Like a certain singer-songwriter who’s hit the global headlines, Elena Filipczyk was diagnosed with autism as an adult. Elena explains why she and others haven't forgiven Sia for misrepresenting their community.
Image credit: AAP
This week, Australian pop singer Sia Furler revealed she is autistic. Speaking to ‘Rob Has a Podcast’, Sia quite casually mentioned she is “on the spectrum” – a term which, it’s appropriate to point out, is shunned by many autistic advocates for a variety of reasons.
Sia’s autism diagnosis comes two years after her directorial debut, Music, a film about a non-speaking autistic teenage girl, was widely criticised by autistic viewers. The musical drama was condemned for its “autistic” protagonist being played by a neurotypical actress, and also for a scene in which the titular character is held face-down during a meltdown in a form of restraint that is potentially fatal.
After Music was nominated for two Golden Globes, Sia tweeted an apology to the autistic community for the film, but later deleted her Twitter account altogether.
Unsurprisingly, reaction from the autistic community this week to the news that Sia is autistic has been instant, with many arguing that the singer’s diagnosis doesn’t excuse her past actions (and inactions).
“Sia deserved all the backlash she got and then some. Being autistic doesn’t make it okay, Sia. It makes it WORSE,” said NeuroRebel on Twitter.
“When she apologises for all the hurt she did to the community for her actions then we can talk about acceptance,” agreed Nick Lowe.
Another Twitter user, FunFactsWithLulu, raised a critical point, stating that the Sia saga is a “great demonstration that autistic people can be violently ableist, especially to other autistic people who they perceive to be ‘more severe’ or ‘lower on the spectrum’.”
I agree, because I have been there. I was that ableist, so-called “high-functioning” autistic.
When I was in primary school, I felt a burning embarrassment watching an autistic boy in my class struggle to make friends and move his body “appropriately” in the playground. In high school, in love with a rock musician diagnosed with what was then called Asperger’s syndrome, I obsessively read about autism. I even considered becoming an applied behaviour analysis (ABA) therapist in order to “help” autistic children.
As an adult, I cringed at other grown adults having meltdowns in public or enjoying their “special interests”. Years later, at the age of 28, I was diagnosed as autistic.
The reason I mention this is not only to prove that autistic people can be ableist, but to remind myself that being anti-ableist requires honest introspection and genuine engagement with the autistic community. Only after I devoured entire books and Instagram accounts on autism did I start the often-painful process of self-discovery that led me to some hard truths.
I was only embarrassed by autistic people’s odd behaviour because it mirrored my own struggles and internalised shame. I only obsessed over a famous musician’s Asperger’s diagnosis because I saw myself in him. I only wanted to become an ABA therapist because I had no idea how harmful and abusive ABA can be, and because I desperately wanted to help my undiagnosed, traumatised childhood self.
So maybe it makes sense that Sia directed a film about an autistic girl only to be diagnosed as autistic herself. But being autistic doesn’t absolve people of ableism, particularly if they’re a celebrity with all the support in the world available to them.
And that’s where the problem is, and why the autistic community hasn’t forgiven Sia. Despite the privilege her fame and fortune affords her, Sia has yet to own her mistake or meaningfully engage with the autistic community. Instead, despite all the responsibility of her status, Sia is washing her hands of the issue – a privilege many autistic people don’t have.
For a wealthy, white, award-winning artist like Sia, autism can apparently be a vague label of quirkiness (Sia used the word “kook” as well as “on the spectrum”). For almost everyone else, autism dictates every aspect of our lives, often negatively – our relationships, finances, and our physical and mental health.
Most of us have no support, so we have no choice but to own our autism, do our own research, and do our best to hold others to account – not least of all because dangerous misconceptions and misrepresentations of autism by powerful, privileged people continue to stigmatise and harm autistic people.
Hireup approached Sia for comment but at time of publication had not heard back.
Elena Filipczyk
Elena Filipczyk writes about animals, autism and chronic illness. She is a rollerskating and music-obsessed vegan and intersectional feminist, who is autistic and has ADHD.