Greetings, my lovely people, and Happy New Year! I hope you are having a great holiday season or doing your best to cope with all that comes with the holiday season.
My Christmas was great despite the many circumstances I’ve faced for at least the past year. I enjoyed time with family and my girlfriend + her family; no meltdowns or breakdowns on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. I spent New Year’s with my girlfriend and some family members, which was fun and much-needed.
I’m writing to you today for two reasons: to update the blog because I haven’t written anything of substance in a long time due to life living, and to address one of the circumstances I’ve been dealing with.
For the last few days, I’ve been following the posts of one of my friends in my Black neurodivergent community in which they’ve been expressing that despite being in her mid-30s, she feels as if they accomplished nothing and she doesn’t deserve to be on this Earth.
Now that’s real! Not just because the feeling is real.
I have that mid-life crisis, too, as a Black neurodivergent/Autistic being.
To put things into context, the life span of an autistic person ranges between 36 – 54 years old, depending on the studies you may come across; according to a study led by DeWalt, the mean life expectancy of an autistic person is 39 years old. At any rate, I’ve come across several factors on why our lifespan is so short, including:
- Higher rates of suicide
- Co-morbidities like seizures, chronic pain or illness, diabetes, heart conditions
- Healthcare disparities
- Lack of or little support (financial, housing, vocational, career, etc) after 22 years of age
- The stress of living in a world that is neurotypical and not flexible enough for autistic and neurodivergent to thrive in. This includes masking to fit in neurotypical environments
- Barriers and stressors that autistic people with intersectional identities (e.g., autistic BIPOC folx) face, such as little to no support from peers, community, and family, heightened risk for police violence, and bullying or ostracization within the (white, cis-gendered, and heteronormative) autistic community
Those factors within themselves can be a lot for an autistic person to deal with, let alone someone like me. Let’s also add the sense that BIPOC males tend to die much younger due to systemic racism, the vices of the fast and gangster life, and state-sponsored violence (e.g., police violence, over-institutionalization).
But here I am. I am 37 going on 38 in October 2025, which means I will be two years away from being officially “middle-aged” (or at least on the earlier side of things). From a surface level, I have lived a blessed life. I have two brilliant and thrill-seeking five-year-old kiddos: my son Theo and my goddaughter Lauren, and I am becoming a better and more supportive uncle, older brother & cousin, and mentor to the next generation. To my peers in disability studies and advocacy, I’m world-renowned for my research, advocacy, social media content, speaking, and writing work on topics under the umbrella of Blackness and, autism & neurodivergence; in fact, I am in the process of writing my first 2-3 books (a monograph, a collection of essays and poetry, and a self-help book). I’ve been living in my own apartment since 2019 and enjoying my first full-time work since 2021 at UIC. I’ve been happily partnered with Angie for three consecutive years; this is the longest time I’ve been romantically involved with someone without breaks. I am more comfortable with my many quirks and personalities within my Black, genderqueer cis-male, neurodivergent body than ever before.
I admit that I am traveling in smoother waters nowadays, but I still feel that I have nothing to show for my growth. In fact, I think that my growth and accomplishments at age 37 mean nothing in a neuro-normative world; I look and feel much younger developmentally and emotionally than my peers. A good amount of my friends and family members already have children who are now in the teenage years at least, have long-standing jobs and relationships, drive cars, own their own homes, seamlessly living their lives without masking, and have a decent amount of money to survive and splurge a little bit. In my spirit, the advocacy and accolades mean nothing because, in society’s eyes, I either failed to meet those goals mentioned above, or it’s taking me a long ass time to get there (granted, there are plenty of “late-bloomers” who went on to be successful, like Colonel Sanders). I feel as if I am an alien in familiar territories, whether I am with family or in Black or autistic crowds, because I seem too autistic, weird, basic, or Black in any place I go to.
On top of those things, I have been facing quite a few roadblocks and tribulations, ranging from being unsure of where I can go career-wise or how to keep the Black Autist going in its 10th anniversary and beyond to fighting to be an active part of my son’s life beyond visitations and child support while reminiscing on the mistakes I’ve made in my teenage and early adult years trying to navigate being an independent being. Plus, to be honest, I don’t know what it is like to live a full life as an elderly Black autistic man because we usually don’t get to live that life past 40; thus, I am scared of what my future may hold.
Like the person who wrote what she wrote, I, too, thought about ending it all through complete disappearance from everything and everyone, or even pondering about how life would be better without me, or if Theo and Lauren would be better without his daddy and her “da” (that’s her name for me, though she’s my goddaughter).
All those worries, pains, and stress are now taking a toll on my body. I have been experiencing chronic pain in my knee and elbow tendons, and the PTSD symptoms grow more constant by the day. I do have PTSD and chronic anxiety (with a bit of dissociation) that comes with autism and what I have been through throughout my life. Still, according to my doctor, I may also have an autoimmune disease, which may explain my chronic pain and fatigue. I will hopefully find out through a rheumatologist, in which I’ll see starting in March.
In short, I don’t know how much time I have left or if I am cut out to continue my life’s work due to those compound factors and stressors. But I will do my best to continue to press on, be there for my kids, and live a fulfilling life even when some are trying to hold me back.
While I appreciate the prayers and suggestions for getting through this, that’s not what I’m here for. I’m not writing this to ask to pity me or mourn me. I’m writing to express an example of what multiple-marginalized autistic and neurodivergent people goes through and why I will continue to use things such as the Black Autist to create a liberating future for BIPOC autistic and neurodivergent folx.