How Embracing My Autism Helped Me To Sing

Today is June 18^th, so to all my fellow autists, I’d just like to wish you a happy Autism Pride day! I admit I’ve nothing prepared for the day, this post was going out soon anyway, but given the relevance of the subject I’ll upload this today.

Content Warning: Bullying and Feelings of Self Loathing.

So, you’re probably reading the title and thinking, this is the story of how an autistic guy by embracing his autism learned to sing in a figurative sense. No, that’s not the story, though it probably did help me to sing figuratively. No, but this is the story of how embracing my autism helped me to sing, as in actually sing songs, or be a singer. It is meant literally!

I’ve been playing music since I was thirteen. The instrument I play most is the guitar, but as I got older I started learning more and more instruments, such as the bass, the drums, the saz (a Turkish instrument), and I’m somewhat competent with keyboards and some wind instruments. You might think that’s a lot of instruments, but there was one I was afraid of, terrified of, and that is the human voice. I knew it was irrational, why should singing be scary? But it was. I have trouble with co-ordination, but I happily took on the challenge of the drums, which is the most co-ordinationy instrument ever (I invented that word). I took on the Turkish saz, where you are dealing with modes and scales that don’t exist in Western music, but I embraced the challenge and loved it. So what was it about singing? Now a lot of people, even people who play a lot of musical instruments, are terrified of singing, so I’m not saying it isn’t in part for reasons I share in common with others, it’s not like my anxiety about singing is completely gone. But I think after much thought on the subject I have nailed down the main reason I was anxious about singing. As an autistic person I have been conditioned for years to hate the sound of my own voice.

There is this thing that autistic people do called stimming, which can be a reaction to our emotional state, out of boredom, or sometimes there is no “specific” reason, it can just be fun.. Neurotypical people do it too, tapping your foot on the ground in reaction to your emotional state, or chewing a biro, or, everyone’s favourite regardless of neurotype, bursting bubblewrap!, these are all types of stims. The difference is autistic stims tend to be much more noticeable. When I’m happy, I flap my hands. Or make loud exuberant sounds (if I’m at home or in the mountains, where it won’t alarm anybody!), when I want to relax I make soothing vocal sounds. I also have what are called fidget toys which can help me relax, or concentrate, or just make me happier. So what has any of this got to do with singing?

It’s because I was bullied and shamed for my vocal stims all through childhood. It didn’t matter if I did it quietly, I was still shamed, so I learned to do it less and less. Now some might be thinking, could this be because it was distracting to others? There are valid reasons to object to vocal stims for this reason in many contexts, and even though now I’m comfortable with my vocal stims, in any situation where it’s going to be distracting to others, I either do it extremely quietly or don’t do it at all. But it was never about that, I was always laughed at, or told my least favourite two words in the English language “Act Normal!” Never was I told, “Could you do that at another time it’s distracting people.” So I came to hate the sound of my own vocal chords. Growing up as a teenager, I’d hear my favourite bands, such as the Manic Street Preachers, U2, or the Clash, and I wanted to sing, but I couldn’t. I didn’t like my own voice, because I was taught to hate it. And I learned to suppress my stims even when nobody was around. In my own home, with nobody around, I would start hand flapping or vocal stimming in response to being anxious, and I would stop myself. I wouldn’t even allow myself therapeutic behaviour for an anxiety state, because I had to “Act Normal”. For years I didn’t even get to experience happiness fully, “Acting Normal”, was all that mattered. And of course there was no such thing as normal enough, enough of your true self will always be evident to people, evident to people who want to shame you for being different.

But when in 2021 I stopped being in denial about my autism diagnosis, I came to understand that stimming is just a perfectly fine response to an emotional state, just like laughing or crying (I still have difficulty with crying, I hope to solve that problem with emotional repression some day.) And I embraced my true self. When I’m happy, I make loud exuberant noises. The sight of the ocean or the mountains can send me into such amazing joy. When my brain is overactive and I need to power down, I make quiet vocal sounds. When I’m anxious, I have hand movements and vocal sounds that make me feel calm. I was no longer ashamed of my voice, all the people who told me to “Act Normal” were wrong, and were probably taking out issues with themselves on me.

And I’m amazed how fast it happened, no longer being ashamed of my voice, I was able to sing. Don’t get me wrong, you won’t hear me singing in front of a crowd of thousands, that would be too scary! But I can sing in front of a group of friends, which I never could before. And another thing encouraged me to sing, shortly after I embraced my autism, I decided to write a concept album about autism, and I quickly realised there was no way it could work as an instrumental album, so if I wanted to do it, I would have to sing!

So even though I’m talking about the autistic experience, I hope this is some help to anyone who has ever been bullied and shamed for being different. There is nothing wrong with you. The people who should feel shame are the ones who made you feel terrible for being different, and even those who bullied you, I hope they are able to get help with whatever issues made them act that way. By learning to stop disliking myself, I was able to sing. Who knows what new abilities people will discover if they are able to realise that the ones who shamed them for being different were, are, and always will be, completely and utterly wrong.