 Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Kaori Itokazu, and I'm a counselor working at Ganju Service at OIST. Today, actually, my colleague Haley was going to introduce the keynote speaker, but unfortunately she couldn't be here today. So I have been giving the privilege of introducing our next keynote speaker, Dr. Kana Grace. Before I move into this introduction, I would first like to draw your attention to this QR code on this screen over here. This is for a platform called Slido, which allow you to submit questions anytime anonymously during the presentation. You can access this by scanning the QR code with your phone or via the website and session number over there. When we reach our questions and conversations at the end, I will alternate between questions on the Slido and from the room. Now, this is my great pleasure to introduce Dr. Kana Grace, an academic advocate and absolute trailblazer in the field of neurodivergence, both as an academic and advocate in her efforts to bring greater understanding and appreciation to the neurodivergent minds, currently serving as an honorary postdoctoral research fellow at the Center for Research in Autism and Education at University College London, where a speaker has recently completed a groundbreaking Ph.D. in psychology, investigating loneliness in autistic adults. Not only has this advanced scientific understanding and gained global attention in the ways I will come to share, it also paved the way for our speaker to establish the first ever autistic peer group at University College London, which has been instrumental in fostering a sense of belonging and support among autistic students, marking a significant milestone in the journey towards inclusivity. Their published work on loneliness in autistic adults has gained much traction and interest globally, leading our speaker to partner with autism spectrum Australia, the country's largest autism charity, to extend their doctoral work and develop a new measure of loneliness for autistic adults. Additionally, their concurrent project on suicidality in autistic adults in collaboration with UK researchers further underscore their dedication to addressing critical issues affecting neurodivergent individuals. Our speaker has been celebrated for shifting autism research from a conventional medical model to a neurodiversity paradigm, viewing neurodivergence not as a disorder, but as a variation of diverse minds with their research having received widespread acclaim and featured in prestigious media outlets such as the UK's BBC and the Scientist. Despite this, they have been awarded first place prize for research excellence at Academist, a prominent Japanese academic crowdfunding organization, accompanied by their role as a member of steering group for trans-diagnostic research for Autistica, the UK's foremost autism research charity. Their journey as a leading scientist and neurodivergent individual within the world of academia will soon be published in the upcoming book Nine Minds, which is narrated by bestselling author and autistic savant, Daniel Tammant, alongside notable figures like Hollywood actor Dan Aykroyd. He was one of the leading actors in the original Ghostbusters. Beyond their academic accolades, they have somehow found the time to also found Valtamere, an organization dedicated to advocating for neurodivergent children, adults, and their families, not just in Okinawa, Japan, but worldwide. There they offer invaluable mentorship to neurodivergent individuals, tailoring support to each person's unique strengths and needs. This is further complimented by their advisory role with SETS Connective, the UK's charity for neurodivergence and hypermobility. I think you would agree with me that today's speaker has shown unwavering dedication, a dedication that is deeply rooted in their personal experience as a multiply neurodivergent academic and individual, bringing the richness of their own lived experience to their work and commitment to making the world a better place for neurodivergent people and their families. Today, we are honored to have them share their insights, hoping to inspire and foster further dialogue on neurodivergence. Please join me in warmly welcoming our distinguished keynote speaker, Dr. Kana Grace. Thank you, Kaori-san and Haley, for that lovely introduction. You might be wondering, what's her role here? She looks so young to be giving us a lecture, often seeing just the t-shirts and leggings. It's easy to mistake me for a high school or university student, but believe it or not, I'm actually 29 years old. And beyond being known as a researcher and advocate, there is another passion that's been a significant part of my life, ballet. Since the age of three, ballet has been my passion. Despite my dedication to ballet, I bet that wasn't the first role you pictured for me. And notice a gap between appearance and reality. This discrepancy between how things appear and the reality is quite common when discussing neurodivergence and connective tissue disorders. Yes, that's all right, all right. Where was I? Today I'm here to discuss neurodivergent brains, sharing my story. By the end of my talk, I hope you will have gained insights to see the invisible differences. So neurodivergence and neurodiversity are often mixed up, but they are really quite distinct from each other. Think of neurodiversity as a big picture. It's about celebrating diverse ways in which our brains operate, similar to the way we appreciate biodiversity in nature. And neurodivergence, on the other hand, zooms in on individuals whose brains work differently from the majority. And in my work, I usually bring up autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia, and Tourette. And now, if we are diving into autism or ADHD, it'd be easier for me. But my brain is not affected just by autism or ADHD, but also dyslexia, dyspraxia, and Tourette. And you wouldn't guess any of this just by looking at me. And this brings us to the reality of invisible disabilities. If the challenges I faced in education were more apparent, perhaps I would have found more support and understanding early on. And I realize and I recognize my privilege of having a mom who has trusted in me and invested in my education. But because I've managed to earn a PhD, people often assume I must be fully capable, complicating the search for understanding and support. And beyond neurodivergence, I also deal with connective tissue disorders, which are common companions to many neurodivergent people. And these physical differences, like our neurological ones, aren't obvious on the surface, making them difficult for others to recognize, understand, and even believe. And science is beginning to uncover the links between neurodivergence and connective tissue disorders. And this makes sense given the integral relationships between our brains and the rest of our bodies. For instance, while some people experience stress as physical tightness, others experience anxiety as tangible pain. And I'm currently in the planning phase of a research project that explores the intersection between neurodivergence and connective tissue disorders in collaboration with the UK's leading researcher in this field. And language plays a crucial role in shaping perceptions. So the way in which we talk about neurodivergence truly matters. And I prefer neurodivergence over neurodivermental disorders because they are not disorders at all, but rather variations in how we perceive, process, and interact with the world around us. And let's talk about autism, often described as autism spectrum disorder or condition. These terms unfortunately carry a negative connotation. And I consistently use autism instead. In Japanese, autism is termed jihesho, which directly translates to self-closed disorder. However, autism derives from the Greek word autos, meaning self with ism. The term autism in English doesn't suggest the notion of being self-closed unlike the Japanese interpretation. So to combat stigma, I advocate for the use of autism in katakana in Japanese. And there is ADHD or attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or is it? We don't have deficit of attention, but we tend to pay attention to so many things at once that focusing on what's expected becomes a challenge. And it might be more aptly named attention dispersion, hyperactivity difference. And this conversation extends beyond just these examples. Diagnostic manuals describe autism as having persistent deficits in social communication and interaction. Yet, these aren't deficits or impairments, but simply differences. Why? Because communication is a two-way process, so autistic people may struggle with communicating with non-autistic people, but in the same way, non-autistic people struggle with communicating with autistic people. And the research has proven that the difficulty in communication exists in the interaction between the different neurotypes. And consider how ADHD children are often described as exhibiting program behaviors. But are these behaviors truly problematic? And if so, for whom? They may pose challenges for educators or clinicians. When we can stay seated, they dream some lessons or forget daily tasks. Labeling these behaviors as problems is based on societal constructs of what's considered normal, desirable, intelligent, or capable. So this constitutes ableism. And ableism against neurodivergent people often leads to stigmatization. So pathologizing neurodivergence is problematic, but it's equally important not to mistake the depathologization of neurodivergence for an underestimation of its impact. I view neurodivergence as both a difference and a disability. It's essential to recognize and not to underplay the genuine daily obstacles neurodivergent people face. So saying everybody is a bit autistic or a bit ADHD is misleading. Neurodivergence is not a trait that exists on a continuum of more or less. One is either neurodivergent or neuromajority. And existing certain characteristics does not necessarily mean one is neurodivergent. The time gray zone used in Japan to refer to those on the Gospel meeting diagnostic criteria is unhelpful. Being neurodivergent entails facing considerable challenges. So equating neurodivergent traits with being slightly neurodivergent or in a gray zone diminishes the reality of neurodivergent people. Now allow me to talk about neurodivergent brains from an insider's perspective. Reflecting on my past, I didn't always grasp how I differed from those around me, even though others around me did. And as a child, I was content spending time with my mom and our dog sky. Shopping trips with my mom often ended with me complaining of tiredness. Everything had frustrated. It's only how it's only now we both understand the shared exhaustion I felt, a stark contrast to others. Then there was ballet, my happy place. I made some good friends there. I was always told if only your feet were stronger. I didn't know that back then that my tendency to get injured is because I'm hypermobile. And I really liked being in the water. As I get into the pool, I spent a long time there. My favorite thing though was not swimming, but spinning around in my floating rink, creating ripples and waves. Train rides to my grandma's house came with reminders for my mom not to stare too intently at people. A habit I still catch myself doing I'm not careful. In school, I just couldn't read the books they assigned. Teachers kept telling me, don't be lazy. I tried harder and I ended up thinking I was stupid. Reading still struggled for me unless I have audio or read out loud. Whenever I try to read and can't, it's like my brain starts to itch. I was always forgetting to bring something for school so I made a decision to just leave all my textbooks and everything school related at school. In school, teachers often told me to be more careful as I tended to make careless mistakes in exams. For instance, there was a time I had all the right answers for a test, but mistakenly aligned them one row off. And similarly, on multiple occasions, I managed to answer everything correctly, yet forgot to write my name on the papers, resulting in a score zero. In middle school, I realized how it was to make friends and ask my teacher to make friends. And once arriving at school, my peers were chatting with each other. And I was alone sitting and reading my favorite book series, Royal Ballet School Diary. You see, that book came with stickers and was about my interest. And when I started learning English in middle school, I realized I was good at it. And since then, languages became my strengths. In high school, I tended to be alone eating lunch with others while others formed groups. And I was always at the top of my ear group in English, but not in other subjects. Some teachers disliked me because I asked many questions and sometimes difficult questions they struggled to answer. I went off to university in Japan after high school, just like my peers. Living by myself brought my challenges into light. I had a hard time deciding what to buy at the grocery store, walking back and forth down the aisles, which made me look quite old. In my dorm, I found quite times to do my laundry, to avoid others. And I'd rush to press the elevator's close button to dodge meeting others. And like many other people, I got myself a driver's license, but I don't drive. Finding out how to stay in the middle of the road and figuring out the distance from the car might as well be a rocket science for me. I failed the driving test so many times that it became a running joke in the driving school. But I finally passed by memorizing the precise angles and timings needed for packing. Watching a two-hour training video for license renewal, absolutely out of the question. I was pacing the whole way hoping I wouldn't have to go back to what felt like a torture for me. I was harshly scolded by missing much of the training and went home in tears. Because I failed to do the no more yet again and really frustrated with myself. Academically, though, I was doing great, even topping my class and earning a scholarship. But after a year, I dropped out of the university. Walking around campus filled me with so much anxiety that towards the end, I couldn't even open the door to my classroom. My hands and legs felt numb with anxiety. And my mental health got so bad that I couldn't leave my bed or go to classes leading me to drop out. I needed changes. I transferred to Northeastern University in Boston. I excelled in psychology and math and struggled with accounting or business. You see, it's impossible for me to focus on things that don't grab my interest. It's extremely frustrating when I can't focus on things I'm expected to focus. My brain feels itchy when this happens. Before I started taking Stratilla, my ADHD medication, things like this threw me to meltdowns where I hit and scratched myself so hard, not knowing how to deal with my emotions or feelings. I ended up graduating from Northeastern University a year earlier than my peers. I got admitted to a graduate program in counseling psychology in Columbia University to be trained as a mental health counselor. The program I thought was best. But upon visiting the New York City, I could not imagine myself living in the overwhelmingly big city, so I decided to stay in Boston and went to Boston College. Halfway through, I learned that I was autistic. I got the diagnosis and I was on the edge of burnout from all the years of trying. I burst into tears in Dean's office and told her how I wished I could continue the program and to be a counselor. She gave me a choice to graduate with a research degree to pursue autism research instead of clinical practice. And similarly, halfway through my PhD at the University College London, I could not stay in London any longer. I felt too stressed out about everyday tasks and I could not focus on my research. I was allowed to continue to household my PhD from Japan, so why do I think I can do things like others now? After all, I always failed to do the normal and I now struggle to find jobs that fit my abilities without sacrificing my health like I did in the past. And these days, I walk from home with my tuition dollars. During Zoom calls, I often introduce them as my colleagues. I have a special connection with them. In January, I gave a talk here at OIST and I knew I'd be tired after an event like that. But I didn't recognize how tired I was until I had severe headaches and could not move but to take painkillers and a nap. I don't often recognize my emotions until physical symptoms or others point them out. Why? Alexymia. One of my mentees came up with this way of explaining Alexymia that really stuck with me. She said, it's like the feeling, emotions is similar to feeling the wind and whether we can actually feel it depends on if our windows are open or closed. So for most people, the windows are open and a gentle breeze doesn't go unnoticed. But for Alexymic people, it's like the windows are sealed off. And I then said, so what you're saying is only a full blown storm of intense emotions can shatter those windows making us finally recognize those emotions, correct? And we both just clicked on that point. Agreeing that was a perfect way to put it. Understanding this, I strived to know these patterns to preempt meltdowns and shutdowns. However, my tendency to forget past events complicates this effort. After my genuinely talk, I found myself dedicating 10 hours a day to analyzing survey responses from attendees, eager to grasp their feedback thoroughly. And this deep dive wasn't required of me. It was a choice driven by my all or nothing approach to understanding. Once I'm grossed in the task, redirecting my focus is almost painful explaining why shifting gears can be so time consuming for me. I like routine. In fact, when my routine is disrupted with unforeseen situations, I get so upset that my whole day gets ruined. At the same time, I feel stuck with regulations and rules. I feel I can freeze and all my imaginations are gone. And perhaps this is why I feel more at ease abroad and why English as opposed to Japanese offers me a sense of ease. My intolerance for forceful and injustice fears my advocacy for neurodivergence and my decision to adopt veganism upon learning about realities of animal products. And this strong sense of right and wrong has sometimes put me at odds with others. So just like any other day, there might be some people who dislike me or what I say. But that's fine. I'm not here to please people. I'm just here to tell you the reality of what it's like to be someone like me. And the very reason why I shared with you a bit of my story is because I want neurodivergent people to be better understood. And many issues that neurodivergent people face stem from a lack of understanding and acceptance for mothers. Loneliness, unemployment, bullying, stigma, and negative experiences with health care are just a few examples. And one thing I want to emphasize about neurodivergent experiences is the dilemma between desires and reality. For many autistic adults, there is a balancing act between desire for social connections and the limited energy we have. From my PhD research, I've learned that avoiding social interactions isn't about unwillingness, but how draining they can be and how taxing daily tasks are. So this leads to what I call a paradoxical loneliness loop, akin to being in an escape room with no exit, no way out. So real life example, I've been invited to a lovely dinner tonight along with other keynote speakers at a really nice restaurant. But I had to decline the invitation. I do very much want to spend time with them. But I knew I'd be too exhausted by the end of the day for socializing. Does this mean autistic people like me are hopeless about social connection? No. My research also showed that learning to accept autistic differences can alleviate loneliness. And this has often achieved new connections with significant or similar others. And my research also showed that society too needs to adapt and show greater understanding and acceptance towards autistic adults. And this example of loneliness well illustrates the positive change requires effort from both neurodivergent people and the neuromajority. But society often expects neurodivergent people to show us a responsibility for managing our challenges. So today, I'd like to shift that narrative and discuss what the neuromajority can actively contribute to bridging this understanding gap. Now, this isn't about me saying, do this or do that, because I'm no better than you. And I appreciate neuromajority allies like you. And the advice I'm about to offer is the same guidance I strive to follow every day. So over the years, I've identified five key actions to bridge the understanding gap between neurodivergent people and the neuromajority. So one, recognize that you don't know. What do you see on the outside? What are my CV shows? How do we give away my daily challenges? They don't tell you about the stories I shared with you today or how my Tourette's has me swallowing air to the point of 90 stomach pains or how right now I'm doing everything in my power not to let my tics show. The exterior doesn't share these parts of my life. Whether you're clinicians or researchers or any other professionals, if you're not neurodivergent yourself, you just don't know what it's like to be neurodivergent. So please don't pretend like you do. And two, take time to listen to us. Valuing our lived experiences as truth is crucial. It's common for neurodivergent people to be disbelieved by doctors because our physical symptoms don't always show up in tests. But why would we waste our time fabricating stories for the doctor's office? Our pain is real, even if it's invisible to scans. This disbelief often leads to a harmful cycle of self-doubt known as gas lightning. And especially for those of us with conditions like Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, EDS, and that's why I'm a big advocate for co-production in research and advocacy. And three, reflect the value of your work. To the professionals in the field of neurodivergence, is your work really worth doing? It's essential to align your efforts with the actual desires of neurodivergent people. Otherwise, what's the point? Well-intentioned projects can sometimes cause more harm than good. Take for example, the research aimed at identifying the genetic markers of autism. Many of us, myself included, petitioned against this because we feared it would lead to prenatal diagnosis aimed at preventing autistic birth, much like what happened with Down syndrome. This incinerates that lives like mine are somewhat less worthy. Unotionally, strongly disagree. We have struggles, but our challenges are juxtaposed with strengths. And four, accept neurodivergent people as they are. I don't have many friends, but I have my best friend, Kara, who accepts me for who I am. The four tones and left is from when we were in university. She might not get everything about me, but she's always been there supporting me. The photo on the right is from last year when she came to visit me in Okinawa. She wanted to see OIST where I did my talk, so we came here. Neurodivergent people like me need people like Kara who accept and support us. Five, act with good understanding. All the actions I've mentioned so far are, if people are aware of them, but don't put them into practice. After years in academia, I'm utterly tired of researchers making empty promises. It's not about grand gestures. It's about being a good Samaritan. Over the years, I've made connections with many autism researchers around the world, and it's puzzling to see researchers focused on employment in autistic people, yet seemingly indifferent to the employment struggles of autistic people within their own circle. Why is there such a disconnect? You will be remembered for your actions, not for your papers or your career titles. My plea isn't for personal favors, but for a call to action. Let's not overlook the needs right in front of us. So what were the key, five key actions to bridge the gap between neurodivergent people and neuromajority? To recognize that you don't know, to listen to the lived experiences, to reflect the value of your work, and to accept neurodivergent people as they are, and to act with good understanding. Now, if you are part of the neuromajority, you might wonder what neurodivergent people will do to bridge the understanding gap between you and us. Well, this is it, what I'm doing right now, sharing our experiences to make the invisible visible to you. And some advice for the fellow neurodivergent. From what I've gathered through my own experiences and research, getting to know yourself better is a crucial first step. And believe me, I'm still on that path of discovery every single day. And the next step, accepting who we are. And how do we do that? Well, it's about continuing to learn about ourselves and making connections with others just like you and me. And remember, you're not weird, not lazy, or not hopeless. And as a researcher, I have a big dream. To one day, lead my own research center that conduct meaningful neurodivergent research with neurodivergent people. You see, in Japan, there are plenty of neurodivergent research centers delving into neurodivergent, but none really approach it from neurodiversity perspective or co-produce research with neurodivergent people. My goal, to open doors for neurodivergent students, nurturing the next generations of scholars, it's all too common for neurodivergent talents to get overlooked because the world tends to judge us by surface level metrics like how many papers we've published. We need more time. Our daily struggles don't always allow for rapid academic output. And I've seen too many brilliant neurodivergent people leave their PhDs unfinished, often right on the cusp of completion, many of whom I reckon were more talented than I am. And I'm passionate about opening doors for neurodivergent people. To pursue their PhDs, should they choose this path? I felt that earning a PhD was essential for my voice to be taken seriously. And suddenly, I was right. Before my doctorate, I felt invisible. But once I embarked on this academic journey, suddenly people took an interest in what I had to say. I'm not saying that every neurodivergent person needs a PhD to be hard, but it can serve as a valuable asset for those aspiring to delve into research. And you might be interested to know that last year I applied to OIST's open faculty position and I was rejected. And I agree that my experiences might not have been enough for that position. But here's my point. People like me don't get opportunities, but we need chances to show what we can do. And to show our full potentials, we need the environment that work for us. It might include remote working accommodations or more understanding and acceptance of our differences. And I dream of a world where neurodivergent people are accepted for who we are, a world that acknowledges and believes in our challenges even when we appear capable on the outside. I dream of a place where neurodivergent people are provided with equitable opportunities to leverage our unique abilities in educational and professional settings. But all of my dreams are impossible with just my efforts alone. They require understanding, acceptance, and collaboration from others as well as opportunities. And research shows that we humans are incredibly forgetful creatures, losing 50% of what we hear within an hour, 90% within a week, which is quite amusing. So even though I've been talking for about 30 minutes now, most of you will probably forget almost everything I've said. And no matter how much we try to convey our thoughts or what stories we tell, in the end, nothing changes. This is something I find incredibly frustrating. As I mentioned earlier, if we don't put into practice what I've shared today, it will be all for nothing. Neurodivergence is invisible, and appearance can be deceiving. And we need better understanding and acceptance from others and collaboration and cooperation and opportunities to use our abilities in a society designed for the neuro-majority. Please don't forget this. The world thrives on the diversity of minds. Thank you, and get in touch, find out more. Here's my email. I'm at cannabality on Twitter slash X, and all links related to my work can be found on my link tree. And this includes links to my research, articles, and books where I've been featured. And I will take some time off after this keynote, but I'll be available for chat during the coffee and conversations time from 3.05 to 3.50. And I'm more than happy to talk with you. Thank you. Does anybody have any questions from this room? Thank you for the very inspiring talk. I appreciate it. I notice you don't use the term neurotypical. I'm assuming it's a harmful term. You could speak about that. Well, thank you for your question. I thought about using neurotypical, but I haven't used neurotypical for a long time. The reason is because the typical, the word typical means similar to normal. Maybe I'm incorrect because my English is my second language, but it feels typical, normal. It feels like you have some kind of normal socially constructed notion of that. So what I wanna tell from the word neuromajority is the neurodivergent people are just a minority, not even just social minority, but the minority. Like, LGBTQ people are the minority in the society, just like that, just the minority and the majority. So to tell that notion, to tell that thought, I use neuromajority instead. In my C-sister, I've used neuromajority. Oh, I think I could add one of my favorite professors, my mentors, I could say, Luke Bearden. Some of you might have heard of him. Luke Bearden, autism researcher, advocate, great man. He uses predominant neurotype to describe neurotypical. I think that's a good one too. Hello, and thank you for a wonderful presentation. I work at OIST, and I was, thank you for mentioning the fact that you've applied here before. And I think this is not to talk about the outcome of that. We all know there are many, many reasons why applications do or don't succeed, but either now or perhaps later, I'd be interested to know if you have any lessons you would like us to learn just about the application process from your point of view. So maybe if, either now or later, whichever works better for you. Well, thank you for that question. I think I can talk more about that later with you, but I think the application process was very common. Very common. I don't think it was any unusual and it was quite straightforward too. I know some people want to use this NIDO to ask questions. Hi, I wanted to start by saying thank you very much on a personal level. Some of what you described was very moving for me. It's a bit hard to put into words right now, but I just appreciate you taking the time to talk about your internal experience. And I wanted to ask as you have taken on a role that includes public speaking and advocacy and explaining, if you have had any challenges within your family or social background or other elements of your community where you felt there was pressure not to talk about what you've experienced. Thank you. Thank you for that question and also for your lovely feedback too. Well, in terms of public speaking, I don't get very anxious about talking about my experiences. I like talking about neurodivergence. I like talking about autism, ADHD, Tourette, everything. So talking about this topic to you in like this setting is actually really exciting opportunity for me. And it's actually very autistic. Some people ask me, why can you do the public talks like you do in front of a lot of people talking about these topics, but it's actually very autistic because I'm talking about what I'm interested and I'm talking to you. I'm not talking with you. So I'm just talking to you one way of communication. So that's no problem. But in terms of whether I felt any discomfort about sharing about my experiences, I think I'm getting better at expressing and sharing my experiences because I've been asked about my own experiences over the years. It first started by myself asking myself, who are you and what your experiences are and is it autism, is it ADHD? And then asked by psychologists, many people in academia as well. But I could say that one of the major influences in my life so far has been Daniel Tammett. Kaori-san in the introduction mentioned him. He wrote a book called Nine Minds and I've been featured in that book alongside with Dan Aykroyd and other notable figures and not notable figures like me as well. He asked me so many questions about my experiences and so I thought about my own experiences reflected on my experiences a lot and that really helped me to not feel discomfort, to talk about my experiences and also he somehow made me feel and he actually explicitly said that your brain is interesting, your brain is special and that made me feel like really valued, my life is valuable. So I said that in the acknowledgement in my PhD thesis as well. Thank you, Dr. Kana Grace. Really enjoyed your talk. This is just an observation and a reflection from what I'm hearing in your story. So I think what it throws out is that there's a sheer limitation of language and experience sharing. I think there is a vocabulary that perhaps we need to develop. I hear people always talking about neurodivergent people as different and for me when you say difference certain connotations come into my mind because of certain types of academic training but I really don't understand what that difference entail until I hear stories like yours. But then when I hear stories like yours the truth is I cannot experience what you are telling us other than understanding those words in which you're expressing your experience. I hear the contradictory reflexes, on the one hand I want to focus on the other hand I'm focusing on too many things. That sort of thing and that is not my reality. So no matter how empathetic I am in trying to understand that there is a difference in what you're experiencing and what I'm experiencing and I'm hearing your story but I truthfully cannot experience that because your reality is not mine. So there is a logic that we have to challenge because what you said about getting a PhD and suddenly everybody listens tells you something about a legitimacy that is granted to certain individuals because they earn the right to certain platforms as defined by some party. And that is the dominant logic that I think difference is always banging their heads against. So I think, I mean I don't really have a question I'm just saying that I think there is some kind of challenge to that logic to that dominance by developing a vocabulary and a way of sharing that experience that makes it for one of a better word more real for the rest of us who cannot experience it. I don't know how to break that barrier but I know as a linguist that language has a lot to do with it power has got a lot to do with it. And I commend you for your bravery in fighting this battle. I know that you are not alone. Oh, thank you so much for your feedback and I really appreciate here and we appreciate your comments. I think it's really interesting to think about developing new vocabulary to express, to tell and communicate our experiences. I don't know what words would be the best either. I don't have the right answers but I guess people use different ways of communicating. So not just language but some people use arts. Many autistic people don't use spoken words but use some devices to communicate or I lost the word sign languages, sign languages to communicate. And I'm actually really attracted to sign languages and dance. So I like dancing ballet. Of course since the age of three I've been dancing classical ballet but I also like hula dance because I've learned that from my mom. She's been doing that for a very long time but I like hula because it shows the motion. It has meaning behind the dance and the sign language too. It shows the motion much better than just the language. So I wonder if developing vocabulary would be really good but maybe we can use many different tools as well because we have all these bodies parts. Yes and I really appreciate you are trying to understand my experiences and I totally understand that you can't understand my experiences and you can only understand my words. So I'm trying my very best to choose the words. That's why I'm really emphasizing on the importance of language as well here and anywhere like every time I speak I emphasize on the importance of language because when we say it's a disorder it automatically says it's a negative thing but it's a difference. It's very different. Yes, that'd be my answer.