Achievement does not equal worth

I’ve been writing this blog for a bit over three months now and I’ve had some really kind comments on it. I’ve also recently had a bit of attention because Chris Packham very kindly tweeted that he had liked an interview I did about autism and nature. And I do a fair amount of speaking around the Civil Service about my experiences of being autistic – trying to raise awareness and reach as many autistic colleagues as possible so that they don’t feel so alone. All of which means that I get praise for what I’m achieving, which is all very nice. But I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable about any kind of implication that I’m worth more than people who are not doing these things because I’m totally not, and that’s important.

It’s all too easy for an autistic to become the “problem person”. Why can’t we just “pull ourselves together” and be like everyone else? Getting upset about a minor rejection or perceived slight, being blunt to the point of rudeness, fidgeting, dressing differently, having an odd mode of speech – these are all ways of being difficult aren’t they? The implication is that worth lies in ability to fit in. There’s also a broader narrative that disabled people are a drain on resources, that we have little to offer, which is clearly false – the first disabled astronaut has just been announced, for heaven’s sake! But it can lead to disabled people feeling the need to justify themselves through what they can do. Achievement really does not, and should not, equal worth, and I don’t want to get sucked into that trap.

Some of us can – to an extent – “pull ourselves together” and “act like everyone else” – by which I mean mask. I have the privilege of being able to “pass” as neurotypical at least some of the time if that’s what I want to do. Not all autistics have that option to “blend in” and so avoid much of the prejudice, rejection and stigma. Ironically, the basis of my success, such as it is, as an advocate for greater inclusion, is my ability to “fake neurotypical” enough to get a hearing. At least in the early days, in order for my autistic voice to be heard, I had to make it as neurotypical-sounding as possible. And that’s probably why I’m uncomfortable being praised for what I’ve achieved.

I’ve been called “inspirational” but I’m not. I have a friend, M, who hasn’t been able to work for a number of years because of their autism and other conditions. M sometimes feels that they should be doing much more – should be out in the world achieving things. It’s a burden to M that they lived their childhood and young adulthood as a high achiever, when in fact what they were doing was burning out. The pressure of not being able to “fulfil” that “early promise” is hugely damaging. So by the world’s perception, M is not achieving much. But their worth is incalculable. M was the first person who showed me how to live an autistic life – they inspired me to understand myself better, gave me understanding and support, and showed me what I could do to make the world better. I wouldn’t write at all if it weren’t for M’s example. M just existing makes the world a better place.

Another friend of mine, T, is a civil servant like me. T hasn’t achieved the same “success” I have in the civil service in terms of promotions – promotion processes can be a struggle with an autistic brain. But T is the one who had the courage to speak up first about autism. When I was struggling to fit in and hide my disability out of fear, T was telling it like it is. I probably would never have realised how much prejudice against autistic people I’d internalised if it wasn’t for T’s help and support. T is truly revolutionary and has changed my life beyond recognition.

That’s just two examples – people I know who, in the world’s eyes, have less success than me, both in professional life and in advocacy. But they’re worth more, and I wouldn’t be much without them.

I can do what I do because of luck – I happen to have a knack for writing and communication, and using them has got me some attention. Other autistics have knacks for all kinds of things – and some of them are utterly brilliant. But plenty of autistics don’t have any particular skills; some rely on residential care, supporters and carers too. And that does not affect their worth one whit. Yes, I’m definitely smug about getting a bit of notice (Chris Packham tweet screen grab below…) but it’s luck not virtue. I was in the right place at the right time for a few things. Many others were not and didn’t get my privileges. I need to remember how lucky I am and I can only hope that me doing a few things empowers others rather than putting them under pressure. Please forgive a rather preachy post – I won’t do it too often – I just had a moment of realisation of how much I don’t want to play into the “achievement equals worth” narrative.