CW: Ableism
Halloween season is upon us, so let’s talk about that blue pumpkin thing that’s going around.
If you’re not familiar, the idea is that autistic children should be given blue pumpkins or buckets to carry when trick-or-treating, so they can be identified as autistic when they hold it up to accept your candy. Thus, when they arrive at your door, and perhaps don’t say “trick-or-treat” or aren’t wearing a costume, they have this little blue signal to you as to why.
If you’re familiar with this blog, or at least in the same mindset, this probably instantly feels icky. If this seems like a charming idea to you though, welcome to Inappropriate Behavior, and allow me to elucidate.
The Origins of the Blue
Blue as the representative color for autism has a long, troubling history. The short version is that it was an idea created and popularized by Autism Speaks. In case you’re new to all of this, Autism Speaks is widely considered a hate group among the autistic community and those who support them. That should be reason enough to reject the blue idea, but I’d still like to point out that the reason for the color choice is even worse.
Autism Speaks declared that blue should be the color representing autism because “most autistics are boys.” I put that in quotes because it’s an extremely questionable statistic for reasons that are a whole other post. Aside from that statistical fallacy, it also completely ignores autistics who are other genders, and subscribes to an antiquated idea of colors somehow representing genitalia– not to mention the idiotic idea that said genitalia should dictate a person’s gender.
It’s a problematic decision, and why you will never see anyone in the autistic community Light It Up Blue™ in April. (#RedInstead).
Talking over other voices
As the “blue brigade” has a history of doing, the project also talks over another community: Food allergies. By blowing up “autism awareness” and turning blue puzzle pieces into well-known commodities, Autism Speaks has created a level of privilege for their community. I say “their community” to specifically separate it from actual autistics and other communities who support autistic voices. This is a different community, one that appeals heavily to other privileged communities, such as upper-middle class white people. They are the “Autism Moms™,” the martyr parents. Many of them are anti-vaxxers, aggressively pro-ABA, and have been known to respond poorly when ABA is criticized, as well as invalidate autistic voices and experiences.
They are also the same types of people who worked to overturn the FDA ban on electric shock at the Judge Rotenberg Center.
This privilege has allowed them to completely bulldoze over the Teal Pumpkin Project. It came through with such force that within 2 years of my first hearing about the Blue Pumpkin idea, I hardly ever heard anything about the teal pumpkin project ever again, other than a few vague statements along the lines of “hey, wasn’t that a thing once?”
The Teal Pumpkin: A Meaningful Project
In case you’re new to the whole color-coded pumpkin experience, the Teal Pumpkin Project was an idea to draw attention to the difficulties children with severe food allergies and intertolances face during Halloween. You know, an actual legitimate concern. Many of us haphazardly dump a variety of candy into a container and hand them out to every little monster that knocks on the door. For some kids though, that’s a recipe for disappointment at best and life-threatening at worst.
Depending on the type of food allergy or intolerance and its severity, the presence of some types of treats can contaminate their entire bag and make all of their treats no longer safe for them to consume or even be around. For some, it could even mean that trick-or-treating isn’t worth the risk, meaning they have to miss out entirely.
Enter the Teal Pumpkin. A container with a clear indicator of safety. Instead of candy, it would be filled with non-edible treats such as stickers, spider rings, Halloween-themed bubbles, etc. There’s no risk of having to come into physical contact with any potential allergens, and it allows children with food allergies and intolerances to participate in trick-or-treating.
It’s a genius idea that addressed a real problem in a simple way without othering anyone. The teal pumpkin was available to everyone and, like most proper accommodations, children without allergies were able to enjoy it too. Not into candy? Not into the candy at that particular house? Physically unable to consume candy? No problem! Here’s another option! Happy Halloween!
It’s also an accessible alternative. Any of the little treats you put in the teal pumpkin are unlikely to cost more than Halloween candy. Hell, they’ll probably be cheaper. Slap some orange labels and maybe some green food coloring on the candy and boom! You’ve got an excuse to inflate the price because it’s a special, Halloween variety! Inedible treats though? Impulse-buy $1-3 bin at your local store. Done.
But yes, I will buy the hell out of some orange oreos and pumpkin-shaped Reese’s. Halloween is my jam, don’t you judge me.
The Blue Pumpkin: A meaningless and ableist project
One of the first criticisms brought up asked the question, why do you need to see a diagnosis to be compassionate? The blue pumpkin reinforces the idea that in order to be eligible for candy during Halloween, you need to meet certain criteria, such as saying “trick-or-treat” and “thank you,” and wearing an acceptable costume. I say acceptable, because some people take great offense to “cop-out” costumes, such as the year I wore normal clothes and said I was a homicidal maniac, because they could be anyone (a la Wednesday Addams). Some people also applied age limits, which are then enforced based on the present trick-or-treater’s appearance.
Yet somehow, if given a signal that a child had a certain diagnosis– namely the well-known disability everyone has heard about in the news– that and only that would excuse them from these rules.
That’s ridiculous.
First of all, if you spent $50 on Halloween candy and then no one in the neighborhood met your expectations, what are you going to do with all of that candy? Hoard it until they comply? Eat it all yourself? Why? Most of that candy is available year-round for half the price and a different wrapper. You are literally always free to get it and eat it all yourself. Imposing rules on a holiday based around free candy (in the general American culture) doesn’t make you the good guy.
Second, there are plenty of other reasons trick-or-treaters wouldn’t meet these expectations, not just the disability made famous by a hate group. The child who doesn’t say trick-or-treat may be “rude,” or they may be deaf, have speech issues such as apraxia or aphasia, or may just have anxiety that makes it hard for them to speak. The child who doesn’t wear a costume may “feel entitled,” or they may have sensory difficulties, or mobility difficulties that make wearing a costume unbearably uncomfortable or even dangerous. The child who sees the candy you’re offering and gets upset could be “a spoiled brat,” or they may have severe food allergies and trouble regulating their emotions.
The point is, if you can’t take these things into consideration and just accept whatever comes to your door without negative assumptions, it’s not the trick-or-treaters who need to change. No one owes you anything to trigger your compassion and patience. In that case, forget the colored pumpkins; just turn out your lights and eat the candy yourself.
Halloween should be for everyone
Halloween has always been my absolute favorite, so maybe I’m biased here, but I’ve just never seen a convincing argument for there to be any expectations on it– other than keeping your Christmas shit out of it until it’s Christmas’s turn.
Seriously, there’s nothing more annoying than seeing all of the Halloween stuff shoved off to the side mid-October, and all of the snowmen and Santas in its place. Let me have my time, dammit.
The important part though is that whoever comes to your door that night wants to enjoy the holiday, just like you. Why should their age, appearance, or language matter? There are plenty of other things they could be doing that night, especially teens, but they’re going door-to-door to appreciate the day in the way that works for them.
Just share their joy and let everyone be included.
And maybe pick up a pumpkin, paint it teal, and fill it with non-edible spooky treats. You never know whose night you will make.