Disabled Ace Day

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I once again haven’t been active on the blog much. I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts lately, mostly true crime. Today though, I decided to check out the podcast The Ace Couple. In their most recent episode, which came out today and which I’m currently listening to, the podcast hosts said that it’s disabled ace day today. Ace, for those not aware, is short for “asexual”.

Like I shared when writing my post for coming out day, I’m for the most part asexual. I’m still figuring out where exactly I fit on the asexual spectrum. For those who don’t know, since sexuality isn’t an all-or-nothing thing, asexuality is a spectrum describing anyone who experiences significantly less sexual attraction to other people compared to the general population. People who are not asexual, are commonly called allosexual (“allo” being Greek for “other”). This also clarifies that people on the asexual spectrum, even people who are altogether ace, may experience sexual desire and pleasure.

I do not claim to be an authority on asexuality. Had I been able to be open about my queerness all this time, I might’ve been able to gather more information without feeling guilty. Like I said, I’m still figuring things out.

This is also where disability comes in. Commonly, it’s thought that disabled people, particularly those with intellectual or developmental disabilities, don’t experience the same sexual feelings as non-disabled people do. This is simply not true, although disabled people are more often taught to suppress our sexual feelings. After all, particularly those with intellectual and developmental disabilities are too often seen as “children in adult bodies”. I myself have used these analogies when describing emotional development. Because it finally enabled me to get sort of okay care, this analogy appeals to me even though it’s inherently ableist.

When a disabled person identifies as asexual or somewhere on the ace spectrum, it is then too easily thought that this is because of the way the person was raised or educated. This is the counterstereotype I so often used to talk about in my early days on WordPress (oh my, I need to bring some of those old posts back): if we want to defeat the idea that disabled people can’t have sex, asexual disabled people could be seen as harming the cause, similarly to how I’m seen as harming the cause for community-based support by living in an institution. In reality though, prejudice and oppression are systemic, not individual. Besides, it’s not our job as marginalized people to fit ourselves into society’s neat boxes, whether these are stereotypes or counterstereotypes or other ways of telling us who we are and how we should live our lives.

This doesn’t mean I’m not influenced by prejudice. Regularly, I think I’m too disabled for a relationship and that’s why I’m ace. I’m pretty sure that’s not true, as I do have many years of being in a relationship with my wife before either of us clarified our authentic needs and wants to the other. I remember writing a post back in 2008, which I’m not going to bring back here (don’t worry, wife!), in which I described not knowing whether I was actually attracted to her and thinking I certainly wasn’t interested in sex. If that doesn’t tell me I’m ace, what does?

The more I write, the more memories confirming that I’m indeed asexual, come to mind. I was quite repulsed as a teen, purposefully skipping the biology chapter on reproduction and refusing to read the sex ed material that my parents brought me at around age nine. Then again, I’m pretty sure my refusing to read it was because I hated reading Braille at the time and my parents made quite a big deal of me reading this book.

However, what if my asexuality is in fact related to my being multiply-disabled, including autistic? Does that mean I’m doing the disabled or autistic communities a disservice? I don’t think so, because like I said before there’s no value in dictating who I am. Besides, as someone who lived for twenty years not knowing she’s autistic and yet who was autistic all along, chances are we’ll never know for sure.

I’m joining in with #WWWhimsy.

Variation and Deviation: What Is Typical vs. What Is Desirable

Posted on by Astrid

For today’s Friday Faithfuls challenge we’re encouraged to write about what “normal” means to us. I am reminded of the opening phrase to one of the Project 2025 training videos. Mind you, I didn’t see the actual video, but listened to an episode of the podcast, The Ace Couple, walking the listener through it. The goal of the video was to educate Project 2025 supporters about the language leftists (and presumably anyone else not in agreement with their garbage) use and what we (yeah, I’m one of those pesky leftists!) supposedly mean.

The opening phrase was: “I’m just a normal American woman.” The speaker then went on to describe what she supposedly would be called by the Left. The exact wording, I can’t remember but it included “cisgendered” (her words, never mind that it’s “cisgender” without the “-ed” ending), “ethnoimperialist” (a term I’ve never heard of but then again I’m white and assume this is just a parody phrase to say she is too), probably “heterosexual” and “pronouns she/her”.

Now what’s “normal” about all this? Statistically speaking, being straight and cis (which means, for those not aware, that your gender assigned at birth aligns with your gender identity, so the opposite of trans) are indeed “normal”, in that the vast majority of the population falls within this category. White, globally speaking, definitely is not: the majority of the world’s population are BIPOC (Black/Brown, indigenous, or people of color).

I was also reminded of an open discussion I had several months ago with a temp worker who happens to be gay. We were discussing sexual and gender diversity and relating it to neurodiversity. The neurodiversity movement says that autism and other neuropsychiatric conditions are merely a variation of the norm, not a deviation from it. The difference is that variants are statistically less common but not less valuable, whereas deviants carry a connotation of “less than”. Autistic/neurodivergent people are different, not less in a similar way that people under the LGBTQ+ umbrella are different, not less.

Now I would like to say that no-one is “less” as a person. However, some human conditions, traits and behaviors are both abnormal and undesirable.

I do understand that what are considered “deviations” from the norm rather than mere variations, changes over time. Autism, commonly, is still seen as a disorder in need of a cure and there’s hardly any protection against discrimination based on it. Homosexuality, thankfully, not anymore. At least, not in the Netherlands. This doesn’t mean gays don’t face discrimination, but in that case, society sees that it’s the person being homophobic who’s in the wrong, not the gay person.

I am a strong supporter of both neurodivergent and LGBTQ+ rights, and a member of both communities, for clarity’s sake. Though I am white, I try to learn about race issues. I may not statistically speaking be “just a normal woman” and thank goodness in this era I’m not American. However, I am a human being and this means I deserve human rights.

Attention Is a Valid Human Need

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. One of the prompts for this week’s Writer’s Workshop is to write a post based on the word “attention”.

This immediately brings back a flood of memories of my time at the intensive support home. On one particular occasion – but I’m pretty sure there were many more -, a staff said to her coworker about a client in crisis: “It’s all attention.” She said “attention” in English, not Dutch, apparently hoping the client in crisis or his fellow clients (including me) wouldn’t understand. One of my fellow clients immediately chimed in by translating her comment into Dutch.

The idea that challenging behavior is “for attention” is often not entirely based in truth. However, even if it is, attention is a valid human need. And especially at the intensive support home, clients routinely didn’t get it.

You might think we did get more than enough attention, since the staff/client ratio is 1:2 to 1:3 at this home. But more often than not, staff were doing stuff on their phones, chatting to each other and on at least one occasion, I caught two staff playing a board game together and the third cheering for them. That third person was my one-on-one for the moment, but, because I was also playing a game with a fellow client, the staff thought it not necessary to pay attention to me. Then when I started showing signs of distress, he missed them until I ended up in a meltdown, then told me I could’ve said in a calm voice that I wanted to go to my room. Well, guess what? One of my first signs of distress is an inability to communicate effectively.

On another occasion, the fellow client about whom the staff felt the need to communicate his “attention-seeking” in English, was having an outburst again. I told my one-on-one for the moment that I could see why, because he’d been left to his own resources, often locked in his room, for most of the day. My one-on-one told me he’d had more than enough attention, since he had been having a cup of coffee with the client and had created his day schedule. As if a fifteen-minute coffee chat means you can be left alone for the rest of the day.

Remember, I and my fellow clients have a developmental disability. Most of us cannot participate in everyday conversations among non-disabled people, so when the staff are chatting to each other, most of us will feel left out of the loop. And just because staff are in the same room with us, doesn’t mean they’re attending to our needs, as my example of the board game illustrates. At that point, I needed someone to pay attention to the subtle signs that I was going to land in a meltdown.

And like I said, attention is a normal human need. Staff aren’t telling each other that they’ve had more than enough attention because they’ve had a break (that usually lasts for 45 minutes, four times a day) together. In my opinion, honestly, they should.

If You Aren’t Prepared For an Imperfect Child…

Posted on by Astrid

Yesterday someone on Reddit’s Childfree sub asked why many parents-to-be have this idea that they’ll get the perfect child. You might say that having dreams for your unborn child is normal, and it is. Having this clear-cut image of what your child will (that is, should) achieve in life, is not.

Of course, there are thankfully many parents who are able to adjust their image of their child if (or rather, when) said child does not conform to their initial expectations. My parents, unfortunately, are not among them.

Like I’ve probably shared on this blog before, when I was a baby and sustained a brain bleed due to premature birth, my parents were concerned for my quality of life. This is more or less normal, although it wasn’t back in the ’80s. In fact, the doctor flat out told my parents not to interfere, since they were keeping me alive period. I am forever grateful for this, despite the fact that the same doctor admitted in 2004 that he sometimes meets former preemies he’d been keeping alive that he now thinks of: “What have we done?!”

At that time, I thought he would not mean me. I was still passing for “just blind” and, though blindness is considered a major disability, it’s one that by itself does not prevent someone from living independently and going to university.

That was the exact same reason my father, when talking about euthanasia of severely disabled babies in 2006, didn’t mean me. He did, however, mean those with intellectual disability and those with severe mobility impairments (the case at hand involved a baby with severe spina bifida). And I’ll never forget that he added to his statement that he didn’t mean me, “because you’re training to live independently and go to university”. As you all know, that didn’t work out.

My parents did find a workaround to the problem of my not being the perfect child they’d envisioned: they decided that my landing in the mental health system and now in a care home for those with intellectual disability, is my choice rather than a necessity. I haven’t fully processed all the ways in which this attitude, which some of my care professionals took over, has impacted me. It hurts though.

Now back to the idea of a perfect child. Even when disability isn’t involved, a child is their own unique individual, with their own strengths, weaknesses, wants and needs. When a parent decides that their child should go to university at eighteen even though they are still in Kindergarten, like my parents did, that doesn’t just impact a disabled child. It impacts any child for whom for whatever reason university isn’t the best place to go at eighteen. Such as, for instance, any child with an average or even slightly above-average IQ. Or any child that is more capable of practical jobs than of academic ones. And any child who, God forbid, doesn’t want to go to university.

If you aren’t ready for a disabled child, a child who isn’t a top achiever, a child who might I say has their own personality, by all means don’t become a parent. You don’t know what your child will be like, after all. Having dreams is alright, but be ready to adjust your image of your child when the need arises. And for goodness’ sake, don’t guilt trip your child for being themselves.

I’m linking this post up with this week’s #WWWhimsy.

It’s Just Us, Or Is It?: Power Dynamics in Care

Posted on by Astrid

I am currently reading a book called The Dark Side of the Mind by Kerry Daynes, a memoir by a female forensic psychologist in the UK. In her first chapter, Daynes writes about how her college date tells her there’s no justice, it’s just us. Then she goes on to talk about her first job, which is really an unpaid position, at a correctional facility called Wakefield. There, the philosophy is “us vs. them”, “us” being the “good” guys (or girls), ie. the staff, and “them” the inmates, who often committed horrific crimes, such as rape, murder or both. This “us vs. them” mentality was often used to reinforce a rather exaggerated power dynamic, to say the least. As it turns out, it’s not that black-or-white, in that, several years later, a staff member Daynes worked with was given a long sentence for similar horrific crimes.

I want to use this example to talk about power dynamics. Not in the prison system, as I have no experience with that, but in the care system. In a sense, in care, at least as much so as in prison, there should not be “us” and “them”, since we’re all people first. The mere fact that I am disabled and my staff are currently non-disabled, shouldn’t make a difference. Neither should it when it comes to my fellow residents who are deemed unable to make their own decisions.

I just had a discussion with one of my staff about this. This person maintains that she’s in fact at my service, almost like I’m her employer. When I pointed out that she gets to decide when it’s necessary to physically drag me to my room (not that she personally ever has), she said this is because I live with nine other people. Yes, but if I lived with nine other people without staff, such as in student accommodation, no-one would be dragging me to my room for yelling and, if the situation did escalate too much, the police (who everyone except for maybe the police themself admits have a position of power) would be called.

I also mentioned some situations from the intensive support home. For example, staff grabbing a large cookie while giving us a tiny biscuit. “Who’s boss here?” one of the staff once actually asked one of my similarly opinionated but unfortunately less eloquent fellow residents. She named the names of the support coordinators. “And when they’re not here?”, he continued, clearly wanting to hear that the available staff are. I pointed out later that no-one is boss here, only to be told that this was a simplified way of explaining this to my fellow client.

When I told my current staff about this and other examples, I was told this is the way the intensive support home works and that she doesn’t agree with it. At the same time, she told me that, if I want a large cookie, I can get it because I’m capable of making my own decisions, while my fellow residents can’t. While I understand this, on a large scale, may be so, it isn’t necessarily true: I don’t technically follow my agreed-upon food plan either and that’s considered my responsibility, while if a fellow client points to a single extra cookie, that’s denied because their family (or the staff) agreed on a food plan. However, if I have an extra cookie, it will do the same for me as it will for another person (unless said cookie has allergens in it for the other person or whatever). I wanted to raise awareness of how, on a micro level, staff, including the staff who believe they’re at our service, are exercising their power more than they should be.

Power dynamics, for clarity’s sake, cannot easily be eradicated. Nor am I absolutely sure they should be. However, those in positions of power should be extra conscious of their position. And especially when it comes to situations in which they believe they have every rhight to make decisions for another person, such as when I got dragged to my room and when the staff decide another resident cannot have a large cookie (but said staff and I can).

Visibility of People With Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities in Mainstream Society #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m really late writing my letter V post in the #AtoZChallenge. I am not too excited about today’s topic either, but that might change as I write. I just came up with it two minutes before opening the new post window on WordPress. Today, I want to talk about visibility of people with intellectual and developmental disabilities in mainstream society.

Until the mid-1990s, individuals with intellectual disabilities were routinely institutionalized on grounds like mine, sheltered away from the general public. While there are advantages to this, it did mean the general population hardly saw any individuals with intellectual disabilities, especially not adults or those with more severe disabilities.

In the 1990s, institutions were often demolished altogether and individuals with even the most severe disabilities were moved into the community. This, however, did little to help society be more accepting of people with intellectual disabilities.

Now, with “suited education”, which was introduced in the mid-2010s, individuals with disabilities are encouraged to attend mainstream education if at all possible. This means that more people with mild intellectual disabilities and other developmental disabilities, who would otherwise attend special ed, are now in regular classes.

I, having been forced into mainstream education with very few accommodations, am not a fan of “suited education”. My opinions on deinstitutionalization are mixed. While I do feel that we need to be allowed to be visible in mainstream society, I do not feel that this is a case of the disabled needing to assimilate or be “normalized”. Truthfully, I do not feel that we need to prove our right to exist beyond the margins. That being said, the reality is that society doesn’t want us. At least, it doesn’t want me, a high support needs autistic and multiply-disabled person. When I still ventured out into the world on my own, I had just a little too many encounters with the police that often weren’t pleasant.

Unique: A Rant on the Demise of Individualized Care #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today for my letter U post in the #AtoZChallenge, I want to rant really. I am not feeling well and really feel like, as an individual with developmental disabilities, my unique needs are missed in favor of what “everyone” or “the group” needs.

Back in like 2009, on my first WordPress blog, I already wrote a blog post criticizing care profiles for their doing away with individualized care. After all, care was now grouped into “care heaviness packages” (the old word for care profiles) based solely on one’s primary disability and one’s score on a rating scale, rather than there being different care classifications for each different sort of care (eg. support, personal care, housekeeping, etc.).

This is not what I want to talk about in this post though. Rather, I want to talk about the individual’s care needs being shoved under the carpet because they do not align with what that particular home is used to providing in general. And, in the case of my current home, it isn’t like there aren’t exceptions.

I cannot go into detail without breaching confidentiality – although really the staff shouldn’t have told me confidential information about other clients, truthfully. However, my home consists of “the group”, which are six clients or six clients plus me, and then there’s either me or I’m part of “the group” depending on whom you ask and when, and then there’s a client who gets full-time one-on-one. The one-on-one client is exempt from almost everything “everyone” needs to deal with, such as temp workers, regular switches in staff, of course alone time, etc. I don’t know all the reasons behind this and even if I did, I wouldn’t be allowed to disclose them here, but I frequently find myself being jealous of this client because her needs seem to take precedence over everyone else’s.

Then when competing for having our needs met, it’s me against “the group”. The home employs an extra full-time staff member to do my one-on-one even though I don’t qualify for full-time one-on-one, so I figured this should be a no-brainer: we all get our needs met, since I’d get my one-on-one and then there’s still even some hours when there’s an extra staff for “the group”. “The group” should be in luck! Well, no such thing: I am in luck if I get my one-on-one according to my day schedule and even then staff complain that I ask for too much if I ever so much as dare leave my room once during my time without support.

As for the temp workers, well, my needs get met last, because “the group” needs at least one regular staff and even if there are three regular staff members on shift, usually the fourth will be sent to support me so that the second won’t have to explain too much to number three.

In another situation, too, my individual needs get shoved under the carpet in favor of what “everyone” needs, ie. when I’m treated harshly for having a meltdown. I often hear staff say that they’d treat my fellow clients the exact same they treat me. Well, it may be so, but I’m not my fellow clients. I am me and I have my own unique needs.

People First?: Issues Surrounding the Language of Disability #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone and welcome to my letter P post in the #AtoZChallenge. I wasn’t really sure what to write for today’s letter and was still feeling a bit unmotivated, until I decided on a topic and now I’m excited to share. Today, I am going to talk about the language surrounding disabilities, particularly of course intellectual and developmental disabilities. I kind of provocatively titled my post “People First?”, because that, without the question mark, is often used as an argument for so-called destigmatizing language.

Which language, to be honest, isn’t destigmatizing at all. I mean, of course it is good that the term “mental retardation” got removed from the DSM (in 2013!). However, when you refer to someone as an “IB’er” (shorthand for “intensive support user” in Dutch), with “intensive support user” being code for a person with significant challenging behavior, it isn’t destigmatizing at all. And no, in my opinion, changing things around to person-first language (“person with intensive support needs”), doesn’t necessarily remove the stigma unless it is accompanied by an added awareness that someone is more than their support needs. As a side note, the only time I’ve heard the term “IB’er” used in reference to me, was by my staff saying I am not one, by which they mean I don’t need the harsh approach my fellow clients apparently need. I mean, it can’t really mean I don’t have challenging behavior, right?

With respect to people with intellectual disabilities in general, person-first language is commonly preferred by professionals. Whether this is less stigmatizing, I doubt. To be honest though, the abbreviations used in job descriptions and care profiles, usually don’t employ person-first language at all. For example, a treatment facility for people with mild intellectual disability and significant challenging behavior is referred to as a “severely behaviorally disturbed, mildly intellectually disabled” (“SGLVG” in Dutch) facility.

Whether people with intellectual disabilities / intellectually disabled people themselves prefer person-first or identity-first language, I do not know. Most autistic people prefer identity-first language, reasoning autism is an integral part of who they are. I, personally, don’t really have a preference. What matters to me is not the language you use to describe me, but the way you treat me. In this respect, whether you refer to my current care home’s population as having intensive support needs or displaying challenging behavior or as behaviorally disturbed, I do not care. The euphemistic approach here (“intensive support needs”), after all, does not do anything to change the staff’s attitudes towards us.

Justice: Issues Facing People With Intellectual Disabilities in the Criminal Justice System #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m once again really late writing my #AtoZChallenge post and actually considered not writing it today, but that felt rather off. For my letter J post, I am writing about issues facing intellectually disabled people in the criminal justice system, be it as victims, witnesses, suspects, defendants or incarcerated individuals.

There are many issues for these individuals. For instance, people with an intellectual disability are far more likely to be victims of crime than the general population. For violent crimes, they are twice as likely to be victimized, whereas for other crimes, the ratio is even higher. For instance, people with an intellectual disability are easily exploited.

That being said, crimes against people with intellectual disabilities are not prosecuted as often as crimes against non-disabled people. The reason may be that intellectually disabled people aren’t viewed as credible witnesses.

When people with an intellectual disability are themselves suspects, they often do not get appropriate supports and reasonable accommodations to allow them a fair trial. In the UK, people with an intellectual disability can access an “appropriate adult”, who isn’t their lawyer but whose job it is to make sure their disability is accounted for during involvement with the justice system. This as far as I know does not (yet) exist in the Netherlands or the United States.

Many individuals particularly with a mild intellectual disability end up in regular correctional facilities because either their intellectual disability wasn’t recognized during trial or they don’t qualify for an insanity defense. Unfortunately though, the regular prison system can’t really accommodate these individuals. One of the student staff here used to work in correctional facilities and this motivated her to retrain as a support worker.

In the United States, people with an intellectual disability are exempt from the death penalty. However, it varies by state how it is determined whether a person actually has an intellectual disability. In some states, the jury decides on this, whereas in others, it’s the judge. Either way, I feel this is discriminatory, as neither a lay jury nor a judge are trained to recognize intellectual disability. Now I oppose the death penalty anyway, but I feel this lack of proper identification could affect individuals not at risk of execution too.

Autism Diagnosis and Rediagnosis: Do Labels Matter?

Posted on by Astrid

Earlier today, I saw a blog post about adjusting to a late autism diagnosis. The author didn’t receive her diagnosis till her mature years, while I was 20 when first diagnosed as autistic. Still, I could relate to some of the things she discusses.

Particularly, I related to the fact that diagnosis changed my perspective in quite a radical way. I was no longer just a bad, difficult person. I was autistic. Always had been.

As regular readers of my blog might know, I have had multiple autism assessments since my first diagnosis in 2007. The reason for this is complicated and mostly related to the fact that professionals kept questioning my diagnosis and wanting further testing. At one point, the records of my most extensive assessment disappeared due to a change of electronic record keeping systems and this led to my then psychologist jumping at the opportunity and removing my diagnosis altogether.

Most autism support groups online are open to self-diagnosed individuals. The main one I was part of at the time, however, I found out, was not. I was heavily criticized and distrusted by the other members after I’d lost my diagnosis. They thought my psychologist had finally unmasked me as someone with a personality disorder rather than autism.

Of course, I also needed an autism diagnosis in order to get the right support. With just borderline and dependent personality disorder on my file, I would be treated much differently by the mental health agency than with autism as my diagnosis. I wouldn’t be able to get support from the intellectual disability services agency either. Thankfully, I got my autism diagnosis back.

Interestingly, the psychologist who removed my autism diagnosis, always said that diagnoses didn’t matter, yet she was the one constantly throwing around new diagnostic labels at me. In a sense, an official diagnosis doesn’t matter, in that self-diagnosis is valid too, at least outside of the need for services. For instance, I self-identify with a dissociative disorder even though I haven’t had this official diagnosis in over eight years. However, to say that labels don’t matter and that all that matters are the symptoms, as she said, is quite frankly wrong. Especially in the context of the need for services.

After all, I am the same person with the same symptoms whether I am diagnosed as autistic or as having borderline and dependent personality disorder. The treatment approach is quite different though. With autism, I need structure and a fair amount of support. With BPD and DPD, I mostly need to be taught to self-regulate by being made to take responsibility. Of course, in an ideal society, services aren’t rigidly based on someone’s diagnosis, but in our current healthcare system, they are. Because of this, I am so glad I currently have a well-established autism diagnosis and that my current support team at least don’t question it.