Unmasking Autism: Discovering the New Faces of Neurodiversity

by Devon Price

“Autistic people absorb a lot of messages that tell us, oh, that’s not allowed, I can never be good enough, the rules are different for me than for anyone else,” Heather Morgan says. “And we can deconstruct those messages by asking, well, what do my values have to say about that?”

Being Autistic in a neurotypical world is often traumatizing,[21] and being forced to mask is essentially an experience of society-driven abuse.

Quite often, people who have coped with trauma in imperfect ways experience a fragmentation of selfhood. They see different feelings and behaviors as almost distinct parts of themselves, rather than an integrated whole they can make sense of and have control over.

In Autistic self-advocacy circles, the question of whether we’d take a pill that magically “cures” Autism often comes up. The vast majority of people in our community reject that question out of hand, because Autism is a core part of who we are, impossible to separate from our personalities, talents, preferences, and general outlook. We wouldn’t be the same people without it.

You’re a marginalized person with many beautiful and unique qualities. Your needs are value-neutral, and your emotions are helpful signals to respond to that don’t merit any shame. Autism has always been a powerful driving force in your life, often for the better, even when you did not know that it was there. Now that you do know it’s there, you can work on accepting and loving the person you have always been beneath your mask, and practice sharing that version of you with the world.

being Autistic has been a positive force in her life, and listening to herself has allowed her to zero in on which kinds of life are fulfilling and sustainable for her. I think that ultimately, that’s what every masked Autistic should be shooting for. To trust and unconditionally accept ourselves enough that we can accept the rejections and losses that sometimes come by living as we really are. We can’t please everyone. Unmasking means we

Experimental research shows that many Autistic people have trouble ignoring visual “noise,” to the degree it really disrupts our processing.[2]

Marta Rose observes that objects carry a very strong significance for Autistic people, so tidying our living spaces up and throwing things away can be very difficult.[5] Many of us identify with the items we love, and even feel a degree of empathy for them, as if they were alive. Psychologists call this phenomenon object personification, and Autistics exhibit it at an elevated rate compared to the neurotypical population.[6] We also tend to connect emotionally with animals more readily than people, which can also influence how our home environments should be arranged.

Cleaning and getting rid of unnecessary things causes decision fatigue for many of us,[8] because we have to think really effortfully about why we might want to hold on to something, and game out every possible scenario where it might come in handy.

The sleep-wake cycles of Autistic adults also differ, on average, from the circadian rhythms of neurotypicals,[13] and many of us experience sleep disorders.[14]

Resting doesn’t always look like relaxing baths or naps. It might look like immersing myself in work on as special interest, or zoning out in front of a screen.”

“Reframe failure as data,” Marta writes, “and everything changes.”

What is radical visibility? It’s an approach to LGBT and disabled acceptance that emphasizes and celebrates that which is usually obscured. It lays claim to words that have been used to dehumanize our communities—queer, cripple, mad—and wears them defiantly, as a source of pride. Radical visibility presents tools such as canes and prostheses as enviable fashion accessories. It renders our differences cool.

THIS is what I've been wanting

Try to go an entire day without guessing or anticipating anyone’s emotions.

I'm sorry what now

Take action without running it past anyone else for approval.

I did this recently!

Radical visibility is self-advocacy, as well as self-expression. But for most masked Autistic people, it’s downright terrifying to stand up for yourself. We tend to default to people pleasing, smiling, and laughing uncomfortably through social difficulty, and to do so in such a reflexive way that it’s as if our true feelings and preferences disappear when other people are around. These reflexes exist to protect us, and there is no shame in having them. However, if we wish to live more freely, we need to cultivate relationships where we can communicate honestly and feel heard and respected.

In many ways, masking is psychologically similar to codependency, a relational pattern of seeking to manage or control the reactions and emotions of other people that usually results from abuse.[1] 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.

Most masked Autistics need a lot of practice developing a strong sense of discernment, which is essentially using our own beliefs and perceptions to guide our behavior, rather than deferring to everyone else’s fleeting reactions and impressions.

Maskers are highly dependent on the opinions and feelings of other people. We bend over backward to make life easy for neurotypicals and the people we care about, we hide facets of ourselves that are distracting, weird, or inconvenient, and we become hypervigilant about tracking people for signs of disapproval. It’s normal and healthy to be considerate toward other people, but masked Autistics tend to devote so much energy to people pleasing that we have almost no cognitive space left to think about (or listen to) ourselves.

THIS IS SO CLOSE TO THE ABUSE BUT HE SAID IT'S WHAT I WAS DOING TO HIM AND UGH WHAT

Autistics have been observed to exhibit what’s called an anxious-ambivalent attachment style at rates that are elevated compared to the neurotypical population. People with an anxious-ambivalent attachment are difficult to soothe and reassure, and don’t see close loved ones as a safe, “secure base” they can find comfort in when lost or threatened. As adults, people who are anxious-ambivalent tend to get into patterns of intense emotional dependency, combined with insecurity. They yearn to be accepted yet doubt that they can be.

It’s challenging for Autistic people to tell the difference between friends who genuinely like us, and superficial acquaintances who are responding favorably to our masks. One way to probe the difference, though, is to look at people who have stuck around when you haven’t been perfect.

I'm sorry what now

Not assuming people can use facial expression, tone of voice, posture, breathing, or tears as indicators of emotion

Including mine!

A study by Crompton et al. published in 2019 found that when two Autistic people were paired together to work on a task, they were very efficient social communicators. They spread a lot of knowledge and nuance in a short span of time, completed the task quickly, and connected to one another easily.[12] However, when paired with non-Autistic conversation partners, Autistics were frequently misunderstood and not listened to. This study suggests that much of what researchers consider the “social deficits” of Autism aren’t really deficits at all; they’re just differences in our communication style that neurotypicals don’t adjust to.

Non-Autistic people process complex situations intuitively and efficiently, but make a lot of errors. Just think of how many times you’ve seen a really confident, outgoing person misread a situation, interrupt another person, or say something offensive without seeming to realize it, or to care. There are negative consequences to such actions, but usually the allistic person who made the error doesn’t have to bear the brunt of them. It’s everyone around them who has to scramble to pick up the pieces, clarify the misunderstanding, or smooth over hurt feelings. One of the most liberating realizations I’ve made as an out Autistic person is that it’s not harmful for me to ask questions, interject when needed, or be honest about how I feel. When you tell people what you want and need, you actually stand a chance of getting it. You also free up other people to express their needs more openly, too.

For many Autistic people, including Reese, self-acceptance looks less like flawless and serene self-love and more like a “fuck it, let them deal with it” attitude that helps her shake off the desire to hide.

Sometimes Autistic people believe that the end goal of unmasking is to overcome all internalized stigma and live completely free of shame. I don’t think that’s a realistic standard to hold ourselves to. Ableism is a pervasive social force, and one we can’t entirely escape; what we can do, however, is learn to observe it as a cultural values system that exists outside of us, and that often runs counter to our personal values.

The voice in my head that tells me it’s pathetic that I don’t cook is not my voice; it’s society programming, speaking from within me, and I don’t have to listen to it.

trade. I can also take time to remind myself that I live in a world that exalts hyperindependence to a ridiculous, isolating degree. Throughout history and across many different cultures, most individuals did not cook for themselves.[13] Food was prepared communally, or by specialized workers, because it was a labor-intensive, time-intensive task. Fast food and street carts have existed since ancient times! Traditionally, most private residences did not even have dedicated kitchens, because people were less isolated and the responsibility of food prep was spread across the community.

Most of us (neurotypical and neurodiverse alike) simply were not built to do everything on our own, and in order to lead fulfilling lives, we either need to enlist the help we need, or let some obligations go.

Many of us (including me) give up on cooking, for example, because it is such a time- and planning-intensive task. Timing out one’s cooking and grocery-shopping schedules, prepping ingredients, remembering which ingredients you have, getting rid of leftovers in time, knowing days in advance which flavors and textures you’ll be able to tolerate—it can be so much more effort than it’s worth.

For many masked Autistics, learning in adulthood that you have been secretly nursing a disability all your life is quite the world-shattering experience. Adjusting your self-concept is a long process. It can involve mourning, rage, embarrassment, and dozens upon dozens of “wait, that was an Autism thing?” revelations.

Though many of us come to see Autistic identity as a net positive in our lives, accepting our limitations is an equally important part of the journey. The clearer we are with ourselves about where we excel and where we need help, the more likely we are to eke out an existence that’s richly interdependent, sustainable, and meaningful.

“What most normal, kind of vanilla people don’t understand,” Tisa says, “is that the kink world is just full of Autistic nerds. People think it’s this scary, intense weird thing and it’s like…just a bunch of nerds learning about different kinds of rope and stimming by getting flogged and shit.”

Research shows that when we are around fellow neurodiverse people, Autistics feel far more socially at ease.[24] We also crave friendship and belonging to the same degree that allistics do.[25] Though non-Autistic people mistakenly get the impression that we aren’t interested in socializing, most of us are fighting to find acceptance every day of our lives.

As Reese Piper put it, “It’s neurotypicals who categorized autism as a social disorder.” Autistic people don’t actually lack communication skills, or a drive to connect. We aren’t doomed to forever feel lonely and broken. We can step out of the soul-crushing cycle of reaching for neurotypical acceptance and being rejected despite our best efforts. Instead, we can support and uplift one another, and create our own neurodiverse world where everyone—including neurotypicals—is welcome.

If you have been masked all your life, you probably will experience some anxiety in Autistic-centered spaces. You might even find yourself judging other people’s behavior. Remember that this is completely normal. Society has drilled very particular, often cruel rules into your head, and it can be jarring at first to see people violating some of them. Over time, you will get more comfortable with visibly neurodivergent behavior—and this will make it easier for you to open up, too.

Get the cops out of our heads

The medical model of disability has given many of us (and most of our doctors and therapists) the idea that human suffering is best understood as a problem to be fixed through individual changes.

Where the medical model of disability fails is in making sense of disabilities that come from social exclusion or oppression.

Sometimes what society (and the psychiatric establishment) considers to be an individual defect is in fact a perfectly benign difference that needs accommodation and acceptance instead. Though being gay was once classed as a mental illness, it never actually was one. Trying to “cure” gayness never worked, and only caused more psychological damage. In fact, categorizing gay people as sick created the illusion that they actually were mentally ill, because ostracism and shame does frequently contribute to depression, anxiety, substance use, and self-harming behaviors, among other psychological issues.

In his writing, Oliver described disability as a political status, one that is created by the systems that surround us, not our minds and bodies. A clear-cut example of this is how most educational institutions exclude Deaf students. There are entire school systems and communities run by Deaf people, for Deaf people, where everyone uses sign language and access to audio captioning and other resources are provided as a matter of course. In this context, being Deaf is not a disability. In fact, a hearing person who doesn’t know sign language is the one who would be marginalized, if they were living in a Deaf-centered world.

The social model of disability applies to many of the struggles Autistic people experience. Each of us has been repeatedly overlooked and excluded because society views our differences as shameful defects rather than basic human realities to accept. Often, we are dis-abled for completely arbitrary reasons,

The only way that all Autistic people will be able to unmask is if society changes dramatically. A world with more flexible norms and less stigma is a more accessible world, with fewer disabilities and far less human suffering. It’s also a world that’s more welcoming to people with mental illnesses, immigrants and diasporic people, and anyone who has suffered because they’re not the perfect, cookie-cutter worker bee.

As the psychiatric anthropologist Roy Richard Grinker writes in his titular book, Nobody’s Normal, our current definition of mental health is tied to the state and employers’ desire for productive, inoffensive conformity.[6] Emotions that are too large, passions that are too childish and not profitable, habits that are too repetitive, and bodies and minds that require daily assistance all challenge this incredibly narrow definition of health. It is only by expanding our definition of what is acceptable human behavior and working to meet other people’s manifold needs that we can move forward.

Many neurotypes simply are not suited to long workdays, lengthy commutes, nuclear families, and isolated “independence.” Arguably, none of us are well suited for that—the nine-to-five workday is not evidence-based—but some of us suffer more visibly and pervasively than others. 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.

INDEED

For catered events, tell attendees the exact menu beforehand

Below are some common Autistic behaviors that teachers, therapists, and doctors tend to flag as signs of dysfunction, but which are completely harmless and ought to be understood and normalized: Common, Healthy Autistic Behaviors Intense studying of a new favorite topic Not noticing sounds or social signals when focusing on an engrossing task Needing to know exactly what to expect before entering an unfamiliar situation Sticking to a very rigid schedule, and rejecting deviations to that schedule

Taking a long time to think before responding to a complex question Spending hours or days alone sleeping and recharging after a socially demanding event or stressful project Needing “all the information” before coming to a decision Not knowing how they feel, or needing a few days to figure out how they feel about something Needing a rule or instruction to “make sense” before they can follow it Not putting energy toward expectations that seem unfair or arbitrary, such as wearing makeup or elaborate grooming

Ignorance among teachers and care providers about the varied ways that Autism can present is a huge part of this, but in countries like the United States, a lack of health care coverage plays a huge role. According to 2020 survey data from the organization Mental Health America, over 57 percent of Americans who experienced mental health struggles that year did not receive treatment.[23] For those who desired treatment but could not access it, lack of insurance and lack of adequate insurance were among the most common barriers.[24]

If you are on disability, you can’t get married to someone with an income (including their own disability benefits) without having your payments reduced.[26]

Many people who oppose racist police violence argue that cops be replaced with social workers or therapists, and that a state-run mental health force should be dispatched when emergency calls are made. The law Timotheus Gordon Jr. and his fellow activists have helped pass in Illinois, CESSA, would do exactly that. Such a policy change would no doubt save numerous lives per year, particularly Black and brown neurodivergent lives. However, if we oppose the state-sanctioned racist violence of the police, it is equally important that we examine how mental health professionals forcibly institutionalize people of color and disabled people, take away their children, declare them legally incompetent, and otherwise further the exact same societal evils that cops do.