Reflections

In my google search for “autistic reactions to” other productions of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, two things struck me. The first was that, while pleased to see an autistic lead character in a West End or Broadway play, the autistic community was concerned about the resulting audience perception of autism and autistic people. The other thing I noticed was that my search didn’t turn up many reviews written by “actually autistic” people. Consequently, before I share my thoughts on the play, I’d first like to amplify the autistic voices I did come across. Thus:

While you watch this play, please keep in mind that not all autistic people experience life the way Christopher does. Just as not all mothers are like Judy and not all school administrators are like Mrs. Gascoyne, not all autistic people are debilitated by sensory input, lose control of their bladders, and lash out violently when touched.

In Autism circles, we like to say, “When you’ve met one person on the autism spectrum… you’ve met ONE person on the autism spectrum.” In this theater though, it’s probably more appropriate to say, “When you’ve seen one fictional character’s dramatized experience of autism… you’ve seen ONE fictional character’s dramatized experience of autism.” Not quite as pithy, but true nonetheless.

I’ve found myself in an interesting juxtaposition as Neurodiverse Connections has provided support for this wonderful show. Most of our non-profit’s work is educating people about Neurodiversity. We seek to build NeuroEmpathy so that everyone can understand why neurodivergent behavior is reasonable and why accommodations are necessary.

Oddly, we found in order to support the cast’s rehearsal process, it was actually necessary to pathologize Christopher’s behavior. None of this, of course, applied to Mr. Rowland-Jones. His [very well-done] job was to deeply empathize with all of the “why’s” of Christopher. But to create the world around him, most of the other characters needed to see Christopher as “odd” and dismiss him as “other.”

Yet, now through these words for the audience, my goal is the opposite. I want all of you to be disturbed by Christopher’s “othered” status because you cannot help but see how very like all of us he is. Here goes….

Though autism is never outright mentioned in the script, I think we can accept that Christopher is autistic so long as we also acknowledge that this play cannot represent the entire breadth of the autism spectrum. When I watch this play, I recognize autistic traits in Christopher that make me smile. I also see autistic trauma that makes me weep. But for all that Christopher’s autism is up front and center in this play, this is actually a play about universal human needs.

Who among us does not seek to feel safe?
To feel understood?
To feel loved?
And if, once we’ve had these, they’ve been taken from us?
It is the bravest among us who face down our discomfort and our fear of the unknown to reclaim our safety, belonging, and love.

You see? Autistic needs are really human needs– it is just that the meeting of these needs may not look the way you expected.

Safety is a universal human need, though the solutions depend on circumstances. A Muslim woman in Afghanistan experiences different threats to her safety than do I, a white woman on Bainbridge Island. Yet, although she, Christopher and I may accomplish it differently, we all want to feel safe in our own homes. To feel we can trust the people who are supposed to care for us. To know people are telling us the truth. And to be safe from violence. From the minute he finds Wellington moments before the lights come up in Act I, Christopher no longer feels safe.

Love and acceptance come in many forms from many sources, though unfortunately, not always from whence they should. Ideally, a parent loves and accepts their child no matter what and in doing so, creates the child’s first sense of belonging. In Christopher’s world, maternal love is flawed, conditional, and impermanent; as such, the additional loss of his empathetic father devastates him, sending Christopher into crisis.

Christopher’s harrowing trip to London is undertaken in an attempt to reclaim those basic human needs for safety, love and belonging. Through neurotypical eyes, his journey may seem like “no big deal– it’s only a train trip to the city,”. But to Christopher, this undertaking is akin to swimming across the Sound from Bainbridge to Seattle in search of one specific square of sidewalk, somewhere in Queen Anne. It is a true hero’s journey into the unknown wilds, undertaken with only an ATM card and an address, fueled by desperation to regain safety, belonging, and love.

Ironically, his mother is not able to provide these things for Christopher either, which causes him to rely even more heavily on his autistic special interests to help him regulate. To an autistic person, special interests are an outlet that contributes to emotional regulation, an area of expertise that builds confidence and identity, and a social tool for connecting with others. Autistic people talk about their special interests being as important as “the air we breathe,” and share that another person’s interest in and support of their special interests makes them feel loved. After losing his parental support, his home, his access to his routines and his comfort zone, Christopher’s special interest in Math is absolutely crucial to his well being. When viewed through the lens of autistic understanding, we see that his insistence to take his exam is not inappropriate, inflexible or obsessive. The fight to return to Swinden to sit his A-levels, is literally a fight for his life. But math can’t heal Christopher who continues to exist in limbo. True healing of the trauma and abandonment does not begin until Christopher experiences the pure uncomplicated love of a puppy. This puppy is the first being in his entire life that unconditionally loves and accepts Christopher as he is without trying to change him. Only with this dog by his side– protecting him, accepting him, and loving him– is Christopher able to imagine a future that once seemed impossible.

Autistic needs are human needs. Though Christopher stims (engages in repetitive behavior), is overwhelmed by sensory input, and struggles with non-autistic social communication, this autistic boy is far more familiar than you may initially have thought. All it takes is a deeper look, beyond behavior, to find that what drives Christopher is those same human needs that drive us all.

2,183 years ago, Roman African playwright and former slave, Terence, wrote, “I am human, and nothing human is alien to me.”

Let’s try not to forget that after we leave this theater.

Thanks for reading! If you’re interested, there’s waaay too much more information available at our table in the lobby. I’ve written about some of Christopher’s experience of autism, and how The Neurodiversity Movement is shifting society’s perspective. Feel free to swing by and pick up a copy.

–Meg Wolf
Co-Founder
Neurodiverse Connections
www.NDconnections.org