In recent years, many autism-focused enterprises, primarily social but also for-profit, have been courageously demonstrating what still seems impossible today: the idea that all people can work according to their desires and abilities.

They call them "special kids"

Seeing images of these young men and women at work, I often hear them referred to as "special kids."  While it is intended as a compliment, over time this adjective has come to replace other words that seem inadequate or too "mortifying,". As a result, "special" begins to grate, taking on the same role as the outdated phrase "differently abled"—never mind that it is also scientifically inaccurate.

Every time we say “special”, we mean something else, distancing ourselves from these young people and continually imagining them as infants: fragile, small, in need of protection.

By saying “special”, we're implying that they need special contexts and someone who knows how to take care of them, widening the distance between us and them.

The adoption of inclusive language, or language that respects diversity, is increasingly becoming a topic of debate on various fronts. Some take a rigid stance, reprimanding anyone who fails to use phrases such as "disability with..." or the schwa, to avoid imposing a predominance of male and/or female gender. Others prioritise the content of words over their form, arguing that the function of language takes precedence over its appearance. Then there are those who strive to use words and expressions that are as neutral as possible, recognising the significance of language and what it represents.

I do not take a fixed position, but I've learned to evaluate the contexts in which words are used. This helps me to understand when it's worth using inclusive language and when it's more important to focus on the message itself.

In any case, the word "special", when associated with the world of disability and neurodivergence, has over time led to misunderstandings and misleading messages.

With the rallying cry,  "Let's make these special kids work!"

It is as if the issue of employment depends solely on the will of others, forgetting that work is a right for all, enshrined in Article 14 of the Italian Constitution:

"The Constitution recognises the right to work for all citizens... according to their possibilities and their choice."

The belief remains deeply rooted in us that work is a privilege for a few or for those people who can prove sufficiently capable of meeting the needs of companies and therefore dedicate themselves completely to the company's interests. In this distorted image of what it means to be a "professional," it is rarely considered that a person with a disability might have the same opportunities. Disability is viewed as a personal burden—something to be borne individually—and that will, in all respects, condition a person's life. As a result, the individual and their disability are seen as one, taking on an almost mythological form -half human, half limitation. The “disabled” person is thus associated with few employment opportunities, unsatisfying roles, or jobs that are misaligned with their desires and skills.

The Declaration of Rights of Persons with Disabilities clearly states that disability does not exist in isolation, but exists only in relation to the surrounding context. It is the context that disables, each time it excludes a person, and it does so in many ways. But the most serious form of exclusion is from thoughts and plans, leading us to forget, or believe it is not our responsibility, to consider the rights of those considered more vulnerable.

Registration under Law 68 and targeted placement have created more opportunities, albeit within a context of clear discrimination. However, the risk of this form of protection, where the law is formally observed, is that individuals with disabilities are selected based on the least “inconvenient” conditions. As a result, employers may prefer candidates who are “physically disabled, but not too severely; blind, but suitable for the switchboard; and definitely not autistic—preferably with Down’s syndrome.”

The autism-focused enterprises, mentioned earlier, are not simply work inclusion projects, but rather attempts at job placement that have two clear objectives: to create employment opportunities for those who would otherwise have none, and to affirm that autistic people are fully capable of working.

The first aim stems from the discrimination that  autistic people continue to face.A parliamentary question in 2021 states that the employment rate of people with this diagnosis is below 10%,significantly lower than the 47% employment rate among people with disabilities in general, and dramatically lower than the 72% for those without disabilities.

 This means that autistic people are discriminated against specifically because of their condition, and that the relational difficulties characteristic of their neurotype often obscure the ability to recognise the strengths that lie beyond those challenges. This dynamic is evident regardless of cognitive functioning.

Autism is not a disease, it's a different way of mental functioning; therefore, the difficulties or peculiarities of relationships persist, but this does not mean that people with this diagnosis are incapable of learning a profession.

Some typical characteristics of autism can be highly compatible with professional roles—provided that the effectiveness and efficiency of  these traits are recognised. For example, what is considered rigidity can turn into precision and accuracy, just as the fear of change can become the ability to endure and concentrate on repetitive work. Finally, the ability to respect rules and attention to detail can be applied to specific job tasks. Yet, many of these people do not succeed in job interviews because they are deemed to have  "they have too many relational problems," evaluated on stereotypes and behaviors read with ableist perspectives (keeping the body still, looking into the eyes, shaking hands...).

The level of exclusion is such that,  for many young men and women, the possibility of working is not even contemplated: they finish school, and the only possible trajectory is disability centres.

So "special" enterprises are born, which don't want to be special, that aspire to be like all other enterprises: a workplace.

"How much they've improved since they started working! Work works miracles! Better than the therapy done for so many years," we hear recounted.

Again, the weight of incorrect communication.

Work is not therapy, work does not make miracles!

Work makes all people feel good, both those with disabilities and those without, because among the many definitions that each of us seeks in ourselves, there is also the vision of oneself as a person who achieves results, who feels useful, perhaps as a professional.

This perspective is valid for everyone, even for those who don't excel in some tasks or socialise atypically.

It often happens that we hear about the super abilities of people with disabilities, who become interesting to public opinion when they emerge for gymnastic, artistic, or intellectual abilities: "despite everything, look how good they are", and thus sensationalism, ableism, and sensational news are reinforced.

In light of all this, one cannot help but ask: "But is work truly not for everyone?"

At the risk of sounding utopian, I firmly believe that work is for everyone, for those who excel and for those who get by, for those who work eight hours and for those who get tired after a short time, for those who work independently and for those who need aids or supports.

Our society needs everyone's contribution to the world of work, even if it's not yet clear to all. Those who have yet to understand it risk "disabling" others by closing doors and clinging to the belief that there are designated spaces specifically prepared to accommodate such diversity.

It's for this reason that, even if they are not inclusive projects, autism-focused enterprises are important:  they allow us to talk about work, to be able to demonstrate that it can be done, to insinuate even just the doubt that we are still unprepared to understand that diversity is not a form of weakness, but one of the many defining features of our societies.