The Hidden Village of Aspergers

April 24, 2016

Autistic kids being targeted by hackers

Stuart Duncan, the father of an autistic boy, started Autcraft, a Minecraft server for autistic kids and adults to play in safety. Then this happened:

On April 6th, 2016, two people attempted to hack into the Autcraft server and failed.

What they did succeed in doing, however, was to hijack our IP address, effectively redirecting all the traffic from our server to a server of their own.

The children that signed on to play, some as young as 6 years old, signed on to their server instead of mine. Once there, they were encased in a bedrock box from which they could not leave and were told that they were rejects from society, degenerates and that they should kill themselves.

When I asked these guys why they’d do such a thing, they responded “it’s funny.”

They told us that we’d never figure out what they had done or how to stop it and that they’d continue doing it unless we paid them $1000.

The full article is here.

The hatred for autistic people in some corners of the internet is incredible, it really is. I’ve seen ‘autistic’ and ‘sperg’ used as insults more times than I care to admit (I’m a goon, and it’s one of the few things I hate about Something Awful). Anyone showing an over-enthusiastic interest in something gets called ‘autistic’ (such as people on TV Tropes). We’re treated as little more than a joke, and I’m fucking tired of it. I can’t help having this disorder and I do try my damnedest to integrate – I have two jobs and two degrees, I have a great group of friends, I go to gigs, I own my own home, I can take care of myself (cook, do laundry, clean etc.), I go on holiday on my own. But even people like me who are able to manage some degree of independence aren’t safe and there are some people who would prefer it if we were wiped off the face of the earth.

In the comments on this article on Ragen Chastain’s Facebook page, one person brought up Chris-chan as a possible reason why autistic kids and adults are so hated. Now, Chris-chan has a ton of issues that, in my opinion, are as much to do with his upbringing as they are with his autism. I do think he is genuinely autistic, and his parents have a lot to answer for, frankly, and when I see him it makes me realise how lucky I am to have a mother who actually gives a shit about helping me function in the world. But that’s another story. What really irritates me is the idea that all of us are being judged by this one dysfunctional human being. The vast majority of us are not like Chris-chan and are just trying to get on with our lives. I’m not a Minecraft player myself, but I do feel so bad for those kids. They’re just trying to play a game, and now they can’t do that because some arseholes think it’s funny to bully them and tell them they don’t deserve to live. And frankly, the word ‘degenerate’ used to describe disabled people scares me. It sounds like something the NF would say.

It’s incredible how there are people who hate us and don’t want us to have fun and would prefer it if every single one of us ceased to exist. If my mum lost her daughter, and my brother lost his sister, and my family and stepfamily lost a loved one, and my friends lost a friend. I have been overwhelmed by the amount of support I’ve received from friends this week after a major depressive episode culminating in self-harm (see here for some of the reasons why). It reminds me that there are people on this godforsaken planet who want me to stay alive. And the loved ones of these kids would feel the same if they died. I wonder what their mums and dads must be going through, knowing strangers on the internet are wishing death on their children because it’s ‘funny’.

And all because they’re autistic.

April 21, 2016

An open letter to Roberto Martinez

Dear Roberto Martinez,

I’m not going to lie. Until recently, I fucking hated you.

I attributed Everton’s every failure to you. I read Everton forums and tweets and blogs to stoke my hatred. I built you up into a monster and saw you as a thing rather than a person. The very sight of your face or the sound of your voice filled me with rage. I hated you more than I’ve hated any human being, besides the man I call Itachi. And I wanted you dead.

I fantasised about killing you. I planned how and when I was going to do it. I’m not proud of this, but I had intrusive thoughts, like a voice in my head constantly telling me to kill you. Someone or something was telling me, “Kill this man, and you will be rewarded.” I figured that Everton fans would hail me as a hero or a god. Luckily, the opposite occurred. When I told other Everton fans what I felt, they called me crazy and a psychopath and said I needed locking up. I was banned from two Reddit pages and even the most negative of Everton fans told me I’d gone too far.

I have to thank you, because you made me realise I needed help. I saw a picture of you carrying Luella, your daughter, as you walked round the pitch at Goodison Park last season, and for an instant, I didn’t see a thing, a target, a hate figure. I saw a loving husband and father. I saw a human being who loves Jabugo ham and idolises his dad and dances badly to Jason Derulo and watches TV on his L-shaped sofa with his wife. More importantly, I saw a human being whose death would make many people sad, and the thought of your little girl growing up without a dad – just like I did – made me realise what I felt was sick and wrong. Even if the chances of me acting on my thoughts were virtually nil, I wanted to stop having these thoughts. One Friday, I had enough. I broke down crying and got an emergency appointment with a kind doctor who referred me to the local mental health services. I saw them a few hours ago today, as it happens.

I built you up into a monster and stripped away your humanity in order to make you easier to hate. I no longer saw you as a person, but the epitome of everything that had made me miserable this year. It was not you I hated. It was what you represented. Panic attacks, bleeding arms, and my mum hooked up to drips in a hospital bed, the week before I saw Everton lose to Swansea.

When I saw you after Liverpool’s 4-0 thrashing of Everton, any remaining hatred I had for you disappeared. You looked tired and sad, and older than your 42 years, with your rapidly disappearing hair, the lines around your mouth and the shadows under your big dark bloodshot eyes. You looked like a man who knew his time was running out and his job was on the line, that he had become a joke and a hate figure, and had nowhere to hide. You admitted the match was a disaster. I don’t know what goes on in the dressing room at Goodison, but I wouldn’t want to be you right now. I wished I could put my arms around you and say, “It’ll be OK.” Instead of rage and hatred, I only felt pity and sadness. Sadness that it could have been so different. You came to Everton full of life and promise, and we adored you. Now it’s 2016, and things are looking bleak for you. What goes through your mind when you see banners with ‘Martinez Out’ on them, or you hear the Liverpool fans laughing at you and chanting your name ironically? We’ll never know.

I’ll be honest, I don’t think you’ve got what it takes to manage Everton, but I wish you well in whatever you do. You seem like a genuinely nice person, and an interesting one at that, and your heart is in the right place, and I want you to be happy. I don’t wish harm on you anymore. I don’t see you as a monster, but as a flawed, ordinary human being just like me. Because that’s what football managers are – Klopp, Mourinho, Wenger, Rodgers, Derry, whoever. Just flawed, ordinary human beings with wives and kids and lives outside football.

Having obsessive thoughts is fucking shit, Roberto, especially when they turn me into a person I don’t want to be. Let’s hope that you’re the last person I feel like this about.

Yours,

Lotte

April 4, 2016

It’s me again, in-sig-ni-fi-cant me again; also, Autism Speaks can fuck right off

I’ve not updated this blog in over a year. Basically, a lot of stuff has happened.

– I changed jobs in January last year and now work in a hospital. It’s better than the last place, thank G-d. I’ve also started doing freelance translation work on the side.

– I sang The Ballad Of Tom Jones onstage with Space at the Liverpool International Music Festival in summer. It was one of my proudest achievements and I can’t thank them enough for letting me do it, it was an honour. I got to do it again in Runcorn, where I was dressed up as Anne Shirley (I pretended Tommy was Gilbert Blythe).

– My brother was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma in summer, and has been in and out of hospital having chemotherapy. Thankfully, he is fine now and will be coming to Primavera this year.

– My mum was admitted to hospital in January this year after drinking too much and passing out due to dehydration and lack of food. She’s OK now, but it was…not pleasant.

– I have been having some very disturbing intrusive thoughts about Roberto Martinez, Everton’s manager, which I will detail another time. I’m getting help for it.

On another note, it’s April, it’s Autism Awareness Month, and this means the dreaded blue jigsaw piece and the ‘turn it blue’ meme are going to rear their ugly heads. I’m talking, of course, about the notorious Autism Speaks, the group with THAT ad about autism. Well, they don’t bloody speak for me, or any of the autistic people I know. Autistic Hoya and The Caffeinated Autistic both explain much better than I could why Autism Speaks are bad, bad people, and not an organisation you should be supporting. Be warned: some of the content is very distressing.

Blog at WordPress.com.