Life in Black and Blue

Crime is increasing
Trigger happy policing
Panic is spreading
God know where we’re heading
Oh, make me wanna holler
They don’t understand

-Inner City Blues, Marvin Gaye

Screen-Shot-2016-07-07-at-5.25.05-AMFor the second time in two days we have heard of another police shooting of an African American.  Tuesday saw the killing of Alton Sterling in Baton Rouge, LA and last night Philando Castile in the St. Paul suburb of Falcon Heights.  While all of these kind of shootings have bothered me, the Falcon Heights shooting hit closer to home and not just because it was only a few miles from me.

What makes this one more real to me is that Mr. Castile could have been me.

What has been unnerving and infuriating is that as far as we can tell, this was a regular guy.  He worked in the lunchroom at a St. Paul Montessori school.  When he was pulled over for a busted tail light, he told the officer that he had a permit to carry a concealed weapon. He seemed to be  doing the right thing.

And he still got shot.

From what we know, he did all the right things one should do as a concealed carry holder and as an African American and he still ended up dead.

My husband wrote an anguished Facebook post about the shooting and her fears that I could be pulled over and killed for no reason by someone this supposed to keep the peace.  The thing is, I can’t tell him not to worry.  I can’t tell him that as long as I am careful that nothing will happen.

The thing is, having Aspergers, I tend to miss social cues.  What if I miss a social cue and the officer draws a gun? Can I trust the police to do the right thing?  What will happen the next time I’m pulled over?

I never used to be scared of the police.  I can remember sitting in elementary school in Flint, MI back in the 70s and being taught that the police were there to help.  I’ve believed that since then, but the steady drumbeat of police shootings has eroded my child-like trust and replaced it with fear, and the police should not be the people I fear.

The sad thing is, these killings will continue.  Too much of white America doesn’t see this as a problem.  Many mistakenly believe that the shooting victim deserved it.  None of this means it can’t change, but until people can see the injustice happening, until it tugs at their own sense of fairness and justice, the values that we as Americans believe in, a lot of whites in America will remain unmoved to act.

Lord Have mercy.

Christ, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.

An Anxious Time

I’ve been wanting to write something about some problems my own denomination is facing, but I’ve never been able to focus on that.  I think the reason is that my brain is stuffed with anxiety about several issues.  One thing you have to understand about me is that anxiety has long been a part of my daily life.  Past experiences have made me feel anxious about the world around me.  At some moment, when I least expect it, something will happen that will throw me into the unknown.  Most likely than not it is the news that my job has been cut that put makes me anxious about the anxiety.

Since I deal with depression, I think anxiety comes with the package.  It means that I act like a scared animal, ready to leap at the slightest sound of danger.  It is not unusual to feel this sense of freight all the time.  At some point, something or someone will do something that will alter my life.

Mixed in with this is a sense of depression, a feeling that no matter what you do, the reality is you don’t matter.  It’s the feeling of not being wanted or feeling like the last one picked to play softball.  I know those thoughts are false and medication keeps them at bay.  But they are there.

The thing that has been in knots right now is looking for work.  As most of you know, I work very part-time as the pastor of a church and part time as the Office Manager of another church.  Both jobs together isn’t enough to pay the bills, so I look for a third part time position or freelance work or a position that could replace my current weekly job with more hours and pay.  I’ve been basically looking for work since I was laid off two days before Christmas in 2014.  Over the last year, I’ve had several interviews and it seemed like things went well, but in the end, the job didn’t happen.  The worst was having someone call me from a local nonprofit, noticing my ad in a church bulletin board.  From that phone call to an interview, took two months and it took another to tell me that they chose someone else.  It was quite maddening to have to be on hold for three months when you didn’t know if the job was happening or not.  (Please employers, don’t leave someone holding for more than a month.  It’s thoughtless to keep them in limbo.)  The other frustrating thing is trying to talk to other graphic and web designers for pointers and they never bother to respond back.

So, you keep looking and keep sending your resume and keep sending your portfolio in the hopes that someone will at least see budding talent.  But so far, no one seems interested and it leaves you wondering if there is something wrong with you.

Looking for work seems to be a constant in my life.  I hate being laid off because it means that it will probably take 2-3 years to find something close to what I was doing. I chalk it up to being African American; I know it’s going to take longer because I’m not the first thing that comes to people’s mind when they think communications or technology.

This job anxiety also makes it hard to do ministry.  It’s hard for me to focus on church when I feel I have to constantly keep looking for work.  I want to have time to focus on worship planning and outreach, and I’m focusing on tweaking my resume again.

And the job anxiety then leads to anxiety (and shame) about barely being able to keep up my share of the house bills with my husband Daniel.

The anxiety and depression can lead to a feeling of despair.  Not a despair like I’m going to take a bunch of pills, but despair that I have to give up on what I really want and just accept something, anything to pay the bills.  I don’t know how many emails and phone calls I receive about going into sales (something I am terrible at doing) or customer service (which I’ve done and consider something akin to the 10th circle of hell).

I will keep plugging away looking for work.  Something will come about someday.  Until then, I have to remember to take my medication, see my therapist and most importantly, talk (but mostly listen) to God.  It’s the only way I’m going to deal with this time of anxiety.

Sermon: Sanctuary

Romans 11:1-2 and 13-24
Fifth  Sunday After Pentecost
June 19, 2016
First Christian Church
Mahtomedi, MN

Listen to the sermon.


I was in track in high school.  We would have practice after school and I remember going into the locker room to change.  Everytime I would pass by a training room that was for people who had injuries.  It always seemed to be filled with people who were messing around and having fun.  Being a shy person, I never went in.  Anyway, it was a room for people with injuries, not for people to hang out.


But one afternoon, I decided to go in and just hang.  I walked in and hopped up on one of the tables to sit down. What I didn’t realize is that it was the wrong time to be there.  One of the coaches was wrapping the leg of student’s leg and he looked up at me with a look of shock and annoyance.  “What are you doing here?” he growled.  Realizing that I had made a mistake, I tried to answer and I couldn’t remember what I said.  What I remember is the coach angrily pointing at the door and telling me to leave.  I wasn’t welcome there.  I left with a heavy sense of shame. I still wonder how those other students were able to hang out there, but I wasn’t.  All I knew, is that I wasn’t allowed there and I never went back into that room ever again.


We all want to be in a place where we feel welcomed.  We want to be in a place where we can be ourselves.  We want to be in a place where we feel safe.  We all long for safe spaces where we don’t have to worry if we will be accepted. Safe spaces have gotten a lot of ribbing over the past year, and sometimes for good reasons- people have talked about safe spaces as place where they don’t have to meet with people who disagree with them.  But we were reminded this week that there is a need for real safe spaces to protect people from real harm.  But we have also learned that sometimes even safe spaces can be compromised- invaded.


In all the discussion last week about the shootings at a gay nightclub in Orlando, one world kept coming to the fore over and over- sanctuary.  We know sanctuary as a place in a church where we worship, but over the centuries, sanctuary has come to also mean a place of safety.  It’s not accident that church sanctuaries have become sanctuaries where people who faced persecution could enter and be safe from a hostile culture.


Gay bars have long been places of safety for the LBGT community.  They were places where gay people could go to be themselves and not have to face stares from a less than accepting world.  In a world where people had to keep parts of their lives private, a nightclub was a place of safety.  I read a number of stories of the last week about how a certain bar was a place of shelter and a place where they no longer had to hide.  Those stories were also my story.  I don’t drink much, but I did like to go to gay nightclubs when I was younger to dance.  It was a place of safety where you could meet other people like yourself.  


The Pulse nightclub in Orlando was a sanctuary for sanctuary for a subset of the gay community.  It was Latin night last week, and this was a place where LGBT Latinos could come and gather.  It is still a challenge to be gay in America, but even more so to be gay and a person of color.  One of the things that struck me personally, was seeing the listing of names and seeing how many of them were Latino.  Even more heartbreaking and striking close to home was that the majority of the victim were Puerto Rican.  So the shooting was a double attack to me since I am gay and Puerto Rican.  The sanctuary that was created there that evening was broken by the actions of an angry man.


This week is also the one year anniversary of the shootings at Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, SC.  For centuries, the church has been a sanctuary for African Americans, a place where they knew there were loved and accepted, even when the wider culture did not honor their full humanity.  But that sense of saftety was shattered on that June evening, when a young white man who was welcomed to join those gathered in Bible Study pulled out a gun and started shooting, killing nine people.


The world we live in is not a safe one.  We kid ourselves if think it ever was safe.  We live in a world of sinful people who seem to hurt others for whatever reason.  It is a human reaction to this that we want to find a place that is a shelter, a place where we are accepted.  It is also a human reaction to threaten those who are different from us, which is why places of sanctuary can be compromised and invaded.

In chapter 11 of Romans, Paul is trying to answer a question.  Many Jews had rejected following God and Christ especially.  Paul opens us the chapter by saying that God had not given up on God’s chosen people: Paul was a Jew, so God was still being faithful even to a remnant of the Jews. God had been in relationship with Israel far too long to just give up.  Israel might have chosen to give up on God, but God had not given up on them.  


Paul then turns to the Gentiles.  He talks about them as branches being grafted on to the tree. The Israelities were God’s chosen people, but the Gentiles were now being added on.  Again, God doesn’t give up on them.


Paul reminds us that no one, no one is disposable.  God wants everyone to belong.  God doesn’t give up on us…and as church neither should we.


This week tells us that no sanctuary is ever safe.  As one writer said even Christ, the son of God was put to death, so every safe space is always threatened.  But even when a physical sanctuary has been destroyed, God can create a sanctuary of the heart, a place where we know we are loved by God.  


The message for the church this week is that we, you and I must be willing to be sanctuaries for others.  As I’ve said before, LGBT folk need to have places where they are loved and accepted, a place where they are free from fear.  While there will always be a need for physical places of safety, all of us, you and I need to be living sanctuaries to people, especially LGBT persons and persons of color- because for us, the world is even after all the advances made we need to be a people who are willing to care for others, especially those who might be different from us.  


The theme for this summer is “A House of Grace.”  The question I have for you this morning is how can we show God’s grace to those that sometimes feel like outsiders? How do we tell them that God loves them?  It’s nice to be an Open and Affirming congregation that welcomes people of different backgrounds, but it is even more important that we live that out in our daily lives to make what was written on paper a living reality.


I want to end by saying that being a living sanctuary doesn’t mean agreeing with people; it means having a Christ-like heart to those in need.  In the hours after the shootings in Orlando, I was checking my Twitter feed and saw a tweet from Russell Moore.  Moore is a Southern Baptist minister and is the head of Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist convention.  Southern Baptists tend to have differing views on LGBT issues, so one might expect a not-so-nice tweet from Dr. Moore.  Instead he tweeted the following: “Christian, your gay or lesbian neighbor is probably really scared right now. Whatever our genuine disagreements, let’s love and pray.”


Now, one could quibble that he wasn’t in agreement on LGBT issues, but I don’t think that’s the point here.  The point was that in the midst of the sadness there was a little safe space made, a place of sanctuary.


The other example is the story of a local Chick-fil-A restaurant in Orlando.  It opened up on a Sunday to feed people who had lined up for blocks to donate blood to those injured in the shooting.  Chick-fil-A never opens on a Sunday, because of the religious views of the founders, but it did this day to feed people who were giving blood to another group of people who were deemed by the world as outsiders.  A bit of sanctuary.


Next week, our church along with First Christian of Minneapolis will staff a booth at Twin Cities Pride.  A lot of people attending that event will be angry and hurt and scared.  Are you willing to offer a few hours of time to be living sanctuary for these people, to let them know that God has not given up on them?


Thanks be to God. Amen.

When Does Grace End?

Social media is abuzz in the recent trial that convicted former Stanford student Brock Turner of the rape of a young woman.  What has everyone talking is the fact that the judge gave Turner a six month sentence and he might get out sooner for good behavior.

To pour more gasoline on the fire, Turner’s father wrote a letter urging for leniency for what he considered “20 minutes of action.”

Facebook is aflame.  Memes are going around with the young Turner’s photo calling him a rapist, others put him side by side with a poor white man who received a harsher sentence.  The pitchforks are out even among Christians.  Brock Turner is the most hated man on the internet.  There is no love for this person.

Part of the anger is that he ticks off all of boxes of privilege: he’s white, he’s an athlete and he seems well to do.  He is the perfect enemy.

All of this leads me to one question: where does grace end?

Yes, yes among liberal Christians we talk about grace all the time, about the fact that God loves us no matter what.

But we don’t really believe that.  I don’t care if you are a tough-on-crime conservative or a bleeding heart liberal, there are some sins we feel are beyond redemption.

A few months ago, there was talk in my church about a convicted sex offender that would be moving into the area.  People were up in arms and wondered why this person couldn’t live with a relative or something, just not near them where their children and grandchildren play.

These weren’t the kind of folks who were tough on crime, most were liberals.  But the fact is, crimes involving sex can make the meekest person into a fire-breathing zealot waiting to lock them up and throw away the key.

Brock Turner will have to register as a sex offender for the rest of his life.  His “20 minutes of action” will stick with him.  If you think as most do, that he got off easy, know that he won’t escape what he did ever.  It will follow him when he seeks a place to live, when he applies for a job and so forth.

But this all means that he will be in the public sphere. I don’t know if he ever went to church, but what if he decides to visit a church- supposed he decided to visit YOUR church.  What would you do? What would you say?  Would say yes, as long as there are safeguards? Would you say no, fearful for your daughter?

Where does grace end?

Another question following this: Where does God’s judgement begin?

Does God judge the guilty, those who commit crimes like this?  What is that punishment like?

It’s easy for mainline/progressive Christians to talk about how we should love everybody and that grace is for everyone, but I don’t think we really are good when it comes to living this out.  It’s easy to love someone that is part of your in group.  It is hard to love someone who is someone you wouldn’t like anyway.

Sexual crimes can put our theology of grace to the test.  Where does mercy fit in?  What about justice?  What is justice?  Is justice only for the victim or also for the perpetrator?

Brock Turner is not a sympathetic person.  His excuses, as well as the excuses of those around him are sickening.  But I am wary of how this has become the outrage of the moment on social media, because there are some important issues to deal with here that demand more attention than a few minutes on Facebook.

In our theology Turner is also a child of God.  And that should bother us.  Because, how many of us want to see him forgiven?  His victim has to live with the trauma he cause for the rest of her life.  Why should he be seen as one loved by God?

Maybe this is why the cross is called a scandal.

But we also believe in a God that believes in justice, one that gets angry when justice is denied.  God gets angry.

Can God be graceful and also one that establishes justice?  And what does that mean of God’s people?

I don’t have any easy answers.  In fact, all I have is questions.

Where does grace end?  Where does judgement begin?

I leave you with a snippet from a post from Zach Hunt in response to the martyrdom of 21 Christians by Islamic State:

It’s easy to talk about loving our enemies when their greatest crime is stealing your parking space or voting for the wrong candidate. It’s a lot harder to love enemies who would gleefully broadcast your execution to the world if they only had the chance.

It’s easy to embrace the radical grace of the gospel when you’re sitting in a warm sanctuary filled with well-dressed people who clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and care for the sick. It’s a lot harder to swallow the fact that that same grace extends to cold-hearted criminals who thrive on executing the innocent…

Now, if you’re reading this and you’re angry with me for talking about extending grace and forgiveness to those monsters in the black hoods, believe me I get it. It’s not just rhetoric when I say I recoil at even the possibility that God could forgive, redeem them, and make them my neighbors in heaven.

That sort of grace seems so unjust to me.

And appalling.

So, I struggle.

I struggle with my own sense of justice.

I struggle with the idea that as a Christian, I must leave space for forgiveness even as I rightfully demand accountability for my enemies’ actions.

I struggle to accept the fact that believing in the radical transforming grace of God compels me to believe that grace abounded on that beach in Libya in ways I don’t comprehend or want to accept.

I struggle with the boundless depths of God’s love and forgiveness.

I struggle with the gospel.

The Faith Experience

When Prince died on April 21, I wrote a post on another blog about how Prince made it easier for black kids like me to be gay.  Growing up with the machismo that was such a part of the culture I grew up in during the 70s and 80s, Prince was a godsend.

Speaking of godsends, Prince was in a rare league of artists who would publicly talk about their faith.  He was America’s answer to Bono in that respect.

I can remember listening to “I Would Die 4 U” the first time and excited to hear a song that talked about the atonement, Jesus and grace so easily. Maybe others thought this was a song about how Prince felt about a lover, but the way the lyrics were written, it was hard to see this as a talking about girlfriend.  No, he had his sights set on higher things:

You’re just a sinner I am told
Be your fire when you’re cold
Make you happy when you’re sad
Make you good when you are bad

I’m not a human
I am a dove
I’m your conscious
I am love
All I really need is to know that
You believe

The opening part of his 1981 hit “Controversy” is the Lord’s Prayer, which might seem like an odd way to start this post-disco tune, but since the song is talking about who Prince is (black or white? straight or gay?) his recitation of the prayer Jesus taught is the answer to the question.  He knew who he was and also whose he was.

Even his signature hit, 1984’s “Purple Rain” had some spiritual meanings. A quote from the 1980s talked about what Purple Rain meant:

When there’s blood in the sky – red and blue = purple.. purple rain pertains to the end of the world and being with the one you love and letting your faith/god”guide you through the purple rain

In 2015, Prince covered the song “What If” originally sung by contemporary Christian music artist Nichole Nordeman. It’s a pretty straight up song about Jesus and Prince makes it his own.

What if you’re right
And He was just
Another nice guy

What if you’re right
What if it’s true
They say the cross
Will only make a fool of you
And what if it’s true

What if He takes His place in history
With all the prophets and the kings
Who taught us love and came in peace
But then the story ends, what then

But what if you’re wrong
What if there’s more
What if there’s hope
You never dreamed of hoping for

What if you jump
Just close your eyes
What if the arms that catch you
Catch you by surprise
What if He’s more
Than enough what if it’s love

There were several other songs like “The Cross” or “God” I could talk about. What made Prince so fascinating to me is how his faith was blended into his whole life. Sex, love and God seemed to all intermingle together. His faith sprung from his life, raised Seventh Day Adventist, spending time a local United Methodist Church in Minneapolis and his conversion to Jehovah’s Witness (he attended a local Kingdom Hall in suburban Minneapolis) and his music showed his faith never left him.

It’s hard to believe Prince is gone.  As my husband said last night, you want to believe this is some kind of dream that we will all wake up from.  But it isn’t.

What I can say is that he is finally able to live out the words from his 1984 hit “Let’s Go Crazy:”

Dearly beloved
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing called life

Electric word life
It means forever and that’s a mighty long time
But I’m here to tell you
There’s something else
The after world

A world of never ending happiness
You can always see the sun, day or night

Have fun enjoying the happiness and God, Prince.

Playing Checkers in a Chess World


Foiled again.

A few weeks ago, I got a call from a local organization looking for someone like me to interview for an open position.  I was quite excited and hopeful that I might get a new position to supplement my pastoral work and other part time job. They had talked about getting some information to me soon.

This is where I made my big mistake more than once.

When you tell someone with High Functioning Autism that you will do something soon, we expect that you will do this….well, soon.  In job speak, soon could mean later today or it could mean a week from now.  But not knowing the difference, I called back.  A week or two passed and I was still expectant.  I had already checked in a few times and when I last called, I could tell that there was a bit of impatience, which is understandable.  The job had to be posted, they had to wait for resumes and then a committee had to look those resumes over.  I get that now, but my brain was focused on the word soon.  And it has probably become my downfall.

Looking for work with autism can be challenging. In many ways it’s just like meeting new people. Because of our lack of theory of mind, we don’t really know what the other person is thinking.  I can be unsure as to how to respond to people.  Sometimes I don’t respond, and that gives people the belief that I am indifferent.  If I respond to forcefully, I come off as desparate or an irritant.

Also, so of what employers say is not to be taken literally.  If they say they will get back to you in a few days, there’s a good chance that it will be more than a few days.

The interview is no better.  You have to meet someone you’ve never met before and allow them to ask questions that you have to try to answer at that very moment. All the while you wonder what they are thinking and you are wondering if you are saying everything they need to hear.

It’s also hard to not get over-excited when someone contacts you about a job.  It’s already difficult to find a job, so when someone contacts you, you feel like someone actually wants you.  But job hunting is more of a game of chess, trying to look out several moves ahead to plan the move that might get you the job.  You can’t or shouldn’t get over-excited about a phone call because it is the first move in many moves. But someone with HFA is probably focused at that beginning point and not looking at all at the moves coming up.

Actually, the person with HFA is probably playing checkers instead of chess. As a business blogger noted, one game is rooted in the moment, while the other is based in the future:

Want to know one big difference between a game of checkers and a game of chess? It’s the number five. That’s the average number of moves ahead that a Class A or better chess player will generally be thinking throughout the course of a game. While checkers is primarily played in the moment, chess requires a complex strategy that is often won by thinking ahead.

With this prospective employer, I was playing checkers.  I was living in the moment which is usually where my brain resides.  But in this situation the person on the other side of the phone has to play this as a chess game, having to look at several moves ahead.  This person might have said something that made it seem he was playing checkers, but like all employers he was playing chess.

But that’s hard for someone like me.  What I hear and comprehend is more checkers; bounding and leaping all over the place.  It’s hard to not take the words of someone promising good times ahead start leaping all over the place.  But overeagerness can turn an employer off.  It’s like starting to play checkers on a chessboard.

Like I said earlier, I probably ran this poor person off with my eagerness.  A lesson learned.  I just have start to remember that this is all a chess game and while my brain chemistry isn’t easily programmed to think ahead, I have to  learn.

If this person did show interest in spite of what I did, I will be a happy man.  But in the meantime, I need to bone up on being a better chess player.

The Importance of Dandelions

As I’ve looked back over my work history, there has been one overwhelming feeling that comes up over and over again: shame.

Since I entered the workforce in my 20s, my job history has been one of seemingly disappointing people.  I never met people’s expectations of me.  It wasn’t for lack of trying.  If someone said I did something that was not up to par, I would try to be better.  But the damage was done and I was looked at as incompetent.

When I got my diagnosis of Aspergers in 2008, I was hopeful that now I could find jobs where I would excel.  But in the eight years since knowing I was autistic, I’ve learned that while I changed, employers didn’t.  I learned that sharing my diagnosis didn’t help me at all.  Many folks didn’t understand the diagnosis and still saw some of my quirks as not caring or incompetent or what have you.

Even in the years following my diagnosis, I’ve tried to correct some of autism related problems to better fit in.  Not that it helped.  I think I was still viewed as a disappointment, a failure.

At the same time, I knew I had skills. I was a good communicator. I was okay with a camera.  I was getting better creating websites.  I was surprised I could make graphic designs.  I’ve been leading a church as pastor for almost three years. I had some of the skills needed to be a good employee to someone, but the package wasn’t attractive to employers.

Recently, I was reading fellow Michigander, Ron Fournier, a writer for the Atlantic and National Journal. He has a new book out about his learning to accept and appreciate his son who is autistic.  He shared a quote from Thorkil Sonne, a Danish entrepeneur who wanted to provide a positive work environment for people with autism, people like his son. Sonne used an interesting analogy to describe people who are autistic and their gifts to society:

To most people, the dandelion is nothing more than an annoying weed – something to be rooted out of our lawns and flowerbeds. But what a lot of people don’t know is that, when cultivated, the dandelion is one of the most valuable and useful plants in nature. In many parts of the world, the dandelion is known for its nutritional, healing and medicinal properties. The value of a dandelion is very much dependent on our knowledge and perception of its value.

Most of us don’t want dandelions in our lawns – they don’t fit there. But if you place a dandelion plant in your kitchen garden, and cultivate it, it can turn out to be one of your most valuable plants. Dandelions are used to make beer, wine, salads, and natural medicines. Quite simply, if you choose to cultivate dandelions, you will reap their rewards. So, is a dandelion a weed or an herb? You decide. The same can be said for individuals with autism. The value of what you see depends on your level of understanding and accommodation.

Hearing this made a lightbulb come on. I’m a dandelion.

Part of this sounds like that whole “I’m-a-special-snowflake” crap that has been pushed around these days. But this is exactly how someone with Aspergers or autism can feel. On the downside, they might feel like a weed, a nuisance to the rest of the neurotypical world. It’s how I’ve felt at times.  But the thing is, dandelions have benefits as well.  What might not fit well on a lawn, might make a good wine or a balm.

But I think most employers, even in the nonprofits, tend to go for flowers, people that are “beautiful,” put-together, who know how to make small talk and aren’t moody or plain weird.

Maybe this is why the unemployment rate among those with autism is something like 85 percent. (No, that isn’t made up.)  Our work culture is one that is geared towards efficiency.  We want workers we don’t have to really train, let alone accomodate.  So what happens when you get someone who is autistic and needs to be cultivated and isn’t geared towards being efficient?  They don’t last long in their jobs.

I don’t think the job market was always like this. I think there was a time when companies and groups were interested in investing in the worker. Of course those with autism were locked up in institutions, so the old days weren’t so good. But I think we need to bring back the notion or nurturing workers instead of making them fit some template.

What needs to be done is a radical overhaul of how we see those with autism.  In the profile of Somme, it is noted that employers need to gear themselves to be places that can accomodate autisic workers:

One significant challenge in utilizing individuals with autism is that many employers don’t always see the upside in hiring individuals who can be considered rigid and moody or a have poor communication skills. Because of this, Specialisterne focuses on developing new approaches that allow businesses to tap into the potential of this unique demographic. Sonne believes that innovative employment programs, that focus on individuals with special needs, can turn out some of the most diligent, dependable and productive employees.


Sonne’s company Specialisterne, has a unique approach in how they hire and work alongside persons with autism:

Work Design: Traditional approach: Work design derives business needs from stable strategies and plans. Jobs are designed by determining the tasks a given job requires, translating these tasks into job descriptions and then placing individuals into stable organizational roles.

New Approach: Design jobs to maximize potential for particular individuals to create value. Project roles are customized so they “work” for short-term needs but can evolve as needs change.

But while I’m glad for Sonne and Specialisterne, I have to deal with this world, the world where autism is still a puzzle or frustration.

So, at the risk of offending potential and future employers, I will say this: I’m a dandelion. I am rough around the edges. I am not pretty, I am not great at small talk and I will not be easy to get to know. But if you work with me, you will see a creative side that can produce things you never even thought of. If you can see me as more than just a weed to be removed I can help your concern take it to the next level.

But you are going to have to work with me because I am not going to fit into your template. I’ve tried and I can’t. If you what you want is someone you don’t need to train, to just “set it and forget it,” then you are wasting your time with me. But if you want help mold someone to bring out the best in them, well give me a look.

I’m done trying to please people who won’t understand. I’m a dandelion, a person with autism. Either accept this and work with me or don’t. Either way, I’m done playing games.