Celebrating What Makes You Different

Another Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I'm sure that, like me, you spent a little time this past week reflecting on what you have to be thankful for. It's usually a longer list than we initially realize, and that fact alone is something to give thanks for!

In light of the holiday, I knew I wanted to incorporate gratefulness and celebration into this week's post, but in the planning stages, I was struggling to figure out what the encompassing topic would be. Then, I went to a show that helped me realize maybe not what I wanted to write about, but what I needed to write about. And yes, even as I'm writing these words now, I'm feeling exceedingly anxious and stopping to look around the room / open a new tab on my computer / check my phone / generally fidget after every sentence -- bear with me.

Last week, my husband and I attended a preview performance of the new Broadway show, How to Dance in Ohio. For those of you unfamiliar, How to Dance in Ohio is based on a true story and an award-winning documentary about a support group of autistic young adults preparing for a spring dance with the help of their counselor, their parents, and each other. It's a coming-of-age tale about taking control of your own life, facing challenges with courage, and celebrating what it means to be "different". This post isn't a deep dive review of the show (I have lots of opinions on it as a whole, though ultimately positive -- I recommend going to see it!) but rather a personal testimony on the subjects it highlights.

I've never talked about this publicly -- in fact, this might surprise even some that have known me for years! -- but I am on the autism spectrum. While every presentation of autism manifests itself differently, I showed many of the "typical" indicators as a young child, from my preference to play alone, need for an expected routine, and fear of loud and bright stimuli, to walking on curled-over toes and -- my most prominent manifestation -- hand flapping (aka stimming or, in my household, the Happy Dance™️). To this day, while I've learned many what-are-called autism masking techniques throughout my life to help me more easily "fit in" in a neurotypical world, there are a lot of tendencies that I can't mask when facing stressful situations or masks that I simply let down while in private (the Happy Dance™️? Yes, I still do it. All the time.). It feels very strange writing all this knowing I'm going from not talking about it, like, ever, to suddenly publishing it online for anyone and everyone to read. But I've been inspired by the show.

It's no secret that representation matters (period, exclamation point). One of the most exciting elements to the storytelling of How to Dance in Ohio is the fact that the seven autistic characters are all played by autistic actors. Casting went to great lengths to find seven diverse actors with uniquely presenting autism to really showcase just how wide a spectrum the disorder is, and I applaud and thank them for it. Why? There were SO many moments throughout the show when a character would do something or say something that had me thinking, "Oh that's so me!" or "Oh my gosh, I didn't realize that's an autism thing!". And the moment one of the actors showed the Happy Dance™️ on stage took my breath away and brought me to tears. It clicked in that moment what it really means to feel and be seen.

I'll be honest: being autistic is not one of the qualities I love about myself. For example, the Happy Dance™️ that I'm talking so much about? MOST of you that have known me forever have no idea what that is nor have seen me do it because I've learned to suppress it in public as I realized as a child that it wasn't socially acceptable. So today, I can only ever do it when I know no one is watching me as I'm (put bluntly) ashamed of and embarrassed by it. So to see that "thing" I've been trying to hide basically my whole life be given a spotlight on a Broadway stage? It's a moment I will never forget.

And I hope it's a moment that changes how I see this part of myself.

So, with the publishing of this post, I am making a public promise to embrace my quirks and try to be a little kinder to my autistic self. I used to think that this is something I shouldn't talk about or that didn't need addressing, but it's a big part of what makes me *me*, and I'd like to think that the truly authentic Heidi-Liz does not deserve to hide. How to Dance in Ohio truly is a celebration of and love letter to those of us on the spectrum -- if I had the opportunity to sit down and thank the creative team that brought this production to the masses, I would in an instant. Their show really did touch me in a way I can't explain, so in case anyone attached to the show ever reads this, please know how imperative your story is! A thousand times, thank you!

And if anyone else out there is feeling like there's a part of you that is too different, too ugly, too unacceptable, here's my invitation to you to flip the narrative and try celebrating it instead. You are you (and that means all of you), and you're beautiful.

Thanks for reading, #DreamTeamHLJ, and don't be afraid.