
Excerpt from Andrew Main's (Zefram) 2003 parody paper: "Allism: An introduction to a little known condition", which pathologises the non-autistic (allistic) mind in the same way that the autistic mind is described in the real world. For the full document, visit fysh.org.
Imagine if the majority of people had an autistic mind, making the non-autistic (allistic) mind the neurominority.
Things like having well-defined goals and using clear, unambiguous language wouldn't be considered 'having to make adjustments', just... normal working practices.
We'd be focussing instead on the allist's inability to see the details or to work methodically. We'd wonder why they don't get stuck into a task or topic until it's finished. "Are they lazy? Are they cognitively impaired?"
And we'd be irritated at the compulsive social rituals they insist on engaging in, like non-functional small talk. We'd wonder why they have to be so socially awkward. We'd be unnerved by the amount of eye contact allists keep trying to make."Can't they tell they're making others uncomfortable? Don't they know it's rude?"
We'd roll our eyes at their preference for smooth conversation over specificity and clarity, and for being unable to adapt to literal styles of communication. We'd wonder why they skirt around an issue and drop hints rather than being direct, or why they're so sensitive when someone says what's on their mind.
But we wouldn't offer help that allists might benefit from, like more supportive workplaces with designated spaces for those that require more stimulation. Or access to free, high-quality, allistic-friendly mental health services that help them deal with the anxiety and depression they've developed trying to function in this world. And we wouldn't offer education and training for the colleagues of allists to help them understand the needs of their allistic colleagues. Or schemes at schools to start developing societal empathy and acceptance of diversity
Instead, we'd resent the accommodations we have to give to allistic students and colleagues these days, seeing it as special treatment when we have to modify our behaviour for them, but not when they have to modify their behaviour for us. We'd chastise them for not engaging in social skills training that makes interacting with them a little easier for us, regardless of how exhausting it is for the onus to always be on them.
The blame would fall on the allists. They lack empathy –– that's why they have so much difficulty understanding our wants and needs, and responding appropriately.
Some might feel sorry for allists. After all, allists are more easily affected by others' emotions, often unconsciously mimicking them. They also fall prey to cognitive and social biases more easily, like group-think, confirmation bias, and the halo effect, making them easier to manipulate and persuade. Despite this, they're surprisingly confident in their judgements of others based on arbitrary non-verbal cues, even though they're only accurate barely more than would be expected by chance.
These traits would be considered more acceptable if the allist occupied a high-paying, respectable profession (which in this alternate universe, isn't software engineering). Perhaps an allist might make up for having less desirable (socially impolite) behaviours if they excelled at something outside the autistic norm –– like maybe abstract thinking, superior executive functioning, excellent auditory processing, or big-picture planning . Otherwise, you're just weird.
And for that, we'd wonder why we haven't found a cure. We might chastise parents for not vaccinating their children because we heard that that's what allows the brain to develop in such an ineffective way. We'd wonder if the problem might be diet, or simply bad parenting. "Did their mothers make too much eye contact when they were a baby?"
If a person wasn't allistic, but still failed to follow the commonly understood standards of sociability or exhibited quirks that seemed a little similar to the stereotypically 'odd traits' of allistic people, like being conversationally coercive or lacking attention to detail, we might use their profession to explain it away."Most people in HR are a little allistic".
And if we couldn't immediately tell that you were allistic based on stereotypes of 'extreme femininity', like hyper-sociability and poor systematising skills, you'd be less likely to be recognised as allistic.
We might question the need for a diagnosis at all. "Why do you want that label anyway? No-one would be able to tell you were allistic unless you told them, so what does it matter? Allism is just something you have; you don't need to make it your whole identity. Don't give people something that could be used against you."
Or we'd question if allism was even real or significant. "Aren't you just highly sensitive? Couldn't it be anxiety? Or OCD? Isn't there a little allism in everyone? Lots of people have allistic traits. Everyone's a little socially ritualistic. Everyone engages in superficial conversation sometimes. Lots of people struggle socially; it doesn't mean you're allistic."
Perhaps we'd tell people that they don't seem allistic. Why? Because they're not extroverted. Because they're not friends with the only other allistic person you know about in the office. Because their partner is neurotypical. Because they have a partner, ... or friends, or a job. Because they're not like your friend's 7-year-old allistic daughter.
After all, once you've met one allistic person, that's it, you've basically met them all.
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