So yesterday a friend posted a rant, and there was (apparently, ostensibly) much agreement with this rant, and I posted a response that I intended to come off as more nuanced and constructive (and a little bit playful). I don't know how it went over -- I'm not sure if the OP ever saw it -- but another friend replied to that comment with something to the effect of "read the room." And I've been pondering that.

Now, I don't think he was wrong to say that -- I do think he meant it as a constructive, helpful criticism, and after pausing for consideration I agreed with the assessment and deleted my original comment. (I did later see that a few other people had responded along the lines that I did, albeit more briefly and perhaps less infuriatingly, so I am glad that the sentiment was registered and that I'm not singularly awful for offering it.) But really... even if I had read the other comments and seen that that was not the common thread, I'd still have responded as I did? I generally want to be able to speak freely with my friends, and (within certain bounds of decorum, anyway) I feel I owe my friends my honest opinions.

Moreover, one of the things that people (including that OP) have consistently praised me for over the years is my tendency to offer takes that differ from the assessments generally voiced by others. I really don't set out to be contrarian -- I don't disagree for the sake of disagreeing -- but neither do I feel inclined to lie when my views fail to align with the consensus. In fact, I tend to think of that quality as a thing that makes my input, if not entirely worthwhile, at least worth momentary consideration? And it's a thing I would consider one of my defining traits. I often *do* see and approach things differently, and while I generally understand that my takes are different (and feel a certain obligation to offer them on those grounds) I fail to grasp why folks would be so *offended* by them. I am told this is characteristic of neurodiversity, though I hesitate to claim that identity: I've never been tested or diagnosed, and -- whereas supposedly a major tell for neurodiversity is that such individuals get along famously and mostly concur with each other -- I often don't agree with folks on the spectrum any more than I agree with so-called neurotypicals. So I could just be a shitty, unpleasant weirdo, no medical explanation required.

At any rate, the comment -- "read the room" -- did get me thinking about neurodiversity. So many of the folks I know are outspoken advocates for neurodiversity and tolerance and all that jazz, and yet folks rarely extend that grace to the likes of me. "Read the room" -- while well-intentioned and even potentially helpful for the sake of maintaining outwardly cordial relationships -- is effectively akin to "keep your different opinions to yourself." (I have often observed that "let people enjoy things" functions similarly -- which is another one I've generally failed to understand. Your dislike of TMNT doesn't diminish my enjoyment of the property at all, and I might appreciate discussing certain aspects of the media with someone who isn't a die-hard fan.) I've come to think that neurodiversity advocates, like advocates for most things, are really more interested in advocating for *themselves* and will wholly jettison their calls for grace when it comes to people they dislike and/or with whom they disagree. And, perhaps especially these days, I feel like certain things and approaches that delight me -- things that appeal to my "unique" (what is truly unique?) way of thinking and sense of play -- make me outright hateful to others, even those who, for a number of reasons, should be my friends and allies.

I've expressed difficulty and frustration with this in the past, to which some folks have responded, "Well, there's an easy way to fix that." And there is. But what it ultimately boils down to is not indulging my interests and effectively ceasing to be and express myself. And while that needn't be as drastic as "not to be" -- though that does often feel like the best and most viable solution, and one that, regrettably, depressingly, so many of my former friends would in fact support -- it does entail a greater focus on "reading the room"... and then, silently, slipping away without saying goodbye.