The Munsters and The Addams: The Best Models for Parental Acceptance

It would be surprising to some (but definitely not to everyone) to know that some of the most ableist, infantilizing, and "a voice for the voiceless" whines, comparable with vaccine-fear-mongering people, who publicly despise and medicalize any autistic traits, searching for "the cure", as well as the systematic and unempathetic social worker who equally views any form of neurodivergence as criminal, rather than environmentally encouraged, would sometimes include mothers. Specifically white allist ones who make usernames like "AuspieMom", "Mother2High/Lowfunctioning", "PuzzlePieceMom" and center their own "parental hardship" over participating in political autism advocacy (BIG WET FART NOISE)!

And of course, there are parents (they themselves, autistic or not) who are genuinely online to find resources or tips from autistic therapists, educators, and online creators, that can help them better understand their child's support needs from autistic adults - I am not complaining about them. Rather, it's the ones usually self-proclaimed platformists, who feel the need to publicly infantilize their children by posting their most private moments in a way to garner empathy from strangers. It's the ones who harass autistic adults online, critiquing their use of first-person language, their honesty about their experiences with ABA, and using their child's un-consenting perspective (sometimes, disgustingly claiming that they "think" and "speak" for them) as a means to assert dominance over someone else's story. It's the ones who are likely to still be fans of SIA.

But forget them, literally.

Wipe their existence clean out of your now, freshened mind. And ask yourself, "What does actual parental acceptance look like?" and "What can a family be, if the adult or adults weren't preoccupied with curing, but embracing?" Allow yourself to imagine them. Create the lore of your perfect guardians and allow their unlived memories to warm your delight. Notice how their unique understanding of you rolls around your body. How good it feels.

Sometimes it takes sitting with yourself, making up stories about the people who you wish loved you, in order to really see the requirements of your own heart; a great way to practice this is by collecting some cinematic relatives. Two families, in particular, come straight to mind and I encourage you to use them as examples:

The Munsters (1964) is a family of monsters living in mid-century and boring suburbia. The parents include Frankenstein's monster, a half-werewolf-half vampire child, an undead vampiric princess, her father and child's grandfather, Count Dracula, along with their human niece, who carries the "odd one out" role with cheery acceptance. Relishing her connection to the outside world, while tenderly tending to her proximity to monsters and the Munster blood flowing in her. No doubt benefitting from the freedom she herself has amongst four other monsters, authentically celebrating the differing manifestations of their Munster lineage instead of the rigid laws of suburbia; power is something never compromised in their house. There is no great monster battle between Dracula and Frankenstein's creation (though historically everyone present would be deemed a worthy opponent of the other) - they are a family who loves difference. A family that sees personal integrity as a chance to complement the whole. As a chance to destroy the idea that there has to be one lone and monolithic monster, ruling the Munster family tree.

The Addams Family (1964) is similar to The Munsters (a spooky family living in a painfully un-spooky neighborhood) but there is one major twist: The Addams are just humans, surrounding themselves and their home with the macabre. Just people searching for gothic wonder, daring, and exploding exploration. Something I've always loved about the Addams is their loosity surrounding whom or what they consider family: Morticia's poisonous garden, filled with thorny steams, hemlock, henbane, and her carnivorous plant, Cleopatra was literally my dream greenhouse growing up. The moving, detached hand, named Thing crawling all over the house. Wednesday's lion. Cousin IT, a literal moving mound of hair, all had a place in their home. Acceptance and respect, go far past the need to find a shroud of humanity. Diluting the ego with an object. Dissolving, fleshify, and conjuring new rules of who belongs with The Addams; a schtick-driven, wholesome-fueled coven.