James Clear | Margaret Jean

This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man*.

You may often hear or read this quote: the epitome of self-awareness. As someone on the Autism Spectrum, it registers with me. It must be so for many people now and also throughout the ages since Shakespeare’s time, because it is often quoted.

And yet, it is commonly known that humans are born with the herd instinct.

For instance, in Chapter nine of Atomic Habits, James clear states that the human brain is programmed with the desire to be like everybody else.

This need originates in a protective instinct which triggers the drive to be included–The aptly named ‘herd instinct’. To belong, to imitate the successful integrative and admired behaviours of others, to go along with behaviours we might secretly deplore, stems from our earliest prehistory.

As cave dwellers, and tribesmen, living within the group we were protected, we could benefit from shared resources. On our own, alone, banished, or ostracized, we became easy targets for wild animals, other tribes, disease and injury. Vulnerable. Miserable. Usually prey. Ultimately dead.

Safety was an overwhelming issue. As for procreation, the presence of at least one other person was required. Then there’s the bonus of shared resources as well as shared responsibilities. Going along with the prevailing group meant not only survival but a more desirable quality of life.

Theoretically our habits and behaviours are influenced by the culture in which we are born, raised and which we enter into as adults.

Scientifically we are told that our brains are programmed to want to be aligned with the position assumed by the majority, and the powerful.

Research has proven time and again that being smart, being right, being true to yourself is less important than aligning oneself with the prevailing opinion. This is ingrained in our being. Man is mentally programmed to respond in this manner.

I realized as I read this that, surprisingly, I had never wanted to be like everyone else. In my memoir “Unforgiving” I explained that while my teenaged peers wanted to be different, they only really wanted to be different from their parents–not from each other. As for me:

I wanted to be the one and only Margaret Jean on the planet, and I wanted to be indelibly stamped as that single original sample of humanity whose Margaret Jean-ness would permeate every cell of her body and shine through everything she did.

That led me to think about other autistic people, in my family and in my friendships and acquaintances. Many of them have expressed the same feeling: Yes, we want to be accepted. Yes, we want to be understood. And no, we do not want to be like everybody else.

We value our uniqueness, the different way we perceive situations and people. Our evaluation of events and information. For instance, what if Temple Grandin had given in to everyone else’s concept of the behaviour of cattle, ignoring her insights as to their behaviours? What if she had not had the courage to pursue the possibility of uniqueness in her brain?

We shouldn’t feel apologetic for being autistic. It is how we were born, who we are.

I may misunderstand some social situations, but I may also have a deeper understanding of some. I may be more intent on social justice than I am on fitting in. Is that really a bad thing?

Our friends and family want to draw us into the herd for our own protection. For our own social welfare. For our own social ease. Admirably, they are thinking of our own good.

But is it what we want? Do we seek permission to be who we intrinsically are? Do we need it? Those few who make it—how do they do it? By accepting themselves…By being true to who they are.

*Hamlet, act I, scene iii, lines 78–80.

Autism: Criticism and Self Doubt

Inez Garcia 1974

Growing up on the Autism spectrum, being constantly criticized for my behaviour, often justifiably so, created tremendous self-doubt.

This criticism made it easy for people to convince me that behaviour that I felt was entirely appropriate was in fact, unacceptable.

Lately, I’ve read James Clear’s Atomic Habits, in which he states that a habit he has ingrained is that he has to write every day. He only has to write one line, but the habit he’s ingrained is, he has to write every day. That, he says, is how he became a writer.

I was born a writer.

In my early teens I wrote poetry, the words flowing from an inner source that moved my pen across the page. I could easily express emotion and lead my audience to exactly where I wanted to take them.

People listened attentively and responded with enthusiasm. For me, it was as natural as breathing.

Then I bound myself into a relationship with a much older man. A well-educated man who had studied the classics and philosophy. A man raised in an atmosphere of Emily Post’s Blue Book of Etiquette. A man who denigrated my writing.

One day, in a passionate sense of injustice I wrote poetically about an incident that I heard about in the news.

The news article featured a woman of strong character–Inez Garcia. A woman who was raped. Two men assaulted her, one of whom weighed over three hundred pounds. He held her down, while the other man raped her. When they were done, they let her go. Threats against her life were uttered. Incensed and traumatized, she went home. She grabbed her son’s gun. She hunted one man down. Shot and killed him. The other man fled.

I wrote the ballad in her defense when she was arrested and charged with first degree murder.

My husband was shocked. It was 1974 and the very thought that I would dare to write about rape–a forbidden subject—offended him. That I could even consider defending the woman he found despicable. The thought of me submitting the ballad to any publication appalled him. He told me to burn it.

At the time, Women’s Rights and the Chicano Movement were gaining ground in the San Francisco Bay area. When news of Garcia’s plight became known, feminists took up her cause, and Garcia herself became a speaker addressing women’s groups.

According to Wikipedia, I was not the only woman to take up the pen in Garcia’s defense.

As a cause celebre, her (Inez Garcia’s) case inspired numerous works of art and music, including the Beverly Grant folk song “Inez”, performed with the group The Human Condition; Marge Piercy’s poem “For Inez Garcia”;^[5] and Jayne Cortez’s poem “Rape.”^[6]

These women became noted for their work in Garcia’s defense and went on to become well published writers.

As for me, I didn’t burn my ballad, but I did essentially fold up my writing persona and immerse myself in motherhood and housekeeping.

That I gave up writing at that point in my life was not my husband’s fault. It was entirely mine, for giving his opinion so much weight, and my own so little recognition.

Years later and in a more progressive relationship, I entered a university undergraduate program where I studied literature, including contemporary poetry. Writing that I found surprisingly reminiscent of my early work.

And by degrees I learned to trust myself to write again, encouraged by professors who recognized my latent talent and helped me publish.

But the process is not the same. It’s a constant battle to put my writing first, to allow myself to sit down and open that channel.

This is my continued fascination with Atomic Habits: sooner or later the habit of sitting down to write will be ingrained, and I will once again, see myself as a writer.

If you are having self-doubts, if you feel that what you believe is worthwhile is being negated by everyone around you, don’t give up and please, don’t give in.

Trust yourself, and find your place in this world. It’s waiting for you.

Inez Garcia was retried and exonerated after serving two years in prison.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inez_Garc%C3%ADa Research data’

Margaret Jean

Asperger Me!

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