ABSTRACT
I write this chapter as an Autistic person who is often uncomfortable wearing her shoes. When I first began teaching, I occasionally wandered barefoot through the halls of Morehouse College, where I now work as an associate professor, and the more senior faculty eyed me with vague disapproval. During a barefoot Shakespeare lesson, a student once asked me whether I was worried about being unhygienic. I responded cheerfully, ‘Luckily, my feet are washable’. But, questions of (questionable) hygiene aside, I want to think about wearing our professional shoes as a metaphor and, through this metaphor, to think about the future of the neurodiversity movement. Over the years, I have come to wear my shoes more and more often, seldom slipping barefoot down the short hallway from my office to the copy room, my abandoned shoes left behind beneath my desk. My neurotypical costuming has become formalised – long and trying shopping trips with my sister and mother have resulted in a wardrobe that is both professionally acceptable and sensory bearable – I needed to get tenure, and tenured people are expected to wear shoes.
