Yesterday, I attended a conference on autism. The speaker, diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, had, over the years, completely embraced the role society had assigned him. Every difficulty he encountered in his life was, for him, attributable to his condition. This speech struck me, not only because of its content, but also because of what it revealed: the immense power of categorization, and the risk of becoming trapped by it. Because by constantly explaining our lives with labels, we sometimes end up losing sight of our own complexity.
Autism as a pretext for exclusion
I've felt some discomfort at the lack of a clear definition of what autism, and more specifically Asperger's syndrome, actually is. It's likely that others share this feeling of vagueness, so allow me to offer this definition.
According to Jean-Marie Vidal, in an article published on The Psychology Notebook[1], autism can be understood as a pervasive symbolization disorderThis disorder affects human interactions, communication (verbal and gestural), as well as the relationship with objects—in other words, the three main forms of symbolization: the Sign, the Person, and the Object. He specifies, however, that autistic people are not intellectually incapacitated or incapable of symbolic expression.
This definition applies perfectly to the case of the lecturer, pianist, and published writer. He exemplifies the paradox of autism: capable of brilliant symbolic performances through music and writing, while feeling profoundly excluded.
As for Asperger's syndrome, it is no longer recognized in the DSM-5, the "bible" of psychiatrists. This syndrome only officially existed from 1992 to 2013, and its disappearance from the manual reminds us how psychiatric categories also reflect the beliefs and ways of thinking dominant in a society.
But what moved me most in his speech was not so much the clinical content or the question of diagnosis, but rather the story of his experience.. He spoke emotionally about his feelings of exclusion and humiliation. Whether these experiences were objectively real or not doesn't matter: the important thing is that he experienced them as such. For him, society was neither inclusive nor caring.
But deep down, who has not experienced this exclusion or humiliation?
A universal experience
Exclusion and humiliation are not limited to a pathological condition. They permeate our lives, our identities, our social roles.. They can take an infinite number of forms.
On the political level, individuals are rejected because of their gender, skin color, or origin, in societies still largely dominated by a toxic, sometimes brutal, white masculinity based on territorial defense and the power of the strongest. Consider certain political excesses in the United States or Brazil, where exclusion becomes an accepted project.
On an individual level, humiliation can take root as early as childhood. A child who fails to meet the expectations of their parents or educators is often marginalized. Later, it will be women who are beaten or cheated on, people exploited for their talents but never recognized, those whose qualities are exploited without gratitude, in the face of inflated egos.
In the workplace, humiliation is often inflicted by "little bosses," those individuals who are mediocre in everyday life but are transformed into torturers as soon as circumstances grant them any power. This phenomenon affects every area: the horrifying images of American soldiers humiliating Iraqi prisoners, or the abuse committed by some priests against children, covered up by their superiors, are extreme but sadly real examples.
Disability, in this context, is just another excuse to justify exclusion and humiliation. Any difference becomes suspect in a world where normalization is imposed by those who believe themselves superior; any deviation becomes a fault.
Resist without destroying yourself
In the face of this social violence, how can we resist without collapsing? How can we remain strong, embrace our uniqueness, and preserve our inner integrity? Here are some ways forward.
Building oneself internally
The best defense remains oneself. It's about returning to this fundamental principle: learning to know oneself. This involves developing self-awareness, clarifying one's values, listening to one's emotions, and reclaiming one's history.
Take some distance
Meditation, artistic or sporting practice, and engaging in a passion are all ways to connect with oneself and protect oneself from the outside noise.
Assume your independence
It's striking that people who humiliate or exclude rarely act alone: they hide behind an institution, shelter behind a norm, act in a pack. However, society is evolving—even if it remains fragile—and the courage to be different is now a strength.
Accepting loneliness
Contrary to what we are told, we do not necessarily need to be surrounded by others to exist. Knowing how to cut ourselves off from the world, no longer listening to social injunctions, becomes an act of freedom.
Stopping listening to the media, checking social media or your phone compulsively in order to cultivate your inner world and your uniqueness becomes a revolutionary act.
Talk
Participating in support groups, expressing one's pain and anger, writing... all of this helps transform pain into words, into creativity, into connection. Speaking is therapeutic, liberating.
Perform a symbolic act
Writing a letter to someone who has hurt us, even without sending it, allows us to heal a wound by regaining our dignity.
Conclusion
Exclusion and humiliation are profoundly human experiences, but they must never become identities. Freeing ourselves from them requires a work of awareness, distance, speech, and symbolization. For, ultimately, it is in our ability to transform suffering into inner strength that lies the failure of the dominator—and our greatest victory.
If you've been through such ordeals and feel the need to talk about them, I invite you to contact me. Talking can be a first step toward healing.
[1] https://carnetpsy.fr/la-specificite-symbolique-du-psychisme-humain-et-la-desymbolisation-autistique/
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