The Black Autist

Content Warning: Mentions of death, mental health struggles, marginalization, and suicide

Writing also appears in “The Black Autist” Substack.

Greetings, everyone,

I’m taking a page out of Tupac’s The Rose that Grew From Concrete and writing out my plans and pleas for when my time on Earth is up, regardless of how it ends, regardless if it ends on the Creator’s watch, by my own hands, or (worst case) through someone else’s evil intent.

In his poem “In the Event of My Demise,” Tupac expresses his sense that he will one day die. The plea for what he wanted to be remembered for is brief, but nonetheless heart-piercing. He wishes that he had loved all this positive influence before he dies, and that he would “die 4 a principle or belief” he lived for.

I chose this poem not because it’s a lyrical omen to what would eventually happen to Tupac, nor because Tupac is one of my favorite lyricists and rappers of all time.

I chose this poem as an inspiration to my own “In the Event of My Demise”. I have something to say in case something happens to me.

Take this however you want. A death note, a call for attention, a will to my readers… whatever you want to take it to mean. I am not here to state or argue the intentions. And no worries, I will do my best not to take this into my own hands.

However, let’s take things into perspective. Let’s imagine the lifespan of a Black Autist like yours truly.

Depending on which article or essay you read, the average lifespan of an autistic person is between 36 and 40 years, less than the global average age of neurotypicals (assuming that they don’t have signs of neurodivergence), which is 73 years of age. I will be turning 39 in October, so if the Creator is willing, I would already be considered a very old man in the autistic community. I won’t be surprised if the average life span of a Black autistic person, regardless of gender, is much lower than the mainstream average of an autistic person. If I compare and contrast my current biological age to the predicted life span of a Black autistic person, then consider me blessed that I made it that far…I guess.

At any rate, you may ask: “What would an autistic person die from?”

Co-morbid health problems (such as sleep apnea, heart conditions, malnutrition), drowning, police violence, hate crimes (I would include sex crimes targeting autistic and neurodivergent folks as a hate crime), and suicide.

You see, autism is not only disability or “ailment” that I deal with. I have arthritis, sleep apnea that is affecting my right ventricle while triggering my ADHD even more, C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Some things are triggered by my decrease in exercise after playing sports most of my life, by the time I was 31-32. Another explanation is carrying what Mary Doherty calls “autistic shame”.

Autistic shame is an accumulation of shame that an autistic person carries for feeling out of place, or a failure because they struggle to fit into a world that is built for neurotypical people only. Autistic shame is feeling punished for existing and living an autistic life. Punished for seeing and moving in the world as a neurodivergent being, though you are flesh and bones just like any other human. Punished for not achieving success like a neurotypical.

I’m more familiar with the American Dream, so I will use it as an example. The American Dream for a neurodivergent person is to earn enough money to live comfortably, start a family, be treated with respect regardless of background, live freely, and succeed in their field. According to that plan, I am a failure because I live paycheck to paycheck despite having a salaried full-time job, I am not married yet like some of my peers (though I just got recently engaged in April), I don’t have a car, I struggle to pay rent (plus constantly in disputes with apartment management) to the point of facing eviction for the second time in 3 years, and I’m in a constant struggle to be a strong presence and influence in my son’s life to the best of my ability and with teamwork. And while I’m doing the best I can to support my goddaughter, even that effort causes some in her circle to feel envious of me simply because I am doing my duty as a godfather. And yes, I am grateful to have been with my lovely fiancée for 5 years; she has been, by far, the best and most supportive partner I have ever had. Sadly, prior to 2021, it took me years of making dating mistakes and experiencing abuse and manipulation before I got to this point.

I feel miserable based on that “series of failures” alone, when I see my neurotypical peers living out their dreams and accomplishments, despite having the talents and drive to shine myself. I also constantly feel awful because I would also be the weirdo, the black sheep, to even the closest circles, simply due to living in a neurotypical world that, despite best efforts, I struggle to understand. Plus, I feel that I am letting the people who support me down because I am not living up to society’s expectations of what I am supposed to have accomplished by now. And…I don’t feel appreciated enough for the work I do; it’s mostly treated as either a punchline or something not important or valued in the neurotypical world, even when I overachieve (which I have to do just to fit in).

I am also ashamed that, among every group I am part of, I don’t fit in because I am not enough of a part of it. I am not “Black enough” to fit in fully with the Black community, I’m sure mainstream American society (aka white American society) hates me and wants me dead because I’m Black and autistic, I don’t seem “disabled enough” to people with more visible disabilities, and I’m not “autistic enough” for the autistic community because my interests are different than those who are into Sheldon Cooper’s type of interests.

It is hard to confide in people in my closest circles about these feelings of pain, isolation, and shame. I fear that they would not fully understand how they can help me defeat these demons that are coming after me. Or maybe, I fear that I would get laughed off and brushed aside with: “It’s just a misunderstanding”, “It’s all in your head”, “Believe in God”, “You’re better off than others”, “You’re thinking negatively”, “You’re in the wrong because you’re doing it wrong”, “Get over it”. My achievements in disability studies and advocacy don’t matter, and my efforts to live free as just me don’t matter because in their eyes, I don’t belong, and I have failed in the (White, patriarchal) neurotypical world.

No wonder why the suicide rate among autistic people is high as hell. All the expectations of living “right” in the neurotypical world that is not meant for me, even though I am technically a human being like you. Racism and ableism magnify those painful attempts to blend in.

I am doing my best to let the Creator decide when I die, instead of taking things into my own hands by plunging deep into Lake Michigan, filling my tummy with poison, or drifting in the middle of the lake to survive and slowly die a quiet, forgotten man. Those thoughts have been creeping into my head more and more as I approach middle age.

But I promise you, my readers, I am doing my best to let the Creator decide my fate, not me, through “honorary suicide,” where I end my life for the sake of the neurotypical world. Better to make the world better by sacrificing myself, yes? That’s what society wants for neurodivergent people, especially multiply marginalized people.

Nevertheless, in the event of my demise:

I want to be remembered as a multi-talented self-advocate who gave all of his heart, dedication, and talents to create a freer, more just, and equitable world for marginalized neurodivergents. I had many successes and many roadblocks, and I am sure both will be documented in the annals of history. I don’t mind it. But as they say in Special Olympics, I was trying to be brave in the attempt to create such a world. A world where neurodivergent people can make decisions, have pleasure, seek fulfilling careers and endeavors, start families, and be the full version of themselves. A world where neurodivergent pride is intersectional, inclusive, and accessible. I want to be remembered for trying to create that life for myself and people around me, whether I achieved some parts of that dream or not. Have people to learn from my mistakes and triumphs in living the Black autistic life, or the autistic/neurodivergent life in general.

To my readers, continue to promote and build on my work when I depart. Build upon the world I strived to create while I was on Earth, and create a new generation of dreamers who can make my world happen and make this current world a better place for ALL neurodivergent people. Live a free life for yourself also. Be not afraid to stim, to be proud of your identities, and to pursue your goals.

To my closest circle (that includes my fiancée and my large family (extended or blood)), take care of my son and goddaughter. Help my shining stars find their own path to success, let them be their own being in that pursuit, while providing them with essential tools for success and kindness in this sullen world. They should not be my clones but rather extensions of me with their own personalities and aspirations. Treat them like the child in Khalil Gibran’s poems.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading this real, painful, but honest post. Thank you for not judging me or being quick to send me to an institution, but rather, for understanding what I am going through. Again, I am fighting the urge to end my life; instead, I want to live on, grow from the pain, and rise like a phoenix, then let the Creator decide when they are done with me. Do not be quick to call for reinforcements; I have people in place already who can steer me away from that urge, should I attempt it or if my mental health spirals out of control.

No worries. My intent is not to make this my last ever post for the Black Autist, but rather to offer a cautionary tale about what happens when we systematically and socially harm marginalized neurodivergent people, as well as give examples of why we must continue to fight for the freedom, respect, honor, dignity, and prosperity of marginalized neurodivergent people.

If you’re wondering how you can support me, pray for me. Check on me from time to time. If you can help me through some of the problems, or send me resources or connections to people and organizations who can help me navigate my struggles, I would welcome it…but only AFTER you ask me what is going on and if you are sincere in supporting me and my journey from my hell that I’m going through in my life now. Otherwise, just pray for me and check on me. Heck, funny memes, gift cards, and cartoons will fill my spirit.

Love y’all,

Timotheus Gordon, Jr.

The Black Autist

References

• Mortality in Individuals with Autism Spectrum Disorder: Predictors over a 20-Year Period
• I’m autistic. I just turned 36…the average age when people like me die.
• Autistic Shame: Reflections on an Under-Recognised Determinant of Autistic Mental Health
• Life expectancy
• Black and Autistic in Neo-Nationalist America
• On Children by Khalil Gibran