Recommendation: VECTORS OF AUTISM – Eye-opening film about the feelings and perceptions of Laura, an autistic adult.

I just still can’t believe that this occurred.
Yes, autistics have feelings. Strong feelings.
And autistics have personal potential for themselves.
Life-worthy and loveable.
We don’t deserve genocide.
We deserve happiness.
I feel one hundred percent taken up and released back into freedom.
Thank you, Laura! A trillionbillion times!
‘Cause times are changing. ūüėČ

The link to her site:

http://www.lauranagle.net/Film.htm

here’s the direct link to the film:

http://www.cultureunplugged.com/documentary/watch-online/play/50992/Vectors-of-Autism–a-documentary-about-Laura-Nagle

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BLOG: WHY EMPATHY IS A DO-WORD! (by Ruuby May Blue)

A woman with a little baby in a baby carriage.

Takes seat with her mother in an outside restaurant.

They start chatting.

I start eating my meal.

Another woman takes seat with her son close to the carriage.

She sits, touching it with her back.

She lights a cigarette.

The smoke streams into the pram.

Streams and streams and streams.

The mother watches.

I am suffocating. Can’t speak. Can’t scream. The meal stuck in my throat.

The cigarette-woman has smoked almost all of it. Into the baby’s lungs.

Finally the mother gets up, turning the pram around.

The smoker squints over her shoulder and it almost looks a little snooty.

I don’t know, if I get the situation here.

Everyone saw the smoke floating into the baby’s face. The talk was more important, the food was more important, the sitting place was more important and the cigarette was more important; more important than a baby, who could not do anything about it.

And I am just the autistic. I do not have a clue. Because I am less empathic.

 

 

Summer season started. People are celebrating at warm evenings.

They are inviting guests to their homes.

They arrive after work, around eight o’clock p.m. .

In the middle of the week.

They start chatting.

Laughing.

Louder.

Louder!

They turn the music louder, otherwise they won’t hear it, because of the loud talking.

They now shout, because otherwise they won’t understand each other, for the music has concert volume.

Someone closes the window with a bam!

Someone opens a window and angrily yells: “Hello?!”, then closes the window.

I also renounce the fresh air while sleeping.

Sleeping? Gosh, it’s 1:00 a.m. and I am not sleeping. Tomorrow’s friday and I’ll have to do some hard tasks, like going to strange places, talking to strange people, hoping my selective mutism wouldn’t catch me, which mutes me off now, in front of my neighbor.

The child above my appartment woke up too, now rumbles sleepless across the floor.

2:00 a.m., the party’s still going.

House rules, house rules….it echoes in my head. My heart beats fast, so full of anger, until I finally fall asleep.

Four days a week on average it goes like this.

It is normal, that the rest needy pay for the fun of a majority.

I don’t know, if I got the situation here.

 But I am just the autistic. I do not have a clue. Because I am less empathic.

I just think, empathy ain’t worth anything without¬†active participation.

 

#lovenotfear (by Ruuby May Blue)

I grew up with other children of many different neurologies. Three of them on the autistic spectrum, including myself. I have never had problems to communicate with them, whether on a nonverbal or a verbal way. We’ve learned sign-language at an early age and had a very social interaction towards each other. We loved each other. Because nobody loved us, our high level of empathy towards each other made us survive. Our care-mother was a very violent person who punished and tortured us over eighteen years. We had to function the way she wanted it. But because we couldn’t, we had to stand the torture. At some days we did not speak a word, though words would have been there to share…our surroundings silenced us. At home and in school we’ve got the ‘slightly retarded’ label very quickly and so there was nothing more to expect of us. At some days we’ve been glad about being unseen. We’ve lived in our own little world. My caresister and I hided away on playgrounds, parking-places and on the balcony of my room and turned back home as late as possible just not to show up in this hateful environment, in hope we would not give anyone a reason to shout on us or spank us for nothing. As a child, I have never learned to feel empathy on neurotypical people as I felt for my allies, because I never got the chance to. As I grew up, I started to realize, that something essential was missing and so I put a lot of effort into this learning process, so I could understand nonautistic people on a better level. Today I still have my problens with it, but they are not priority anymore and often invisible. This invisibility causes me great suffering sometimes, but I have a deep feeling of thankfulness, that my communication with neurotypicals functions much better and this is what I think about when I feel left alone and depressed. But the fight against depressions often feels in vain, when I get to read the news on autism research. And it feels completely senseless, when I hear the ‘missing-empathy’-arguments of neurotypical people, because they would never put that much effort and work or even the time into learning empathy towards autistic people. It’s easier to remain on the predjudice, that all autistics have a lack of empathy and ignore their great emotional ability of keeping a deep empathy for those in the same or even a more difficult situation.If each of them would have a day of being empathic to each little thing existing and seing it through eyes free of premade opinions, this would truly be a place of much more acceptance, where everyone could find a little love and less research required.

Boycott Autism Speaks and start listening to those talked about.