{"id":355718,"date":"2019-03-11T08:51:04","date_gmt":"2019-03-11T12:51:04","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/newmusicusa.wpengine.com\/?p=355718"},"modified":"2021-06-01T21:36:25","modified_gmt":"2021-06-01T21:36:25","slug":"master-guide-to-improving-autistic-accessibility-in-music","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/newmusicusa.org\/nmbx\/master-guide-to-improving-autistic-accessibility-in-music\/","title":{"rendered":"Master Guide to Improving Autistic Accessibility in Music"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cSomething\u2019s wrong!\u201d my mom cried. \u201cMy headphones malfunctioned! My video sounds blurry!\u201d<\/p>\n

I put on her new, fancy headphones and watched the video. It was the singer in the plaza. It sounded crystal clear. I had been there.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean it\u2019s blurry?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a lot of noise! It didn\u2019t sound like that in real life!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUm, that\u2019s exactly<\/em> what it sounded like in real life,\u201d I retorted, frustrated with her imaginary tech issue. My mom looked hurt by my dismissal of her problem. This wasn\u2019t going well.<\/p>\n

And then it dawned on me: Perhaps arguing was futile, because we hadn\u2019t heard the same thing in the first place. In real life, my mom had experienced a soulful musician playing her favorite songs amidst an ambient backdrop. I, on the other hand, experienced a cacophonous soundscape of live music plus wind, laughter, chimes, talking, traffic, footsteps, car engines, drive-by radios, overlapping accents, multiple languages, paper cups and plastic spoons colliding with metal trash cans, and more.<\/p>\n

Thanks to high-quality headphones, my mom could now hear the noisy background, too. But her rude awakening was my realtime reality, and likely that of many other autistic folks.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Hi again, colleague, I\u2019m glad you\u2019re here. In my last post, “An Open Letter From Your Autistic Colleague<\/a>,” I referred to the music world\u2019s \u201cunacceptable, overwhelming status quo of autistic inaccessibility,\u201d gave you a primer on autistic etiquette, and introduced this four-part series as a \u201cno-bullshit guide to upping your autistic accessibility game as a musician or arts presenter.\u201d I alluded to my fear of asserting my own needs and declared it time for all arts professionals to improve autistic accessibility in our concerts, rehearsals, and interactions.<\/p>\n

Today, I present you with the heart of this series: an organized, actionable reference guide to help you enact a permanent framework for autistic accessibility in your musical efforts.<\/strong> These tips aren\u2019t just for organizations and presenters; they are also for musicians, students, teachers, and other music-adjacent allies. If you are not autistic, consider this required coursework.<\/p>\n

The reason I began this post with an anecdote is twofold: 1) It nicely illustrates some of the sensory processing discrepancies between allistic and autistic people, and 2) It prioritizes autistic stories. As a conscientious ally, it is critical to listen to autistic stories, learn about our diverse lived experiences, and consider how our needs may coincide with or differ from your own. Without that context, even the best list of tips couldn\u2019t help you.<\/p>\n

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My own guide will be rife with gaps <\/strong>and even contradictory information that another autistic person may not agree with. As I mentioned in the last post<\/a>, \u201cif you know an autistic person, you know ONE autistic person.\u201d I bring my own set of experiences, identities, and privileges to the table (queer, non-binary, second-generation, biracial person of color, Cambodian, Chinese, and Greek, American citizen, thin, able to drive, sighted, hearing, physically able, financially secure family, elite college education, etc.), and you will have to adjust to your audience\u2019s particular needs. I am not an autism expert; I am merely a student of my own autistic experience.<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Guide:<\/h2>\n

I came up with the acronym SCALE to help you remember<\/strong> the five main themes in this guide to improving autistic accessibility. You will eventually forget most of the tips, but if you can remember the main themes (SCALE), you may have an easier time filling in the blanks and adding your own points.<\/p>\n

S – sensory needs<\/h4>\n

Sensory needs are one of the most discussed hallmarks of the autistic experience. <\/strong>Many autistic people experience sensory hyper<\/em>sensitivity, resulting in the magnified perception of sound, smell, touch, taste, and other senses. This overstimulation can be not only painful but dangerous, causing disorientation, loss of balance, shutdown, meltdown, and other cognitive or physical impairments. On the flip side, many autistic folks experience hypo<\/em>sensitivity, which may cause us to seek extreme, additional sensory inputs for stimulation.<\/p>\n

Given that it is neither practical nor feasible to simultaneously accommodate all autistic sensory needs at the same time, what, then should you do? In my experience, err on the side of reducing sensory input. <\/strong>As the writer of the Autisticality<\/a> blog says: \u201cIt\u2019s worse to have too much input than not enough. If you don\u2019t have enough input, you might be bored, restless, or uncomfortable…In contrast, having too much input can be actively dangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n