One to Seven: #BLM Experiences & Observations from an Autistic Australian
The week of June 1–7, 2020 will stand as a one of the most tumultuous weeks in the battle for universal equality. I invited my filmmaking student, Carl Emmerson, a young man who lives with Autism Spectrum Disorder, to share his involvement and thoughts on the Black Lives Matter movement.
Where do I even begin?
Anyone who’s anyone probably won’t need to hazard a guess at what any of this is going to be about. However, I imagine it may still be prudent to give a bit of background regarding ongoing events, as my own part in this covers a few of its many facets.
In Minneapolis, a man was killed. He was not a perfect man, but there was no reason for the MPD officer Derek Chauvin to hold his knee upon the man’s neck — after restraining him with force far in excess of any he may have required — for several minutes, even when the man warned multiple times that he could not breathe; nor was there reason for the officers with him not to intervene in what was potentially — and ultimately — a lethal situation.
I need not tell you the man’s name, not because you doubtlessly know it, but because this is not one story — it is a great many, each with the same players, the same ending, the same crime committed, and, tragically, the same crime punished.
Anyone could tell you these stories, but they are not the only ones of their kind. I, an Australian, hear a new one of this genre of tragedies almost every week. In fact, I have heard so many that every single one fades into all the rest now.
A person — a living, breathing human being — is killed for no crime but that they look different from someone else, and those who were present go on as if nothing was wrong. That, in itself, is wrong.
This time, through a combination of time, place and circumstance, people have stood up and said “No more,” a call that spread across the United States of America, where racial inequality is ranked higher than almost, if not all of, the rest of the planet.
People came together, they took to the streets in a grand display of unity regardless of who they were or what they looked like. These people caught the attention of the world, not just for that they took this show all the way to the White House, but also how promptly they were crushed.
When the hammer came down, it came down swiftly and — ironically, given the setting and subject — indiscriminately. When the President (whose bizarre complexion could almost be considered a race of its own) ordered the National Guard to, and I quote, “Dominate the streets,” they did so with complete and utter blind obedience and zeal. As if executing their very own Order 66, they turned upon the very citizens they were supposed to serve and offered no quarter. Even members of the press were targeted, despite the very first Amendment to their constitution being freedom of the press — albeit one which the President’s repeated threats of violence against them has all but eroded.
I’ve trawled through an unhealthy amount of footage where reporters were brutalised even — especially — after showing their official press badges and credentials, and the combination of targeting and ruthlessness that I witnessed, lethal or otherwise, was very unsettling. By Wednesday alone, some 211 attacks against the press were reported (I imagine that number has since gone up, but I couldn’t tell you where we’re at now). Among them was an Australian news crew for Channel Seven, who were literally beaten — while live on air — by riot police when the President went to some church for a photo-op.
This is where I come in.
Here in Canberra, I, some malcontent with Autism Spectrum Disorder, had been following these events with great interest for several days. Then the guns came out. Rubber bullets didn’t matter, these “Proud American police,” were shooting their own people because their leader has some self-importance issues. These guys weren’t cops anymore, they were Imperial fucking Stormtroopers.
On Wednesday, June 3rd, I wrote a nine-hundred-and-sixty-six-word letter to the Prime Minister of Australia, asking him to condemn the actions of the President of the United States or, at the very least, declare that nothing of the sort would occur down here (although I cannot stress enough just how unlikely it would ever be, when your Prime Minister openly looks up to such a vile monstrosity as Donald Trump, it doesn’t hurt to cover your bases).
Among the many conventions of Parliament, a sitting Parliamentarian is required to respond to any and all emails and written letters sent them.
I have not heard back.
The one public response the man has given on this topic started with “I saw a meme the other day,” which is never a good start. After rambling a bit and conveniently misusing the late Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., he finally said something remotely related to what he was asked.
He said something about not importing these problems into Australia. I’m not even going to give you the quote, it’s complete and utter BS for a couple of reasons.
Secondly, since racism is established as the lifeblood of this country — and don’t forget the first thing the Europeans thought to do with this continent was turn it into one big-arse prison, so excessive policing also qualifies — it’s not hard to guess which “problem” he doesn’t want (here’s a hint: it’s not the one with the body count).
And firstly, hold the bloody phone, Scotty-too-hotty. Didn’t you hear? Bigotry already got here, courtesy of James McDumbhead Cook. Not only is it surviving, it is thriving as a true-blue fair-dinkum Aussie way of life. I could list this shit all day, but I don’t actually have all day, so here’s a few highlights, courtesy of someone who cares:
- Did you know that until the referendum of 1967, the people of this continent’s First Nations were classified as flora and fauna? Human beings, and yet they were only considered native vegetation by foreign colonists who were — and get ready for this — white.
- The Stolen Generations.
- The White Australia Policy — It’s in the bloody name, need I say more?
- Pauline Hanson’s stint in Parliament literally started with her saying “Australia is in danger of being swamped by Asians.”
a. Her return was marked with the same thing, word-for-word, except replacing Asians with Muslims. - It isn’t just race. We had a whole plebiscite because Tony Abbott decided Adam had to marry Eve even if he really wanted to marry Steve, and did everything he could to make it as unfair as possible — and he still lost to the power of love. I guess it’s true what they (don’t) say: you can’t spell “plebiscite” without “pleb”.
And that’s not even a start. I was serious when I said this could go on all day.
There’s actually a sixth one worth mentioning:
Remember that story from earlier? We have that problem, too. As I write this, some four-hundred-and-thirty-seven Indigenous Australians are known to have been killed by police since 1991 while already in custody. That’s actual murder, only the killer never gets charged (I’m not making this up, not one single officer has even been charged).
I should note that this is only the number that had been identified — it could feasibly be more.
Don’t think about the number, think about the people. That many human beings no different from you and me, allowed to be killed without consequence just because their ancestors were here longer than ours.
If that doesn’t rattle you even in the slightest, I don’t know what to say except “Get help.” And that’s not an attack, I’m being completely serious when I say that.
That even one of these deaths was allowed to happen in the first place is bullshit. I know it, you probably know it, and a great many other people know it. I know that because all over the continent, people began protesting just how vile racism and police killing are.
Predictably, PM/P.U. Morrison was quick to say “lol no thats not safe,” which would be credible in the current climate, were it not for the fact that only a couple of weeks earlier, when faced with a mass protest in Sydney against 5G — an actual conspiracy theory — he said it was fine because, and I quote, “It’s a free country.”
But when it came to people protesting against bigotry and unlawful killings, then he couldn’t allow it on public health grounds, even though the people behind these protests actually put a lot of thought into keeping people safe (more than an army of 5G conspiracy theorists, I wager).
Turns out it’s not that free for people trying to solve genuine, life-threatening problems (climate change, anyone?).
Despite Scumo’s warbling, things went ahead. Here in Canberra, we had two such protests, a march on Friday and a rally on Saturday, June 5th and 6th. I went to both.
I actually got to speak at the Friday one. It was kinda spontaneous — they wanted to hear the voices of the youth, and I, being sound-sensitive, was looking for the quietest spot — but I talked a bit about how I, both as a person with a disability and as a human being, have had enough of hate. I didn’t really know where I was going with it, but it seemed pretty popular.
For some reason, the moment I mentioned having Autism Spectrum Disorder, there was quite a bit of applause — I’m not entirely sure what to make of that.
I made a couple of signs, too. While I like to get a bit creative with the protest signs I make, I felt, given the subject matter, running something in the style of the Morisson-head-photoshopped-on-the-body-of-Supreme-Leader-Snoke sign that I made for the People’s Climate Assembly (dubbed Snoko) would seem like trivialising the matter.
For Friday’s event, I went with the very direct message of Rise against hate (you should really have guessed at this point that I’m not overly fond of hate), and on Saturday I chose the slightly riskier Yeah, I see race: the human race (“I don’t see race” is one of those lines that all the blatant racists use, so I did worry a bit that someone wouldn’t get it with the way tensions are right now).
It was good, it was powerful, you could really feel all the love and rage in the air. But it wasn’t some pat-yourself-on-the-back-for-just-rocking-up fest; difficult questions were asked, and gave way to inconvenient truths — honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Such self-reflection often leads to important realisations, and the first step to solving many problems is recognising them as such.
Fortunately, my people don’t have to worry so much about getting offed by police — the last time I can remember that happening to a disabled person was the forty-something-year-old low-functioning autistic man with the toy truck some years ago — but that doesn’t mean this isn’t my problem. We’re all human beings, dammit!
People harp on and on about trying to make things equal, but then they act like the only problem is the one putting people in the ground. Racism, and bigotry as a whole, isn’t just what we see of it. There’s the thousands of things that fly under the radar, too: societal biases, systemic inequality, stereotyping, tokenism and people who just don’t know any better — all these little things adding up like a grand LEGO kit of pain and misfortune.
I could go on quite a tangent about how many of these things come hard on disabled folk too, but that’s probably not what you’re here for, so I suppose I’ll wrap with this:
It doesn’t matter who it is, the fight against bigotry and inequality is a human fight, and that makes it my fight.
Please consider making it yours as well.
Carl Emmerson is a twenty-two-year-old filmmaker and (minor) award-winning screenwriter grappling with Autism Spectrum Disorder and complex trauma. Although he would like you to consider the plight of disabled folk as well, he isn’t going to hold his breath, and would honestly be just as happy seeing good things coming to other groups of people.
