Funny, You Don't Look Autistic: A Comedian's Guide to Life on the Spectrum

by Michael McCreary

you embark on this journey through my ASD mind, there’s a high likelihood that you’ll find at least some of my experiences relatable. Should this occur to you, take a deep breath and put down the Buzzfeed quiz—it doesn’t mean you’re autistic. People with ASD aren’t aliens, and we have many of the same thoughts and feelings as anyone else; the difference is in the intensity of those feelings and the degree to which they affect our functioning. Remember that only a professional can properly diagnose someone with ASD.

Now, here was my problem: at age five, I didn’t really get the meaning behind words. Not just specific words; all words. When I spoke in movie quotes, I didn’t necessarily know what I was saying; I just liked the way it sounded. So when someone said to me, “Answer a question,” I thought that meant I could give literally any answer.

The simplest definition is that autism is a neurological variation. In less fancy language, it’s a difference in your brain and how it’s wired. You see and process things differently from people who are the norm—what we in the ASD community call neurotypical.

People sometimes use terms like “high-functioning” and “low-functioning” to describe folks on the spectrum, which can be wrongly taken to make assumptions about people’s intelligence.

I figured out that people don’t usually change if you put bananas in their desks. When they change is if you help them see the other as a human being.

When I’d seen comics lean on a mic stand, I always thought it was a power move. I soon realized that it was meant to make your shaking look less obvious.

I’ve found many people with ASD have this in common: we obsess about the negative.

Having autism is a characteristic, not a character.

Friendship is deeper than having mutual interests. Friendship is setting aside time in your day to help someone forget about life for a while.

While another, more thoughtful teenage comic might have deduced that they couldn’t get into a club because they were underage, I jumped to the self-loathing conclusion that it was because I’d become a hack who relied exclusively on his autism for material.

I was kind of like the Glass Half Full personified. Not because I’m an optimist, but because I’m a disappointing alternative to a full glass.

They had been really moved by my act, even if they hadn’t laughed. It wasn’t exactly the reaction I had been hoping for, but since then, I’ve learned that if someone gives you a compliment, you shut up and take it. At the time, though, I took it and then pouted in the RV for the next twenty-four hours.

You should say yes to life when it benefits you and those you care about, but you always have the right to say no when it doesn’t.

An advocate can be a carefree prankster, and a comic can be a deep-thinking philosopher. Your job does not define you.