‘I finally make sense to myself’: Em Rusciano on her late ADHD and autism diagnoses

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Em Rusciano. The singer, stand-up comedian and broadcaster, 45, is host of the podcast Emsolation. She’s a public advocate for neurodiverse people and the author of a memoir, Try Hard.

Em Rusciano: “I remember being scared to go under general anaesthetic in case I spoke about maybe finding Madonna hot.”Credit: Abbie Davis

SEX

We’ve landed on sex. Are you ready to talk about it? I’m 45 with three children. I’ve been married for 23 years. I don’t have it; I don’t have any interest in it. What do you want from me?

Is all that true? Sort of. Not really. My husband’s very handsome! He’s good at the sex! [Sighs] I’m just going through a catastrophic lack of oestrogen due to perimenopause and I really want that thing as far away from me as humanly possible. It’s beautiful; it’s lovely; I bow at the altar of it. But I don’t necessarily need it around me at this point in time.

In public, you’ve always been super-frank talking about sex and sexuality. Was it like that at home growing up? You’re Italian Australian, right? [Nods] We didn’t talk about sex. My mum did a drive-by with Where Did I Come From? She chucked the VHS tape on the couch, said, “Watch that” and gave me pamphlets about my period. I found out about periods the day I got one. Boom! But I was always surrounded by queer people, musicians and misfits. It was just that my parents didn’t talk about sex.

Looking back, where did your sex education come from? SBS World Movies. I would’ve been much more open to the idea of being a queer person, or being sexually fluid, if I’d have known that was even an option. I didn’t have many boyfriends growing up, then I met my husband and fell madly in love with him and that was it. But I’m somebody who’s been equal parts masculine and feminine. My friends are all queer; I’m the token straight person in my group.

So you’re culturally queer. Yes, culturally queer! My children go out with who they like; it’s beautiful. If I’d had that option, I think it would have demystified sex. I was so terrified all the time. I remember being really scared to ever go under general anaesthetic in case I accidentally spoke about maybe finding Madonna hot. I’m reluctantly straight; I want everyone to know that.

RELIGION

You grew up Catholic? [Nods] On one side; Anglican on the other. My mother, who’s Anglican, had me christened just to piss off the Italians. She’s not even that religious.

How good is spite? One of my favourite emotions.

So what did you believe growing up? God was always around us. I’ve always loved the idea of faith. Both my grandmothers were very religious, but they were “good religious” – they didn’t force it on anyone. I could never quite rationalise religion. I’d ask so many questions. As an autistic person [Rusciano was diagnosed last year] I needed tangible proof. And I needed to understand why God would let certain things happen to people. “You must trust in the Lord”: I’m like, “Why? What has he done to earn my trust?”

At census time, what do you tick under “religion”? Agnostic. Kind of open to doubt. Because imagine if one day we’re all proven wrong. How marvellous. But I personally don’t worship. Except at the altar of the divas.

Which ones? Oh, I mean the greatest: Babs [Barbra Streisand]. I’ve always been drawn to strong, complex women.

What’s your personal version of heaven? Bed-rotting.

Ooh, describe bed-rotting for me. Clean sheets. Hot shower. New pyjamas. A whole season of [RuPaul’s] Drag Race I’ve haven’t watched yet. And I’ve got my Nintendo Switch, and I’m playing Zelda.

What’s your personal version of hell? Small dinner party. Ten people. I don’t know anyone. Music playing. Weird food. Too far from home to get back quickly in an Uber, and I’m wearing a tight outfit. And someone asks me, “What do you do?”

Complete this sentence.“Other people go to church. I …” … get on stage and workshop my trauma in front of thousands of people. My shows have been called “Hillsong without the religion”.

BODIES

You’ve been frank about your ADHD and autism diagnoses. Both came relatively late in life, didn’t they? I was 42 for ADHD, 44 for autism.

What were your emotions when you got the diagnoses? It was all seven stages of grief. Shock. Then I denied it. Then I felt relieved. Then I felt really sad for a time. Grief was probably the longest-lingering emotion.

What were you grieving? For 10-year-old Em in primary school when she felt she didn’t fit in anywhere. I’ve spent so long trying to belong, but not managing to.

Would an earlier diagnosis have helped? I’ve endured my life rather than enjoyed it. I’ve always felt like I was catching up or drowning – misunderstood, not part of the same race. Trying to read people and figure out what they were saying, getting it wrong and offending them. My whole life was just me measuring and monitoring myself and failing. The diagnoses put me in context within the universe. I finally make sense to myself.

When was the last time you were naked that didn’t involve sex or showering? We are a very nude household, so daily. When I get naked at the end of the day after a shower, I do like to air out and walk around. We’ve stopped being nude in front of the girls because I just think you don’t want to see your dad nude as a teenager. We all agreed it’s time.

Em Rusciano’s show, Outgrown, tours Australia in July and August.

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