The trouble with being earnest

What I love and hate about being the serious one

Dear neurokin,

We all have different, individual, parts that make up the whole of us.

Giddiness, euphoric joy and enthusiasm for music, colour and the simple things in life are part of me.

Along with other more solemn parts.

It is a truth universally known that we autistic folk have a serious part to us. Be it our love of sharing the facts that we have gathered and stored. Or the formality with which we express our thoughts and opinions.

Justice and fairness matter greatly to us and will be conveyed as such.

Seriousness is our signature.

Those serious parts of us leave us wide open to ridicule.

‘Watch your language. No one really talks like this…. and these words made me giggle’

Our unusual turn of phrase can often be poked at, examined and turned into a fest of tittering.

I experienced this as a very young child. I was often laughed at for how I said things. I’m finding that the more I ‘unmask’ or try being openly autistic, the more I’m experiencing ridicule again.

As well as being told that some of the expressions I use in my writing are a ‘non sequitur’ I’m also hearing that using words like sensuality and intensity in my descriptions are cringey and ‘not how people talk’.

It makes me feel like I’m back to being that child in the classroom who would be laughed at for my serious, sincere and heartfelt expression.

Maybe it’s my unusual sincerity that invites comments like ‘you’re so sweet’.

To which I darkly think, I’m fifty fucking one, there is nothing sweet about me.

Hearing ‘aw, you’re so sweet’ makes me feel like I’m being patted on the head. As my face reddens, I instantly feel ashamed.

I.Do.Not.Want.To.Be.Fucking.Sweet.

So, I stop commenting on social media posts, substack articles or piping up in group chats for fear of being deemed ‘sweet’ in my sincerity.

Or from being told any of the following:

The trouble with being earnest

• Stop lecturing me

When passionately standing up for myself, or when stating the facts to back up my opinion, I’m often ‘put back in my place’ by being told that I am lecturing, criticising or patronising the person I desperately want to understand me better.

• Stop making a fuss.

This is another thing I’m told when I’m trying to impart the facts or my desire for an alternative course of action.

• The gender bias

Being ‘serious’ as a woman, with the formality of tone that can come from being autistic, doesn’t fit with the gendered bias. The expectation is that women are light hearted, easy, friendly and malleable.

I find that when making serious points, especially within education or health institutions and systems, I am often labelled ‘trouble’ or told that I am being ‘difficult’.

I’d like to be ok with that. I’d like to think to myself fuck it, who cares?!

But the damage from years of not having access to information about what makes me different has conditioned me in the belief that there’s something ‘wrong’ with me and that maybe I am difficult.

The internalised messages that being serious is not welcomed, or that it’s problematic for others, wins the day and I quietly take my shame to the corner and do my best to disappear.

And then along comes Mary

Mary Bennet, in red, from The Other Bennet Sister awkwardly looking on at a society gathering.

Be still, my beating heart. At last I have a poster girl for it being ok to be the ‘serious’ ‘earnest’ one.

Last week, I devoured the first five episodes The Other Bennet Sister, a tv adaptation of Janice Hadlow’s book, in which we meet Mary Bennet, the lesser known sister in Jane Austen’s, Pride and Prejudice.

Ella Bruccoleri beautifully performs the heavily autistic coded Mary Bennet.

Here’s the things I could relate to in Mary:

• Constantly being told that she is annoying. Especially by the narcissistic Mrs Bennet, who shoves poor Mary out of the way in an opening scene.

• She is awkwardly self conscious about wearing glasses.

• She can’t fathom the overly complex social rules.

  • It has to be pointed out to her that if she dances with the lowly Mr Sparrow more than twice she will become an outcast.

• When she struggles to find her place in society or to find a marriage match, she vows to make herself ok with being the ‘intelligent one’ (the geek)

• She loves music and dancing, which she shows overtly in her enthusiasm.

• She wrestles to understand the meaning of poetry, preferring facts instead.

  • until allows herself to feel the poetry and not think it

• Beyond her love of facts, she loves immersing herself in reading about crime.

• She hates playing games that involve physical co-ordination. Until the games are word related, then she’s in her element.

• When she is finally afforded, by her kindly aunt, some liberty to choose colours for her own dresses she goes for the bold, garish and clash’y…. my kinda gal!

Thank you Mary Bennet. For showing endearing, quirky and earnest qualities that make me feel ok about sometimes being the serious one.

Five Things For You To Ponder

1. What resonates about having a serious part to you?

2. What does your serious part give you?

3. What challenges does your serious part bring?

4. What goes unsaid about you being earnest or serious?

5. Who do you want to say that unsaid thing to? and, how do you want to say it?

Andrea x

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