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Prisons de-individualise and dehumanise people. This is often more apparent for people who already do not fit the mold of a “normal person”, such as those with autism spectrum disorder (autism).
Autism is a developmental disorder that affects how people interact, communicate and perceive the world. There are many symptoms of autism that can cause issues in prison: lack of eye contact, which people sometimes associate with being untruthful; sensitivity to sounds, noises and tastes that you cannot control in a prison environment; unusual or disjointed speech patterns, which people sometimes misinterpret; a tendency to be solution focused rather than expressing sympathy, which people may interpret as being non-caring.
On the flip side, there can be many benefits. Autistic people can have excellent memories, a keen eye for detail, strong logical thinking styles, creativity and tenacity, and often a strong sense of justice (which makes them awesome advocates!)
Autism presents in various severity levels, which is what the term “spectrum” in “autism spectrum” means. People who think of “autism” probably think of Dustin Hoffman’s character in the movie Rain Man, Sheldon in The Big Bang Theory or Dr Shaun Murphy in The Good Doctor. However, people “on the spectrum” do not all experience the same issues (or benefits). Many do not display the obvious outward symptoms like those portrayed in these television shows. They may, nevertheless, experience significant difficulties in certain environments, particularly in prison, where a person has little to no control over the environment. Our experiences highlight the need for greater awareness by prison authorities for all people with neurodiversity.
My imprisonment caused more issues for my autism spectrum disorder than I could have ever imagined. I masked – strategies neurodivergent people use in an attempt to “fit in” – a lot growing up because I had to and because I was able to. Masking for me was forcing myself into social situations, pretending to understand tasks I could not understand and appearing as if I had no problems and that I was able to understand everything someone was saying and wanting me to do. I had to look you in the eyes and engage, even though I felt uncomfortable. I had to, to survive. This meant I would bottle everything up until I couldn’t take it anymore. The lights, the keys, the large metal door would bang, and it would come out in bad language, or I would tell people to leave me alone in a more abusive way.
Masking in prison is very hard, because it strips you down and makes you wear what they want you to wear, eat what they want you to eat and deal with the sensory issues by yourself. And, if you respond in a way that is due to your autism, it is often a problem and you are then mislabelled as a trouble-maker – rather than understanding this is because of an overload of sensory input and you have just responded to how it feels to you. Covering light sources due to it being so bright is something I would do often, but I would get into trouble because you are not allowed to cover the light. So you suffer.
Lights are bright, fans are loud, smells are more intense, keys are jangling loudly – everything for me is louder than what those without autism might hear. I would often ask people, “Can you smell that?” and people would ask, “What is in this food? Tell me what you can smell?” and make bets. I hated this because it was a sensory overload. I would also have officers saying, “I did not slam the door. You are overreacting,” or, “My child has autism, and they do not act like you.”
Misjudging me, dehumanising me and de-individualising me and others with autism spectrum disorder is quite common in everyday life but more so in a prison environment.
Prisons de-individualise and dehumanise people. This is often more apparent for people who already do not fit the mold of a “normal person”, such as those with autism spectrum disorder (autism).
Autism is a developmental disorder that affects how people interact, communicate and perceive the world. There are many symptoms of autism that can cause issues in prison: lack of eye contact, which people sometimes associate with being untruthful; sensitivity to sounds, noises and tastes that you cannot control in a prison environment; unusual or disjointed speech patterns, which people sometimes misinterpret; a tendency to be solution focused rather than expressing sympathy, which people may interpret as being non-caring.
On the flip side, there can be many benefits. Autistic people can have excellent memories, a keen eye for detail, strong logical thinking styles, creativity and tenacity, and often a strong sense of justice (which makes them awesome advocates!)
Autism presents in various severity levels, which is what the term “spectrum” in “autism spectrum” means. People who think of “autism” probably think of Dustin Hoffman’s character in the movie Rain Man, Sheldon in The Big Bang Theory or Dr Shaun Murphy in The Good Doctor. However, people “on the spectrum” do not all experience the same issues (or benefits). Many do not display the obvious outward symptoms like those portrayed in these television shows. They may, nevertheless, experience significant difficulties in certain environments, particularly in prison, where a person has little to no control over the environment. Our experiences highlight the need for greater awareness by prison authorities for all people with neurodiversity.
My imprisonment caused more issues for my autism spectrum disorder than I could have ever imagined. I masked – strategies neurodivergent people use in an attempt to “fit in” – a lot growing up because I had to and because I was able to. Masking for me was forcing myself into social situations, pretending to understand tasks I could not understand and appearing as if I had no problems and that I was able to understand everything someone was saying and wanting me to do. I had to look you in the eyes and engage, even though I felt uncomfortable. I had to, to survive. This meant I would bottle everything up until I couldn’t take it anymore. The lights, the keys, the large metal door would bang, and it would come out in bad language, or I would tell people to leave me alone in a more abusive way.
Masking in prison is very hard, because it strips you down and makes you wear what they want you to wear, eat what they want you to eat and deal with the sensory issues by yourself. And, if you respond in a way that is due to your autism, it is often a problem and you are then mislabelled as a trouble-maker – rather than understanding this is because of an overload of sensory input and you have just responded to how it feels to you. Covering light sources due to it being so bright is something I would do often, but I would get into trouble because you are not allowed to cover the light. So you suffer.
Lights are bright, fans are loud, smells are more intense, keys are jangling loudly – everything for me is louder than what those without autism might hear. I would often ask people, “Can you smell that?” and people would ask, “What is in this food? Tell me what you can smell?” and make bets. I hated this because it was a sensory overload. I would also have officers saying, “I did not slam the door. You are overreacting,” or, “My child has autism, and they do not act like you.”
Misjudging me, dehumanising me and de-individualising me and others with autism spectrum disorder is quite common in everyday life but more so in a prison environment.
My imprisonment led to the discovery of my autism. Prior to imprisonment, I had managed my life in a way that mitigated the negative effects of autism. In prison, however, there was no escaping the environment that caused distress. It was like I was serving an additional punishment because of the effects of autism in the prison environment.
The two biggest issues for me were the cell fans and fluorescent lighting. People incarcerated in South Australian prisons can buy an electric fan to have in their cell. Most of the cells in the men's prisons are double ups, meaning two blokes in each cell. Nearly every one of my cellmates had a fan. Many of my cellmates said they slept better with a fan on during the night. For me, the fan was a torturous device – the repetitive low volume whirring sound from the motor and the fan blades would keep me awake. It’s no understatement to say I hated these fans!
Sleep is crucial for maintaining good mental health and wellbeing. Sleep deprivation causes irritation. Luckily for me there was no such thing as “thought police” in prison – the thoughts that would go through my mind when subjected to long-term sleep deprivation might at times have given me a life sentence! It was not a good circumstance. I am certainly grateful to all the brothers that accommodated my hatred of the fan, especially through the 40-degree heatwaves during summer at Port Augusta Prison.
Fluorescent lights (fluoros) are known to cause significant distress to people with autism.The fluoros certainly drove me up the wall. I felt as though cells the size of a small bathroom were lit up like the Melbourne Cricket Ground. There was no dimmer switch; the lights were on or off. Most cells had no reading light so the only option for light was the fluoro. I could feel the cortisol (stress hormone) rising through my body when these lights were on for extended periods. Sometimes, at the risk of being told off by officers, I would cover lights with toilet paper or towels to lower the intensity or try to get maintenance workers to remove a globe.
We have autism spectrum disorder. We are human beings. We are just like everyone else. We can do things others cannot, others can do things we cannot. We all learn differently, we all react differently, we all need understanding and patience. Sometimes we need more than others, sometimes others need more than us. We are all the same though we are all different.
Prison authorities need to do more to gain an understanding of people with autism and listen to those with autism spectrum disorder to make it better for everyone.
The one-size-fits-all approach for imprisonment and rehabilitation simply does not cater for people with autism.
My imprisonment led to the discovery of my autism. Prior to imprisonment, I had managed my life in a way that mitigated the negative effects of autism. In prison, however, there was no escaping the environment that caused distress. It was like I was serving an additional punishment because of the effects of autism in the prison environment.
The two biggest issues for me were the cell fans and fluorescent lighting. People incarcerated in South Australian prisons can buy an electric fan to have in their cell. Most of the cells in the men's prisons are double ups, meaning two blokes in each cell. Nearly every one of my cellmates had a fan. Many of my cellmates said they slept better with a fan on during the night. For me, the fan was a torturous device – the repetitive low volume whirring sound from the motor and the fan blades would keep me awake. It’s no understatement to say I hated these fans!
Sleep is crucial for maintaining good mental health and wellbeing. Sleep deprivation causes irritation. Luckily for me there was no such thing as “thought police” in prison – the thoughts that would go through my mind when subjected to long-term sleep deprivation might at times have given me a life sentence! It was not a good circumstance. I am certainly grateful to all the brothers that accommodated my hatred of the fan, especially through the 40-degree heatwaves during summer at Port Augusta Prison.
Fluorescent lights (fluoros) are known to cause significant distress to people with autism.The fluoros certainly drove me up the wall. I felt as though cells the size of a small bathroom were lit up like the Melbourne Cricket Ground. There was no dimmer switch; the lights were on or off. Most cells had no reading light so the only option for light was the fluoro. I could feel the cortisol (stress hormone) rising through my body when these lights were on for extended periods. Sometimes, at the risk of being told off by officers, I would cover lights with toilet paper or towels to lower the intensity or try to get maintenance workers to remove a globe.
We have autism spectrum disorder. We are human beings. We are just like everyone else. We can do things others cannot, others can do things we cannot. We all learn differently, we all react differently, we all need understanding and patience. Sometimes we need more than others, sometimes others need more than us. We are all the same though we are all different.
Prison authorities need to do more to gain an understanding of people with autism and listen to those with autism spectrum disorder to make it better for everyone.
The one-size-fits-all approach for imprisonment and rehabilitation simply does not cater for people with autism.
Elections never bring anything good for people engaged in the system.
The thought of spending any time in close contact with Jonny sets my heart racing – and not in a good way.
Each court attendance made me feel sick to my stomach with nervousness as rich strangers decided my husband’s fate – and our future.
Education is not regarded as the most significant risk factor for reoffending but there is an undeniable link between a lack of education and crime.
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