Autism in Heels: The Untold Story of a Female Life on the Spectrum

by Jennifer O'Toole

In the intensity of the drive toward “display-focused” play, of the stress over other kinds of interaction, and of the distress in any change in the order created, I could see some of the uniquenesses of an autistic mind, like literal thinking, cognitive rigidity, and difficulty, with spontaneous social interaction.

“Autistic” is a neurological, not pathological, profile—a constellation of highly attuned cognitive and sensory skills that happens to come packaged along with some equally exquisitely particular challenges.

Scans showed that each autistic girl’s brain behaved more like that of a typical boy of the same age, which, compared to typical girls, has reduced activity in regions normally associated with socializing. The brain-activity measures of autistic girls would not be considered “autistic” in a boy. Instead, the brain of a girl with autism may be more like the brain of a typical boy than that of a boy with autism.

If we don’t camouflage well, we tend to find ourselves ridiculed, shamed, ostracized, or abused. If we do camouflage well, we can disguise ourselves right out of identification, not to mention out of the compassion, resources, and insight diagnosis can bring. Instead, our misunderstandings are misread. Our intentions mistaken. We are vulnerable to the presumptions we’ve allowed others to make about us about our abilities to discern friend from foe and predator from lover, about how much direction we really do need, or self-awareness we really do have.

When we feel either understimulated or overstimulated, we physically cannot reason, listen, or think about anything else. We can’t just ignore it. We can’t learn. We can’t be spontaneous or fun. We can’t rationalize well. And we can’t hear others’ needs, let alone be certain we understand our own. It’s like trying to see your own reflection in a pot of boiling water. Nothing is clear.