Self-indulgent “woe is me”parental drivel masquerading as helpful advice

I borrowed a Kindle copy of this from my library. I’m glad I didn’t spend money on this trash, though I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by how bad it is. Talk of autism is constantly taken over by parents of autistic children who go on and on about how hard it is for them while the opinions and feelings of actual autistic people are ignored. Why did I say “autistic people” and not “people with autism” as many insist is more appropriate? Because many autistic people themselves insist autism is not a bad thing, not a disease at all, it’s part of them, so they’d rather be called autistic people. Unlike most, I listen to the preferences of those we’re supposedly trying to help.

I gave this book a chance even though I was furious after a few pages, even though the author himself admits to having not read far into many books about autism because they started out depressing, yet he somehow expects me to read his depressing writing.



This is a memoir of the author’s dealings with his son Jonah after Jonah’s diagnosis of autism. It’s meant to be uplifting, but I’m only struck by how much author Joel Yanofsky contradicts himself. He talks of being very happy with Jonah when he was born, seeing his child as perfect, as new parents tend to. Everything changed after the diagnosis. I expect parents mourn the loss of their expectation of a neurotypical child. I also expect them to get over that, but I see no signs here that the author and his wife ever did. He talks of loving his son no matter what, of seeing good aspects of his son’s autism, but he gives me no reason to believe he makes his son believe any of this.

You don’t love your son well enough to be trying to make him happy, Joel Yanofsky. You don’t believe there’s anything good about his autism. You aren’t trying to make him happy, you’re trying to make him conform, and it’s impossible for him to conform to a point where he will be just like a neurotypical, and you can’t accept that, and that’s why he’s unhappy. That’s why he’s woken up in the morning calling himself names, calling himself bad. He’s not bad, but by trying to eradicate his autism, you are making him believe there is something irrevocably wrong with him. That isn’t helping him at all. It’s hurting him.



All parents of autistic children need to realize how messed up an attitude like this is. If you’re one and you hate how I’m summing up your problems without asking for your input, realize that’s exactly what you’re doing to your children.

I kept hoping for a turning point in this book, a point in which the author realized how stupid he was being, how self-contradictory. I came to the following quote which made me entirely done trying to appreciate this book:

William Stillman is the quintessential insider. His website identifies him as “The Autism Whisperer.” He has Asperger’s syndrome himself and advocates for others on the spectrum. He’s a fierce opponent of treatments like ABA and encourages their parents to accept them for who they are. His books go way beyond acceptance as a matter of fact. They identify autism as a kind of supernatural gift. Stillman believes autism can imbue in people psychic and spiritual powers. “What if it has a purpose?” he asks. “What if there is a plan?” These are not questions I have ever asked myself.

There it is. There’s the problem, admitted for all to see. Not any problem with his son, but his problem. This is after he went on for many chapters about putting his son in the ABA therapy which actual autistic people advocate against. He goes on to say if it were up to him, he’d get rid of his son’s autism in a heartbeat, despite admitting having read of many people, like Temple Grandin, who say they would never change to no longer be autistic.

Joel Yanofsky, like many parents of autistic children, doesn’t want his child to be happy in his own way. He wants his child to be happy in a way acceptable to the world. And that’s bullshit. Go ahead and be offended by my use of a single swear word. I’m offended by how so many people say they want to help autistic people and vehemently ignore the thoughts of the very people they say they want to help.



This ridiculous attitude was so clear to me in the author’s recalling of how his son Jonah’s therapists tried over and over again to get Jonah to play “properly” with a Mr. Potato Head. He’d put the ears where the eyes go and they’d tell him no. They got frustrated. It was seen as a failure. WHY THE HELL IS NOT “PROPERLY” PLAYING WITH A MR. POTATO HEAD A FAILURE? That’s absolutely ridiculous! Playing differently than other children doesn’t make a child unhappy. What makes them unhappy is when you treat the way they are as a defect. So STOP IT. STOP THIS NONSENSE. Will not “properly” playing with a Mr. Potato Head affect a kid’s happiness in any way? No! THEN IT DOESN’T MATTER. IT DOESN’T. FUCKING. MATTER. It doesn’t matter to the kid. It only matters to you.

Yes, there are certain ways we can help autistic children get along better in life…but shaming them for the way they were born is no way to do that. Autism speaks alright. You’re just not listening. You’re not even asking. Not once in this book did I see anybody ASK Jonah why he did something or how he felt. He’s said to not be stupid, so why treat him like he’s stupid? You’re treating him like his autism is something to be ashamed of, and he’s picking up on that.

I have a masters degree in clinical mental health counseling. I also received a diagnosis of Asperger’s at one time. I think it’s not the proper diagnosis in my case, as I think my problems with “normal” social interactions stem from a lot of social isolation as a kid. I wasn’t unable to learn how to act in social situations, I just didn’t learn early because I didn’t have much opportunity. Whatever diagnosis is proper for me doesn’t matter nearly as much as my understanding of what it’s like to have grown up being very different from average kids and being made to feel ashamed of myself because of that.



Are you reconsidering my words now I’ve admitted an ASD diagnosis in the past? Do you think I’m somehow less qualified to be considered a rational human being now?

I don’t care anymore whether I qualify as autistic or not. What I care about is that, whether or not I’m actually autistic, if you believe there to be any truth in the diagnosis, you will likely treat me as less than human.

And that’s ridiculous. That doesn’t make any sense. Whether or not it’s because of autism, I don’t aspire to conformity. I’ve never “fit in” and like everyone who doesn’t, I’ve spent my whole life dealing with ridicule over that. But here’s the thing. I don’t

want

to conform. Many people who take pride in an ASD diagnosis loudly say

they

don’t want to conform. Why is the world not listening?