Gaslighting a nation

My political heart is raging.  Scott Morrison, during an interview on 2GB has said:

“I know Australians understand this and they’ll be pleased I’m coming back, I’m sure, but they know I don’t hold a hose, I don’t sit in a control room.”

Tweet: Our PM just did a classic non-apology – gaslighting all of us: “I know Australians understand this and they’ll be pleased I’m coming back, I’m sure, but they know I don’t hold a hose, I don’t sit in a control room.” MATE! YOU’RE THE PM: YOU ARE THE CONTROL ROOM. #sydneyfires

I was enraged and took to Twitter, my go to place for the airing of political grievances.

Democracy is about, at the root of it, debate of ideas.  It is not about deflection, denial and gaslighting as I see Australian politics has become in the last 20 years.

I think my twitter rage today sums up how I have felt about Australian Democracy since John Howard declared martial law and I watched Australian troops misused to descend on remote Aboriginal communities in Central Australia.

I’ve said my piece at rallies and I fought hard to raise awareness to see the end of Howard’s similarly hate-filled protégé Tony Abbott’s reign.  And yet, here we are Australia, with a gaslighting goon for the fossil fuel industry in charge again.

This is not a regular fire season.  The PM himself has used the language “mega fire” (which is climate change language) to describe fires, yet consistently dodges declaring a climate emergency.  He has dismissed concerns about funding of volunteers by saying “they want to be there”.  He does little to address the fact that volunteers are dying as a result of underfunding and large scale funding cuts at all levels of government.

The current government uses techniques that are both propaganda and gaslighting 101.  Gaslighting is a psychological abuse technique that leaves you questioning or second guessing your own sanity.  Propaganda is similar but tends to be more conscious manipulation of constituents.

Scott Morrison is exceptional at single statement, misleading testimonials aimed to leverage his social rank to get people to nod in agreement.  Like when he totally dismissed a comparison of climate change policy ranking Australia last as “It’s not credible”, but refused to elaborate.  I know I am a nerd, but I am always surprised how many Australians just believe him on that and won’t seek the source documents he dismisses.

On the 9th of September 2005, an article appeared in the Sydney Morning Herald about the death of Donald Horne, who wrote the book “The Lucky Country”.

Forever misquoted, Donald Horne dies” was the title. The authors, John Huxley and Samantha Selinger-Morris, cite him as saying:

“I was about to write the last chapter of a book on Australia,” recalled Horne, who died aged 83. “The opening sentence was, ‘Australia is a lucky country, run by second-rate people who share its luck.”‘

They go onto to say that his 1964 book “The Lucky Country” which coined the oft used phrase in Australian politics was:
“…meant as an indictment of an unimaginative nation, its cosy provincialism, its cultural cringe and its White Australia policy.  But much to Horne’s subsequent misery, many failed to detect his irony and many more, either willfully or lazily, misinterpreted his words.”

The Australian habit of popularising an otherwise critical perspective on its nationhood like that of “The Lucky Country” is well entrenched in white Australia.  It is often twisted to suit a misguided sense of national pride not limited to just the misuse of Donald Horne’s social commentary.   Most recently the bogan-wannabe-but-really-spoiled-private-school-boy at the helm of Australia’s government is a perfect example of the ignorance of a culture of lucky country lies.

“She’ll be right”.  “Don’t talk about politics and religion”.  All the privileged banter our culture hides under and very soon, will not be able to hide under anymore.  Folks, climate change is real and it’s going to get worse.  The Australian white picket fence is burning down, it’s time to care. No amount of belief in trickle down economics will prevent that.

I almost wrote in that tweet that parliament was the control room, but parliament is sitting less and less under the political turmoil of the last two decades. If you are unsure I suggest you go and take a look for yourself.


This year Scott Morrisons government has sat for only 40 days, and last year between him and Malcolm Turnbull there was only 26 days.  The impact on leadership spills on sittings is quite clear.

Our current PM and his crew of neo-fascists employ a blend of techniques to avoid doing anything other than push-pull ideology, propaganda and gaslighting instead of democratic debate.

It’s the old school shite and that shit-awful “lucky country” narrative.

Scott Morrison blithely sums this up with his litanies of “How good is <insert mindless cause and effect association here>” generalisations and gross distortions.

Some of us in Australia are furious.  We want debate on the floor of parliament, not sex and fraud scandals, fabrication and well crafted bullshit – but actual, meaningful, evidence based, debate.

Stopping stigma at work

I woke up this morning feeling like everything that has happened has led me to here.

The fact is, I thrive in working environments where people are not stigmatised for speaking out publicly about social issues like better mental health.

I’ve had jobs in the last few years where I’ve done projects that aim to break stigmas and these are the best jobs I’ve had.

I’ve left jobs with mentally unhealthy workplace cultures.

That’s why my part time arts career is so satisfying and why it’s my intention now to make it a full time pursuit.

In the arts breaking stigma/taboo is our business.  I’ve experienced more than my fair share of stigma. Particularly about being outspoken about mental health.

We need to shatter some neo-liberal bullshit about mental health in workplaces.

You spend 8 hours a day at work, if it’s mentally unhealthy and hostile – it will be potentially having an affect on your mental health.

I was impressed recently by Our Watch ambassador, prevention of violence against women activist and mental health advocate Tarang Chawla sharing his story about a recent suicide attempt.

You can listen to him on SBS here:

I’ve posted about past struggles with episodic depression. But in recent years I’ve been following the advice that Tarang and many others advocate – I took steps to prevent it getting worse.

What I found refreshing about Tarang’s story is that mental health concerns have not stopped him working for violence prevention – they’ve made him a better advocate and representative for change.

A key mental health preventive for me is staying away from work environments that don’t take staff mental health seriously – or where they treat staff with mental health concerns as damaged goods.

Mental health is like any other health condition. If the aircon at work is giving people a chest infection – you fix the aircon.

I refuse to work in environments that don’t take mental health seriously.

If the working environment is hostile and workflows are breaking people’s mental health – fix the environment.

If workplaces don’t have wellbeing days or an employee assistance service offering counselling I’m not interested.

There are ways workplaces can take care of employee mental health:

  • encourage a culture of acceptance – no hush hush stigma
  • have an employee assistance program
  • while open acceptance of mental health is important don’t force or coerce people to disclose either
  • wellbeing days – break the stigma of “sickie days” “or sick of working days”
  • social, friendly, accepting workplace cultures
  • spaces for quiet or to eat in peace (in addition to a staff room/kitchen)
  • regular wellbeing breaks are actively encouraged (5 mins every hour)

People are not machines – if people think a big wage makes up for poor workplace culture – well that’s not for me either. I’m not materialistic and I’m anti-capitalist greed,  so waving as big pay cheque in front of me won’t work either – will not make me stay and “stick it out”.

Not everyone work for money or status. Mentally healthy workplaces recognise that.

Being in environments where profit is put before people is not the place for me.

We are not trees. If getting away from a work environment makes you feel better – you’ve done the right thing.

I think as a culture, Australians need to wake up when it comes to ridiculous ideas like “put up with it” or “stick it out”.

These ideas are killing us if you look at our suicide rates.

Stigma sucks and it kills.

No job, marriage or mortgage is worth compromising your mental health.

And there are millions of people out there with great working lives who have had mental health concerns before.

The big lesson for me – is if people talk about mental health as though people are broken – get the hell away from them.

We are not broken. Mental health is like any other health condition, you make sure your environment is conducive to staying well, do your best to work with appropriate medical advice and you can live a life like anyone else – it’s not a sentence to life that is less, it may open up possibilities you didn’t expect.  Sticking at something that makes you miserable is self-punishment, not self-care.

The idea that mental health concerns make you “less” is a well broken stereotype, inaccurate, ill-informed, potentially discriminatory and ableist.

#stigma #mentalhealth

When nice can be not nice…

Five reasons why I hate “niceness” as a measure of people.

1. “Nice” is such a loaded term and nice does not equate to good. Remember the expression smiling assassin? Or people that put you down “nicely”? Delivering feedback well is positive but smeared with too much nice is just plain condescending.

2. “Nice” can be a heavily gendered way to refer to people. Women are expected to be nice all the time – even when experiencing shit behaviour. Don’t believe me? Ffs. Read! Talk to a woman or ten about this.

3. “Nice guys always come last”. See number 2 above. Nice women are expected, NOT NICE behaviour from a man supposedly gets them ahead. This usage can particularly fuck off. It’s time we stopped rewarding men for being assholes and stopped punishing women for speaking up. Not good for men, not good for women, not good for people.

4. “If you can’t say anything nice don’t say anything at all”. Okay but I tried complimenting racist behaviour (not) and it just emboldened the racist clown. So maybe this another one of those old school false equivalencies we can throw in the bin now. And burn it.

5. “Nice” is often fake and fleeting. “Niceties” are what some use to tolerate people rather than learn to accept and adapt. Again see number one – “they were very nice about how they told me I was too fat to date them until I called them on it then they went full nasty”. Seriously, nice can be a proper passive aggressive to exclude people and feel better about it – rather than engage in a meaningful way.

In conclusion, don’t get me wrong – I like “GENUINELY nice” behaviour, but just don’t use it as a meaningful measure of human behaviour but another generalisation. We don’t have a nice-o-meter and I’m tired of it being used to measure people’s worth. Sometimes our circumstances preclude “nice” and honest emotion is required. Much like any generalisation about behaviour – nice can be weaponised!

Born-day and #IDPWD

It’s my birthday and it’s also International Day of People with Disabilities.

#IDPWD2019 a day to acknowledge our struggles, be at one in pride & commit further to acting together to remove systemic inequality. Whether you like international days or not – that’s my intention today. Plus it’s my birthday, so for me it’s a celebration of survival.

There’s been a lot of talk about invisible disability and I’ve been recovering lately from some experiences I would rather not repeat, but that sadly have experienced a lot during my lifetime.

Recovery means doing what you have to do.  That might mean talking or not talking, writing, resting, rehab.  It also means dealing with the stigma (your own internalised and other people’s) associated with recovery.

Don’t let the “today tonighter’s” get under your skin.  These are the people who cry “fake” when they don’t understand disability issues like; semi-ambulant use of a wheelchair or that screen readers help low vision people use a mobile phone or people who think disabled people are broken. The people who say “it can’t be that bad” to criticise people taking care of themselves.  This is the ableist shit we cop from people who buy into the burden arguments of the old medical models (whether inadvertently or not) and this blog entry is not for them, it’s for PWD.

So here are my tips for dealing with ableist S.H.I.T.

S – is for Shame.  Shame and stigma are weapons and it’s something we are learning to resist (internal and external shame).  Try to work with kindness to yourself when you feel you are self-shaming.  For example, mental health issues are experienced by 85% of the population and probably everyone at some point in their life, if we are honest.  If you’ve had someone tell you to hide a non-visible disability because you can – gently remind them reasonable adjustment is a right and shaming you is harassment and hurtful.  Remind people (or get an advocate to remind them) that disability is not to be ashamed of and that shame can be a form of abuse.

H – is for Hate.  As an Autistic person I struggle with people’s hatred.  I just don’t get how people can hate with passion.   How it translates into thinking that because a disabled person rights are somehow special treatment – or that we are a burden.  This is hatred and it covers a view that disabled people are less than them.  I call it out and have tried to learn to call it out with compassion, but none the less call it out. Hate is hate – even when sheathed in politico speak like “merit based” arguments used to diminish what a disabled person might need to contribute.  The whole rotting pearl of “we can’t change everything for one person” crapola when people merely ask for a reasonable adjustment.  Same with poor taste jokes and casual use of disability slurs. Call out people who slag off someone else because they are different and if you can’t safely call it out – allow yourself to get space away from them or get an advocate and get to safety.  You do not have to put up with hate.

I – is for I.  Allow yourself to be an I.  Hold space, take up space.  You are enough.

T – is for Time.  Things are getting better over time.  Take employment, for example.  In 3 out of the last 4 jobs I have disclosed disability safely.  Compared to before that when you couldn’t even talk about it.  Things are getting better, it may not be quick enough for many of us sadly, but together we are making change.

Keep on keeping on. We can do it.  #disabilitypride

What’s in a name? The politics of naming

Jacci Pillar is a stage name.  There is no secret about that and people who know me off stage know my “two names”.  Even people who barely know me may know them. There is no earth shattering conspiracy here.   Over the last four years, I’ve been surprised when people misunderstood a stage name.

But people often ask me about why I have a stage name for genuinely curious reasons.  I like to joke about my “other life” until recently I heard that people actually took that reference seriously.   As an Autistic person, I thought I was meant to be the literal one!

Anyone who asks me about my personal life for more than ten minutes (when acting in my “other” capacity or “day job”), will hear me say I write and perform satire and comedy in my personal life.  If they ask I will gladly give them the link to this blog (it is, after all, my stage name and a public blog, therefore I gladly share it).  I will exercise my human and constitutional rights to associate and have creative and artistic expression about political topics without hesitation in whatever name I choose.

If you have ever read the late great Chrissy Amphlett’s book, Pleasure and Pain, you will read a discussion on why she wore a school uniform on stage.  It was a way to let go of performance anxiety, a character to revel in and give the middle finger to the establishment.  That establishment said, that by way of her gender identity, she should be passive and nice and she did not conform to that view.  The onstage persona gave her permission to be herself.  Stage names are similar.

Jacci is an adopted misspelling of Jacqui.  A fellow comedian in Alice Springs got it wrong on a poster.  I liked it because it’s more gender neutral.  Pillar was my grandmothers maiden name.  She was a slight but fierce advocate for the rights of women and the vulnerable in the early 20th century (Dad was 20 years older than my mother, so she’d be around 120 years old now).  The name Jacci Pillar is one big fuck you to the establishment.

So, honestly, the three times in as many years that people have become “suss” over my use of a stage name, I’ve felt genuinely amused.  To me, it’s just something you do to free yourself of creative blocks if you want to write and perform.

Then, thinking about why it freaks some people out, I put on my anthropologist hat.  I realised that to some people with internally oppressed worldviews, it may look like I am trying to hide something – as on stage I talk about being queer and anti-establishment (and I am).  Also,  there is a history of shaming those born female about performance (in fact we weren’t allowed on stage through some of our history),  I suppose it’s not surprising that some people still see us as attention seeking or dangerous.  But we are just performers, like any other performer.

Some people may have so internalised the lack of personal freedom defined by rigid gender roles that they can’t imagine practicing the personal or creative freedom of having a nom de plume.  Their own life is so limited in application of creative and identity freedom that they immediately expect criminal activity.  That’s rather sad. I feel sad for them, but I also wish they would take their power trip elsewhere and stop infringing on my personal freedoms.

It is true that some people have multiple names in order to commit crime.  But there are also a number of legitimate reasons for people to have multiple names and has been across all cultures and all times and spaces, since forever.

For all legal purposes I have a singular name, so nothing legal is signed or agreed to as Jacci Pillar (for festivals contracts are signed in my birth name and it is acknowledged on legal documents).  Jacci Pillar is nothing more than a stage name that helps me break free of performance anxiety and I fucking like it and it has meaning to me.

So here it is…some thoughts about stage names or non de plumes and the politics of naming and reclaiming names and renaming.  Some of this comes from my honours thesis, which by the way, was written in my married name (*SO OMG! There’s a THIRD name! bahahahahahaha…call in the freedom conversion crew because I dared to divorce an asshole! And reclaim my QUEER!).

Names have power and the perceived control over naming conventions that can dictate relationships of power and violence.   Colonialism and the agents of oppression have long renamed places and people in order to control them.  James Cook consciously did this, often renaming his “discoveries” (cough, cough, this guy was such as ass! as if you can discover a continent other people had lived on since forever) after wealthy benefactors.  Then the Indigenous names were erased as they carried on unseen frontier wars, killing as they went and wiping out the names and replacing them with the names preferred by  colonisers (the invaders).  Some Australians still carry on when an Indigenous place name is restored like it’s a crime. The real crime was the covering up of the crimes of their ancestors against first nations Peoples that they now fail to acknowledge and still benefit from.

Similarly, the first fleet saw many people with “difficult to pronounce names” (for English speakers) anglicised to Smiths, and Browns and other generic names to strip them of cultural identities other than white and British.

I can guarantee you many of my Irish migrant ancestors did not associate with mother England, but as Gaelic speakers from Gaelic cultural backgrounds and identities.  In case you don’t know that history, google will serve you well.  So stripping people of their names (for themselves or their places) that they assume because they have personal meaning or as part of Indigenous or non-white-Anglo-Saxon-Christian values is a way to take away their autonomy or personal power.  Renaming turns people and places into objects of governance – taking away personal and cultural sovereignty in powerful ways and often accompanied by acts of violence.

People that insist you have one name, for a place or a person, have internalised the view that the only legitimate name is one that is agreed upon by an arbitrary belief in “government authority”.   That personal identities must be subject to government control.   It’s a kind of neo-fascism of sorts, attached to ideas of capitalism largely.

I find these people to considerably lack imagination.  Or a sense of humour.  And to be on a power trip usually.  And just plain fucking boring.

The irony is, they can sometimes be people who’ve been affected by colonial or oppressive regimes themselves (either in their own cultures or personal lives).  Fear drives this notion that personal identity must be fixed and not fluid and certainly not autonomous and must be controlled by the state.   Fear that they will be subjected to what their ancestors were subjected to.  So they conform to conservative cognitive dissonance about identity politics and become generic socio-political clones.

Renaming “other” people as a form of control of physical bodies, particularly if assigned female at birth.  No where is this quite as visible in the world of reproductive and sexual rights.  An obvious one is the drama some people are creating about sex (male or female) on birth certificates to see the control of bodies by the state. I heard someone say “how will you know what sex someone is on their drivers licence if it’s not on the birth certificate or can be changed”. For fuck’s sake, as if your sex organs determine how you drive a car (although I believe there are still people around who still believe women are worse drivers, but that is a post for another day. Or a PhD in sexist bullshit). It is totally irrelevant but the power trippers of the world still think it is.

A subtler example is the shit-awful practice of taking on a person assigned male at birth’s name because you married them.  What a load of crock.  Women then become owned objects of the man by proxy.  The practice of maiden/married name is relatively new and many cultures have never practiced it.  Again it’s the product of some uptight fucking British monarchs obsessed with world domination and religious pontification (and certainly excluding pagan religions).

The marriage licence or the institutions of marriage vary in application all around the world and modern marriage and divorce are, products of the 14th century.  Sorry folks, but we’ve been anatomically modern for 100 000 odd years, so these new “laws” are capitalist hodge-podge and not set in the stone of humanity at all.

I understand some people still practice this and hold it dear.  You can have it.  Have it all!

Just. hold. it. the. fuck. away. from. me. dear.

As for the convenience myth for taking your partner’s name – convenient for who? Who benefits from the giving away of your identity to someone else? There is no legal reason to change your name to the same name as the person with a penis you just shackled yourself to.  Children are not going to be confused, they will be adaptable.

You will cope with having separate ID documents.  The only person it is convenient for is a bunch of stuffy bureaucrats and bankers who are too lazy to treat you, your significant other and children as human beings (and not just as sources of taxation revenue).

Stage names and nom de plumes are explicit ways to mock the above acts of oppression and our cultural  acceptance of them.  They are ways we reclaim the fact that our identities are our own, not that of the state.  They are often held by people who are marginalised or ostracised for their culture, history, sexuality, skin colour or political associations.  Freddie Mercury. Need I say more? Whoops, sorry that’s my obsession, but there are many more examples.

There is some protection from discrimination in a stage name from our ‘day jobs’ often as well.  For all the reasons above – and for me, being as Queer as I actually am on stage is freedom.  And sorry, but a name for purposes of enhancing performance and protecting myself from the discrimination of a workplace is not a crime – but a freedom.

And if anyone else rides on that freedom removing high horse trying to bring their own version of shitsville into my life and have a problem with me having a stage name… then they can get down off that horse now.

How I practice my art and creativity and what name is attached to that? If that is a problem to them; they can fuck off, and when they have fucked off, fuck off some more. And go read this when they’ve fucked off far away from me –

Accessible Workplace Attitudes

This is a continuation of a previous posts about autism, accessibility and employability.

Accessibility in a workplace isn’t just the physical infrastructure.

It’s an attitude.

For Autistic people we will push on trying to fit with your inaccessible attitudes. Often to our breaking points.

In recent years I’ve learned to walk away from inaccessible workplaces, but it’s always a difficult and physically and emotionally expensive exercise. And honestly, this is 2019, not 1919 and ableist attitudes belong in the past.

In my case I will ask lots of questions and require conversations about your priorities. I am not asking for much – just for you to be clear about your expectations.

It’s strange that workplaces often complain about people not asking questions. But when Autistic people ask questions for clarity – suddenly it’s our disability.

In every job I’ve had where people have invested a morning 15 minute conversation with me for the first two to three weeks (it’s not more than that usually), has seen me produce quality (and quantity) work beyond expectations.

In fact, my last few jobs have harnessed my ability to spot where systems need to be clearer as a skill. I’m proud to say I’ve been part of some pretty cool process improvement initiatives – where my ability to help find clarity within a team is appreciated. Other workplaces have got offended by me saying “there’s no workflow clarity” and behaved like spoiled toddlers (and these are the ones I run from now).

Neurotypical communication is all about hints and perceived politeness. Asking questions is our way of understanding these unspoken cues.

So don’t punish anyone (Autistic or not) for asking questions because you can’t be bothered doing something that everyone (Autistic or not) needs – providing job role clarity and clear work protocols and processes.

When we spectrum folk ask you to be direct, don’t be cruel. We can tell the difference despite whatever myth you have bought into about our “emotions”.

Another thing I’ve experienced with inaccessible attitudes: the false equivalence defensiveness.

This is where you say “but I’m the parent/partner/friend of a disabled/autistic person”.

We are not all the same – you are not an expert in each and every one of us, because you know or care for one of us. You are not more of an expert in our condition than we are.

If we need a variation to distribution of tasks, it’s not because we are difficult. It’s because we know enough about ourselves to know what works.

Some of us have been “able” to work in fields that are difficult just like anyone else. Some won’t be in that category and that doesn’t mean they are less either. The reason high/functioning labels have been tossed in the bin is simply because expectations are either too high or too low – and ability and impairment are not binaries.

Asking for a desk near a window or away from flickering lights or fluro tube lighting is no big deal.

And if I hear the “we can’t change everything for one person” crap one more time – I’ll vomit. The fact is the most productive workplaces are flexible ones where people are treated as individuals and not drones. You want slaves? Go back in time and become a Roman overlord!

In the case of the inaccessible workplace – we are not an accessibility problem, you’re attitude to us is.

I have had a career where people appreciate my skills and just accomodate my “inoffensive quirkiness”. Cause honestly, in workplaces not dominated by adults behaving like toddlers, that is accessibility.

I think I’ll end with following three thoughts:

  • The need for accessibility is not a choice – we don’t get up in the morning just to frustrated and annoy you by being different to you. But being an asshole about accessibility is a choice.
  • Discrimination is the choice to be an asshole about accessibility.

Don’t be an accessibility asshole.

Love Reminders

Since coming to live in Melbourne I’ve been blessed with awesome people who’ve supported me. The “love reminders”.

You know that some things have been challenging lately – but my art, my comedy and my home life are just…well the only word I can muster…magic.  Got to open Melbourne Fringe festival with a variety showcase about identity, diversity and pride with a bunch of local  heroes, Sally Goldner, James Williams, Kath Duncan, Naomi Chainey, Larissa MacFarlane and Yvonne Fein.  I was very lucky to be mentored by the awesome Nelly Thomas as part of the Melbourne Fringe Navigate mentorship.  A big thank you the Fringe team (and special thanks to Carly Findlay, Patrick Hayes and Laura Milke) – you are legends.

Image description: Jacci standing on stage dressed as burlesque x circus x queer zombie Marie Antionette with James Williams on guitar with a look of concentration on his face. Behind them in a screen with the words “I’ve filled in your forms, you’ve already got the information. Photo by Nelly Thomas.

I’ve had one amazing workplace where I was privileged to work with some of Australia’s biggest brains and expertise in the violence prevention field.  Since early October it’s been bumpy with change (some of it quite nasty).

BUT! While the daily challenges still exists I’ve been lifted up and reminded of my value by fellow artists, scholars, comedians and friends (new and old).  I’m shouting out to a few here, but there are lots of you and I love you all.

I was faced with a no fault eviction the day after the show (September 13) and for a while it felt like everything I had done was for nothing.  The house move was hard – but made so much easier by wonderful people. Together we did it and have a new home I love.  A special thank you to Nelly Thomas for her support during this period.

These challenges are made harder by the world around us as Autistic people.  It’s really important we don’t have people around us who are ableist, but who believe we can get through.

*A reminder of some of this challenge is this article by Terra Vance sums up how a lot of us spectrum folk feel about the challenges of the neurotypical world present us –

I am very fortunate people have banded around me and lifted me up.

People reminded me that speaking up when you need help is healthy. That is doesn’t mean you are weak or that you “have problems” – it means you are strong. This blog is intended as a testimony to that.

The bad old days of letting feelings fester and not being honest about situations should be over.

We know that approach – of pretending everything is okay when they are not causes mental health to decline.

I am resilient because I’m honest about my feelings.

I am resilient because I walk away from toxic people and situations.  No, actually I run now.

I’m about to publish my first book. I do great comedy that I love. Yeah things are tiring – but that’s life for people like me.

My home life is fucking brilliant.

My commitment just before my 49th birthday is this – I will not tolerate hate and I won’t listen to people who sanction hate.  I’m going to stick with the love reminders.

I’m queer, autistic and proud. These are good things to be.


I feel like my soul is tired.

I’m tired of this endless roundabout of abuse and discrimination.

Tired to the bone.

This is chronic illness. The co-occurring crap of my life as an autistic person triggered by lack of accessibility.

Needing to shut myself away to survive and hoping I’ll resurface again.

I keep thinking if only I could find the one place my autistic creativity is harnessed so I’m not exhausted. Where I’m not told to be neurotypical in order to exist. Where is that place?

That will be the balancing point and I’ll enter my 50th year feeling….feeling….

How do you know what it is if you’ve never felt it? Is it connection? Is it belonging?

I don’t know how that would feel. Those are things I see the neurotypicals feel.

Knowing they fit. Knowing they belong. Not always on the outside.

That would be nice.

revelatory comedy

On the 18th July 2018 I drove into Melbourne from Alice Springs to do a season of Melbourne Fringe (via Sydney Fringe) and to settle here after an assault in my day job left me depressed and unhappy.  This decision came after being in remote or overseas locations since 2005.  That’s not unusual for my profession.  I am an anthropologist by day.  In my 40’s I pursued what I had been afraid to all my life – being a comedian/writer/performer at every opportunity I can find.

I’m a variety type of human.  Some would say that’s because I am Autistic.  I think that’s accurate, I need novel ideas (and also more structure to pursue them than other humans, which a common contradiction in the Autistic experience).  But also, I am just easily bored.  But living back in Melbourne (last time I was four years old) has been more than transformative – opening up opportunities to be fully authentic on stage that is allowing me to be the same in life.

Art just doesn’t imitate life, it is life.  It makes you feel and do and change.  I am one of those people who still thinks comedy can be an artform.  I do skits, character and musical comedy with storytelling/narrative observation comedy woven in amongst it all.

I don’t perform as often as I would like.  I have some big sensory and social challenges to work around to get on stage, but once up there I love it.  Venue and performance accessibility is and always will be an issue for me, but I have carving my way regardless.

The last 12 months have been personally transformative, or rather, revelatory. I hold comedy 80% responsible for that.

I knew I would have to deal with culture shock.  The shock of coming from the remote Northern Territory to a city was one aspect.  But I had lived in a large Chinese city too, so that wasn’t the most of it.

What I found was that I wasn’t prepared for the changes it would prompt in me – that would allow me to be me.  You may recall a post where I had been diagnosed with depression just before I arrived in Melbourne.

I am happy to say I was not depressed, I was oppressing my true self.  That caused sporadic depression as not being authentic invariably does.  That’s not actually any rocket science really – but something so many people struggle with.

A kind of period of chaotic and complicated personal change took place in the last 12 months. This wasn’t a learning curve.  This was a learning mountain epic filmography, complete with crevices and dodgy theme music.

I knew I had to leave an mask behind when I came here, that Melbourne would have a much more accepting culture.   I had already started to drop the mask when I started doing comedy in 2016.  I fully accepted that the diagnosis of autism I had been grappling with (first mentioned to me in 2006, partial diagnosis for years until recently) and started to get my head around the fact it made me who I am – it didn’t make me less.

In my first ever comedy writing workshop, before my very first performance in Darwin I had a lightbulb moment. I was confronted with an exercise often done in comedy classes.  Two truths and a lie.  I did it well, but mainly because all of my stories about my life are weird.

My answers were:

  • I nearly married a Tunisian olive farmer during the second wave of the Arab spring revolution in 2011
  • I have just come back from living and working in China
  • I’ve been married three times

No one picked that I have only been married once. The other two are true.  My life and it’s funny stories made other people laugh and I love making people laugh.

I refuse to lie on stage.   I choose to embellish stories to get bigger laughs, but not lie.  In the process of finding material it has all come from my experience and research and knowledge combined.  Experiences such as being a late diagnosed autistic person, a late coming out queer (I actually outed myself on Channel 31 BentTV) as an ENBY-femme and gray asexual (I can hear some of you opening a Google tab…).

It’s not catharsis either, as some cynics have said to me.  It’s about me OWNING who I am and poking fun at world that dictates to us who we should be.  Plus I think the performance world is changing.  We are challenging non-disabled actors playing disabled parts.  We want real. That’s a good thing, not something to be cynically given a clinical label to.

There is part education though.  A fellow comedian once said “your comedy is like a TED talk, only funnier”.  I will take that.  That’s fine with me.

Performing out and proud for “Wear it Purple” event at Hares and Hyenas – Produced by Teddy Darling. Photo by Margot Fink. Image description: Jacci standing on stage, arms raised, mid parody song, dressed in black with pride striped rainbow socks.

But putting my foot on stage for the first time prompted a wave of personal change for the better, but often through tumultuous times, like I never expected.

The mask has broken.  I am me on stage and increasingly more so than ever – off stage.

The comedy journey has been harsh and hilarious and helpful.  Sorry about the alliterations, it’s one of my autie quirks.

I refuse to do the low hanging fruit of comedy.  I aim to “punch up not punch down”, critiquing systems and the language of bigotry and prejudice.  If some think attacking bigotry and prejudice is punching down – then Google “false equivalence”.

So through four years or so of dabbling in comedy and several large-ish productions that I have written, produced and performed in (including the recent Melbourne Fringe opening night variety showcase “Tickets on Myself“).

A couple of thoughts why performance has set me free:

  1. Somewhat paradoxically, the opportunity to lie on stage (which I chose not to take) freed me of expectations to be other than myself.  Yep, you read that right.  Whilst I have never been described as fake, suddenly I was presented with something that I realised I had been doing all my life – and no longer wanted to do.  To stop lying to myself about who I was (we call this masking as a survival technique for Autistic people, but it’s nearly always harmful to us) and be myself.
  2. The influence of some amazing performers I have met along with way who are completely comfortable with who they are.  Some of these people are big names, some are not.  But none of them subscribe to “fake it until you make it”.  They ascribe to developing confidence, self-belief and bravery, which is something quite different, in my humble opinion.

Up until six months ago I was scared.  Recently I have found that holding the stage made me brave. So I went all out and revealed my true self. And it feels fucking marvellous.  

I need to give the incredible Nelly Thomas a huge shout out.  You may remember my post about her new book about neurodiversity, Some Brains. I was very privileged to have her as my Melbourne Fringe Navigate Program mentor.

The weekend before Tickets on Myself, she reminded and encouraged that me I only had one job – to bring joy.

And I did.  I hope I made you proud Nelly.  Thank you – you believing in me still makes me tear up (in a good way).

Finally, I remember being in this massive t-shirt market in Guiyang in China in 2014.  There was a wall covered in hundreds of the one t-shirt slogan, “Be Yourself”.  I remember it made me laugh heartily out loud.

The irony was here were mass produced t-shirt proclamations were telling us something the world least expects of us.

Because if the world did give us permission to fully be ourselves, the t-shirt industry would go broke.

After the world stripped me of the safety to be me, the comedy stage gave me myself back.  There is no going back now and that’s a beautiful thing.

I hope everyone puts down the t-shirt slogan and finds their own personal comedy stage, figuratively and literally, to be who they are, not what the world expects them to be.