#AutisticAF Out Loud Newsletter
#AutisticAF Out Loud
Autism, Neurodiversity, 3 Poems... 3 Rando Manifestos
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Autism, Neurodiversity, 3 Poems... 3 Rando Manifestos

I was not born to be pitied. I was born to raise Hell. Autistic style.

Cold Open

I was not born to be pitied. I was born to raise Hell. Autistic style.

Intro

You’re listening to AutisticAF Out Loud. One voice. Raw. Real. Fiercely Neurodivergent. Since 1953.

Season 5, Episode 4. Breaking mirrors, dancing at the edge of noise, raising autistic hell. Autism, Neurodiversity, 3 Poems... and 3 Rando Manifestos. Just one autistic elder's truth. I'm Johnny Profane.

Content Note: trauma, sexual assault, self-harm, rage, transformative therapy moments + experiences & opinions of one autistic voice… 71.

[Music]


A haunting black and white image shows a broken glass panel in a dark door, with a shadowy figure visible through the jagged break. The person's shadow looms larger on the adjacent door panel, creating a dual presence that echoes the poem's themes of watching and being watched, fragmented identity, and the persistence of trauma's witness. The broken glass mirrors the poem's climactic moment of mirror-smashing, while the shadow suggests both vulnerability and emerging strength.

1953.

Manifesto #1

I was Born Autistic. Not to be Fixed…

I'm autistic. Born 1953.

I was not a product of a vaccine.

I was not a product of a disease. Mental or physical.

I was not a mistake. Genetic or epigenetic.

I was not born to be fixed by CBT, pill or chip.

I was not born to be pitied.

I was born to raise Hell. Autistic style.


[Music]

The static never stops.

Poem #1

Dancing Close to the Edge of the Noise

#AskingAuDHDists…

bear with me a minute.
I'm autistic+ADHD.
71.

i feel like
a brilliant creative soul
as if…

trapped in a damaged body
& neurology
trying to communicate
with the world
through an intermittently
short-circuiting transistor radio
playing through static
& the distortion
& sparking circuits…

to just be heard.

do you understand at all what I mean?

#ActuallyAutistic #ADHD #ReallyAuDHD

A figure in protective gear sits at a desk facing multiple glowing monitors stacked chaotically above them. The monitors are connected by tangled cables, creating a wall of screens. The image has a soft, teal-tinted monochromatic palette. Style: Dystopian sci-fi digital art with atmospheric depth-of-field effects. Themes: Information overload, sensory processing challenges, the struggle to filter and process multiple inputs simultaneously - resonating with the AuDHD experience of trying to manage overwhelming streams of information while maintaining focus.
“Dancing Close to the Edge of Noise,” digital illustration by the author.

[Music]

Sometimes? The mask slips…

Poem #2

AFTER THE SECRET

I have strengths.
Not one is my superpower.
I have challenges.
Not one is my kryptonite.

I'm that kid in third grade
Drop

drop

Dropping
A mysterious blue crystal
Into that test tube—
Squealing in delight
Every time it explodes…
In purple streams.

I love cosplay.
But I don’t have to fly
Wear a mask
Or sport a cape
To be autistic.

Still…

I get to be the hero
or bald evil genius
of my own life.

Digital illustration in anime style shows a Gothic cathedral interior. Afternoon light through a broken stained glass window casts green beams across hardwood floors. A discarded superhero cape lies centered on the floor, while a human shadow stretches toward it in farewell. The shadow's source remains unseen. The composition uses gothic arches and parallel lines to guide focus. Illustrates the poem 'After the Secret' about autistic identity and moving beyond masking toward authenticity. Digital tools included AI.
“After the Secret,” digital illustration by the author.
[Music]

Neurodivergent life… twists different.

Manifesto #2

My Autistic Life: Mebbe a Little Zelig. Mebbe a Bit Forest Gump. But All Me.

Sharing our Neurodivergent stories is powerful.

I was born before autism was invented… More or less. 1953.

Been a meditation teacher,
cult member,
magazine publisher,
ad agency owner,
non-profit activist,
3-time grad student
3-time husband,
homeless,
mental health counselor,
substance abuse counselor,
cult counselor,
homeless,
fast-food clerk,
Pretend Rock Star,
homeless…

I’ve bantered with Bill Gates.
Felt stupid in front of Bill Joy.
Touched the Maharishi.
Stumbled on Keith Haring
Jumping turnstiles in the subway…

But…

I met anonymous geniuses
in cubicles,
bull pens
trailer parks,
on the street…

This is not my idle boast. This is my earnest promise. Ask the neurodivergent in front of you…

Have they got stories to tell you. Genius touches every life. Of every 'type. If you can perceive it.

So.

I have no credentials to offer. At least none that matters to me... anymore.

So I offer my life. My autistic life. Hoping better for our kids.

Because if nothing changes…

Content Note: Discussion of trauma statistics and sexual assault

Over 80% of them will experience trauma in their life. Interpersonal violence, bullying, sensory trauma, emotional abuse, and systemic discrimination. Nearly three times higher than average. And many autistic individuals experience multiple types of trauma concurrently.

Just as I did in the 1950s. Bullying by classmates & teachers. Physical attacks on the playgrounds. Sexual attack in the park. And in the home,

Trauma not from neurodivergence. Trauma from how modern society treats the neurodivergent.

[Music]

That clean, polite, clinical phrase… “trauma?” It has a personal face, a personal moment in every neurodivergent life.

This is mine.

Session #137. When memory breaks.

Poem #3

The Body Abides

"Like I told you
Nothing really happened
Can't sleep is all…."
He repeats his view,

"The body watches.
The body ALWAYS
Fucking watches."

"Yeah, he kissed me
Fathers do that.
Yeah, it was weird but…."
He whispers me,

"Your body, your witness.
And this witness ALWAYS
Fucking watches."

Then he leans in…
"What if he'd kissed
your sister's lips…?"

"I'd fucking kill him."

That's when…

i see me
in his mirror

watching myself
watch my self

transparently autistic

a son no more,
yet the body…
abides.

rage
dark rage
Screaming RAGE

i'd fucking kill him
fucking kill him
kill him
Him.

i rise…
so
slowly

and fucking smash that mirror

i rock, i sway…
i rub one red eye.
i stand, I stare…
I sigh, I say,

"My body watches
The body ALWAYS
Fucking watches…,"

As I close his office door…

I abide.

A haunting black and white image shows a broken glass panel in a dark door, with a shadowy figure visible through the jagged break. The person's shadow looms larger on the adjacent door panel, creating a dual presence that echoes the poem's themes of watching and being watched, fragmented identity, and the persistence of trauma's witness. The broken glass mirrors the poem's climactic moment of mirror-smashing, while the shadow suggests both vulnerability and emerging strength.
“The Body Always Watches,” digital illustration by author.

[Music]

Decades later. Still raising hell.

Manifesto #3

Now… About That Autistic Hell We Was Talking about Raising…

We ask awkward questions. And find new answers.

We see different. Make electrifying connections.

We feel patterns. To larger truths.

We are passionate

We adapt.
Survive.
Disrupt.
Transform…
Raising a fat middle finger
To normal.

Now, that’s the kinda hell… I’m talking about raising.

How’s about neurodivergent you?

One last thing…

be proud.

be proud you're autistic.

be proud you're alive.

despite everything people and nature...
life...
threw at you...
you're still breathing.

you’re still breathing…

no mean feat that. I know firsthand.

be proud.

be damn proud.

#ActuallyAutistic

Outro

In coming weeks, we'll challenge the medical model of autism, examining how neurodivergent individuals can build sustainable, authentic lives - with or without professional intervention.

AutisticAF Out Loud podcast is supported solely by listeners like you. Know a friend or family member with a sincere interest in neurodiversity? Please consider emailing this episode to them.

We believe no one should have to pay to be autistic. Many neurodivergent people can't afford subscription content. Your Ko-Fi tip of any amount helps keep this resource free for them. Or join our paid subscriber community at johnnyprofaneknapp.substack.com for ongoing support. Link in description.

Selfie of the author in a country setting, framed by trees, wearing a fedora and overcoat.

Written in rage. Published in hope. December 2024. Greene County, Indiana.

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