«We want to welcome people who don't know autism, those outside this varied and little-understood world. We want to spark their curiosity. That's why we're throwing open the theater doors—not just opening them, but flinging them wide so that anyone who wants to can step in, encounter this reality, and let it change them».
This is how Paola Nicoletti introduced the festival's first edition, a major opportunity in Rome to connect with the autistic community. This past September, the Teatro degli Eroi opened its doors again for the festival's second year. An extra day made an already rich program even denser, structured around a daily format: morning roundtables and debates at the aut meeting on key issues facing autistic people; book discussions to think together and «circulate ideas»; afternoon art sessions as expression for those who don't speak; a non-competitive showcase beforehand; and an evening performance.
The chosen themes strike at the heart of what matters most to autistic families and individuals: imagining tomorrow's future, physical and mental health, quality of life and the right to pursue happiness, how media represents autism. Each topic received the time it deserved—finally—though none was exhausted, offering space to reflect on what matters most for deepening our understanding of autism.
Striking was the presence not only of professionals and parents (nearly always accompanied by their children) but also of autistic self-advocates working to raise awareness. This was no minor point. As Paola Nicoletti has said, from the festival's beginning the guiding principle has been «never to speak about them without them».
The Teatro degli Eroi became a crossroads where many languages could emerge and be heard: not only through words and reflection but through personal passion. Singing, acting, drawing, painting, music—these became windows through which to observe (while being observed) a world far too complex to simplify or reduce. Gianluca Nicoletti, «a father seeking anonymity» despite his prominence as a journalist and father of Tommy, puts it plainly: «art offers a language that can interpret an autistic mind—a brain that works differently».
Ordinary passions that, more than anything else, reveal a piece of humanity still pushed to the margins of our thinking, our plans, our policies. Most of the politicians invited were notably absent despite receiving invitations (did they fear having to listen rather than speak? Nicoletti wonders). It would have been a genuine opportunity to hear voices other than the usual ones while mainstream media continues to frame autism «according to whatever moment serves». The easiest path—the one that grabs attention—will usually be the wrong one: the superhero parent, the fractured couple, the poorly told family tragedy, the exceptional teenager.
One recurring insight stands out: the vast diversity within the autistic world itself. Each person—child or adult—has such specific needs that a unified message from autism advocacy becomes almost impossible, and worse, the fragmented approach weakens the daily battles they fight.
«Simplifying is hard,» agrees Professor Luigi Mazzoni, child neuropsychiatrist at Tor Vergata, «but we need to try». He distills five essential points for a shared platform: early diagnosis and evidence-based intervention; equipping schools with properly trained support teachers; keeping families from the abyss they endure as their children enter adulthood; workplace partnerships or family support scaled to the adult's level of autism; planning for the future. «It may sound basic and abstract—you could write a book on each point. But if we need clarity, this is it. And it should be central to a serious national coordination effort,» Mazzoni concludes.
That seriousness seems to vanish in parliament when discussing, say, funding for hippotherapy programs for autism. Oddly, the only issue that unites «the entire constitutional spectrum across different legislatures» is the figure of the caregiver. It would be fine, notes a parent speaking from the stage, except that «it seems automatic that someone gives up their life entirely and delegates their growing child to one person—usually the closest family member, the parent. We risk becoming literal prisoners... bound together in symbiosis». Words that capture how much listening and dialogue we still need to build around interventions for such a complex condition that can involve communicative, relational, and intellectual disability.
As long as a vacation without the care burden remains a luxury few can afford because proper staffing costs too much; as long as a parent is trapped at home managing violent crises that worsen in adolescence; as long as every activity masquerades as therapy, stripping away simple play and joy while the dehumanizing push to medicalize everything leaves us short of psychiatrists and therapists; as long as a three-year-old with a diagnosis waits years more for public services; as long as we lack real health prevention programs for intellectual disability despite spreading DAMA initiatives, «because everyone must access national screening programs»; as long as schools, workplaces, and society don't make deliberate choices in language, openness, dialogue, culture... a visit to the next Aut Art festival will be one of those steps any of us can take to claim a vision worthy of our humanity. (And Ombre e Luci will be there to tell the story.)