TATM #2: Autism and the freelance translation grind, by Renata Fernandes

In March 2024, I attended a translators’ retreat of sorts with some colleagues. During a conversation, two of them said they thought I was neurodivergent. I didn’t feel offended, but it just didn’t make sense. First, I was 34. If I were neurodivergent, surely one of the tons of shrinks I’d seen would’ve pointed out something instead of simply going with the typical depression diagnosis. Secondly, I didn’t think I was the spitting image of either ADHD or autism: I wasn’t male, playing with trains wasn’t my thing, and I was usually able to carry out tasks without becoming distracted. That reasoning pushed the possibility to one side. Until April 2024.

My neighbors started making more noise than usual. With work dwindling since January, I got more stressed out, went back to therapy, but my psychoanalyst didn’t seem to understand why noise bothered me so much, or why I could hear every tiny vibration of a boom box and why it made my brain ache. I felt bad for not being able to cope, for letting it mess up my mental health and my sleep. Why couldn’t I just get on with it? “Humans are noisy. Deal with it!” I’d tell myself. But my brain refused to take the hint and brought back the neurodivergence theme.

By mid-2024, I’d watched hundreds of YouTube videos by autistic people and autism specialists. When I was done, I sought a professional neurodivergent assessment, and in September 2024, at almost 35 years of age, I was diagnosed as autistic (there are many reasons for why females aren’t as commonly diagnosed as males, but that’s a story for a different day). I felt like a major piece of my identity had suddenly appeared and the whole experience was bittersweet. It still is. On many days, it feels a lot like grief. And so, I carried on, all the while still being ghosted by most of my clients.

By January 2025, all my audiovisual translation clients were nowhere to be seen, and only two of them had reached out saying they didn’t have enough content to send my way. So I was basically being let go. I was desperate, feeling like there was something wrong with me. “Could it all be because of AI? No, it must be my fault,” I thought.

I finally got an email from my main client on January 30, but I couldn’t commit to the project because the deadlines would partially coincide with a pre-planned trip. I felt guilty because I really needed that opportunity, but there was no way I could postpone the trip, something I’d been planning with my partner for months. Also, I’m a firm believer that if you spend night and day in front of your computer waiting for the perfect job offer, the rest of your life will pass you by (and your body will eventually pay the price). We traveled, and to this day I haven’t heard from that client again.

I know I can’t work as much as before the diagnosis because I was masking my autism. I wasn’t being myself. I was working at a pace that was extremely unhealthy for me. I was making myself into a whole different person for audiovisual translation clients because of the pressure to deliver perfect translations within tight deadlines. Now I know I need more time to get it done and to do it well. I’ve also got fibromyalgia, which means I can’t spend 10 hours typing away and I need to stretch a thousand times a day. But you could say, “Renata, every translator needs breaks. That’s not exclusive to the autistic ones.” Agreed, but one of the traits an autistic person can present is delayed processing of information. And there are many more aspects of my autism which render it a disability.

Autistic people are often seen as unable. Most of us are unemployed. We need accommodations to do a good job, but that’s true for us freelancers as well. If I only get offered low-rate jobs that make me work 12 hours a day, I’ll accept them because I have bills to pay. But I’d be right back where I was before my diagnosis: working myself to an early grave, able only to do the work and then go straight to bed. I’d done that for years and that led me to autistic burnout many times. I don’t want that. I need more time to process and more rest than allistics and I can deliver excellent translations. I just need a shot.

Employers need to understand that neurodivergent people are not machines, despite many seeing us that way. We’re not brilliant resources you can exploit and be done with. Autism is a pervasive disability. It’s not something we can turn off when we’re working. I’m a thorough, detailed-oriented, autistic translator, but I’m not quick. I can’t be expected to click “Accept job” on that offer sent out to millions of translators because I’m just not fast enough. The playing field needs to be leveled so I can have a chance to show I’m worth it. Accommodations are imperative.

Produced under a Peer Production License

– Written by Renata Fernandes
– Edited by Guerrilla Media Collective
– Lead image taken from Mary Gartside, An Essay on a New Theory of Colours and on Composition in General, Public Domain Review.