This is Anonymus Minimus, and she is a dancer.
She will never become a world champion, but that is okay, because she doesn't dance for the competitions and the trophies. She dances because she loves the movement and the rythm and the music and the overall elation of the dance.
When she is dancing her arms are at her sides and her back is straight, she is high on her toes and she crosses her feet. She will never be a world champion, but that is okay.
Because this is Anonymus Minimus and she is a dancer.
This is Anonymus Minimus, and she is a dancer.
When
she isn't dancing she stays high on her toes and her hands and arms are always moving, flapping,
touching her hair, covering her ears. When she isn't dancing she is
rocking, reading, signing, humming strange songs to herself.
She doesn't speak much, but her life is filled with music and rythm.
This is Anonymus Minimus, and she is a dancer.
She is also the clumsiest person she knows. She drools and spills and falls and tumbles and can't guage the force she should use when picking things up. She has very little awareness of her own body, her own limbs. But this is okay, because the secret to knowing that you have a body is to forget that it limits you.
This is Anonymus Minimus, and she is autistic.
Somewhere along the line, Anonymus Minimus grows up.
She becomes an adult, a scientist, an activist, an advocate, an educator.
She grows up and becomes an author, an engineer, a mathematician, a physicist.
She grows up and becomes an artist, a musician, a baker and a cook.
She grows up and becomes Anonymus Maximus.
And above it all, she is a dancer.
This is Anonymus Maximus, and she is a dancer.
This is Anonymus Maximus, and she is Autistic.
Autistic people are dancers.
We move to the music and rythm of our lives.
Autistic people are dancers.
We may not move like you do.
But we are dancers.
