The dystopia of a perfect society

While none of my closest relatives were directly influenced by the Holocaust (my paternal grandparents' families were already in the U.S. by 1932, raising them as small children) I nevertheless feel a deep connection towards those who suffered. Not only am I Jewish (technically 1/2 Jewish through my father's side, but I was able to have a Bat Mitzvah) I am also disabled in a way that mirrors the experiences mentally ill person. Being the latter truly makes me disturbed by the way they treated those who didn't fit in the "perfect specimen" box the Nazis strictly enforced.

Everybody knows the Nazis were terrible human beings, but seem to "pass by" the fact that the Nazis wanted everyone to fit a "certain box." The Jews themselves weren't passed over for being failures at life- in fact, they were deeply resentful of their success in the field of business, feeling that it negatively affected German success, which was why they were targeted most of all.

However, anyone labeled as "different" in a negative way (which meant anyone different) was targeted. Gays, blacks, Gypsys, and the like were all sent to gas chambers. Naturally, this included mentally ill/handicapped people, as to them, they were the "worst" kind of different- they acted in incomprehensible ways to the normal human mind.

I found an interesting series on Youtube today called "Autodale." Not only is it living proof that cartoons should never automatically be given the "For Children" label, but it also defies the idea that cartoons and animation are lowbrow entertainment. (The only other example I can think of of a serious cartoon is Persepolis, and even that had somewhat of a sense of humor.) The dynamics are so similar to Nazi Germany they're downright startling.

In Autodale, which looks like a 1950s utopian suburb but is really 1940s dystopian Germany, everyone is expected to look "pretty." Dads look like smart businessman, women look like charming housewives, children are all adorable and innocent. Of course, God help you if you are unemployed, disfigured, gay, over 60, mentally ill, or worst of all, exceptionally intelligent. You're pretty much fucked then- they murder you and dump your body into a ditch. In other words, you have to fit a certain, narrow mold to merely be able to live in this society.

Sometimes, I get concerned about my family being "pretty" like the people in the cartoon, which has only been elevated by the celebrity culture of the 2000s and 2010s, putting certain people on pedestals for looking the way "they" want them to, and rewarding people for emulating them. Of course, that means if you can't and/or don't want to fit a certain mold, you're shit out of luck. And as a college student whose autism was far more obvious than my fellow peers, I learned that lesson all too well.

You see, I had enormous difficulties in my first semesters in college- I was recovering from a terrible reading problem where I was not only reading incredibly slowly, but I couldn't handle hearing loud noises when I read- I could barely even hear myself think! Naturally, this led to horrible meltdowns in class, where everyone was "extremely loud and incredibly close." But did my adviser help me? Absolutely not.

You see, she had the idea in her head that autistic people were just "mildly" different at worst and that could fit in with only incredibly minor accommodations. She would give me grief, not only for serious offenses such as screaming, but for merely wincing in class. That's right- wincing. Not only was I not being bad on purpose, I was actually taking pains to stop negative behavior. But try telling her that.

My negative experiences at college not only took a toll on my mental health, but on my attitude. I would get upset and freak out over the "behavior" of lower-functioning kids and see them as stupid and annoying. After all, if I couldn't get help or sympathy for not fitting the mold society wants me to be in, why should they? Despite lectures from my parents that attacking people for being different, let alone vulnerable, is an inappropriate way to handle feelings, I downright refused to listen. Needless to say, my insecurity only encouraged my adviser, as she fed off of it like a evil demon: "Repeat after me, Jenny: I don't want people to think I'm weird."

Then one night, I couldn't take it anymore. I remembered what my mother had said about humanity can be awful, why does God allow terrible things to happen, blah blah blah and I lost it. I screamed "Stop raping me!" even though there was no one else in the room. So two girls came in and got concerned.

"It's a little late at night to talk to the counselor, but maybe we can get you someone at the hospital?" said the policeman. I was too stressed to care, so I said yes. Needless to say, I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into then. As it turned out, my adviser was indeed responsible for sending me to the hospital- she had a form written out saying if I acted up too much again, I had the psychward to look forward to.

While I did do some stupid/inappropriate things in college, like walk outside the dorms in only a pajama shirt for some soap, the way my adviser handled me and my issues was completely unacceptable. Downright criminal, even. She wouldn't have looked too out of place in Nazi Germany, where they persecuted mentally deficient people unless they were the "right kind" of mentally deficient. (which meant practically no one.) Thankfully, this awful story has a happy ending- the guidance counselor was kicked out in December 2018 for incompetence. Ding-dong, the witch is dead!

Look, for all the improvements I've made since being diagnosed in 2000, I'm not a normal person, and never will be. I talk to myself in public. I pace back and forth. I think Manimal is quality entertainment. As long as I play by the rules, all I ask of the world is to accept me for who I am. And in turn, I will never walk outside my dorm half-naked ever again.