I’ve always been a little bit different. No matter how hard I’ve tried to fit in, I’ve always stood out, so when I was unexpectedly diagnosed with autism shortly before my 30th birthday, everything clicked into place: I was living in a world that wasn’t designed for otherness, and I was an ‘other’. That’s part of the reason I feel such a connection to The Witcher 3.
It’s important, I feel, that I explain what I mean when I say ‘otherness’. It’s not exclusive to those with neurodivergence. Anyone can feel, and be, othered - no matter their health, age, race, religion, gender, or sexuality. However, while otherness in itself is inherently non-discriminatory, the unfortunate truth is many of those that have experienced otherness have done so because they are members of a discriminated minority.
Related: Yes, That’s The School Of The Lynx Medallion In Witcher 4
People often tell me they wouldn’t have known I was autistic if I hadn’t told them. It’s as though I was some nefarious neurodivergent spy sent to infiltrate the allistics, and in revealing myself I’ve ruined the illusion that I am, in fact, like them. I’ve had reactions ranging from disbelief, denial, and even anger. I’ve been called inspirational; I’ve been told I should be ashamed. I am victim and villain. I’ve been called a liar, a faker, and told that I can’t have autism because I’m a woman. Anti-vax propaganda is pumped out every day telling me that I am a burden to the ones I love, that parents would rather their children die than end up like me. Organisations exist with the hope of one-day ‘curing’ autism. Have you ever been told that a fundamental part of what makes you the human that you are should be cured? I read about it at least once a day.
When people
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