CW: Offensive terms
Language is always evolving. As attitudes shift and societal norms alter in response, so then does our verbal behavior. As such, our vocabulary is in constant flux, with changing meanings, cultural contexts, and corresponding changes in what is acceptable versus what is not. Each time, there is pushback, usually from older people, who somehow view increasing freedoms for others as a personal attack on their own. Updated terminology is often the biggest target of these complaints.
“Everyone is so sensitive now!”
“You can’t say anything anymore!”
Well, yeah, and here’s a discussion of things you really shouldn’t say anymore. You can call it oversensitive if you want, but if an entire group of people views your vocabulary as problematic, then maybe it just fuckin’ is. Maybe my opossum brain is just full of trash, but I’ve always found it odd how some people get so irate after being told their words are hurting others and why hurting others is so rarely considered a valid reason to stop doing something.
Is it really that hard to just stop? A slight, usually temporary, increase in response effort on your part in order to stop harming others just doesn’t seem like a big deal to me, but what do I know?
So here’s a handy list with which to ruin your fuckin’ day. You’re welcome, Karen.
Functioning labels
You may have heard that Autism is a spectrum, but that doesn’t do justice to the description. When people think of spectrums, they tend to think of it as a binary. It’s the same problem as with gender (spoiler alert, gender isn’t a binary either). People tend to picture this:
But it’s really more like this:
When you understand that, words like “high functioning” and “low functioning” make no sense at best and at worst force actual human beings into boxes, invalidating the multi-dimensional people they are.
Nobody is just “high functioning” or “low functioning.” Instead of trying to describe an entire being with a single descriptor, consider support needs. Some people may have high support needs in one area, low support needs in another area, no support needs in others, etc.
But wait, that’s like, a lot of words. That’s not as convenient. That’s going to take too long to describe my clients.
If this was your first response, I hope you also realized that you don’t respect your clients.
Think about it: Do you describe non-disabled people with single labels? That’d be like describing your parents as simply parents.
This is Bob. Bob is a dad. That’s it. There’s nothing more to him. He’s just a dad.
Of course not. Arguing that idea would probably even piss off Bob’s own kids, despite that being his most defining role in their lives. Doing so would deny all of the other components that make Bob a person and not a piece of furniture. Bob might also be a writer, a gym-rat, a diabetic, and a singer. Maybe he’s a great driver but really struggles with anxiety, and his spouse sometimes has to help him in social situations. Maybe he has a bad back and sometimes needs help putting on his shoes. So is he high functioning or low functioning?
Everyone has support needs. Disabled people might just have more significant support needs that are more relevant to you as a service provider. That doesn’t mean we get to ignore the whole person.
And just a reminder, disabled people are more than their support needs as well. This section is just to give you a better way to discuss the specific clinical needs of people you are serving. They are not “high functioning” or “low functioning.” They may have higher support needs in some areas over others. Those support needs may also change by the day. Today, one may have higher support needs in certain areas than other days. We all have days. Never forget to consider the whole person.
Communication
I know I’m not alone here: I hate it–HATE IT–when people describe others who communicate with methods besides vocal speech as “non-verbal.” First of all, that’s not even clinically accurate. If a person is communicating, they are verbal, and everyone communicates somehow. Dictating what is and isn’t a valid form of communication is ableist AF.
The clinical term for a person who communicates with methods other than vocal speech is non-vocal. Considering the validity of all communication though, I begin to wonder if there is even a reason to ever use this term. Is it really relevant that the person doesn’t communicate vocally? Seems like it’d be more important what they do versus what they don’t do. “That person communicates with a device and signs” gives me much more pertinent information than just “they don’t speak.”
So what? That’s like saying “that person doesn’t wear jeans.” OK, but are they wearing pants in places where they legally have to? So we’re good. Their methods aren’t relevant.
Many people use more than one method of communication and that’s OK too. Sometimes, it may be easier for a person to speak. Other times, it might be nearly impossible, and they will need to rely on other methods of communication. That’s why it’s important to allow for multiple options of communication, especially when working with early communication learners.
Yes it is. They taught you incorrectly in grad school.
Disabled isn’t a dirty word
A common phrase mistakenly considered a respectful way to refer to disabled people is “special needs.” Don’t Call Me Special by Pat Thomas is actually a children’s book that explains the issues with this concept so well. (Thank you, Nora Project, for introducing me to that book). The term “special needs” is problematic on multiple fronts. First, it uses a medical model of disability that focuses the “problems” and “barriers” on the person rather than the environment around them. It labels people with disabilities as “exceptional” and “dependent on others to help them” in order to be considered functional members of society. “Burdens,” if you will. The term “special” is also incredibly othering. It implies that disabled people are not like others and defines them by their support needs.
Another misguided attempt to respectfully refer to disabled people is “differently abled,” as if considering a person’s support needs is to in some way insult or belittle them. Instead, let’s ignore the person’s support needs, and potentially a significant part of their identity, and just call it a “difference.” Because everyone’s different, and as the incredibly underrated show, Better Off Ted put it: “Just the thought of diversity makes these white people smile.”
#Un-cancelBetterOffTed
“Exceptional” is a favorite among schools. “Exceptional” is basically the same thing as “special needs.” It separates out the people who require extra effort for the non-disabled people, the “normal” people of society. When “exceptional” people are around, we “have to” add things to our environment to accommodate them. Again, that context of a burden and otherness that does nothing to integrate disabled people into everyday society. If anything, it implies that it’s impossible for a disabled person to be a part of society unless non-disabled people “let them.”
The overwhelming majority of people with disabilities prefer to just say “disabled” or “disability,” which you may have noticed has been the term I use throughout this blog. If you are balking at that, take a step back and consider why. What’s wrong with that term? Is it because being disabled is a bad thing, something that’s been framed as inherently negative in our society? Why? When you’ve attached nothing but negative connotations to a term, and by proxy the people associated with it, you’re going to be constantly chasing the “nicer” term. The problem is not the term, it’s the attitudes attached to it. When you consider that having a disability isn’t good or bad but just a thing, the term’s neutrality becomes more salient, and it’s easy to see it as simply a descriptor– one of many– for a person.
Problem/Target/Maladaptive Behavior
This term has a problem of its own too: I haven’t seen a consistently accepted replacement for it. But much like Function Labels, maybe it doesn’t need one. The term is meant to describe behaviors, usually disabled people’s behaviors, that in some way create difficulties for the neurotypical people around them. It’s a highly subjective term, but not without its valid uses depending on the situation. Some behaviors described as maladaptive, challenging, etc. are really just inconveniences or embarrassments for neurotypicals. It’s a personal problem projected onto a person with a disability because it’s “weird.” The most obvious example would be stimming, of course. Hand-flapping, humming, spinning, repetitive behaviors that realistically don’t harm anyone but that might make someone “uncomfortable.”
Oh no… not discomfort!
Some behaviors described this way are serious though. Aggressive behaviors that result in harm to other people or property damage, or self-injurious behaviors. It’s not unfair to say that these behaviors are concerning and in need of intervention. Of course, how that intervention is determined and applied is a different conversation.
So how should we talk about them? They need to be talked about if we are going to help. Well, like function labels, there may not be a convenient description that also maintains a person’s respect and dignity. We may just have to describe these things in multiple sentences or even paragraphs.
This is where I like to avoid adjectives overall. The person isn’t aggressive. That doesn’t define them. In certain situations, they engage in physical aggression towards others. Describing a person as “aggressive” defines their whole being by a negative feature and leaves no room for any other descriptions. The person ceases to be a 3-dimensional person and becomes “a behavior.”
Also, can we discuss the way some people use the term “behaviors?” This person has behaviors! So, like, they’re alive? I’m even more concerned about the person who “doesn’t have behaviors” then. Why are we working with corpses? I have questions. Maybe a person is “in a behavior.” I’m also curious about that. What is it like in the behavior? Does the weather change? Are the exits clearly marked?
Just stop saying shit like that, you’re excessively pathologizing things, and you sound like a damn idiot.
Person-first
Before we dig into this one, it’s important to point out that preferences for these terms may change depending on the culture or the language being used, as well as the specific population. Since over 70% of BCBAs work with autism, and ABA originates in the U.S., I will be speaking on this topic from the context of the English-speaking U.S. population.
It’s Autistic, not Person with Autism.
The end, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.
In all seriousness, many of us were probably taught to use person-first language. We need to focus on the person, not the disability, because disabilities are “bad,” right? They are not their disability, they are a person with a disability. Just like I’m not a female opossum, I’m an opossum with femaleness.
Or an opossum with inappropriate behavior.
The overwhelming majority (over 90%) of autistics prefer identity-first language. Being autistic is part of their identity, just like being neurodivergent is a part of mine. I don’t feel ashamed of my brain. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have this brain. Is it inconvenient sometimes? Absolutely. But no one’s identity is all perfect. Every positive trait has a flip side and vice versa.
For example, people who are really competitive might be prone to being sore losers or making activities more intense than others want them to be, but they may also be more ambitious and do incredibly well at things they are interested in. A lot of extremely talented people are that way because they’re competitive. It’s the same thing with disabilities. This seems to be especially true of autism because all of the diagnostic criteria is behavioral.
Being autistic definitely comes with difficulties (though a lot of that depends on the model of disability you’re using), but it also comes with heaps of awesome flip sides. My autistic friends will always be honest and direct with me (which my brain, though not autistic, really appreciates). I don’t need to walk away wondering if I have just been lied to, or if I was just told what someone thought I wanted to hear, like I do sometime after interacting with neurotypicals. A lot of them are super knowledgeable thanks to their Special Interests (or SpIns!) and you can always have a source of fascinating information about a subject. The autistics I know are genuine and empathetic, even if sometimes sensitive and emotional. So what? It’s who they are. Those are huge aspects of people. Who would they be without them?
This goes for other disabilities as well. People with ADHD are sometimes master multi-taskers or are able to consider situations and projects from angles no one else sees. D/deaf people have sign languages with ways of creating poetry and stories and conveying them in totally unique ways.
OK, maybe the thought of diversity does make this opossum smile, but maybe it should. When we separate our society into “us” and “them” and then arbitrarily rank them from “best” to “worst,” we miss out on so much.
I hear a lot of professionals and caregivers continuously argue about identity-first language. They say the word “autistic” makes them “feel icky,” or they had it drilled into them for X number of years to say “person with autism,” etc. These professionals say that others can use whatever term they want, but they (the professionals) are going to continue using the term that makes them feel the most comfortable.
Neurotypicals sure do like to put a high value on their own comfort.
Here’s the thing: It’s not for you. It’s not your decision. You do not get to dictate how a population you don’t belong to gets to refer to themselves or or how others should refer to them. Your own comfort is not worth more than theirs. That’s selfish and ableist. If identity-first language bothers you that much, then you need to examine why, and your own attitudes towards disabled people, not dig your heels in and insist on your own preferences.
I’m sure at one point when words like “black” and “African-American” were gaining traction, there were white people in the world with other word preferences as well. Should we respect them so they feel more “comfortable” with the word(s) they’re most familiar with?
The answer is no, by the way. In case anyone out there was stumped by that one.
Autistics are autistic. Black people are black. I am a neurodivergent, inappropriate opossum. Don’t like it? Too bad. It’s not up to you.