By Archer Rosenkrantz
When I was a kid, stimming was something that I had to hide. Stimming is repetitive motions that are often associated with autism. It’s a self soothing mechanism that autistic people use to self regulate and calm themselves down. When I was in kindergarten my parents started to worry about my constant repetitive motions and sounds that didn’t seem to stop. They took me to a doctor and that doctor diagnosed me with a tic disorder. Even though I exhibited many signs of autism I still went undiagnosed for a very long time. I was labeled by tons of other diagnoses to explain my behaviors. This isn’t unusual, because I was assigned female at birth. People assigned female at birth are criminally underdiagnosed when it comes to autism. Autism used to be thought of as a boy’s disease. Anyways, I was taught that my stimming was something that was wrong with me. It also seemed to bother those around me. I learned that the best way for me to fit in was to stop swimming.
This is my earliest memory of masking. Masking is when autistic folks hide their autism, whether it be conscious or subconsciously usually for their safety. As an adult who’s recognized that they have autism, I’ve had to teach myself how to unmask and I’ve had to learn when it’s appropriate to unmask. For example, I should mask during a job interview because the rocking and repetitive motions might make it appear that I am on drugs. I am extremely lucky that I have the ability to effectively mask my autism. 85% of autistic adults with a bachelors degree are unemployed, because of discrimination or burn out. Masking is exhausting and makes me anxious and depressed as well. I find myself sneaking away to the bathroom, or a quiet place to let my body do its thing. It feels so good to let my body, move, groove, rock, snap, flap and hum. It is a need for me as an autistic person.
Whenever I enter a new situation, I am most likely masking. It’s not the safest for me to be stimming freely. Many autistic people have bad run-ins with police because of their stimming, as it looks to other people like uncontrolled erratic behavior. It's also not easy to face the judgment of Nurotypical eyes who stare and gawk at your “strange” behaviors. I find myself slowly unmasking over the course of many months within a space, as it feels safer to do so. An example of this is whenever I start a new job. At the beginning, I’m not sure who will judge me and whether or not this will affect my employment status. Once I realize that it’s safe or I’m around non-judgemental coworkers, then I let my body do its thing. Not only does it not impact my ability to do good work, but it even makes my work better. If autistic people felt comfortable stimming in their work environments they’d be more productive all around.
I often reflect on the role of stimming within my close relationships. It tends to weed out people who might be embarrassed by my repetitive motions in public settings. Unfortunately it draws eyes no matter what and some people don’t like that kind of attention. I don’t either, but it’s better than masking. Good friends and partners won’t shame you for your stemming. They won’t mind if your autism draws eyes through your rocking, moving, humming and grooving, good friends and partners will stim alongside you. If you’re moving like a dance, they might dance alongside you. if you’re making sounds, they might make sounds too. As long as the people around you aren’t shutting you down for your stimming, then you’re doing good.
When you’re in a relationship, whether it be a friendship or a romantic relationship, with another autistic person, it’s important that you communicate your stim accommodation needs.
What I mean by this is that sometimes our stims can overstimulate one another, and we need to figure out accommodations to make things comfortable. For example, I get overstimulated by loud sounds, but my partner needs the extra stimulation of the TV. In order to accommodate, my partner will wear headphones while he watches TV. Another example, is that I stim vocally and usually it’s too loud for my partner. To accommodate, I stem vocally into my sleeve or I go into a different space. I don’t think Nuro typical people would ever consider this. Autistic relationships are so unique.
The judgment autistic people face from Stimming is a form of ableism. in favor of able-bodied people. I grew up with a lot of internalized ableism as do most people when I looked at other people stemming in public. It made me uncomfortable. This conception was passed along to me from both my parents and the media. The media likes to portray the bad guys, villains and drug abusers as people that display behavior similar to an autistic person stemming. We are trying to view these people as dangerous. Recently I received active assailant training at work and we were taught to look for people that are talking to themselves, pacing or using repetitive movements, when looking for somebody who might be an assailant. All of this builds up in the collective consciousness and gets passed down the kids, making for a society of ableist people. I had to unlearn everything I had learned growing up about disabled people and autistic people in order to love myself. This is something I’m still working on every day. It’s an ongoing and dynamic process.
Sometimes when I find myself stimming in a public place, I remind myself that doing so is within itself activism. By being who I am, repetitive movements and all, I am being an activist by aiding in visibility. I’ve noticed other people see me stimming and start stimming back to me. It makes my entire day to connect with a stranger nonverbally through our autism. If two people wearing headphones, flapping their fists at each other across a crowded room doesn’t make you smile I don’t know what to tell you!
I hope you dare to move as freely as your body needs to. I hope you feel joy within the rhythmic movements and repeated tunes. I hope you spin in circles and laugh and jump and sway and dance. I hope you love your stims, as much as your stims love you.