academic ableism isn't golden
There's a university in the middle of my town. I don't want to reveal my location, so let's just call it Goldenrod University. Every time I pass the campus, I feel a strange mix of emotions.
I've used the campus library and makerspace many times. The two weeks I spent in the dorms after a tornado hit the smaller college I attended are a nostalgic time for me, despite the circumstances that put me there. The visual arts school does some fantastic work. There's a huge beautiful live oak in the middle of campus that I adore even though I once fell out of it and broke my ankle.
Basically, there's a lot to like about Goldenrod University. But I'm autistic, and I'm pretty sure Goldenrod University (or its psychology department, at least) doesn't like me back.
I first set foot on the campus in 2001, before I even knew what autism was. I was 9 years old. My parents took me to the university's mental health clinic, but wouldn't tell me why. I was angry, I was scared, and the whole situation felt weird. The psychologist didn't acknowledge how terrified and confused I was. Rather than try to comfort me or explain anything, he silently stood in the doorway to stop me from escaping. The psychologist (and the grad students spying on me through a creepy two-way mirror) may not have known they were looking at an autistic child, but they knew they were looking at a different child, a child who was struggling... and they were fine with treating that child like a lab animal.
But that was a long time ago. Surely they've improved, right? Er... doesn't seem like it.
In the 2010s, the university proudly added an Applied Behavior Analysis program to its psych department despite ABA being extremely controversial among autistic people.
In 2022, the psych department accepted a grant from Autism Speaks, an organization that's been disliked and distrusted by many autistic people since it began nearly 20 years ago.
In 2023, I attempted to participate in a study (which sounded fairly progressive on the recruitment flyer) of autistic adults' experiences with social skills training. First there was a screening interview, which the grad student told me was meant to determine whether participants could converse well enough to be included. The interview consisted of questions from the ADOS-2, a diagnostic tool many autistic adults find condescending and humiliating. Some of these questions, including "Do you do things that annoy other people?", were not very sensitive to the repeated rejection many autistic people have experienced. The grad student said that many participants didn't qualify for the study because they only gave one-word answers... which isn't surprising, given how uncomfortable the loaded questions made me. I withdrew before I even got to the actual study. Why bother, when even the screening interview was so out-of-touch?
Ableism in academia is a widespread problem. This story isn't just about Goldenrod University, and it isn't just about me. It's about how universities' supposed commitment to diversity seems to vanish when it comes to autism (Monique Botha has co-written an excellent paper about this). Although there exist wonderful faculty who do their best to listen to autistic people and disprove misconceptions about us, they're still a minority among autism researchers. Many don't hesitate to take money from groups that harm autistic people, nor to design autism research without ever consulting us. Classes and textbooks that cover autism are often outdated and full of stereotypes. Therapy techniques many of us consider harmful are taught to future therapists as "gold standard" practice.
I'm tired of it. Ableism shouldn't be the norm in any field of study. I long for a day when I can walk onto a university campus and know that people like me are respected and heard there.