Hello, I’m Shelley Tremain and I’d like to welcome you to the one hundred and sixth installment of Dialogues on Disability, the series of interviews that I’m conducting with disabled philosophers and post to BIOPOLITICAL PHILOSOPHY on the third Wednesday of each month. The series is designed to provide a public venue for discussion with disabled philosophers about a range of topics, including their philosophical work on disability; the place of philosophy of disability vis-à-vis the discipline and profession; their experiences of institutional discrimination and exclusion, as well as personal and structural gaslighting in philosophy in particular and in academia more generally; resistance to ableism, racism, sexism, and other apparatuses of power; accessibility; and anti-oppressive pedagogy.

The land on which on which I sit to conduct these interviews is the traditional ancestral territory of the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabeg nations. The territory was the subject of the Dish with One Spoon Wampum Belt Covenant, an agreement between the Iroquois Confederacy and the Ojibwe and allied nations around the Great Lakes. As a settler, I offer these interviews with respect for and in solidarity with Indigenous peoples of so-called Canada and other settler states who, for thousands of years, have held sacred the land, water, air, and sky, as well as their inhabitants, and who, for centuries, have struggled to protect them from the ravages and degradation of colonization and expropriation.

My guest today is Mylène Legault. Mylène is completing a Ph.D in philosophy at Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM) under two program tracks: Feminist Studies and Cognitive Sciences. She produces the webcomic Lily Spectrum to expose the real day-to-day life of autistic people and is co-author of “Mental Architecture–Computational Models of Mind,” “From Neurodiversity to Neurodivergence By Way of Epistemic Marginalization,” and “Neurocognitive Variety in Neurotypical Environments: The Source of “Deficit” in Autism.” In her not-so-free time, Mylène loves to be surrounded by her cats and parrots (and her partner, family and friends too, of course).

[Description of the image below: a drawing from the webcomic Lily Spectrum, who has white skin, brown hair, is wearing big noise-canceling headphones, is dressed in purple, and is seated, petting her brown cat with her left hand and, with her right hand, is holding a book that bears the symbol often associated with neurodiversity (a rainbow coloured infinity symbol). The background of the shot is purple.]

Welcome to Dialogues on Disability, Mylène! You began your university work as a psychology major. Please describe your journey from psychology to philosophy.

Human cognition has always intrigued me, probably because I have always found it difficult to understand other people intuitively. I did not need to go very far to explore a “fantasy” world. The choice was almost too easy. But when I came across the heavy-handed neuronormativity of psychology—”here’s the typical development; too bad if you don’t fit the mold!”—I took refuge in philosophy, which I perceive to be a domain that welcomes questions and even thrives on them. My first question was: “Why did people put me in the last chapter of all the manuals, that is, as one of “the exceptions,” as one of “the abnormal”? When you open a certain type of textbook—say, a psychology textbook—the first chapters of the book usually present the typical model of human cognition. It is only at the very end of the book, in the final chapters, that exceptions/deviations/deficits to this model of cognition are presented.

It was a bit naive, for many obstacles still paved the way. While one part of the history of philosophy has forgotten about women in philosophy, another part tells how “man is a social animal” (Aristotle), that “what makes beasts not speak like us is that they have no thought and not that their organs are lacking” (Descartes). I must be stupid or perhaps a beast, or a “monster,” as Preciado puts it. That is what philosophy first taught me about myself. “It’s just old stuff,” my colleagues repeated to reassure me. Echoes of judgments such as “cold,” “snobbish,” “weird,” “indifferent to others,” “do what everyone else does,” “force yourself,” and “what medication do you take for your autism?” still reverberate through the corridors today, underscoring the enduring challenges faced by those who deviate from conventional expectations.

I realized that there are not really any places to hide in the academic world. This realization has shaped my publications and conditions my dissertation project which is co-supervised by Amandine Catala and Pierre Poirier. The dissertation focuses on the plurality of cognitive profiles and aims to de-essentialize philosophical conceptions of cognitive processes through a neurofeminist approach to autism and neurodiversity.

Why are autistic people given electric shocks? What justification do we have for coercively enforcing eye contact through intensive therapy and forbidding natural gestures like flapping at all costs? What has been happening? What is still happening? And, above all, how can we put an end to it once and for all? These questions were my initial motivations to study philosophy in the way that I do. They continue to motivate me.

As you have now noted, Mylène, your dissertation aims to de-essentialize philosophical notions about cognitive processes, doing so through a neurofeminist approach to autism and neurodiversity. Please explain your dissertation project. How do philosophical conceptions of cognition essentialize it? What do you think an anti-essentialist feminist approach to cognition should look like?

Taking the example of “developmental disorder,” it is only because a prototypical development has been established that we can conceive of profiles that deviate from this prototype; a developmental disorder is not simply a different development, it is a “disorder”. Now, my main premise is rather simple, it is the principle of neurodiversity: in coherence with biodiversity, it would be very surprising if the principle of natural variation had stopped just before human cognition came about!

The problem is that this premise, although increasingly present in social discourse today, is still hard to find in models of human cognition. One of my wishes would be for textbooks to move from human cognition to human cognitions—that is, cognitions plural. So, it was important for me not to isolate myself in the realm of exceptions (in psychiatry, for example), but instead to explore the starting point where the claim to establish a singular model originates.

The reasoning is quite simple in itself. By modifying the classic model of what we call “human cognition,” we also shift what we understand by “cognitive deficit” or “cognitive disability.” It is worth noting here that although neuroscience is increasingly proposing different ways of understanding human cognition, there is obviously a gap between the progress of these models and their repercussions on the understanding of “cognitive disorders.”

I am particularly interested in recent so-called 4E approaches to human cognition that integrate actions at the heart of cognitive processes (enactive), which require a body (embodiment) situated in physical, social and cultural environments (“situatedness/embeddedness”) with artifacts (extendedness). One of the implications is that different types of environments can support or constrain different cognitive profiles. It is here that social issues come into play most strongly.

Recent explanatory models for autism have traditionally been based on an essentialist conception of human cognition put forward by evolutionary psychology, according to which the cognition of autistic people is lacking because of the dominant role played by a masculinizing module. Feminist critiques of science have already offered this tipping point between the quest for an absolute science (an absolute and definitive model of cognition here) and the plurality of perspectives. I therefore opt for feminist epistemologies to highlight the epistemic and social oppression embedded in models of human cognition, manifesting as neuronormativity.

So, I am interested in the plurality of cognitive profiles (the neurodiversity part), in the exclusion of some by culture (the neuronormativity part), as well as in strategies for resistance (the militant part) and inclusion (the social part). More precisely, I am working on the real integration of the concept of neurodiversity in cognitive sciences, using the example of autism, which is my standpoint.

This type of deconstruction is very similar to neurofeminist work, which is as much a feminist critique of neuroscience (adopting the precepts of feminist epistemologies) as it is an attempt to use certain data or theories from neuroscience to found or justify feminist theses, notably on the nature of gender or gender differences. The major impact of neurofeminism is still in its treatment of gender, but other issues are emerging where neuroscience and feminism are collaborating (female genital mutilation and drug use, to name two).

I believe that neurofeminism can also contribute to another vexing set of issues which, like gender, has both a neurological and a normative, social, and activist dimension: how (1) we understand the nature of functionally diverse neurocognitive profiles, giving the people who possess them a different set of cognitive, social, and emotional strengths and weaknesses than the majority of the population; and how (2) these people are treated, i.e., their social exclusion, in addition to their epistemic and hermeneutic exclusion.

Just as the concept and distinction of sex/gender have been detached from biological essentialism, I propose that human cognitions emerge from a network of reciprocal relations between brain, body, and society/culture, thus rejecting cognitive essentialism and opening up a range of differentiated cognitive portraits. On this account of cognition, priority is given to the population marginalized by their neurocognitive profile. On this account, that is, there is a self-reflexive desire for the research to positively serve the real needs of neuromarginalized people.

What forms of resistance/misunderstandings/encouragement/support for your claims and the project overall do you expect to receive from within feminist philosophy and from nondisabled feminist philosophers, especially feminist philosophers of mind and cognitive science?

This is something that surprised me! Before entering more specifically into the field of “disability” at the academic level, I found a lot of comfort in feminist studies. At UQAM, we can combine a concentration in feminist studies with our philosophy courses. It is a way for we feminists to have moments when we are outside classrooms crowded with cis men in their little button-down shirts (probably ironed by their mothers) who monopolize and direct every single discussion, making links, if possible, with the only author that they master (Marx or Nietzsche, in most cases). Feminist studies was invaluable for persisting through the sexism of the academic world.

Despite the inclusion of discussions on intersectionality, something was still off. Back then, less feminine traits were seen as reproductions of the dominant class. Although this claim itself deserves considerable deconstruction, expected gendered behaviours are sometimes less well internalized by autistic people (beyond camouflage). I was a masculine person. Worse, I was weird. The absence of eye contact, for example, is often interpreted as a lack of interest or sincerity. Worse, I found it very hard to get into the more intimate of events.

After realizing that we can talk about real things in philosophy and that people do not hit you with a shovel if you dare to speak intellectually about your standpoint (only later did I find out about the discrediting hits), I officially took the plunge by rallying more specifically to my reality. It will also give me the opportunity to be better equipped to explain my issues. That is when I discovered that communication did not depend solely on my epistemic tools; feminist studies are not covert from allistic (non-autistic) fragility.

Let me come back to neurofeminism in more detail. Although very useful for my research, it was also a disappointment on this side that prompted me to persist. I do not think that I am telling you anything new when I say that autism was first falsely associated with little boys. They used to say that for every one autistic girl that there are four autistic boys.

This discourse has now been deconstructed, highlighting among other things that traits presented in a feminine way were simply not considered as masculine prototypes. An interesting point, however, is that Simon Baron-Cohen, one of the most highly cited figures on autism and source of most of the tests used in the diagnostic process, has based his explanatory model of autism on the idea that the autistic brain is “extremely male” and therefore more systematic and even less empathetic than the average male. There is a lot of deconstruction to do here, from the association man=systematic vs woman=empathic, to the fact that autism is officially associated with a lack of empathy. But let’s continue!

A landmark book for me was Gender Mosaic: Beyond the Myth of the Male and Female Brain by Daphna Joel, where Joel underlines her disagreement with Baron-Cohen. Rather than talking about sexual dimorphism, she proposes a mosaic of traits within a single individual.

Joel faced criticism that her model failed to account for the differing prevalence of autism in men and depression in women. Rather than persist with her deconstruction, she makes sense of this prevalence by mentioning that although the bulk of brain types is intersex (mosaics of traits), very rare types can be identified that possess characteristics found more frequently in males (autism) or more frequently in females (depression).

I was very disappointed by this shift. Although Joel continues to reject the idea of typical male and female brains, she does not reject the extreme male brain theory for autism. I always wondered why she did not take the additional step. It may be an argumentative strategy to secure some credibility for new theories as they remain consistent with other theories, even though they too are fraught with oppression. Still, I wish that I had not been thrown out with the bath water! In short, I realized at the time that neurofeminism had its limits and that we still had work to do!

Mylène, despite the institutional success that you have had with respect to scholarships and other accolades, you have nevertheless encountered considerable refusal within academia to recognize neurodiversity. Please provide our readers and listeners with an account of these experiences.

I have received some excellent news on my journey: I was awarded the Vanier scholarship, the largest scholarship that I could have hoped to receive. Although I did not take the expected path, my accomplishments were applauded. I thought, with a breath of hope, that there might finally be a place for me. What better proof could I have that my own way of doing things was right for me and that they would trust me with the next steps? While my academic file got some recognition, it did not come with a real appreciation of the realities of navigating academia as a neuromarginalized person. I am still forced to conform to a model that does not resemble me, either in its form or its temporality, a model that prevents me from offering what I would like to offer and could offer.

 I have completed my coursework, but I still have to finish the dissertation. It takes time. “Ph.D. students should dedicate full-time to their studies,” they say. They don’t understand that it is not all about “dedication;” it is also about “privilege.” It sure would make it more do-able if we could write while not in survival mode. I long to cease defending my place and to genuinely feel that I belong in philosophy and academia. I yearn for the right to write an article like my colleagues do, an article devoid of the ritualistic segments in which I must first justify my existence and then reassure neurotypical fragility by insisting that everything will be fine, that it is “structural,” that there is a “micro” before “aggression.”

I would like to stop defending my place and finally feel that I really belong in philosophy and in academia. But deep down, I know that this defense will not, in the end, be my dissertation “defense,” but rather will be a defense of my place.

Tell us about the contexts and relationships in which you have found recognition and joy at your university and in your department.

Fortunately, beauty emerges through the fissures, in the resistances that defy the neuroableist constraints of academia. Others, like me, have learned to walk through university with their heads down, but magic happens in unity. For instance, Amandine Catala’s Canada Research Chair on Epistemic Injustice and Agency has proved to be quite the fertile ground! There, I can combine my research interests and, accordingly, my two Ph.D. tracks: feminist studies and cognitive sciences. So has Vero Leduc’s Canada Research Chair on Cultural Citizenship of Deaf People and Cultural Equity Practices!

I have cultivated these connections, multiplying these “togethers,” within the confines of academia—as exemplified by the Autistic Collective of UQAM—as well beyond, through the webcomic that I produce about being autistic in a neuronormative world: Lily Spectrum.

Initially, the webcomic was a way in which to vent and laugh about the strange autism awareness campaigns that take place in April of each year. But when Lily Spectrum went online, it received a huge outpouring of love: for instance, parents of autistic children had the comics printed to show their teachers as an explanatory tool. Magic happens in community.

Mylène, how would you like to end this interview? Would you like to add anything to your previous remarks or address something that we haven’t discussed in this interview? Would you like to recommend some resources such as articles, books, or videos with respect to any of the topics that you have discussed throughout this interview?

Obviously, I know my own story, so it should be easy to tell, right? Yet, when we commit our existence to paper, we are taught to sweep under the rug all the disappointments and failures that have shaped us, so my Curriculum really has nothing Vitae. Few people like me really share their story; and I have not learned the art of doing so. So I would like to end by thanking you, Shelley, for setting out different realities through Dialogues on Disability; it encourages us to persist in our resistance. We are not alone.

I would also like to take a moment to openly thank you for persisting despite my somewhat chaotic personal situation. We don’t normally talk too much about chaos, especially not when it is personal. I think people make the association with weakness, a lack of control, an overreach, which would indicate an inability to hold important responsibilities, which is therefore impossible with an advanced position.

But real life isn’t like that. This year, I lost my mother suddenly, to cardiac arrest in her sleep, just like that, without ever having received a warning sign. I hate surprises in general; I need my environment to be stable to be functional. With the snap of a finger, I lost a pillar in my life. I did not have a “How to Lose Your Mother in Your Early Thirties in 10 Easy Steps” guide near me.

It was my stepfather, who found her. There was no turning back, as his health took a rapid dive from then on. I delayed each of my answers, as new and disappointing information came from numerous doctors. We are talking about a neurodegenerative disease. There isn’t a guide on “How to Maintain Your Academic Plans While Suddenly Becoming a Caregiver” either. I completed this interview sitting in a chair while he dozed in his hospital bed. With each sentence, a beep sounded. Strangely enough, I did not talk about any of this situation in the interview. Even though it’s what I am all about, it’s not what people are talking about.

I will end the lovely way that Victoria Pitts-Taylor concludes her book The Brain’s Body : Neuroscience and Corporeal Politics: “Biological stories about human (and nonhuman animal) experience do harm when they deny the complexity, specificity, and multiplicity of lives.”

Mylène, thank you for taking the time to complete this fascinating interview, especially given recent and current events in your life. I’m sure that readers and listeners of this interview will regard your remarks as a gift.

Readers/listeners are invited to use the Comments section below to respond to Mylène Legault’s remarks, ask questions, and so on. Comments will be moderated. As always, although signed comments are preferred, anonymous comments may be permitted.

The entire Dialogues on Disability series is archived on BIOPOLITICAL PHILOSOPHY here.

From April 2015 to May 2021, I coordinated, edited, and produced the Dialogues on Disability series without any institutional or other financial support. A Patreon account now supports the series, enabling me to continue to create it. You can add your support for these vital interviews with disabled philosophers at the Dialogues on Disability Patreon account page here.

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Please join me here again on Wednesday, February 21, 2024, for the 107th installment of the Dialogues on Disability series and, indeed, on every third Wednesday of the months ahead. I have a fabulous line-up of interviews planned. If you would like to nominate someone to be interviewed (self-nominations are welcomed), please feel free to write me at s.tremain@yahoo.ca. I prioritize diversity with respect to disability, class, race, gender, institutional status, nationality, culture, age, and sexuality in my selection of interviewees and my scheduling of interviews.