So…let’s talk about hidden disabilities and why February holds special meaning for me.

Imagine...

A young woman steps into the limelight, preparing to speak about a cause she’s extremely passionate about. There’s only one problem, though she’s outwardly a natural at public speaking, internally, it terrifies her. She’s a ‘pro’ now, but it never feels that way. She’s been on podcasts, news interviews, and more, but it never gets easier. She shivers. Today, she’s at a large conference. In a flash, she’s delightfully introduced and the show (conference) begins. Her heart is beating loudly, she can feel it in her throat. Her palms are sweaty and her arms grow stiff. But she pushes on, exuding a confidence that seems to illuminate the room. She opens her mouth to speak, initially in small, quiet bursts, then she grounds herself. All of those pre-workshop pep talks in the bathroom mirror are coming in handy now. Internally, she feels as if she’s going to explode, but she carries on anyway, and she nails the presentation. 

The workshop is over after what seems like an eternity. She couldn't get off the stage quick enough, her eyes stinging from the unusually bright lights and her mind swimming with thoughts. The room then swells with new sounds, including chatter, as she exits the stage. This is her least favorite sound. Many folks come up to her and tell her things like “I loved your presentation,” “You nailed it,” and “I think you are so smart and well-spoken.” Even though her heart swells with pride, her mind is swelling with fear. Thoughts race through her head. Do I say “Thank you” or “Yeah, I thought so too.” Do I look them in the eye now? Do I initiate conversation in response? Do they want to talk to me, or simply complement me? Why does everyone focus so much on how I said what I said? Did what I said even resonate? 

There’s only one solution to this cacophony of colliding internal and external noise. Find an “escape.” As quickly as she can bid everyone adieu, she darts for the nearest quiet space. 

And this is what you see every time you see me. Because she is me…

You may be thinking, sure “everyone goes through a little stage fright” or “lots of people fear public speaking,” but there’s more to it than that. Way more. In all the eight-plus years I’ve been building businesses, working as an educator, debuting in documentaries and podcasts, working with think tanks, and traveling the country as a public speaker, I’ve hidden something from the professional world. Partly because I wanted to build a career without judgment or special treatment. Partly because I was scared to be “labeled.” But for those of you who are curious enough to read this article, I’ve finally gathered the courage to share it with you for the first time. 

I’m autistic. 

Now, I know what pictures this word usually brings to mind. Maybe you even think of The Good Doctor. You will probably say, “You don’t seem autistic at all.” But ‘seeming’ autistic and being autistic are two very different things. People often understand autism to be a disability, which it is. However, less often do people understand autism is also a neurotype, and there is a large variation of expressions. That’s why it's called a spectrum. 

Yes, I deal with meltdowns and shutdowns. Yes, I get lost often. Yes, I have trouble with social cues and eye contact. Yes, I struggle with strong sensitivities to sounds and smells. It is just expressed differently. While I’m not obsessed with trains, physics, or mathematics, I’m obsessed with education research, cactuses, and buying hundreds of cute notebooks I’ll never use. You’d never know this, because I learned how to be pretty skilled at hiding it all, a skill I’m unlearning in order to be healthy.

So, you don’t see that the reason why my mom or another relative typically accompanies me to most places is because I can get lost, overwhelmed, and need support during my travels. Or how I can’t tolerate loud noises and bring headphones to most events because slipping away to the bathroom for peace every few hours isn't always an option. Or that I need a week to recover after every trip just to stay healthy. Or the accompanying inner struggles with self-esteem, chronic illnesses, suspected learning disabilities, physical aches, and fatigue I deal with every day of my life, and still manage to show up, bring my best, and be on time, all the time. And somehow, I do it all fairly well. 

This month, February, is both Black History Month and Jewish Disability Awareness Month. As a person with intersecting identities as an autistic, disabled Black woman and Jew of color, this month is important to me because it encourages us to refocus our efforts and attention toward the goal of continuing to make this world a better place for all, seeing individuals for who they truly are and being willing to recognize and respect all aspects of their unique, multifaceted identities. In light of recent events that have cast doubt on efforts intended to foster crucial awareness of diversity, inclusion, and accessibility (which are not bad words), I recommend we take a step back from politics and partisanship and simply try to listen to each other. The best way to foster inclusion and accessibility while increasing opportunities for all is to listen to each community’s needs and identify strategies to meet those needs without bias. It’s that simple. 

Because autism, like ADHD, POTS, and many others, is a hidden/invisible disability, it’s often not immediately identified and we often go unnoticed and under-supported. It’s easy to forget us in the wider discussions surrounding healthcare, hiring, and public policy. It’s easy to create conspiracies around and mischaracterize us. It’s easy to think that people are just being “lazy” or “sensitive,” even though that’s far from the truth. There’s a lot that can be learned from each unique experience, and there’s much more to each person than what meets the eye – including me. We are not mistakes or mishaps.

I am so proud to honor the legacy of my ancestors by speaking up about why I believe diversity, inclusion, and accessibility are such important and fundamental aspects of the human experience and civil rights.

This year, I’ve finally gathered the courage to share this part of my story, mainly through a new personal project called Living Confident, which will focus heavily on dispelling myths about neurodivergence and sharing my journey openly for the first time. I’ll also be releasing a co-authored children’s book discussing topics such as self-acceptance and neurodivergence, and self-publishing my first-ever nonfiction book about my life.

Throughout the next few months, leading up to Autism Awareness Month in April, I’ll be posting bi-weekly entries to share informative information based on personal experience about autism awareness, neurodivergence in the workplace, and how we can continue to empower and open up opportunities for disabled individuals in policy and beyond. 

I can’t wait to see where things go from here. I hope you’ll join me on the journey. 

Feel free to follow my Living Confident project at www.livingconfident.life and on Instagram at @_livingconfident and check out my podcast, Living Confident with Nasiyah, on Spotify and YouTube.