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

by Michael McCreary

Finally, I finished the test, which took much longer than it needed to. I’d been thinking about the Lego the whole time and I couldn’t wait any longer.

The real reason I knew was because I had been taught that when you were going outside, it was polite to hold the door for the person after you. So, on my first day of school, when it was time for recess, I held the door for the student behind me. And the next one. And the one after that. By the time I had counted all 351 of my schoolmates walking through the door, recess was over. Nobody made eye contact. Nobody said thank you.

I was taught how to “act normal.” I learned to hold the door for people. I learned to tell the truth, but to understand when it was okay to lie for politeness. I learned to use my manners, not to swear, to respect personal space, and to stop talking when it was time for somebody else to have a turn. And then I got to school. And I discovered that no one else had learned these things.

Having autism is like having too many tabs open on a computer. Or more accurately, it’s like trying to surf the web without an ad blocker. Every time you click on something, another window pops up.

This is it. I’m going to stand up for my people. This is my destiny, to be the hero that the autism community needs.

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.

My first year of high school did teach me one valuable lesson, though, and it was what a difference a good, responsive teacher can make to kids with special needs—and how much harder it is when the adults at school don’t put in the effort to address your specific challenges.

It was in this moment that I realized my quarrel would no longer be with schoolyard bullies; it would be with actual adults. And this war could not be fought with bananas.

Holding the door for your classmates? Awkward. Smiling and using your manners? Awkward.

For instance, the first night of the summer was a Seinfeld-themed buffet, where the whole camp lined up outside of the dining hall and never got to go inside.

Basically, if you weren’t on a landline, you’d never hear from me again.

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

I refused to throw my balloon because it was green, my favorite color. One of the parents told me to “just run with it.” So I did … all the way through the suburbs. It took them two hours to find me.

So I knew that if I won, I’d get to speak in front of this …

The teacher told me I should “act natural,” but I was incapable of doing that.