The other week I spent all day in person at a last minute workshop in London and then noticed the weight of the work as I tackled bouts of anxiety about stepping into spaces with anyone online the next day. Being diagnosed as autistic has meant I’m no longer capable of ignoring the signals from my brain and body when I’m struggling, which is great in the long term but short-term it can often leave my questioning how to proceed. So I’ve also been trying to notice where I draw my energy from and value what goes into preparing myself for continuing my work as a facilitator. I thought I’d share some of my experiences of being an autistic facilitator in the hope that it might demonstrate both the magic and the hard work that this combination entails, and support other autistic facilitators and those who work with us to put in place things that make it more possible for us to do this work.
Hierarchy blindness
One of the double-edged swords of autism within this work is our tendency towards hierarchy blindness. Part of why I excelled as a facilitator in my early work was because the ‘status’ or ‘job title’ of someone didn’t effect how I treated them. I naturally made space for everyone to talk and engage, and would have an equal expectation of mutual respect and vulnerability from those who were considered ‘superior’. Over the years though I have had to learn to manage my tendency to call out and confront unequal power dynamics due to the way that is then experienced by individuals within a group and the knock on effects that can have after I’ve gone. This has led me to go deeper into my reflective practice and implement structures and microstructures that can support inclusion and shared accountability. However, knowing I’m both inherently dismissive of hierarchies while having simultaneously having developed a deep knowledge of power dynamics, has often become draining because I can end up analysing my perceptions of others and their perceptions of me at a mile a minute. It can take a lot out of me to prepare well, be present and process afterwards - often requiring multiple other people to hold space for me to process and integrate what I’ve learnt.
That said I’m appreciative of the fact that my brain naturally needs to process dynamics to this extent. I think anyone holding and trying to disrupt power dynamics needs quite a lot of supervision to continuously get this right and do better, and it’s partly why I’ve started offering 1-2-1 support sessions for people who hold space for others. But when the skill of holding space is undervalued there’s very few clients who will cover the time that facilitators actually need to fully process and integrate what the complexities of what they are holding when it comes to power.
Conscious vs subconcious processing
One theory I have about why autistic people are less likely to take hierarchy as a given, and also more likely to be gender-questioning etc, is because of the differences in how we process information. I believe that a lot of the information and societal norms that are taken as a given by neurotypical people is being processed within their subconcious, whereas autistic people are often having to process these rules and expectations with our conscious minds every time we are met with them.
This can be great within a facilitation context because it means we are more likely to notice and question subtle patterns that a group might assume to be ‘common sense’, and unearth things that might’ve gone unattended to. But it also means that I can also sometimes miss things or get confused by things that I really wish my brain would process as ‘common sense’. For example I often can’t read new people’s facial expressions because my brain takes time to learn each individuals unique patterns. Previously this would make me overwhelmed and anxious when facilitating new groups, but now I have learnt to let people know this and to make more explicit moments for people to vocalise, write or draw how they feeling during a session.
Transitions
Looking back I now realise that one of the reasons I became a facilitator was to provide myself structure with transitioning into a different space, and to have some control over the flow of a conversation. While many people move through the world finding it easy to go from walking down the street to being in a busy room of chatter, this sort of transition is highly overwhelming for many neurodivergent people. What’s more is that it’s quite common for autistic people to need scripts in order to engage in certain conversations. If I’m entering an unheld space I will often rehearse a million different conversations and flows so that I can feel safe enough to speak. The pace of conversation is also often a challenge for me, because by the time my thoughts have solidified and I’ve worked out how to translate them into words, the discussion has often moved on.
Due to my own experiences as a participant, I try to implement structures into how I facilitate in order to accommodate differences in processing speeds. A simple check-in at the start can help people fully transition into the space - but I’ll often go further and invite people to do a drawing exercise or somatic activity to allow space for their bodies to catch up with their brains or vice versa. Consistently making space for solo reflection throughout a session is also important for both the participants and me as a facilitator - the quietness in a room allows me to prepare myself fully for when people start exchanging their ideas and thoughts. And I’m learning that regardless of the ‘intensity’ of a workshop I simply cannot jump straight into another conversation or piece of work right afterwards unless I want to risk a meltdown. Knowing this occurs for me when transitioning out of a space has been helpful to ensure I encourage participants to take the time that they need after a session also.
Interoception
It is common for autistic people to struggle with what is called ‘interoception’- the ability to detect and interpret signals from inside the body. On a basic level this means I can often not realise I need to go to the toilet or that I’m thirsty. Knowing this about myself means that I make explicit time and invitations for others to pay attention to their needs as well. But on a more complex level it can mean I often don’t fully understand the feelings I am having in response to an experience until after it has occurred.
Before I understood this about myself I’d feel a great sense of shame a few days after a session if I hadn’t told people how much I’d enjoyed my time with them, or if I’d not responded with enough care to a harmful interaction. But I think it’s partly why I invested so much into developing my understanding of repair processes and also in building my confidence to return to the things that may have been unsaid. Now I know that the moment isn’t all that matters, and that actually the time it takes for my brain to understand what my body has experienced means I can return to those I’ve facilitated with authentic and thoughtful feedback.
Co-facilitation
I’ve been really thriving from having co-facilitators to work with via the Holding Space Collective. When you facilitate alone you are multi-tasking constantly - you’re providing the structure and explaining the exercises, you are listening to people’s contributions and paying attention to the dynamics within the room, you’re also keeping an eye on the environment, time and energy levels, and making decisions about how to adapt to challenges that arise. Having someone else to share out the responsibility has made it possible for me to be more attentive to different layers of a workshop, and has felt more enjoyable because there is someone to work through challenges with. However, as an autistic person it is also a challenge for me to collaborate with others in such an intimate and continuous way so it took me a while to feel comfortable co-facilitating.
I’ve realised that there’s quite a few things that my team at the Holding Space Collective do which has massively helped my autistic brain. We agreed principles together before we facilitated anything - which helped me to understand our shared intentions. We also have a combination of flexibility and structure around how we design sessions, run them, and get paid for them. Shared workshop prep documents and learning journals help me to understand the flow and how things fit together, and give me something to ground myself in when brainstorming broader ideas with a co-facilitator. We also agreed that when we co-facilitate there is a set budget for the workshop but the co-facilitators could then negotiate using consent-based decision making around what level of responsibility they were taking and therefore what pay they expected to receive. We also have reflective sessions with a wider group of us after each workshop which allows us to raise things we want to do more of and things we want to change. This structure has enabled me to notice and name when I’m struggling to work out my role or need more support from the team.
It was actually the existence of the Holding Space collective that kept me going through my bout of anxiety after being burnt out from an intense in-person session. Previously I might have either dissappeared for a few weeks and questioned my ability to do this job, or tried to push through it to do my work and ended up mistakes in other spaces. But with the support from the collective I was able to process my experience and access supportive structures and rhythms that kept me grounded.
If you’re interested in building your own community of people to support you or want to work out what you need in facilitation then you can sign up to the waitlist for our next 9-month Holding Space for Change programme here.