have it but that I also imported it into my computer so I can listen to it on my iPod.

Asperger's Crushes: When the Brain Gets Hijacked by Neuro-terrorists

When I was just a few months away from my fourteenth birthday, I still hadn't yet experienced my first crush. Quite frankly, I didn't want to even though it was something everybody expected of me. My mother nagged me about it relentlessly. I watched as girls, some of whom used to be fun to hang out with, seemingly dedicated their lives to snaring Cute Boys; it truly bordered on obsession. I had a history of stepping well over the border of obsession in terms of movies and television shows. Given how perversely aware I was of my obsessive nature, I was certain that once I got my first crush it would not border on obsession but would fall well over the border.


I was right. 


I had no idea how right I was. I got my first crush the following summer on one of my counselors, Jonas (not his real name), at overnight camp. It was my first year at camp, and Jonas reached out to me when he saw that I was struggling. I had a history of being bullied, so naturally I was paranoid at camp. If not for Jonas, I doubt I would have returned the following summer, let alone looked back at my camp years as among the best of my life. Jonas knew I had a crush on him and, fortunately, he was very understanding and patient about it and remained my friend and mentor for many years.


After Jonas, I developed crushes on a total of 8 other people. I am not attracted to people easily, but when I am it's overwhelming. With the exception of one person, Hans (not his real name), a friend from Germany from whom I got my first kiss, nobody reciprocated. They were generally either taken, older, or both. Sometimes my relationships with these people started out as friendships or positive acquaintanceships only to end in disaster with the person shutting me out entirely. I always assumed the person in question was not interested so I did my best to hide my feelings. I could not do it. I tried my best to figure out how to keep a low profile while still remaining friends/positive acquaintances with these people.


Sure, and maybe while I was at it I could enjoy the smell of a bacon cheeseburger without trying to eat it. 


While I have conquered many aspects of Asperger's syndrome, this is one that I still struggle with, probably because I'm not attracted to people easily and thus haven't had much experience controlling it. Like many people with AS, I always became intense with the person on whom I had a crush without meaning to. Once, I was even accused of stalking. This accusation is apparently very common for people with AS.


Why do we get obsessive crushes? Why is it that people with strong feelings can generally keep theirs hidden and we can't? My guess is this: We tend to have tunnel vision. We get hyperfocused. Getting hyperfocused doesn't end with a hobby or favorite movie. It manifests itself with people we find attractive. I read that the same chemicals in the brain that are involved in drug addiction manifest in the beginning stages of a person experiencing an infatuation. This is true with a person with a neurotypical brain. What, then, does a brain scan reveal in an Aspie who has a crush? 


I don't know. I don't have answers or advice to other Aspies who have struggled with this as much as I have. As far as I'm concerned, my otherwise rational brain gets hijacked by neuro-terrorists. But I want you to know something that I didn't until very recently:


You are not alone. 

List Your Obsessions!

Since the past couple posts have been a bit dark, I figured this week's post ought to have more levity. I invite you to list the things you've been obsessed with over the years. Now, one important thing to realize is that everybody defines "obsession" differently. I personally have a very extreme definition of what constitutes obsession. By the way I define it, I stopped getting obsessed with things in the summer of 1995 when I was about to turn fifteen. After that, I got obsessed with people on whom I had a crush (that will be the topic of next week's post). That can be a royal pain, so let's focus on the obsessions that have been mostly fun and harmless.


Here is my list!

• Fall 1986- late 1987 (age 6-7): Sesame Street
• Fall 1986- late 1988 (age 6-8): Tom & Jerry
• Winter 1986 (age 6): Santa Claus: The Movie and anything related to Santa Claus.
• Late 1988- Late 1989 (age 8-9): DuckTales
• Late 1989- Spring 1991 (age 9-10): Back to the Future trilogy
• Spring-Fall 1991 (age 10): The Simpsons
• Fall 1991-Summer 1993 (age 11-12): The Addams Family movie
• Summer 1993-Summer 1995 (age 12-14): The Russians are Coming! The Russians Are Coming!/Anything related to actor Alan Arkin
• Summer 1994 (age 13): The Rocketeer (another movie with Alan Arkin)