Autism acceptance – Autism Connection of Pennsylvania

SNAP: Bridging Friendships by Lydia Wayman and Zachary Miller

What is SNAP?

SNAP, officially known as the Spreading Neurodiversity Acceptance Project for Social Engagement, was conceived by Zachary A. Miller. This project was born out of a heartfelt mission: to establish an inclusive platform where neurodivergent and neurotypical individuals could stand together on equal ground, fostering a sense of unity and acceptance.

At its core, SNAP is all about community engagement through a diverse array of events and activities. They extend warm invitations to people of all backgrounds, embracing the rich tapestry of human experiences. From crafting a captivating mural that celebrates neurodiversity to organizing engaging egg hunts and immersive camp days, SNAP consistently delivers on its promise of inclusive joy.

Crucially, the magic of SNAP doesn’t stop at its events; it begins right at the heart of their organization. The dedicated leadership team, led by individuals like Lydia, plays a pivotal role in shaping the project’s vision and executing its mission. Lydia exemplifies the spirit of SNAP, where inclusivity, understanding, and creativity intersect.

Lydia’s Perspective

I’m an autistic adult who has spent my whole life in the Pittsburgh area. I have been involved in autism advocacy work since 2009, speaking at conferences, writing for a wide variety of publications, and working with organizations to develop courses, training programs and other resources. I’ve made incredible, lifelong friends through this work. But none of them live close enough to see in person more than once or twice a year at best. As involved as I am with the autism/autistic community, I still lack many local connections and social opportunities.

I heard about SNAP through an ad in the Autism Connection weekly newsletter in early 2023. It was about painting a mural celebrating neurodiversity that would hang in Benedum Hall. I love all kinds of arts and crafts and creative expression, so it sounded like something I’d enjoy. But I was nervous — I didn’t know who would be there or where Benedum Hall was, and I’ve never painted in any formal capacity. I wouldn’t have pursued the opportunity if my mom hadn’t also seen the ad and nudged me. I reached out to Zach by email to ask some questions that made me feel less anxious, as it helps if I know what to expect.

Photo of Lydia sitting outside in the sun smiling into the camera

Lydia Wayman

He responded quickly and with his typical friendly tone that makes everyone feel welcome and accepted. Come to a SNAP event and meet him, and you’ll see exactly what I mean!

We worked on the mural over several weekends, and I loved every minute of it. The artist who led us was a perfect fit for the project. The group had a wide range of ages and support needs, and she gave everyone jobs to do and presumed competence while still providing instruction and individual support. I liked that we were all helping and not just being handed the fun parts. It made it a true group effort, and the final product looks incredible.

After the mural, Zach asked if I wanted to join the SNAP leadership team. I readily accepted his offer and have served in the role of an autistic co-liaison since last spring, attending SNAP leadership meetings and help to plan and run events.

What Makes SNAP Distinct?

There are a few things that make SNAP different – why it’s a group I want to be a part of. A big reason for me is the inclusive nature of everything we do. Our events are designed to be as inclusive as possible, and we invite all ages, parents and siblings included. Everyone just gets treated like an individual. I’ve connected with all sorts of people at our events, and despite the leadership team being half of my age, they are fantastic people to work with and have fun with.

I’ve tried to make local connections with the disability community through activity-based groups in the past, but often, I felt forced to choose a side – either I had to be a participant with a disability, or I could be an organizer. Because I get overwhelmed easily, participating in groups can be hard, so I often prefer to help out. I think part of it is just that I know what’s going on, but I also have some unique skills to offer. But choosing to get involved as an organizer usually meant working with a team of people who aren’t used to making accommodations or allowing for support needs. Also, it meant not getting to enjoy the fun parts of the event.

With SNAP, I don’t have to explain what I can and can’t do, why I do or don’t need something. I don’t have to choose a side – I can just be myself, use my skills to help others, and have fun.

Join the fun!

Do you want to be a part of the fun? Many of our events are free to everyone! For more information throughout the year, sign up for our email list at the link HERE. We hope to see you in the future!

The Peaches and Cream Autism

Years ago, my autistic daughter participated in what they called a special needs sporting event. I was quietly cheering her on, and another parent asked, “What is she doing here? Helping?” I shook my head and explained that she, too, was playing as a child with a disability.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing is wrong with her. She just has autism.”

The other parent’s eyes glazed over as she remarked, “Not the real autism. She has the ‘peaches and cream’ autism.”

I gave no response.

This brief, somewhat painful interaction has stuck with me for more than a decade. First, the image of peaches and cream as it relates to levels of perceived heightened ability makes no sense. Second, the inner workings of the mind and body are generally difficult to observe because they are not overt. So those with the perceived simple “peaches and cream” autism seem to have no place. They are too visibly able to fit in with those who have overt disabilities, and too invisibly disabled to seamlessly connect with nondisabled peers.

Where do we land?

Unpacking the Peaches

Over the years, I’ve ruminated on the peaches and cream autism statement, and I have repeated the nonsensical phrase many times. Sometimes in an effort to try to figure it out; sometimes in an effort to gauge other’s understanding. Results were mixed.

My younger, non-autistic daughter, much like me, was trying to unpack the concept.

And she did, in a way that finally made sense. She being a mere 15 years old, made the revelation extraordinary.

“Maybe you have the peach fuzz autism too, Mom.”

“Peach fuzz?” I laughed. “It’s the ‘peaches and cream’ autism. And you are probably right.”

“Oh! I thought you were saying peach fuzz because it’s light and soft and hard to see.”

Light and soft and hard to see

Peach Fuzz

The way my mind works, I pictured a peach with its soft, fuzzy outer skin covering the fruit’s flesh. This led to an exploration and possible conclusion to the peaches and cream conundrum. And it makes sense in relation to autism and hidden differences.

The peach’s fuzzy exterior has puzzled experts, with no definitive explanation for its presence. However, one prevailing theory suggests that this textured coating serves as an additional safeguard for the delicate peel, which is susceptible to premature rot.

Peach fuzz exists even though it is difficult to detect, and it exists for good reason.

When I shared my findings with my daughters, the younger one sighed. “Peach fuzz on the face, I meant.”

We’re still looking into it.

photo of a drawing of two children standing alongside a third child in a wheelchair. It's a child's sketch and it's lying on a table surrounded by colored pencils and markers.

Let the Children Lead Us and Teach Us

One day a week I take myself to the office, the rest of the week I work remotely. The fluorescent lights in the office are not kind, and it takes me an hour to de-escalate myself once I get home. Sensory overload is real and it is hard. I wasn’t always aware of my sensory needs, and I still struggle with coping, but my son taught me how to identify obstacles in the environment. They were always there, and sensory overload affected me, but I am a product of the 80’s and 90’s growing up, and we certainly didn’t talk about sensory needs. You just dealt with it, or didn’t, but regardless you did it quietly.

Fast forward to having a child who was diagnosed with autism.

As a parent of a child on the spectrum, I had a large learning curve and I needed to maneuver it quickly. One day he didn’t have autism, and the next he did. Now I know, autism was always a part of him, this is what I mean by learning curve. In the beginning, I was circumventing the curve by doing everything others told me I needed to do to “cure the autism”. The focus was on changing him, not on creating a space where he could thrive. If he wasn’t in therapy or working on targeted skills, we were wasting precious time to “fix” him. False. False. False.

Let me stop here and replace cure with cope and also say that speech, occupational, physical therapy, and skill building can happen in all the places all time. Children need space to be children and their adults need space to just be supportive adults. And while we’re replacing words in our vocabulary, let’s replace compliance with cooperation. But we can talk more about compliance vs cooperation in a future blog.

We have so much to learn from people, especially children. Once I began focusing on coping, rather than fixing, everything changed. When I learned to listen to what my son was communicating but wasn’t verbally saying, everything changed. My son changed my entire view moving forward and made me realize I needed to reflect inward. The space I was trying to create for him to thrive, I learned, I also wanted. I didn’t want to just “get through it” anymore.

Actively listening to my son smashed my rose colored glasses and showed me the beautiful world of diversity and inclusion. I learned how to identify and advocate for what I needed to be comfortable. I learned that asking questions and genuinely wanting to get to know about people and what is important to and for them, helps us all grow and create safe spaces. I learned that as I’ve shared how I feel or what I’ve experienced, many others say “me too!”, which creates a welcoming environment to share what is in their hearts and in their minds. I learned to meet people where they are. Even though I’m much older than my son, it’s been a life changing experience to learn together that neither of us needed fixing.

This is a reminder to let the children lead us and teach us.

E.R. Heffel