Growing up as a semi-speaking, undiagnosed Autistic person in Singapore

Content Warning: lots of ableism (both systemic and internalised) These are just some snapshots of my life growing up in a society with a poor understanding of neurodivergence (particularly during the 90s), with no access to the support I truly needed. I didn’t see myself as “disabled” for a long time I was diagnosed with selective mutism at the age of four. It was a label that defined me and explained my differences for most of my life (I only got an autism diagnosis when I was 20). However, the word “selective” made people think I was “faking” not being able to speak and therefore wasn’t truly disabled. The most uncharitable interpretation people had of me was that I was an attention seeker and master manipulator, tricking people with my fake disability to receive special treatment. This left me feeling deeply isolated. I believed that I was an awful person who didn’t deserve to find a sense of identity and belonging within the disability or other marginalised communities, because…