Dear all,

I want to frst thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me a chance to have my say. Thank you for letting my voice be heard. I considered writing this piece without my name attached. But everyone has a story, and even though my book has had many complicated chapters, I am not ashamed of my story. My name is I am an autistic writer, dancer and teenage girl. Growing up, I wrote stories because I liked creating my own world. A world that made sense to me when the one I lived in didn’t.

However, today I write for a diferent reason. I write openly to all of you to explain how my world works, to share my knowledge and spread my story. Most of all, I write to be heard and to advocate for myself. I write to amplify the voices of those who share my experiences, but can’t speak for themselves. So thank you sincerely for taking the time to listen.

Please note that I speak only from my own perspective. Autism is a spectrum as broad as a rainbow and I can’t and won’t speak for everyone. I just hope that by telling my story, others can understand more about what it’s like to be autistic.

In this submission, I’ll address the following topics which I believe are signifcant with regards to autistic individuals:

1. Mental Health and Education Systems 2. Inclusion and Accessibility within the community 3. Authentic Representation 4. NDIS

I have divided each section into two parts. One explains my experience and any issues I faced, the second details recommendations I feel would assist in eliminating or mitigating these issues.

1. Mental Health and Education Systems

My experience School Would you want your high school child to be learning about murder, rape, domestic and child abuse and suicide? Those are the themes that were presented to me through the visual and written texts I studied in year eleven and twelve. It wasn’t just my school either. I learned later that several schools in my area all studied texts with similar themes, which means it’s not just an individual school issue, it’s a system issue.

During my upper high school years, I studied fve ATAR courses and my English course had a range of texts with topics as listed above, that were increasingly difcult to manage mentally. Being autistic means my brain is wired diferently to neurotypical people. My mind is like a camera in that I remember every detail about every book, photo and video I see. This made the violent content I saw very disturbing as the images would perseverate in my mind, repeating on loop in vivid detail. I faced an inability to eat after every English class because I was using all of my energy to cope with the violent content that I had none left over to manage the tastes, smells and textures of any food. This left me at a disadvantage with the rest of my studies as I was often too tired from lack of food to concentrate properly, but I was too overwhelmed to eat. It was a vicious cycle that became hard to break.

Like many autistics, my mind has stronger habits of catastrophising and ruminating. That, combined with a good attention to detail, photographic memory and issues with emotional regulation created real barriers to my education when I became overwhelmed by the content. These tendencies also put me at a higher risk of developing a secondary post traumatic stress disorder, which I did end up developing symptoms of, mainly because my mind was constantly re traumatising itself by perseverating the events I’d learned about. Nightmares haunted what little sleep I had. My short term memory deteriorated, while headaches and dissociation kept me from concentrating on anything. Panic attacks brought me to my knees and I never felt safe anywhere, despite knowing that I was. I slowly stopped eating, stopped sleeping and I spoke less. I was burning out. This is what happens when schools fail to meet the needs of their autistic students. Students must beneft from their education, not be scarred by it, or it will lead to mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, and eating disorders. I tell you from experience, that a scared child. Can. Not. Learn.

In the context of my English class, the learning outcomes revolved around interpreting, analysing and responding to texts. It didn’t need to matter what was studied, as long as the students could adequately display their understanding of these concepts. If teachers want their students to fully show they understand the lessons being taught, they need to be supported to provide content that isn’t traumatising.

On the other hand, I also want to acknowledge the great work my school did to accommodate my needs up until year ten. My teachers were brilliant and I loved learning from them. At one point, my English class studied a movie that my parents knew would be too upsetting for me, so I was given the opportunity to temporarily move to the lower English class. They were studying a diferent movie that was more manageable for me. I learned about that movie instead, but applied the higher thinking concepts that my teacher wanted. I sat the essay with the lower class and my usual teacher marked it. I got an A grade. It was proof that when teachers accommodate the needs of their students, they can thrive and show you exactly what they are capable of.

There were other accommodations that were done too: • I was allowed to walk out of the school buildings the back way to avoid the crowded hallways. • I studied diferent movies when the ones my class watched were too upsetting. • I wore headphones for loud school events • My parents were allowed to drive me to excursion locations so I didn’t have to be overwhelmed by being on a noisy bus.

• I was exempt from upsetting incursions such as ones on car crashes and road safety. • I was allowed to walk out of any class to take a break if I was getting overwhelmed • I could opt to do a project on my own, instead of with a group. This allowed me to show that I understood the work, without my anxiety getting in the way.

• I was exempt from science dissections and work on forensic science, as it was too distressing. I simply sat in a diferent classroom and worked on other tasks the teacher set.

• Due to my delayed processing time, it was harder to complete lots of schoolwork as it took me longer to process the information. My teachers let me skip the easy math questions and go straight to the harder, higher end questions so I could show my understanding.

It was these sorts of accomodations that meant my mental health was strong and looked after properly in those early high school years. I excelled in lower and middle high school school. I was in the choir, the leadership team, the school play and the committees for organising school events. I loved school and I thrived there because I was given the opportunities to truly show my knowledge and my use my diferences as strengths. It was only in year eleven and twelve, when the syllabus became more rigid, that there was less my school was allowed to change to help me.

As I’ve mentioned, this is where I fell. This is what needs to change. The school system is built to instil confdence and passion into the future leaders of tomorrow. In some aspects, it excels in this goal and I am independent and strong minded because of the lessons my teachers have taught me. However, in other areas, the system does a poor job of looking after its students as it doesn’t adequately cater for the needs of everyone, nor does it take into account how the texts studied could impact someone’s mental health. As in many schools, there is often no extra mental health support specifcally for autistic people to communicate that they are struggling. As a result of what my studies had led me to believe about the world, I left school feeling terrifed. I felt I couldn’t trust anyone, I felt there was danger everywhere and that I was about to enter a bigger world where climate change would end everything before the week was over. A world where everyone was starving and sick and where extreme natural disasters were common. A world where I would be taken advantage of and hurt, and where I would fail at everything because my abilities did not match that of my peers’. Who wants their kids to feel like that about the world? I understand that the world is not all sunshine and rainbows and yes, there are a lot of issues within the world’s societies, but when someone is so terrifed by all the negatives that they can’t see any of the good around them, that isn’t healthy either.

Despite being among the top ATAR students in my school, I am now unable to work and have withdrawn from university twice, as I simply couldn’t manage. It’s been two years since I graduated and I am still sufering from the intense anxiety that I developed in school. This is a failing of the education system. No one should have to sacrifce their mental health for their study. No one should have to sacrifce their mental health for anything.

University University is another environment where changes must occur. Despite being burned out after graduation, I still attended university. While I was happy to meet my friendly classmates and pleased that my hard work had gotten me there, I was immediately overwhelmed by everything. I desperately wanted to ft in though. So I masked. Masking is exactly what it sounds like. It’s basically pretending. Acting. Camoufaging. Masking is when autistic people hide their autism and try to appear neurotypical in order to ft in. For me, it means I copy the behaviours of those around me and try to suppress my own traits that make me stand out. It means I wear a smile and say all the right things (at least, I hope so) and I make sure not to do anything that makes people stare. Don’t fap. Don’t rock. Don’t run. Don’t wear headphones. Don’t hide under the desk. Don’t have a meltdown or a panic attack in front of anyone. I had gotten so used to masking at school, that most of it came without thinking. It also came with a price. It’s exhausting. Plus, it gets lonely when you’re always pretending to be someone you’re not.

But I had no one to show me what else to do. There was no autistic mentor program and very limited support for autistic students. I needed, but couldn’t fnd, an older autistic student to look up to. I had no one to show me that autistic students can succeed at university by being themselves. I had no one to tell me which cafes were quiet at which times. No one to tell me which lecture seats were good for a quick exit. No one to help me navigate the social situations which difer greatly from the ones in high school. This left me feeling isolated, anxious and lonely.

I could not manage the sensory and social demands of the university environment alone. I would leave halfway through a three hour lecture, exhausted, be driven home by my parents, and be unable to speak or eat for the rest of the day. I truly spent fve or six hours a day, fve times a week, sitting in my bedroom and staring at the wall. While I only had lectures twice a week, I could only manage half of one lecture. The rest of the week was spent recovering from the energy it took to attend it.

Online uni did not work either, nor did doing part time study, nor did studying online by one unit at a time. I was facing an autistic burnout so intense that it was too difcult to continue at all. It should not have gotten to that point. I should have been supported throughout high school in a way that meant I could continue my further education and I should have been supported at university so that I didn’t have to withdraw. I recognise that university is a very particular environment. A busy campus and lecture halls with lots of seats and bright lights are just part of how it goes. However, I am academically capable of studying at a university level, as are many autistics, and we should be able to complete it, should we choose to.

Recommendations • Teachers should be supported to be able to present an alternative program for the students who can not study the standard materials provided. This could include diferent texts with themes that are easier to manage. Or give the students a range of texts and let them choose. • Have the school give the parents a list of accommodations that they can provide, so the parents and students don’t have to think of it all themselves.

• Have a program where autistic alumni of the schools can present to the current autistic year elevens and twelves and lower years. Let them share their experiences and how they got through school and what they went on do to after graduation.

• Have autistic mentor programs set up in primary school, high school and University settings so autistic students can support other autistic students and share their advice their struggles and triumphs.

• Have a lecture session held in person and recorded online, with a transcript, given by autistic students, that details how the university education system is diferent to school. Have them explain the smaller details that are important to autistic students, like, how they coped, which parts of the campus are busy or quiet at which times, how to make friends, what is good about uni and what is hard. This will give autistic students who are just beginning university life to have hope and see that it will all be okay.

• Build uni lecture halls and classrooms where the lights can be turned of.

2. Inclusion and Accessibility Within the Community

My Experience Community Growing up, I never saw anyone else who was like me. When I got diagnosed as autistic, the frst thing I wanted was to meet other autistic girls. But I couldn’t fnd anyone. There were no community groups for autistic people to get together. There was no one to talk to about which noise cancelling headphones were the best, or where to buy weighted blankets, or how to manage in school, or how to make friends. Or simply to just have someone else say ‘yes I don’t like bright lights or loud sounds either.’ Or to be happy for me when I did something as small as speaking to the shop assistant, something which most people fnd easy. There was no one like me to validate that my experiences were normal and common, so I grew up feeling like an outsider.

I didn’t want a therapy group. I didn’t want a social skills group. I wanted a group to go and just be in the company of people who understood my experiences and would let me be me. I believe these groups are important for the mental health and well being of the autistic population as it gives them a space to be safe and included and for them to realise they aren’t alone. This is especially important for autistic teenagers. Adolescence is hard enough without adding in the challenges that come with social expectations, anxiety and communication.

There are groups for new mums, there are groups for migrants, there are groups for parents whose kids go to the same school, there are groups for Young Carers. So why isn’t there a space for autistic young adults? It doesn’t have to be a fashy program with lots of activities and outings. It just needs a room, some craft supplies and people to facilitate it.

In addition, there also seems to be a lack of autistic life skills programs. People think life skills mean learning to get to the shops, learning to drive, learning to manage in mainstream school or uni. It isn’t. A life skill is gaining the experience to do what someone needs for themselves. Why don’t schools teach day to day skills like emotional regulation? Or how to make a phone call? What about teaching the names and functions of basic muscles and bones in the human body so kids and young adults can say where they hurt?

Online shopping is a life skill too, if someone can not manage the sensory aspects of a shopping centre. Learning to catch a taxi, cross roads, or use publish transport is a life skill, for those who are too anxious to drive. But where are the programs that teach people these skills when their parents can’t? Where are the older autistic people who can one on one teach the younger autistics how to do it? I think people underestimate the infuence it can have when an older autistic person shows a younger autistic that these things are all possible. It can be a great encouragement and source of strength. There is a lot to be said for the connection that one autistic person can fnd with another, simply because they both understand the world a bit diferently.

My Dance School. I want now, to write about my dance school, because while it’s important to tell people about the struggles I’ve faced, it’s also important to focus on what is going well and to appreciate the positives. There are a lot of amazing people and a lot of wonderful and inclusive places in my community. My dance school is one of them.

I started dancing the way most people do. I was really little and dance was something my parents thought would be a good after school activity. It was. I adored it. My clearest memory is when I was eight. It was a stage rehearsal and I was standing on a wooden stage in front of hundreds of empty seats. All around me there were dancers were warming up en pointe and costume racks being sorted. There was a sort of magic in the air that made my skin tingle. I was so excited. I remember the way my satin dress felt against my stockinged legs and how happy I was that I could land a cartwheel. I’d practiced in the back garden for weeks. It was standing on that stage, completely surrounded by the dance world, that I knew I wanted to be a part of it forever.

Of course, life never goes the way anyone plans. I left dancing when I was twelve. A lot of things kept me from coming back. I wish I hadn’t let them. In year eleven and twelve, my world crashed. My experiences left me with large and painful wounds that still hurt to the point I’m on my knees. I learned the hard way that trauma doesn’t go away overnight and anxiety does not like to make things easy.

When I graduated school, I was very tired. I didn’t know what to do with myself. When it became clear that university wasn’t going to work out either, I was even more lost. One day, I came across my old pair of ballet shoes. Remembering how happy dancing had made me when I was younger, I enrolled in my old ballet school again. After all, once a dancer, always a dancer … right?

After everything I’d been through, I was scared, exhausted and anxious. So, I built walls around myself, put on a smile and tried to say all the right things, without letting anyone get too close. The people at my dance school had no idea what I was going through when they frst met me.

It was made harder by the fact that, like many autistic people, I fnd new places and new people to be the perfect match for high anxiety. I must have spent about two weeks before my very frst class, pacing around my bedroom, fapping my hands and biting my nails and overthinking everything. What do I say? What do I do? What if I can’t keep up? What if I can’t make friends? What if they think I’m weird? Despite that I’d had friendly and accepting classmates at school, I was afraid it would be diferent in ‘the real world.’

But after my frst class, I instantly fell in love with it all over again. Okay, it wasn’t easy at frst. I didn’t understand all the French words, I was nowhere near as fexible as some of the other girls, and I couldn’t seem to remember the steps fast enough. But, having ballet shoes on again felt right somehow. Something inside me came alive when the music started. I remember watching the other girls leap and twirl like it was nothing. Watching them, and my teacher, sparked a fre inside me that burned so bright it hurt. I knew that I would do whatever it took to be that good too.

When the pandemic hit, my dance school went online practically overnight. I probably didn’t see even a fraction of the hard work and tears that went into making that happen, but the online classes made a huge diference to my already upside down world. It didn’t matter how wild the week had been, or how stressed we all were, there was always a zoom class. Same time, same people. Just online. When the whole world was changing and I couldn’t be certain of anything, I took reassurance in knowing that my dance world was still there. Even though it was diferent because it was online, the fact that dance remained somewhat familiar and consistent was so important to me. It kept me physically active and it was the reason I smiled each week.

When lockdown ended and everything went back to what is now our new normal, things kept changing and my anxiety kept rising. However, throughout all the bad days, the studio and my dance world became my sanctuary. A place to feel calm and safe and a place to just let go and forget and be free.

For the frst time since leaving school, I even started to make friends. I slowly started to re learn that it’s okay to trust people and let them in. My dance teacher was actually the frst person who I let hug me again. Now, for the frst time in a long time, I have people to text when I’m struggling and people who make me laugh and who are always on my side. Their kindness gives me courage and they inspire me to never give up and always be the best version of myself. Because of them, my confdence is a little stronger, my heart a little lighter and my smile a lot brighter.

When I’m dancing, I feel like I can breathe. I can get out of my head and be free and forget everything for a little while. I am not the best dancer, but I always feel at my best when I’m dancing and I always make sure to try my best. I practice fouettés until I’m so dizzy I fall against the wall. I rehearse the syllabus exercises until I know them inside out. I practice routines until my muscles ache and my face is red and my hair is stuck to my face.

I love dancing. En pointe or fat, on stage or in my bedroom, hair up or down, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never stop trying. Even when it hurts. Even when I fall. Even when I think I’ll never be able to get something right. I suppose being stubborn helps. I don’t like to give up. I love the joy of performing and the triumph of perfecting a new move. I can be myself when I’m dancing. I can fap my hands when I’m concentrating on learning routines and people don’t judge. I can wear my noise cancelling headphones without fear of being told I look too diferent or should take them of. I’m allowed to take a break when I feel I’m getting overwhelmed and I am allowed to communicate in writing as opposed to speaking.

Dancing let’s me lose myself in the moment, something that’s quiet rare for me. When I’m on stage, in my costume, with the music up loud and my heart full of joy, everything else disappears. I don’t worry about anything. Well, except for messing up and disappointing everyone … okay, so maybe I worry some of the time.

And yeah, being anxious means there are days when it’s hard to dance. There are days when it messes with my memory so that I spend ages memorising routines and still forget them. There are days when my brain is so full of worries that I forget all the dance steps in class, and then I cry at home because I stress that my teacher will think I didn’t care enough to practice properly, when I will have spent hours learning it. There are days where I doubt myself until I believe that I’ll never be good enough and days when I feel sick after one leap and am shaking too much to stand en pointe. There are days when I’m dizzy after a single pirouette because my heart is racing too fast and I can’t breathe properly, but somehow still feel guilty for not practicing. Those are the times that I have to be a bit kinder to myself. Those are the moments that I take a while to just rest, because I’ve learned that while practice is important, looking after yourself and your mental health is too. After all, I’m human too. It’s okay if I can’t always do everything all the time.

It is because of the ways my dance school has helped me that meant I successfully participated in their end of year concert in 2020. That concert was one of the most amazing dance experiences I’ve had. It’s the tiny moments that I remember the most, like wearing my frst pair of fake eyelashes, or seeing everyone wear the headpieces that I had made. Or when I was overwhelmed backstage, but my teacher took two minutes to make sure I was okay. Or warming up with everyone en pointe, or laughing as we all tried to change costumes in about forty seconds.

So, despite my struggles, I’m thankful for all my good experiences. I’ve made so many special and beautiful memories with my dance school and I feel like I can do anything with them behind me. While I don’t know what my future will look like in terms of study or work, I know for certain that I want to be part of my dance school’s community for the rest of my life.

However, I am aware that not everyone feels as welcomed by their community as I have. Too many people feel alone and isolated because of bullying or a general lack of understanding of autism within their school, community or workplace. This needs to change. Autistic people can do amazing things when they are given the chance. There need to be more opportunities for local business to learn, from autistic people, about how the business can sufciently support the needs of their autistic clients.

This is benefcial for the economic aspect of the businesses too, because the more accommodating they can be for their clients’ needs, the more clients they can gain and the more success their business will have. Also, autistic people tend to be very set in routine, so chances are high that if they fnd a service that suits them, they will be loyal to that business for a long time.

Recommendations • Have autistic get together groups (in person or online) for all ages within all communities. • Actively educate school staf and local businesses on autism and how to support their autistic students/clients through the use of presentations, conferences or reports given by autistic people.

• Create a society where the businesses can say and show that they value diversity, and mean it.

Authentic Representation

My experience It is hard to accept yourself when you don’t see yourself anywhere. It is hard to understand yourself when you don’t have anyone to share your experiences with. Most movies I watched didn’t have autistic characters. I knew no books with autistic characters until I was 16. That is a long time to feel alone.

Years after getting my diagnosis, I fnally learned about Chloe Hayden (also known as Princess Aspien). She was the frst autistic girl around my age that I heard about. I could see myself in her blogs. Her YouTube videos and Facebook posts actually made me cry with relief because I was so relieved that I wasn’t the only one. I wasn’t alone. Interacting with Chloe over her livestream videos was something that was so so exciting for me. I would spin double pirouettes in my room after I commented on her live videos and she answered. Getting to connect with another autistic person who understood my experiences was what helped me to celebrate my diferences and understand that it makes me, in the words of Chloe Hayden about all autistic people, “diferent, not less.”

My self confdence and unapologetic attitude around being autistic is partially thanks to her and to organisations such as the I Can Network and The Yellow Ladybugs which use their platforms to inspire and empower other autistics.

I just wish I had learned about all these communities when I had frst been diagnosed, as I feel this would have been extremely benefcial in helping me make process all the new information that I was getting.

Recommendations. • When people get an autism diagnosis, give them a package of books written by autistic people, or a list of movies with autistic actors. Or links to videos of dancers or scientists or teachers who are autistic. This will show autistic people that they can succeed.

• When people get an autism diagnosis, do not give them a doom and gloom message. Give them connections to the autistic community. Families need to know there are others out there who are sharing the same experiences.

• Make a movie with an autistic actor that showcases the abilities and struggles of real autistic people on a daily basis. Give autistic viewers someone to see themselves in within the television industry. NDIS NDIS has made a huge impact on my life. Without their funding, I defnitely wouldn’t be where I am now. Because of the skills I’ve learned through them, I now know friendships and how they work, I understand conversations and how to make one and I see that my diferences can be used as strengths. So thank you to all the people within those services who have helped me and celebrated my triumphs with me and guided me through my struggles. They’ve given me so much and while I still have so much more to learn, I very much appreciate everything NDIS has done for me so far. I may even be able to return to higher education soon, should I choose to.

Conclusion Thank you for taking the time to read my submission. I hope I’ve helped you to understand a little more about me and the things I need. I hope you take the time to help too, so that the autistics who come after me don’t face the same struggles I did. Because, autistic people, like all other people, are worthy of a life where we can thrive and shine.

Will you help to make a world where we can?