Portrait of the Autist As a Young Man

Autistics are known for learning instrumentally, rather than socially. One implication of this is that, since learning is more about accepting propositions rather than persons, it may be easier for us to parse out the different components of what someone tells us, accepting the parts that make sense to us and simply dismissing the rest. In fact, at the Building Bridges conference, I saw a video of a researcher demonstrating a procedure for taking an item out of a box -- a procedure that intentionally included a superfluous motion. It was related that when neurotypical children who'd just watched this were asked to accomplish the same task, they often incorporated the superfluous motion in their action, whereas autistic children skipped it.

Since I learned in February 2019 that I'm autistic, I've reflected on many of my past experiences in the light of this new knowledge. One that stands out for possibly having gone differently because of my wiring occurred when I was ten.

Usually I went straight home (a 10 or 15-minute walk) at the end of the school day, but for some reason I didn't feel like doing so this time. Instead, I hung out near the school's front door, doing nothing in particular. After a little while a man came from across the street and started a conversation with me. As best as I can remember, it was largely him asking me about my family, and me telling him about how my parents were very interested in current affairs like pollution and the war in Viet Nam. I may well have also told him I had a particular interest in science, and perhaps mentioned my admiration for Albert Einstein, about whom I'd read a book (The Universe and Dr. Einstein by Lincoln Barnett) the previous year. Looking back, it's quite natural that I responded to questions about myself and my family in terms of my special interests and those of my family members. This is how autistics typically respond when asked to tell about ourselves.

After some minutes, the man asked if I'd like to take a ride in his car. I declined, explaining that my parents had told me that it wasn't safe to go places with strangers. Then, in the manner of making a friendly parting gesture, he offered me a little change (fifty cents if I recall correctly). I asked what it was for, and he said I could buy myself a soda with it. I had no particular interest in doing so, but I politely accepted the money. Then he repeated the offer of a ride in his car, and I simply repeated what my parents had told me. So he said goodbye, and I never saw him again.

Now you might think, from this account, that I'd never been told not to talk with strangers. You would be incorrect. My mother had, in fact, implored me not to, more than once, and I had wanted to know why. So she had told me that some people might want to hurt me. I again asked why, and she had said someone might kidnap me. So, of course, I asked "why" again! So she ended up telling me that I might be kidnapped and held for ransom, and that she and my father might not be able to pay it, and then I might not see them again.

This seemed like a plausible scenario, and I also clearly got the message that it was something that greatly worried her, and I wouldn't want to add to her worries. So I resolved to make sure I wasn't kidnapped.

These considerations were in the back of my mind when the man started the conversation with me. I wouldn't put myself in a position where I could be kidnapped, in case that might be his secret intent. But, equally obviously, he could only do that if I got in his car or went with him to some unfamiliar place. Simply talking with him wouldn't give him any power over me.

I suppose a neurotypical child might have responded in a more binary way to the parental message -- either "believe Mommy" or "don't believe Mommy." But for me, it was perfectly natural to analyze the message and just assimilate the part that made sense, chucking the rest.

I never told my mother about this incident, but I did once recall our earlier conversation to her, and she admitted that she hadn't been comfortable stating what she'd actually been worried about. More recently, I've become aware that it may not have been so inevitable that I'd have come to any harm if I'd gotten in the car, since many minor-attracted people won't do anything without consent anyway. But, since some do, there's no doubt that leaning in the direction of caution was the smart move.