Showing posts with label adult diagnosis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adult diagnosis. Show all posts

How Being a Minority (of Mixed Race) on the Autistic Spectrum Shaped My Life

Emanuel Frowner
www.instagram.com/emanuelfrowner

Emanuel Frowner (photo courtesy the author)
[image: A smiling mixed race man with short black
hair in a natural style, and a mustache. he is wearing a
collared orange-and-blue Knicks pullover.]
I grew up mostly in the Bronx with my dad and my grandmother, and I still live there. The neighborhood was dangerous during my childhood because of fighting and drugs—a few people were killed. Therefore, I could not go out alone (until I was 17) and my folks were very protective of me. I would see my mom on the weekends. Sometimes, I would hang out with my siblings (with my folks). They had a different mom than I did, but we had the same dad and grandmother. Even though my grandmother looked very white, she called herself black, but my dad did not agree with her on that. My mom called herself black as well.

I was very quiet, and I would stutter sometimes.  My grandmother told me that this was because I think faster than I talk. She also told me that a still tongue keeps a wise head. I took these as compliments.

I went to an elementary school right near where I lived. At first, I did some mischievous things like breaking forks. During a test, I bubbled in all of the choices and the kids started saying that I was all wrong. The teacher erased them. My grandmother found out about this and she was not happy. At that point, I started doing a lot better and I began getting good grades on my report card. I kept working hard and with the help of my folks, I was named student of the month. This was an honor for me and it made me feel proud.

This did not prevent me from being bullied by other students and teachers just because I was different, which led to my dad homeschooling me from the 6th grade until I got my GED in 2000.  Being homeschooled helped me excel academically. It also helped me develop a strong work ethic, and it helped me to think outside the box.

Another reason my dad homeschooled me was because he did not want me to be fed nonsense. My dad did not want me to get a diagnosis that would put me in a box, or have a label so others could categorize me. He also did not want my brilliance and sensitivity to be overlooked, or want me to be marginalized to the point where it would do irreparable damage. This was a culturally specific issue (which is described later in this essay) as well as a generational issue; my folks stressed that getting an education was the most important thing. And my dad also did not want me to be apart of the herd mentality; he wanted me to develop along my own lines. He took me to his job to meet his coworkers and we all would hang out sometimes. It was okay for a while, but I would have liked to been around others who were similar to me.

Technology really came into my life when I was in my late teens. I began emailing and texting, and no longer had to rely on talking when communicating with others: I could take my time, and respond at my own pace. This also helped me have more privacy, and over time I began making my own decisions.

Before I knew I was autistic, quite a few people told me that I was very bright person who was just quiet and shy—even though I had particular interests like dates, sports stats, being punctual and being patient, yet did not have a few social nuances that others had. This may be because, being mixed race and from a minority culture (I am part Caucasian, part African American, some Native American, some German and a little Scottish, just to name a few), I found that talking about psychological subjects like autism is overlooked and is often talked about in a bad way. Also, I hardly received the type of support or empathy I needed when I was struggling. For example, when I stuttered a bit, I was told that I was hesitating. Another example is when I chose Psychology as my major in the summer 2004, one of my relatives was not supportive of this. But it made me even more determined to do well and I got my BA in Psychology from St. John’s.

In 2005, I started hanging out with my oldest brother Blair, who lived in Canada. He knew an autistic lady, started reading about ASD, and began telling me that I might be autistic. He did some research online and found the Seaver Autism Center at Mt Sinai for me. I did interviews and tests there, and the doctor told me that I was on the autistic spectrum. I was a little surprised, but it was a blessing in disguise.

I began reading up on autism. Two years later When I told my dad what the doctor said about me, he was surprised, but then he came to accept it. I joined some support groups over the years and made a few friends. In 2009, a lady, Katrina R. from Job Path, helped me obtain two jobs through customized employment. I have had those jobs for eight and a half years.

Today, I still work, and also do some speaking gigs. I am also a die-hard Knicks fan, and have been for years. In the future, I would like to do even more public speaking and I would like to run workshops relating to autism. I would like to write a book about my life story and I would like to write more articles on topics relating to autism. I would like to one day run an autistic group designed for minorities. I would definitely like to do more acting in order to improve my skills.
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Happy (Autism Diagnosis) Anniversary

Chris Williams
medium.com/@Marrowsky

Hello. My name is Chris Williams. Nice to meet you.

I recently celebrated an anniversary. If you’re reading this, thank you for letting me share it with you.

On January 7th of 2017, my doctor telephoned. My screening, my tests, my questionnaires, and interviews with my family had been reviewed and evaluated. My diagnosis was in the mail. “…Chris demonstrates pattern of behavior and impairment consistent with Autism Spectrum Disorder 299.00 (F84.)…”

I’ll introduce myself again, for the first time:

Hello. My name is Chris Williams, and I’m autistic. Nice to meet you.

My diagnosis was, it still is, mind boggling to me. Perhaps to those of you who know me. Perhaps not. To have a paradigm shift, at thirty-six years old, in self reflection, and in reflection about my personal relationships. My memories now telling me different stories. An awfully familiar stranger resembling me in mirrors. My internal cartography reordering itself, patterns forming across my strengths, my weaknesses, my ways of learning, my ways of thinking, and my ways of communicating. It’s been a cacophony of a change of perspective.

Outside my self, my genetics, looking forward and looking backwards, have been concurrent labyrinths to explore. My almost-seven-year-old daughter Calliope* is diagnosed autistic, and has significant support needs. At this time, she’s our only child with a professional diagnosis. In time, I’m confident she won’t be the only one. I’m 95% certain Caspian is; Catherina, perhaps closer to 35% sure. And casting a wider net onto my mother’s family, and onto my father’s reveals traits, behaviors, and whole individuals in different lights. Even friends start to take on new forms or more fully realized shapes, once you know the diagnostic criteria and prevalence of the condition, and not with an unreasonable eye.

You see, 1 in 68 people in the United States are estimated to be on the spectrum, and there’s talk that this is a low estimate. In his 2015 masterwork on autism, NeuroTribes, Steve Silberman writes: “…given current estimates of prevalence, autistic people constitute one of the largest minorities in the world. There are roughly as many people on the spectrum in America as there are Jews.”

That means there’s a lot of us out there. Out there in the open. Hiding within ourselves. Hiding from ourselves. Some of you reading this, maybe there’s some real questions you need to ask—or context you never thought to provide—about yourself to yourself. Or maybe about your spouse, your children, your parents, your brother or sister, your aunt or uncle, your friends, your coworkers. Maybe you'll consider that people are built in strange ways, ones you wouldn’t expect to be so unifying. It’s a revealing thread of humanity to understand, and be attuned to.

It’s funny. Despite Calliope's limited language, she has communicated more to me about myself, my family, and how to regard other humans than anyone I’ve known. She inspired me to learn, she inspired me to self-realize, she inspired me to seek my diagnosis, and now she’s inspiring me to stand tall and make my own truths plain for others to see. She is my skeleton key, my Rosetta Stone, my North Star in this journey.

It’s been a good year in this regard. With my vision unclouded about the best version of my self I can be, I stride towards the future with greater purpose. I am a proud autistic father of beautiful autistic children. I am a devoted autistic husband. I am Chris Williams, an exquisite, autistic human being, one with his eyes on horizons of advocacy, of leadership, and of making a difference for my family and for others. It’s a good place to be.

So on that note, happy anniversary. Here’s a toast to finding myself, and to all old friends and new friends alike. Thank you.

Chris Williams. Photo courtesy the author.
[image: A solar-flare selfie of the author, a smiling white man with short dark hair,
wearing a red baseball cap with two giant cartoon eyes on it.]
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Editor's note: While many people find comfort in an official autism diagnosis, getting one is not always affordable or accessible, plus the Autistic community generally welcomes people who are self-diagnosed.

If you are newly diagnosed with autism, think you might be autistic, and/or are the parent of an autistic child, we recommend the following books and resources:
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A version of this article was originally published on January 8th, 2018, at Medium.

*The children's names are pseudonyms.
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