Michelle Rebello, Social Media Officer at Dimensions.
Over the last week there has been a heated response to Kemi Badenoch’s comments about autistic people having “economic advantages and protections”. So, I’d like to explain how equity does not mean advantage.
Imagine spending your whole childhood being awkward, wrong and confused. You’re labelled as a daydreamer, a chatterbox, rude, and loud. “Terrible handwriting. Why can’t you listen? Stop interrupting. Sit still!” You’re struggling to stay focussed, keep a conversation going, to keep up with paperwork, let alone focus on your career or build a family. For some autistic people, this is completely debilitating.
After my 3 children were diagnosed as autistic, I spent a lot of time learning to understand them and I realised, like many other adults, that I’m autistic too. My brain is wired differently, which means I sense and understand the world differently to most people. For example, making decisions is hard because I have so many things racing around my mind. Sometimes I’m stuck because executive dysfunction stops me from working ‘9 to 5’ or managing my household effectively. When I get going, I find it hard to stop, let alone rest. I surf on peaks and troughs of energy, so had to learn how to catch a wave or when to get out of the water.
My sensory differences mean that I like music instead of silence, but hate sudden noises, strong smells and certain clothing. I find it easier to speak on stage at a conference than to chat one to one. If you phone me and ask a question, I’ll most likely freeze, forget your name, apologise and then feel like an idiot. It’s not because I don’t know the answer but because I’ve been put on the spot. Imagine how an autistic child feels when the teacher makes them answer in front of class.
I was diagnosed in my 40s, so I had to unpick years of masking, copying and coping. Yes, autistic people like me can seem to be fine, but it is draining my batteries, and I will need to recharge or I’ll burnout. So, I have many ways of working flexibly so that I can play to my strengths, for example, flexible hours, working from home with shoes off and music on, using different communication methods and, most of all, understanding. I can be honest with people I work with and share what helps me. At Dimensions, there is a culture of acceptance and teamwork. We have One Page Profiles, assistive technology and a genuine wish for people to be their best. I’ll spend the batteries I need to take that phone-call or go to that meeting, but my colleagues understand that I’ll also write notes and might need to respond later. Like many autistic people, my creative thinking is an asset to the team and my employer is proud to help me do this.
In school, these adjustments can be things like transport, so a child’s batteries aren’t depleted before they’ve entered class. It might be a laptop so they can write as quickly as everyone else, a sensory toy to concentrate, extra time in exams to focus, a breakout space, having lunch in a different area and being understood by teachers.
With each generation, understanding and representation of autism is improving. This means that we accept people who think differently. However, there is still work to be done, and Badenoch’s recent comments made this very clear. After many long battles or waiting lists, we may be entitled to a diagnosis and support, but the massive unemployment rate – only 3 out of 10 autistic people are in employment (The Buckland Review of Autism Employment 2024) – shows this isn’t working effectively.
Badenoch taking aim at reasonable adjustments is like trying to take away wheelchairs or hearing aids. An employer wants the best from their staff and teachers want the best for their pupils. Adjustments don’t give us an advantage, they help us start from the same position as everyone else. With this in mind, we cannot afford for dangerous rhetoric like Badenoch’s to become normalised.
