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by
Devon Price
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September 28 - December 7, 2025
I didn’t know how to approach people or initiate conversations, and I didn’t care to learn, because most interactions left me feeling irritated and unheard. The few relationships I did have were enmeshed; I took responsibility for others’ problems, tried to manage their emotions for them, and lacked any capacity to say “no” to unreasonable requests.
When I use the term masked Autism, I’m referring to any presentation of the disability that deviates from the standard image we see in most diagnostic tools and nearly all media portrayals of Autism. Since Autism is a pretty complex and multifaced disorder, that covers a lot of different traits, which can manifest in many different ways. I’m also talking about any Autistic person whose suffering wasn’t taken seriously for reasons of class, race, gender, age, lack of access to health care, or the presence of other conditions.
Autistic women aren’t overlooked because their “symptoms” are milder. Even women with really classically Autistic behaviors may elude diagnoses for years, simply because they are women and their experiences are taken less seriously by professionals than a man’s would be.[4]
Publicly identifying as disabled does mean being viewed as less competent—and less human—by many people. As damaging and self-defeating as it can be to camouflage one’s disability status, it is by no means a paranoid act. It’s a rational reflection of the prejudices disabled people face. It’s not unique to Autism, either; many people with mental illnesses[2] and hidden physical disabilities[3] elect to avoid the mark of shame a diagnosis might bring.
Autism is neurological. Autism is a developmental disability that runs in families[9] and appears to be largely genetically heritable.[10] However, it is also multiply determined, meaning it has no single cause: a whole host of different genes appear to be associated with Autism,[11] and every Autistic person’s brain is unique and exhibits its own distinct patterns of connectivity.[12]
Similarly, Autistic brains differ from allistic brains in how excitable our neurons are.[16] To put it in very simple terms, our neurons activate easily, and don’t discriminate as readily between a “nuisance variable” that our brains might wish to ignore (for example, a dripping faucet in another room) and a crucial piece of data that deserves a ton of our attention (for example, a loved one beginning to quietly cry in the other room). This means we can both be easily distracted by a small stimulus and miss a large meaningful one.
Autism is associated with a deliberative processing style.
“Everybody is a little bit Autistic,” is a common refrain that masked Autistic people hear when we come out to others. This remark can feel a bit grating to hear, because it feels like our experiences are being downplayed. It’s similar to when bisexual people get told that “everybody is a little bit bi.” When most people make remarks like these, they’re implying that because our difference is so universal, we can’t actually be oppressed for it, and should just shut up about it. However, I do think that when allistic people declare that everyone is a little Autistic, it means they are close to
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Do you have health insurance that covers Autism assessments? Can you find an Autism assessment specialist in your area who has a proven track record of working successfully with Autistic adults? What do you hope to get out of a formal diagnosis?
For all the reasons outlined above, I firmly support Autistic self-determination. I prefer the terms self-determination or self-realization to self-diagnosis, because I believe it’s more sensible to view Autistic identity through a social lens than a strictly medical one.[75]
Diagnosis is a gatekeeping process, and it slams its heavy bars in the face of anyone who is too poor, too busy, too Black, too feminine, too queer, and too gender nonconforming, among others. The Autistics who lack access to fair diagnoses need solidarity and justice the most desperately out of all of us, and we can’t just shut them out.
When people use person-first language, they often say it’s because they don’t want disabled people to be defined by their disability. However, phrases like “person with Autism” distance a person’s disabled status from their humanity in a way that can be quite harmful. Autism is not a thing that is added on to a person—it’s integral to their life and cannot be removed from who they are. We don’t call Asian people “people with Asianness” and we don’t call gay folks “people with homosexuality” because we recognize it is respectful to view these identities as parts of their personhood.
Autism Terminology: Common Dos and Don’ts Use This Avoid This Autistic person Autist Autistic On the Autism spectrum Person with Autism Is Autistic Identifies as having autism Is disabled Has a disability “Special needs” “Differently abled” “Handi-capable” Neurotypical (NT) Allistic Non-Autistic Normal Has high support needs Has low support needs Low functioning High functioning Masked Autism Female Autism Asperger’s High-functioning Autism Nonverbal Loses speech Mute Dumb
Intellectually disabled Developmentally disabled R*tarded Stupid “Special” Direct language about what a person can or can’t do, and what kind of support they need Euphemisms, language that minimizes challenges, language that belittles or condescends
I love that every Autistic person has their own unique relationship to these labels, and their own thoughts. Our disagreements show that the Autistic community is diverse, filled with people who form their own opinions and speak their minds. We’re not a monolithic group, and our individual journeys shape how we express our identities to the world.
When Autistic girls engage in self-stimulatory behavior, it tends to be less physically damaging: less arm biting, more hair twirling or opening and closing a book quietly many times.[4]
On the flip side, when Autistic girls have meltdowns, it tends to get written off as an emotional outburst. When they do act out or behave aggressively, they’re more likely to be punished severely for not being ladylike, resulting in them learning to censor their aggression at an earlier age than most boys do.[5]
This history shaped how professionals saw and defined Autism from the very start, and its legacy is still with us today. Autistic people of color frequently end up having their Autism ignored due to racism and bigotry.[27] They’re less likely to get referrals to Autism specialists.[28] They have an incredibly hard time finding culturally competent health care.[29] Only about 4 percent of all mental health providers in the United States are Black,[30] though Black people make up 13.4 percent of the country’s overall population.
When Black and brown Autistic people see white therapists, normal expressions of emotions like anger may be misperceived as excessive or “threatening,” and misdiagnoses are very common.[31] That’s if they get identified as having a mental health condition at all. Black Autistics are frequently obligated to mask their traits and any negative mental health symptoms because (like girls and gender minorities) society demands they be more obedient and agreeable than white boys are.
Approximately 50 percent of people who are killed by police have disabilities,[48] and Black and brown Autistics are at an especially elevated risk.[49] Being identified as Autistic can be socially and emotionally perilous for women and gender minorities, regardless of race; for Black and brown Autistics, being visibly disabled can be deadly.
Autistics can have intense and bright personalities just as easily as we can seem icy and withdrawn. Many can make strong eye contact, listen actively, and jump in excitedly when someone brings up a topic that interests us. Outgoing Autistics may fumble with social niceties, interrupt too often, seem “too enthusiastic,” or even be accused of histrionics, but a high degree of interest in connecting with others does generally benefit them psychologically and socially.[61]
Unfortunately, because Autism is so singularly portrayed as a disorder that makes you cold and robotic, outgoing Autistics are seldom correctly identified and diagnosed as kids. Teachers and parents think of them as chatty social butterflies, or disruptive class clowns. People may even come to view their large emotional displays and bursts of energy as “manipulative” or “attention seeking.” Over time these labels can become a part of the mask they wear to get by. It can also make it difficult for an Autistic person to have their need for alone time or other social boundaries respected.
Some undiagnosed Autistic people (particularly women) identify as “highly sensitive persons.”[73] Highly sensitive persons are generally described as intuitive, emotionally astute, and easily overwhelmed. Even the creator of the term, Elaine N. Aron, has revealed that some of the highly sensitive family members she has described in writing later found out they were Autistic.[74] The stigma that comes with Autism (and its very male, standoffish associations) may be part of why so many women on the spectrum find labels such as anxious and highly sensitive to be far more resonant.
When neurotypical people equate “functioning” with being less disabled, they fail to recognize the immense, hidden labor that goes into appearing normal. It also misses just how oppressive having to seem normal is by itself. It’s reminiscent of when I see a fat person proudly identify themselves as fat, only to be corrected by a thin person with a dismissive, “You’re not fat! You’re just curvy! You’re so pretty!” That kind of response betrays discomfort with fatness and fat pride, and reveals a latent belief that one can’t be fat and beautiful at the same time.
The Autistic Self Advocacy Network (or ASAN) and other organizations led by Autistic people reject terms like high functioning and low functioning. Those words oversimplify how a disability affects a person’s life, and equates their productivity with their value as a human being.[92]
Research shows that Autistics who mask tend to suffer from intense social anxiety,[1] and some of us learn to self-medicate that anxiety with drugs or alcohol. We may also reach for substances to help blunt our sensory issues or help us pretend to be more confident. Alcohol, weed, and other depressants are also an appealing and socially acceptable way of unwinding after a stressful day of constantly gaming out how every move we make will be received by other people.
“Fawning” and Compulsive People-Pleasing • Earns the Autistic person praise • Offers a false promise of acceptance • Simplifies complicated relationship dynamics • Flattens social interactions into one easy rule: always say “yes” • Validates the Autistic person’s belief they should ignore their feelings and needs • Minimizes conflict and reduces anger
Many masked Autistics are sent to gifted education as children, instead of being referred to disability services.[18] Our apparent high intelligence puts us in a double bind: we are expected to accomplish great things to justify our oddness, and because we possess an enviable, socially prized quality, it’s assumed we need less help than other people, not more.
To cope with the pressure of masking, many Autistics disappear into our own heads. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard an Autistic person say they wish they could just be a floating brain in a jar, or a dark, sentient mist with no physical form. It’s a common neurodivergent fantasy, because our bodies can seem so at odds with what the world wants them to be.
Our yearning to be accepted and tendency to downplay our own feelings also leaves us prone to mistreatment. ABA therapy and social masking instruct us to be compliant and conformist. Orthodoxy and rules about how we’re supposed to act can feel grounding and “rational.”
Some of the Autistic people I spoke to had less dramatic experiences that were still damaging. Things like becoming unhealthily attached to graduate student advisors, or devoting years to nonprofits or activist groups whose goals they truly believed in, but which had really unhealthy boundaries or a toxic, workaholic culture.
Autistic people are at an increased risk of domestic abuse, in part because we tend to be a bit gullible or overly trusting, and are quick to alter ourselves to placate others.[58]
Old Label New Label Stubborn Assertive, Persistent Wild Energetic Distractible Perceptive Picky Selective, Discriminating Demanding Knows clearly what he wants Inflexible Traditional; does not like change Manipulative Knows how to get needs met, charismatic Anxious Cautious Explosive Dramatic Nosy Curious, Inquisitive Loud Enthusiastic, Zestful Argumentative Opinionated, Committed
“Reframe failure as data,” Marta writes, “and everything changes.”
Everyday Unmasking: Daily Challenges for Being Radically Visible Disappoint someone: Practice saying “no,” “I’m not available to do that,” “I’m uncomfortable with that,” or “I have to go now” without any explanation or apology. Express disagreement in a situation where you’d normally just nod along to keep the peace. Notice when you feel pressured to do something you don’t wish to do. Practice observing this aloud: “I’m not sure why you are pushing this, because I already said no.” Try to go an entire day without guessing or anticipating anyone’s emotions. Try to go an entire day without
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Share big emotions with safe people: find someone you can cry with, or vent to a friend about something that fills you with rage. Tell someone you trust about your neurodiversity, and what it means to you.
Abled people who are oppressed along one identity, such as gender, don’t always understand they might wield a certain degree of power over disabled people who look very socially powerful to them.
Unmasking isn’t a universally positive experience; sometimes when we put ourselves first, we will frustrate and disappoint others, maybe even leave them feeling triggered or upset. It’s vital we learn to navigate interactions marked by conflict, and practice standing firm in the face of negative reactions from others.
Unmasking requires we stop relying on neurotypical people’s acceptance in order to guide how we should act—and that means sometimes doing the “right” thing even when we know it will rub others the wrong way.
Autism is not something I need to apologize for. Other people don’t need to understand me, or understand everything about Autism, in order to treat me with respect. I am [coming out/asking for accommodations] for me, not for anyone else.
“I had this tendency to bail on [the] friends, partners, acquaintances, whoever, that were the most generous, warm, and emotionally-available,” he writes.[7] “For people-pleasers, we’re so used to working endlessly hard in relationships—it’s disorienting when we aren’t asked to.” Samuel felt more at home in insecure, hot-and-cold relationships. He dated abusive people, was exploited by professional contacts, and neglected new acquaintances that had the potential to become something more. After years of this, he recognized he needed to rewire his brain’s social pathways. What felt familiar
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By and large, Autistic people don’t operate by social intuition the way neurotypicals do. Every notification we receive tends to be given equal weight, no matter how well we know a person or how we feel about them. This is particularly true for maskers, who can be so terrified of upsetting anyone that they seek to be equally friendly and responsive to everyone.
Are You Pushing Your “Strawberry People” Away? When someone gives you a compliment, do you feel like you have to downplay it? Are there people in your life who seem “too nice”? Who are they? Are you afraid of trusting people because they might abandon you? When someone gives you positive attention, do you feel creeped out? Are you afraid that kind, loving people deserve “better” than to be friends with you? When someone gets vulnerable with you, do you find ways to downplay it? Do you have a hard time showing people that you like them?
On the flip side, I’ve found that I can identify who is not destined to become a “strawberry person” for me by pondering these questions: Who do I force myself to spend time with, out of a sense of obligation or guilt? Who do I feel I have to earn the approval of? Who makes me feel insecure and not good enough? Who do I find exhausting to be around? Who do I edit or censor myself around?
Often, the people who fall into this category are outgoing and do give me a lot of attention, but only in a surface-level way. They may show an interest in me, but their questions feel pointed, or like a test. Being around them doesn’t help me relax and unmask; it puts me on edge. Some of them are people whom I really find funny or interesting, but whom I’ve witnessed ostracize or punish others for making a single social error or single choice they disagreed with.
Common Autistic Communication Needs Overall Need Some Accommodations You Might Request Clear Expectations • Specific plans with details about time, place, and what is likely to happen • A clear “yes” or “no,” no euphemisms like “I’ll think about it” • Meeting agendas that are handed out in advance, and then adhered to • Reading materials, questions, and discussion topics being provided in advance of a panel, interview, or other high-stress public event • Step-by-step, detailed instructions on how to complete a task • Specific, measurable outcomes or goals. Explicit Messaging • Not assuming
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Just as we crave direct communication, we’re equally good at dishing it out—sometimes too good, in fact. Throughout our lives, masked Autistics are punished for requesting clarity, being blunt, or saying directly the things others would rather imply. Over time we learn to filter our self-expression. However, as adults with more life experience and self-advocacy skills under our belts, we can begin to examine our communication style, and turn our conversational quirks into advantages.
I have learned that many allistic people find clear communication to be a welcome relief. In the workplace, carefully dispensed Autistic candor can come in handy. Phrases like “No, I don’t have time for that,” “I’m uncomfortable with this,” and “What’s your budget?” cut through elaborate social performances and render vague matters far more concrete.
By tearing down our current, constricting definition of mental health, and celebrating different ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving, we can improve countless lives. By reworking society to make it more flexible and accommodating of difference, we can improve the mental and physical health of all people. In this way, unmasking is a political goal. It requires we place value on all human life, no matter a person’s abilities or needs, and view society as a social system that exists to care for all people—not an apparatus to make everyone as productive as possible.
Undiagnosed Autistics are not able to apply for disability, and recipients must have their eligibility reevaluated on a regular basis (between every six to eighteen months).[28]
