Saying hello in the park isn’t easy for this autistic woman: Why politeness requires prep work
Originally published on Medium
I’m walking in the park. There’s a person ahead walking towards me.
My muscles tense, preparing to walk past them and acknowledge their presence.
And today I have a new thought: What if performing polite social acts, like saying hello to a passing person, happened automatically?
Well, I might enjoy them more like some people do.
Instead, what actually happens is this:
I’m tense and waiting for the right moment to acknowledge this person walking past me.
Oops, I made eye contact too early. They’re too far away to say anything to or smile at.
I focus on the horizon while simultaneously tracking their approach with my peripheral vision.
I also try to figure out what they’ll do. Will they say “Good morning?” Or make eye contact and smile? Or will they walk silently past my anticipatory smile?
And — now I’m just thinking ahead — if we pass each other again, do we need to do this all over again?
My tense muscle are thankful that there’s only one other person walking the path today.
If these moments of social connection didn’t require so much prep work, I could truly enjoy them.
But I’d honestly rather use that energy to enjoy my walk.
This 90s kid wanted an anti-aging routine: And it’s not all social media’s fault
Originally published on Medium
I’m a 90s kid. I didn’t grow up with social media but I worried about my appearance from a young age.
This worry was not social media’s fault (since it didn’t exist yet) and it wasn’t completely the media’s fault. I didn’t read beauty magazines or care about celebrities that much. They were rich people I didn’t know.
I worried because women around me taught me to worry about my appearance.
My mom gave me products to use on my already blemish-free child skin: facial scrubs and Sea Breeze applied with cotton rounds. She had spa days with me and my sisters. We cracked open eggs and brushed the egg white on our faces, then leaned over a bowl of hot water for a DIY steam treatment.
And, well, that wasn’t all negative. It was also fun and family time and self-care.
But you know what wasn’t fun?
Staring at my face in the bathroom mirror, worrying that a forehead wrinkle was too deep for a middle-schooler. I always heard women half-joke and fully complain about their own wrinkles. Wasn’t I too young for wrinkles?
And you know what else wasn’t fun?
Worrying about the vellum hairs that grew on my face and body. Older women talked frequently about their unwanted hairs and I added that to my growing worry list. In middle school, I started bleaching my face and arm hairs and then worried that the blonde on brown skin was even more noticeable.
There was so much to being a woman to worry about. I created mental wish lists for expensive improvements I couldn’t afford: laser hair removal, facial serums, injections.
There was no Instagram filters or YouTube stars. Social media didn’t make me worry like this.
I learned to do this from the women around me.
Sometimes a language barrier is an accommodation: Communicating and traveling while autistic
Originally published on Medium
The question I heard often after traveling with my husband in Southeast Asia for a few months was “Is the language barrier hard?” “How do you handle the language barrier?”
And my first reaction was “Uh, no?”
But then I thought about it more. And ended up writing this to really figure out why.
Because, honestly, it’s not easy looking for something to eat when no signs are in English and the menus don’t have pictures.
So the language barrier is hard.
But.
But it’s a simple-to-understand hard for me because I grew up obsessed about communication. And then communication literally became my job when I was an ASL interpreter.
So I’m always thinking about being understood, no matter what area I’m in.
How do we eliminate a language barrier? Learn a new language. Simple solution.
And with a language barrier, people expect miscommunications. It’s not a surprise. We work together to reach our conversational goal. It’s a good feeling.
But what about when the barrier is not language-based? What about when we speak the same language, same dialect, but still experience miscommunication?
That’s more complex.
There’s no one simple solution.
That’s what I experience in my home country.
People expect to understand me here. They make assumptions about the meaning behind my words, my gestures, my silences, even when there’s no hidden meanings.
People who speak my language are surprised when miscommunication happens. And I feel the responsibility to manage the conversation to reach understanding.
It’s not easy.
Speaking the same language is no guarantee for a great social interaction. Sometimes the opposite is true.
One of my favorite Southeast Asia interactions happened in a Bangkok coffee shop. The owner was an older woman, a grandma watching her grandson for the day inside her Instagram-post perfect coffee shop. She knew a few words of English and I knew a few Thai words. But I ordered a drink and asked for the wifi password and she responded. We understood each other perfectly well.
Speaking a different language is no guarantee for miscommunication.
Sometimes it’s an accidental accommodation.
California cheap isn’t Texas cheap: Geographic arbitrage from a local’s perspective
Originally published on Medium
I’m from Texas, the state other Americans move to for a cheaper life. I’m grateful to to them for teaching me that cheap is relative before I started traveling as an adult.
But before I was thankful, I was kinda annoyed at them. They were so excited about living in Texas on that HCOL area’s income. But California cheap isn’t Texas cheap.
But I like to understand people and I don’t like to stay annoyed. So I logically examined the situation: Times are tough where they’re from. Groceries cost more. Housing costs more. Then they get here and are so excited to stretch that dollar farther into splurge and treat-yourself territory.
I get it. Okay, now I’m happy for them. Seriously. That’s not sarcasm.
But the phrase “That’s so cheap!” about something that a local would think twice about buying, heard over and over again? It grates a budget-conscious soul’s ears. And now I think twice about saying it myself.
And lately, I hear or read this phrase repeatedly in connection to travel. Travelers talk about the “cheap” lodging, food, and entertainment options in countries where the cost of living is lower than their home area.
But cheap is relative. To reflect that idea, I decided to say “I can afford this” or “This is affordable” instead of “That’s so cheap”.
And that’s it.
No big epiphany, just a simple observation about the relativity of cheapness. Thanks for reading.
You don’t need makeup to leave the house: Why makeup isn’t the same as toothpaste
Originally published on Medium
I don’t care if you wear makeup.
But what pricks me is the saying you “ACTUALLY put on makeup today”. Such a common saying. It’s like saying makeup is as necessary as…
…Sorry, struggling to find a good comparison to another daily activity.
Oh, showering!
No, wait, skipping a daily shower can be good for the skin. Bad comparison.
Got it! Brushing your teeth. There we go.
Let’s start over.
What pricks me is the saying you “ACTUALLY put on makeup today”. Like makeup is as necessary as brushing your teeth. Like your bare face is the same as walking around with stinky breath.
I see that clean face. I see those groomed eyebrows and booger-free eyes. You have not neglected yourself. You have been taking care of yourself.
Please don’t equate makeup-free with unbrushed teeth.
Makeup is not the minimum of self-care. Clean teeth are.
How this autistic decides where to sit: Spoiler -It’s an involved process
Originally published on Medium
I’m done ordering my milk tea with boba pearls. I turn away from the counter and exhale. Time for the next hard part.
Where do I sit?
This is a new boba tea shop so I don’t have a favorite table yet. I look at the empty tables. It’s a weekday, early afternoon, so the place is mostly empty except for 4 people sitting at a table by the front door.
I walk to my first option, a table in the corner. Why is there a bright light hitting my face? I look up and see why: a light fixture shines aggressively on the table.
No good, this table is too bright.
I walk to the table behind it and feel goosebumps. The air conditioning vent is pointed right at the table. Cold air plus the cold room plus my cold drink? Too much cold.
No good, this table is too cold.
I go to try the opposite corner, walking fast. Gotta pick somewhere to sit before they finish making my drink!
The table in the corner has good lighting and temperature but it’s too close to the chatty group and their conversation overrides the fun song playing right now. I’d rather hear the music than them.
No good, this table is too noisy.
Feeling desperate, I look back across the room at the one table I haven’t tried yet. It had seemed too close to the front counter earlier. But now, it’s my last hope. I don’t see a bright light, so that’s promising. I walk back across the room and stand there, evaluating.
No AC vent is blowing here.
The chatty group’s noise stays on the other side of the room.
I can hear the shop music clearly.
This table is just right.
If you want to read more writing about experiences as an autistic woman, check out my profile.
Local woman wrecks conversation: The too-real experience of conversing while autistic
Originally published on Medium
Local woman apologizes for derailing your intended conversation. She promises to play her role as conversational partner correctly but requires a script.
Or an outline. Prompting. Any type of feedback that she’s doing what you expected.
Do you want to be congratulated about having 10 kids? Understood. She will definitely not pause awkwardly, silently consider how an old man ended up with 10 kids, then eventually say “Wow, that’s a lot of kids.”
And when you share the 40 year age difference between your kids, she definitely thinks she missed vital stage direction about what to do next. She tries a response: “Wow, that’s a big age difference.”
That wasn’t quite right either, huh?
She also avoids commenting when you compare yourself to Abraham. Abraham didn’t have 10 kids but Jacob had 12 sons. Abraham’s sons did have an age gap, though, but not a 40 year gap. Or maybe you weren’t being literal at all. She wouldn’t normally be so picky about religious similes but you’re a pastor so this is your specialty.
Oh, and she wants to see photos of the other kids, not just the photo of the full-grown daughter holding the baby son. She’s still wondering why you skipped sharing the other 8 children’s photos.
None of that was in your script, huh?
I’m so grateful for this frizz: Why I always wanted frizzy hair
Originally published on Medium
I always wanted my hair to be able to frizz.
I often studied the hair labeled “good” by my mom and aunties for clues on how to improve my own hair. And I noticed that hair got frizzy on rainy days or when it wasn’t brushed. It formed cute baby hairs around the temples. It waved and fluttered in the breeze.
That was different from my hair. My hair lay flat on my head, limp, dull. Baby hairs were brushed into harsh lines around my temples. Not one strand moved in even the strongest breeze.
And there wasn’t any frizz. It was like doll hair.
I hated it.
I didn’t want doll hair. I wanted alive hair.
And based on this research, alive hair has frizz.
So I experimented with ways to achieve frizz.
Guess what? Rainy days plus lightly relaxed hair equals a cute frizz halo. How to achieve this look?
Wear your hair loose
Walk out into a light misting rain
Optional Skip around
Enjoy your frizz halo!
I chased that frizzy hair, that alive and real and moving hair. I chased it all the way to going natural.
The day my top bun had major frizz without me trying? I took a selfie.
The day a breeze blew my loose hair out of its carefully styled shape? I took a video.
My hair moved. It frizzed.
My hair was alive.
When age comes up in conversation: And what I want to say to the women speaking
Originally published on Medium
There’s something that happens when I speak with another woman over the age of 30. Almost every time, there’s a reference to age.
And it’s a subtle — and sometimes not-so-subtle — somewhat sad or negative comment about how old they are.
And I want to say “I’m not as young as you think I am.”
And I want to say “Your age is at a neutral or a positive, not a negative.”
And I want to say “I noticed you seem like a cool person, not your age.”
But I don’t.
I half-laugh and wait for this culturally-induced awkward moment to pass.
Because what I want to say wouldn’t come out right in the moment.
So I wrote it here instead.
If you liked this, you might like this next article