Another Spectrum

Personal ramblings and rants of a somewhat twisted mind

Tag Archives: acceptance


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Living Without Pictures: Aphantasia in the Ordinary and the Extreme

While aphantasia can offer surprising gifts—like seeing every sunrise with fresh eyes—it can also bring a quiet kind of disconnect. Not just from memory, but from systems built on the assumption that everyone shares the same internal world.

Let me show you both sides of this coin.

Sunrises Without Recall

Imagine spending your entire life underground, never once seeing the daylight or the beauty of a sunrise. You’ve read about them, you’ve heard people speak with reverence about the colours, the calm, the quiet awe. But to you, it’s all theory—well-documented, sure, but still distant. Then, one morning, you’re brought to the surface. And as the first rays pierce the horizon, the sky bursts into a display beyond anything words could prepare you for.

You’re speechless. Tearful, even. Every part of you is humming with wonder. The next day, another sunrise meets your eyes—and again, it takes your breath away. But slowly, over time, that awe softens. You get used to the sky performing its daily miracle. You still find it beautiful, but the novelty fades.

That’s how I imagine the experience of most people. They store mental images of sunrises. They can retrieve one at will, or compare today’s offering to one from years ago. That memory, ironically, dulls the moment-to-moment magic.

For me, it’s different. I have no mental images. No stored sunrises. Each morning’s light show hits me as though it’s the first I’ve ever seen. I don’t carry yesterday’s sky with me, so I greet today’s with unfiltered awe. Again. And again. And again.

You might find that sad. You might even feel sorry for me. But honestly? I sometimes feel a quiet sadness for you. Because while you carry the ability to visualise, to relive, you also carry the risk of becoming numb to beauty through familiarity. I never do. Not with sunrises. Not with autumn leaves. Not with the quiet fall of rain on my windowpane. There’s something extraordinary in that.

The Cost of Invisibility

But aphantasia isn’t all beauty and wonder. It has costs—particularly when my internal world collides with systems that rely on memory and comparison.

Take pain, for example.

If you’ve ever interacted with a health professional, you’ve likely been asked: “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain—where one is barely noticeable and ten is the worst pain you’ve ever had?” Most people can give a rough answer, even if it’s guesswork.

I can’t. Not because I’m being difficult, but because I have no recollection of previous pain. I know I’ve had it—I’ve had kidney stones that doubled me over and migraines that left me barely functioning. But the pain itself? I don’t feel it in memory. I remember facts: that I couldn’t speak more than two words before groaning, that I couldn’t stand up straight. But those details don’t come with any trace of sensation. So how do I compare that to a present experience? I can’t.

The same thing happened when I was six or seven. I was hit on the head by something heavy that knocked me to the ground. I remember the blood over my eyes, soaking into my clothes. I told my mother it hurt. But the pain? There’s just… nothing.

Even with frequent migraines now, I can describe how they impair my day—how light becomes unbearable, how sounds thud inside my head—but I can’t say if one migraine hurts more than another. There’s no internal scale. No ruler to measure with. And every time I try to explain this to a health professional, it’s met with confusion at best, suspicion at worst.

At one point, my inability to articulate or compare pain got recorded on my file as “the patient tends to be uncooperative.” Since then, the empathy I used to receive has grown noticeably colder.

Here’s a regular example: I’ve been receiving acupuncture to manage migraines. It helps—a little—and the side effects are kinder than previous meds. Each session, the practitioner presses on different spots and asks me to say when it hurts. I do my best. But then she’ll ask which points felt more painful than others. I have no clue. Sometimes I try to recall whether I responded with a grunt or if my tone changed, but it’s all a blank. I have nothing to compare to.

She gets frustrated. “You’re not being helpful,” she says. She offers her own assessment: “This spot seemed more painful based on how you moved.” Then she asks me to confirm it.

At first, I was honest. I said I didn’t know. But each time, that honesty built more tension. So eventually, I started nodding. Playing along. Why not? Her judgment’s probably better than mine anyway. But sometimes I wonder how many others are out there doing the same—smoothing over our differences just to make the system work around us.

Different, Not Deficient

That’s the thing about aphantasia. It’s not exceptional, and it’s certainly not tragic. For me, it just is. A constant companion shaping how I experience life—from the glorious to the gritty.

Some days it means I cry at dawn. Other days, it means I leave a clinic feeling unseen.

But it’s all part of the same reality. Not better. Not worse. Just different. And maybe that’s the real story here: that the world is filled with unseen variations, quietly shaping our lives while the systems we rely on still cling to sameness.

Tēnā koe for listening.


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Autistic Pride Day 2025: A Celebration of Worthiness, Not Superiority

June 18 marks Autistic Pride Day, a day that stands as both a celebration and a declaration: autistic people are not broken, lesser, or in need of fixing—we are worthy. This fundamental truth is often misunderstood, not just in autistic pride but across all movements of marginalised communities. Whether it’s LGBTQ+ Pride, Black Pride, or Disability Pride, the message is not “we are better than you,” but rather, “we are just as worthy as you.”

The Misconception of Pride

Pride, in its truest form, is not about hierarchy—it is about dignity. It is a response to centuries of exclusion, discrimination, and forced assimilation. Autistic Pride, like other pride movements, exists because society has historically told autistic people that our natural ways of thinking, communicating, and existing are wrong. We have been conditioned to mask, to conform, to suppress our authentic selves for the comfort of others. Pride is the refusal to accept that suppression as the price of inclusion.

The Intersection of Pride Movements

Autistic Pride Day falls within Pride Month, a time when LGBTQ+ communities celebrate their identities and push back against systemic oppression. The overlap is not coincidental—many autistic individuals are also LGBTQ+, and both communities face similar struggles: the pressure to mask, the demand to conform, and the societal expectation to be palatable rather than authentic.

The intersection of Autistic Pride with broader Pride movements highlights a fundamental truth: authenticity should not be conditional. Too often, society selectively acknowledges neurodivergent individuals only when we suppress or soften aspects of our identity to fit prevailing norms. However, true pride is not about celebrating only the palatable parts of being autistic—it is about embracing all aspects of autistic existence, including the traits that are often misunderstood or pathologised.

Autistic Pride rejects the notion that autistic individuals should mask their natural behaviours to be deemed acceptable. Instead, it affirms that autistic ways of thinking, interacting, and being are equally valid. This is the essence of unapologetic authenticity—a recognition that every part of the autistic experience deserves to be valued, not just those that align with neurotypical expectations. Pride is not about conforming to an external standard of worthiness; it is about reclaiming the right to exist as we are.

Moving Beyond Visibility

Visibility alone is not enough. Autistic Pride must go beyond simply being seen—it must demand structural change. As highlighted in the Autistic Pride Day 2025 Speaker & Narrative Toolkit, inclusion is not an act of kindness; it is an act of justice. It requires policy shifts, accessibility improvements, and a fundamental rethinking of how society accommodates neurodivergent individuals.

A Call to Action

This Autistic Pride Day, let’s move beyond awareness and into action. Let’s challenge the systems that force autistic people to mask in workplaces, schools, and social settings. Let’s push for neuro-affirming healthcare, inclusive hiring practices, and education systems that support rather than suppress. Pride is not just about celebration—it is about demanding change.

For those interested in further reflections on Autistic Pride and the intersectionality of pride movements, you can explore my previous writings below.
Autistic Pride Is NOT Just about the Good Parts of Being NeuroDivergent
Autistic Pride: Embracing Natural Behaviours and Ways of Interacting
Autistic Pride Day: 18 June 2024
Autistic Pride Day – 18 June
Happy (And Safe) Pride Month!


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Musical Monday (2025/03/03) – Star Crossed Lovers

It’s not very often you’ll find me posting a “Musical Monday” article about a love-themed song—they’re generally not my cup of tea. However, this particular song touched me in a special way, and I’d like to share why.

Neil Sedaka’s Original

Neil Sedaka released “Star Crossed Lovers” in 1969 as part of his efforts to revive his career after a decline in popularity during the mid-1960s. Known for his string of hits in the late 1950s and early 1960s, Sedaka co-wrote the song with his long-time collaborator, Howard Greenfield. It was released as a 45 rpm single on the SGC label in the US and the Atlantic label in Australia. The song reached number one on the Australian charts and was considered one of Australia’s top songs of 1969.

Craig Scott’s Kiwi Cover

Until I did a little digging for this article, I hadn’t heard Sedaka’s original, nor did I realise the version I’m familiar with was a cover. Craig Scott, a Kiwi artist, covered “Star Crossed Lovers” in 1970. His version became a significant hit in New Zealand, reaching the number one spot on the national charts.

Scott’s rendition was notable for its warm vocal delivery and the harpsichord-sounding keyboard, which added a unique touch to the song. Released on 29 April 1970, it quickly gained popularity, holding the number one position for four weeks.

Scott’s success with “Star Crossed Lovers” marked a high point in his career, and he continued to enjoy popularity in New Zealand throughout the early 1970s. Despite his success, he eventually left the music industry in the late 1970s and later started New Zealand’s first video rental business.

My Personal Connection

My special relationship with this song began about a year later when I decided to ask my then pen friend—now my wife—to marry me. Religion wasn’t an issue; although I hail from a nominally secular Christian background and my future wife came from a Shinto/Buddhist background, neither of us perceived ourselves as religious. As fate would have it, she proposed to me by mail at the same time I did. Remarkably, she received my proposal on the same day I received hers, approximately two weeks after posting.

At that time, I had no friends I could confide in, and I was deeply anxious about how my family might take the news of my intention to marry someone of a different ethnicity—someone they had never met. My greatest worry was my mother. She had been engaged before the commencement of World War II, and her fiancé had been killed by the Japanese. Although she had never expressed any animosity towards Japanese people, I couldn’t shake the fear that this news might reopen old wounds. The thought of potentially causing her pain weighed heavily on my heart.

Meanwhile, my fiancée had broken the news to her parents, and initially, they were totally opposed to her travelling to the opposite end of the world to start a new life. They couldn’t fathom their daughter leaving everything she knew for someone they had never met.

In the solitude of those weeks, I played “Star Crossed Lovers” over and over whenever I was alone, grappling with how to approach my family about my plans for the future. The song became my solace, echoing the uncertainty and hope that filled my days. Like the characters in the song, we seemed like star-crossed lovers, unsure of how others would accept our relationship.

A Joyful Resolution

As it turned out, my worries were needless. My parents were overjoyed at the prospect of me having a wife and them gaining a new daughter-in-law. Unbeknownst to me, they had harboured a concern that my lack of social skills would render me a bachelor for the rest of my days. You might say they were over the moon.

And my future parents-in-law? Once they realised that their daughter was going to marry me with or without their blessing, they relented. By the time I first met them, they had come to see that if anyone could be a suitable match for their stubborn, strong-willed daughter, then I was the best candidate.

This song, which once filled me with trepidation, now brings back fond memories of a pivotal moment in my life. It’s a reminder of how love can bridge gaps and ease fears—something I hadn’t expected from a love song, but I’m grateful nonetheless.

Star Crossed Lovers

Father, dear father, I come to confession
Hoping to find peace of mind
Father, I've fallen in love with an angel
But she's not one of our kind
If it's a sin to want her and need her
This is what I'm guilty of
She won't believe in the things we believe in
But she believes in my love

Star-crossed lovers
Is there a place for us
In this world?

Father, dear father
I can't live without her
Is it your wish we must part?
Would you refuse
To give me your blessing
If I should follow my heart?

Father, please tell me
Are we so different
And is our love
So unwise?
We both believe
There is the one God in heaven
But we see him through different eyes

Star-crossed lovers
Is there a place for us
In this world?

Star-crossed lovers
Is there a place for us
In this world?

(Star-crossed lovers)
Is there a place for us
In this world?

(Star-crossed lovers)
Is there a place for us
In this world?


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Breaking Barriers: Unmasking Diversiphobia and Embracing True Inclusion

For a long time, I’ve felt that different forms of bigotry and discrimination share a lot in common. When I think of terms like racism, sexism, homophobia, and ableism, it becomes clear to me that they all stem from an aversion to diversity in some form.

To me, the highest form of civilisation is one where everyone can participate fully in society without barriers, and where help is given to those who face challenges in being equals. In other words, society must be equitable for everyone, not just the majority.

When I think about diversity, I consider how people’s unique experiences and responses can place them outside societal norms, and how society reacts to those differences. Unfortunately, too often, the response is negative or harmful to those affected.

Reflecting on how modern Western society treats those who differ from the majority, it struck me that there’s a strong expectation for conformity to a narrow “normal.” Falling outside those parameters immediately brings barriers to full participation. Why? Because there’s a fear of difference—a fear of diversity.

In searching for a term that captures this reluctance to accept diversity, I came across “intersectional discrimination.” However, this term seems to focus on overlapping discriminations and might exclude those from single marginalised groups. It also doesn’t describe an aversion to diversity itself.

So, I’ve coined the term: diversiphobia. It combines “diversi-” (from “diversity”) and “-phobia” (meaning fear or aversion) to describe the aversion to or discrimination against diversity in all its forms.

I can’t cover every aspect of diversiphobia in a single blog article, so I’ll share a few examples:

Autism: After disclosing my autism to a health professional, I noticed a sudden change in their behaviour. They began directing all questions to my companion, as if I was no longer capable of speaking for myself. This made me feel belittled and devalued, simply because I didn’t fit their notion of “normal.”

Race: Consider a person of colour who is constantly asked where they’re “really” from, despite being born and raised in the same country as those asking the question. This implies they don’t truly belong, fostering a sense of exclusion based solely on their appearance.

Gender: A woman in a male-dominated industry might be overlooked for promotions or have her ideas dismissed, solely because of her gender. Her competence and contributions are overshadowed by pervasive gender biases that fear disrupting traditional norms.

LGBTQ+ Community: A same-sex couple might face hostile reactions when displaying affection in public. Their expression of love is met with discomfort or aggression from others who cannot accept relationships that differ from heterosexual norms.

Diversiphobia manifests in countless ways, affecting individuals across various aspects of identity. It hinders our progress toward a truly inclusive society.

Conclusion:

It’s time we confront diversiphobia head-on. Embracing diversity enriches our communities, fosters innovation, and strengthens social bonds. Let’s challenge our own biases and encourage others to appreciate the unique perspectives that each person brings. By promoting understanding and acceptance, we can build a society where everyone feels valued and empowered to participate fully.

Call to Action:

Let’s start conversations about diversiphobia in our circles. Educate ourselves and others about the importance of inclusivity. Stand up against discrimination whenever we witness it. By doing so, we not only support those who are marginalised but also contribute to a richer, more compassionate world where diversity is celebrated, not feared.


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An Autistic Quaker’s Insight: Blending Culture, Spirituality, and Rationality

I perceive a profound synergy between spirituality, culture, and rational thought. Experiencing the divine as a natural outcome of our social evolution resonates deeply with me, especially when I consider how cooperation and connection are so deeply embedded in our DNA. It’s as if spirituality is another thread woven into the tapestry of human expression, alongside art, music, and ethics.

Bridging the gap between fundamentalists and New Atheists is a challenging endeavour I sometimes undertake. Both ends of the spectrum tend to view the world in stark contrasts—either strictly supernatural or purely materialistic—missing the rich spectrum that exists in between. I believe that spirituality doesn’t have to conflict with reason; instead, it can complement it, offering deeper meanings without invoking the supernatural. This perspective is at the heart of my Quaker experience.

As a Quaker in New Zealand, I find immense value in a tradition that emphasizes acceptance and the valuing of differences—be they religious, spiritual, sexual and gender identities, or cultural identities. In our practice, there’s no need to hold any religious belief or theology as exclusively true, and none is seen as “more true” than another. This open-minded approach mirrors my own interpretation of life, where spirituality is an inward experience that naturally extends outward into how I engage with the world.

My multicultural family embodies this intricate blend of culture, religion, and spirituality. Living in New Zealand, I’ve witnessed how the interweaving of Pākehā, Māori, and, within my family, Japanese traditions creates a unique cultural fabric where separating one strand affects the whole. Māori spirituality, for instance, is so integrated into the land and community that it naturally coexists with secular life. Similarly, Japanese practices often blend Shintō and Buddhist elements seamlessly into daily routines without conflicting with modern rational thought.

As someone who experiences the world differently due to being autistic, I find that my insights offer a unique lens. I may perceive connections and nuances that others overlook, making my fascination with varied experiences—religious, spiritual, social, or cultural—all the more enriching. It’s as if I have an innate ability to see the underlying patterns that tie us all together, regardless of our diverse backgrounds.

I’ve been engaging in dialogues and writing about my perspective, hoping to share how spirituality can harmoniously coexist with rationality. Quaker principles have provided me with language and concepts to express my views more clearly. The Quaker emphasis on personal experience over dogma allows for a spirituality that is deeply personal yet universally accessible. This non-theistic approach doesn’t require belief in the supernatural but encourages seeking truth through inner reflection and communal understanding.

By embracing these reflections, I hope to contribute to a broader conversation. Perhaps we can move beyond the binaries that often divide us and appreciate the rich tapestry of human experience. After all, spirituality, culture, and rational thought need not be in conflict—they can coexist, enrich each other, and help us navigate the complexities of our shared humanity.


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Silence Isn’t Neutral: The Quiet Endorsement of Discrimination

Sometimes, the loudest statements are the ones we don’t make. In a world brimming with chatter, it’s tempting to believe that staying silent keeps us out of the fray. But when it comes to racism, ableism, sexism, and discrimination against the LGBTQ+ community, silence isn’t just a passive choice—it’s a tacit endorsement.

Taika Waititi’s poignant video for the New Zealand Human Rights Commission, Give Nothing to Racism, captures this sentiment with sharp clarity. Through his signature blend of humor and candor, Waititi exposes how everyday comments and offhand jokes can fuel a much larger problem. His message rings true: by doing nothing, we’re allowing harmful attitudes to take root and flourish.

As someone navigating life on the autism spectrum, this hits close to home. The casual ableism woven into everyday interactions mirrors the subtle—and not-so-subtle—ways racism, sexism, and prejudice against the LGBTQ+ community manifest. An offhand remark about someone being “so OCD” when they’re just particular, or jesting that a colleague is “acting bipolar” trivializes genuine neurodiversity. Similarly, dismissive comments about women in leadership or using derogatory terms for LGBTQ+ individuals perpetuate harmful stereotypes.

The parallels among these forms of discrimination are striking. They all hinge on reducing individuals to oversimplified labels, stripping away the rich complexity that makes each person unique. Marginalized groups—whether they’re people of color, women, the LGBTQ+ community, or those with disabilities—face systemic barriers and daily microaggressions. And often, these injustices persist because the majority remains silent.

Consider this scenario: In a meeting, someone suggests that a task might be “too technical” for a female colleague, implying that her gender limits her capabilities. The room falls quiet—not out of shock, but out of complicity. Or imagine a group laughing at a homophobic joke, with no one stepping in to say it’s unacceptable. These moments might seem insignificant in isolation, but collectively, they create an environment where discrimination feels permissible.

How about when a coworker makes a joke about someone being “on the spectrum” because they’re not socially adept? Laughter fills the room, and no one bats an eye. To some, it’s just humour. To others, it’s a sting—a reminder of the daily misunderstandings and stereotypes faced by autistic individuals. When we let these moments slide, we’re not just avoiding conflict; we’re contributing to a culture that normalises discrimination.

Activist Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” It’s a stark reminder that inaction isn’t a shield—it’s a choice that enables oppression to continue unchallenged.

So, what steps can we take? First, it’s about awareness. Recognize that comments and behaviors, even those meant in jest, can perpetuate harmful ideologies. Educate yourself about the experiences and histories of marginalized groups. When you witness acts of racism, ableism, sexism, or homophobia—even subtle ones—speak up. It doesn’t require grandstanding; sometimes, a simple “That’s not okay” can disrupt the status quo.

For those seeking to understand the impact of ableism on the autistic community, the video Autism Doesn’t Need Cures, It Needs Acceptance offers valuable insights. Emma Watson’s powerful HeForShe speech at the United Nations sheds light on the importance of gender equality and how sexism affects us all. Additionally, the short film “Love Is All You Need?” flips societal norms to highlight the absurdity of discrimination based on sexual orientation.

Engaging with these resources equips us with the empathy and knowledge needed to challenge harmful narratives. It’s about fostering a culture where everyone—regardless of race, ability, gender, or sexual orientation—feels seen, heard, and valued.

It’s crucial to understand that silence isn’t the absence of noise; it’s the absence of action. By choosing not to confront discriminatory remarks or behaviors, we’re allowing them to persist. Just as conversations can ignite change, silence can extinguish hope.

Breaking the Cycle

Change doesn’t require monumental efforts; it often starts with small, intentional actions. Here are steps to consider:

  • Educate Yourself: Dive into books, documentaries, and articles that broaden your understanding of different experiences. Knowledge dismantles ignorance.
  • Speak Up: When you witness discrimination, voice your objection. It might be uncomfortable, but discomfort is a catalyst for growth.
  • Amplify Marginalized Voices: Share stories, art, and perspectives from people of color, the LGBTQ+ community, women, and people with disabilities. Representation matters.
  • Self-Reflect: Acknowledge and confront your own biases. We’re all products of our environments, but we have the power to change our perspectives.
  • Promote Inclusivity: Encourage diverse voices in your workplace, social circles, and media consumption. Diversity enriches our understanding of the world.

Remember, every choice matters. By refusing to give racism, ableism, sexism, and homophobia any encouragement, respect, or power, we collectively pave the way toward a more inclusive and compassionate society.

In the end, it’s not about being flawless allies; it’s about being active participants in the quest for equality. We might stumble, and we’ll certainly learn along the way, but choosing action over silence is a profound step in the right direction.

Extending a Hand

If you’re looking to delve deeper, consider exploring these additional resources:

  • Podcasts: Listening to voices from marginalized communities can offer personal insights. Shows like Code Switch, The Guilty Feminist, and Queerology provide thought-provoking discussions on race, gender, and identity.
  • Books: Titles like “So You Want to Talk About Race” by Ijeoma Oluo, “NeuroTribes” by Steve Silberman, “We Should All Be Feminists” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and “Gender Queer” by Maia Kobabe can expand your understanding.
  • Community Involvement: Participate in local organizations or online groups that advocate for equality and inclusivity. Active involvement not only broadens your perspective but also contributes to tangible change.

Ultimately, the goal is to move from passive observer to active ally. By challenging discrimination in all its forms, we’re not just standing up for others—we’re building a world we’d all rather live in.


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Faith restored! (kind of)

Thankfully, few of my regular readers have asked about my absence from the blogosphere since the beginning of September because I haven’t had (and still don’t fully have) the language to explain why. A feeling of dis-ease – a foreboding that something is not right with the world, I think is at the core of it.

It’s also true to say that a series of attacks in September and early October last year directed at me personally, and mostly out of the public eye, has had more impact on my desire to share my experiences and understanding than I was at first prepared to admit. While I have always had unconditional love and understanding from my whānau, my different way of being and expression due to being unaware that I am autistic has been met with ostracism, antagonism, intolerance and bullying by much of society.

That lead me to feel that the September attack was a coordinated onslaught, although in hindsight was more likely just a coincidence, as the attacks came from those who would make uncomfortable bedfellows. It’s difficult to imagine those who hate (and I’m using that word generously) my perspectives on autism and neurodiversity, racism and culture, religiosity and spirituality, gender identity and expression, sexuality, climate change, Te Tiriti o Waitangi, politics, liberalism and tolerance working together. I don’t really think that those from religious fundamentalism on the one hand and “New Atheism” on the other, and the extreme right on one hand and the “loony left” on the other would think that I’m such a threat that they would lay aside their differences just to get at me.

So while the prospect of four years of a Trump administration (or perhaps more accurately a plutocracy and/or kleptocracy) in the USA is most certainly worrying, recent events in this country brought about by the widespread opposition, including the largest demonstration in the history of this nation, to some bills being introduced by our right of centre government does give me cause for hope. Perhaps I can say I’m cautiously optimistic about humankind and that the current worldwide trend towards intolerance and authoritarianism is but a short term glitch on the road to a kinder world.


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Happy (And Safe) Pride Month!

The title of this post is a direct lift of the title of a post over on Filosofa’s Word. This post itself has been prompted by a comment made by a reader that has been gnawing at me ever since I saw it. The sentiments expressed give me cause to be concerned about the wellbeing of those who are trans. Originally I was going to reply to the comment, but as my comment continued to grow in length, I realised it deserved a post of its own. So below is my take on the matter.

I will provide a broad summary of my position and then go into detail on a few of the statements I see as being misleading:

  1. Excluding the “T” from the LGBTQ+ acronym:
    • The acronym has evolved over time to be more inclusive. While it originally stood for “Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual,” adding the “T” (for transgender) recognises the unique challenges faced by transgender individuals.
    • Transgender people have historically been part of the LGBTQ+ community, advocating for their rights alongside LGB individuals. Excluding them would be counterproductive to the fight for equality and acceptance.
  2. Pride Parades and Trans Children:
    • Pride parades celebrate diversity, acceptance, and love. They are not solely about sexuality but also about gender identity and expression.
    • Trans children exist and deserve support. Gender dysphoria is a real experience, and affirming care helps them live authentically.
    • The claim that “no child is born in the wrong body” oversimplifies a complex issue. Gender identity is multifaceted and not solely determined by physical characteristics.
  3. Trans-ideology and Medications:
    • Gender-affirming care is evidence-based and supports transgender individuals. It includes counselling, hormone therapy, and, in some cases, surgery.
    • It is not about “Big Pharma” or plastic surgery. These treatments improve mental health and well-being.
    • The decision to pursue medical interventions is individual and not forced upon anyone.
  4. Identity and Feelings:
    • Gender identity is more than feelings; it’s an intrinsic sense of self. It’s not merely about “identifying” as something.
    • A person’s gender identity may not align with their assigned sex at birth. Acknowledging this is essential for understanding transgender experiences.
  5. Straight Allies and Pride:
    • Straight allies play a crucial role in supporting LGBTQ+ rights. Their presence at Pride events shows solidarity.
    • Corporations supporting Pride often do so genuinely, but it’s essential to hold them accountable for meaningful actions beyond marketing.

Now on to specifics:

“No child is born in the wrong body”

Many trans people recognize their gender identity from a young age. The feeling that they have the ‘wrong body’ often arises due to societal discouragement or punishment. When trans children are denied their true gender, it reinforces the notion that they are in the wrong body. It’s not that trans people want to change their gender because they believe they have the wrong body; rather, they believe they have the wrong body because they are denied the opportunity to express their gender in the body they have.

Gender Identity and Sexual Orientation

Transgender Identity: Transgender individuals have a gender identity that doesn’t align with their assigned sex at birth. This internal sense of being male, female, or nonbinary develops independently of sexual orientation.

Sexual Orientation: Sexual orientation pertains to whom someone is attracted to on physical, emotional, and romantic levels. It is distinct from gender identity.

Transgender ≠ Homophobic: Being transgender does not imply homophobia. Transgender people, like cisgender people, can have diverse sexual orientations—being attracted to men, women, both, or neither

Transgender Children:

Early Awareness: Many transgender children express their gender identity from a young age. They may strongly identify as boys, girls, or nonbinary.

Stigma and Challenges: Transgender individuals often face significant stigma and discrimination. This can impact their mental health and well-being.

Staying True: As children grow older, their gender identity tends to remain consistent. It’s essential to listen to their feelings and support them without rushing to label 

Stigma Comparison:

Transgender vs. LGB: While both transgender and LGB individuals face challenges, transgender people often encounter additional barriers due to societal misconceptions and lack of understanding.

Unique Struggles: The journey of self-discovery and acceptance can be particularly complex for transgender individuals, especially when it comes to affirming their gender identity.

In summary: Transgender children often know their gender identity early on, and the stigma they face is distinct from that experienced by LGB individuals. Listening to their feelings and providing support is crucial.

Pride Month

Pride Month is about celebrating identity, acceptance, and the right to be oneself. While sexuality is a part of it, the broader focus includes gender identity, expression, and the diverse experiences of LGBTQ+ individuals. Autistic Pride Day’s inclusion (18 June) recognises that pride extends beyond sexual orientation—it encompasses all aspects of self, including gender and neurodiversity.

Given that autistic people are significantly more likely than their non-autistic peers to express non-conforming sexuality and gender identities, including Autistic Pride Day in Pride Month is entirely appropriate. For instance:

  • Autistic adults and adolescents are approximately eight times more likely to identify as asexual or with an ‘other’ sexuality compared to their non-autistic peers.
  • Autistic males are 3.5 times more likely to identify as bisexual compared to non-autistic males.
  • Autistic females are three times more likely to identify as lesbian compared to non-autistic females.”

My perspective

Many Polynesian societies, including the Māori in Aotearoa New Zealand, have long recognised that gender isn’t binary—well before the advent of “big pharma” and plastic surgery. New Zealand has been a pioneer in progressive policies, enabling individuals to self-identify their gender on official documents like driver’s licenses, passports, and, more recently, birth certificates. Importantly, there’s no need for medical procedures such as surgery or hormone therapy; a statutory declaration suffices.

In fact, the majority of trans people in New Zealand do not undergo “bottom” surgery due to its limited availability within the country. The National Council of Women in New Zealand, a prominent women’s organisation, unequivocally supports gender equality, including for trans and gender non-conforming individuals. They affirm that trans women are women and trans men are men.

New Zealand’s trailblazers, like Georgina Beyer — possibly the world’s first openly transgender mayor and Member of Parliament—have championed these rights. Their legacy underscores the importance of recognising diverse identities and advocating for human rights, including those of women, children, and the trans community.

Colours intertwine,
Love blooms fierce, unapologetic,
Pride in every hue.

(This post was prepared and edited with assistance from Copilot)


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Unspoken Turns

I’ve always struggled with knowing when it is my turn to speak. I wrote about it six years ago in my post To speak or not to speak, that is the question. An event several weeks ago drove home to me quite forcefully that I still find the art of conversation elusive – very elusive. It was frustrating enough for me to want to write about it, but try as I may it didn’t convey the frustration that I felt. I enlisted the help of Copilot, but I still couldn’t get away from the article seeming like a ball-by-ball play of the situation instead of being about how I felt. After a lot of back and forth conversation, Copilot suggested a poem might be a better platform for expressing how I felt. So after an hour or so of collaboration, here’s the final result. Let me know in the comments how the poem resonates with you.

Unspoken Turns
In the crowded theatre of conversation, 
I sit, a silent actor on life’s stage, 
The script eluding my grasp, 
As others pirouette through dialogue.

To speak or not to speak? 
A riddle whispered by invisible muses, 
Their laughter echoing in my ears, 
As I fumble for cues, lost in the spotlight.

One-on-one, I stumble— 
Words tripping over each other, 
A clumsy waltz of syllables, 
And the lead remains elusive.

But in the ensemble of many, 
I am a fish out of water, 
Caught in the undertow of turn-taking, 
Gasping for air, seeking my moment.

To speak or not to speak? 
A soliloquy etched upon my soul, 
As I watch the choreography unfold, 
Wondering when my cue will come.

ESP or supernatural whispers? 
The others glide seamlessly, 
Their voices weaving patterns, 
While I unravel the threads of silence.

To speak or not to speak? 
A silent plea to the cosmic director, 
Who withholds the script, 
Leaving me adrift in this conversational sea.

And so, I observe—seven decades and counting, 
A detective of human interaction, 
Yet the clues remain cryptic, 
The secret handshake of discourse eluding me.

Next time you witness rudeness, 
An untimely interruption, 
Consider the hidden struggle, 
The desperate quest to belong.

For we, the speechless wanderers, 
Navigate your world with uncertainty, 
Our turns unmarked, our cues obscured, 
Yet yearning to dance in the spotlight.


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Progress!

I notice here in Aotearoa that there is a trend away from referring to April as Autism Awareness Month. Even a trend away from naming it Autism Acceptance Month. Instead I see a new trend towards referring to April as Autism Appreciation Month. May the rend continue.

While autistic people do face many challenges living in a society built around the needs and wants of neurotypical people, we can also offer unique perspectives and skills that can benefit a diverse and accepting society.

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