When I was a little girl, bullied by my peers and misunderstood by my teachers, I couldn’t wait to be a grown-up. I dreamed of my future life as a professor, filling my brain with facts and my shelves with books. In my ivory tower, I would be surrounded by peers who shared my love of knowledge and I would be freed from the world of opaque social rules.
When I finally made it to the hallowed halls of academia, I found that it was – as I had imagined – full of books, knowledge and erudite conversation. However, it was also full of politics, hidden curriculum, and even more bizarre social rules than the ones I had encountered as a schoolchild.
Each time I gave a presentation about autism, someone would sidle up to me after the room was empty, or send me an email, and anxiously share “I’m also autistic, but I haven’t told anyone.” Sadly, while some shared their plans for advancement, many mentioned that they were contemplating leaving the profession.
I already knew why so many of us were attracted to academia (all those books in the library with no library fees, free access to thousands of journals, and a job description that prioritises gaining ever more knowledge on a topic of interest). I also had a good sense of the strengths that autistic people can bring to academia; focused interests and thirst for knowledge, attention to detail, pragmatism, creativity, integrity, compassion, and so much more.
I began to wonder… what are the things that are working (and not working) for autistic people working in academia; what are our successes and challenges, our motivations and aspirations; and how could the person-environment fit be improved so that more of us could remain and thrive.
I recruited a group of 37 autistic academics from around the world and each month I sent them a question on a different aspect of working in academia as an autistic person. Every month the responses rolled in; in-depth, candid reflections on their strengths and challenges, highs and lows, and the barriers and facilitators to career success, or even survival.
Anyone familiar with the history of autism will know that the term ‘Little Professor’ has been used as a somewhat derogatory nickname for our neurokin since the 1940s. However, this is not a book about 37 identical bespectacled adolescent boys with amazing mathematical skills and a fascination for trains. Stereotypes surrounding autism are pervasive and harmful. The stereotypes perpetuated by news and entertainment media typically portray autistic people as white males, children or adolescents, and assign us to roles such as a victim, a danger, a burden, or a savant. Such stereotypes, and the continuing use of the word ‘autistic’ as a pejorative, contribute to social exclusion and discrimination of autistic people.
The reality is that autistic people – while sharing some key characteristics – are as diverse as non-autistic people. Ranging in age from 23 to 58, having worked in academia for one year to 23 years, and employed from entry-level roles to senior leadership, these 37 unique people demonstrate that diversity. They are employed across the Social Sciences (including psychology, sociology, social work, human geography, gender studies, child protection and linguistics), Humanities (including philosophy, history and German studies), Education, Physical Sciences, Health Sciences, Arts, Business and Law.
It is important to recognise the barriers that autistic people face in working in academia, and how these barriers can be addressed. This requires a combination of environmental changes, such as consideration of sensory issues and wayfinding in building design and work locations; policy and procedural changes, such as access to and provision of reasonable accommodations; open communication and attitudinal changes, including the provision of appropriate autism education for employees and management.
However, it is equally important for our institutions, employers and colleagues to recognise the strengths that autistic people bring to academia, and to implement working processes and practices that enable autistic academics to utilise these strengths. This includes truly understanding autistic people and recognising that our different ways of thinking, working and communicating are an asset to be valued rather than a liability to be overcome.
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