Unmasking Autism: Discovering the New Faces of Neurodiversity

by Devon Price

Consequently, a big part of unmasking will mean facing those qualities you loathe the most in yourself, and working to see them as neutral, or even as strengths.

Camouflage is all about obscuring one’s unique qualities and struggles as a disabled person; compensation is all about crafting little hacks and cheats to help you get your needs met because you can’t request the accommodations you require.

Most of us have to mask everything from our information processing style, to our lack of coordination, to our limited food preferences, to the fact that we require more rest than neurotypical people are expected to.

An impressive resume or academic transcript might hide the fact our homes are messy, our hair is unbrushed, and we haven’t socialized with anybody recreationally in months.

To prop up our façade of being “high functioning,” we build a messy, unstable scaffolding of flawed coping mechanisms.

“One of my stimming activities is that I suck my thumb, and put my forearm to my face to both smell my natural scent and feel the soft hairs brush up against my nose,”

The grimacing, somewhat irritated expression that Autistic climate activist Greta Thunberg is now famous for[20] is very similar to how I used to react to loud noise and social chaos.

I had

already started to cultivate a grumpy, goth persona to protect m...

Instead of showing that I was overwhelmed, my mask told other peo...

I recognized a much-loathed, deeply buried part of myself in Chris, and I hated him for it.

An Autistic person who was mocked for being needy and intense as a child may camouflage as hyperindependent and emotionally avoidant, for example.

Sensitive Strong • Not voicing my needs • Feeling ashamed whenever I wanted to cry or express anger • Fighting internally with every “disruptive” emotion I felt •

Weak Tough • Mocking or being aggressive with other people • Thinking of myself as superior to others • Showing distaste for anything society considers feminine, soft, or tender

To maintain their masks and compensate for the challenges they’re facing, many Autistic people fall back on an array of destructive and compulsive coping mechanisms, including substance abuse, calorie restriction, excessive exercise, emotional codependency, and even joining cults.

We’re better at noticing small details and changes in our environment,[4] which can be a real advantage for meticulous work (like programming, Thomas’s profession), but we are also more prone to being startled or distracted.[5]

Sensory overload makes it hard to complete complex tasks, think through things rationally, or manage emotions. When we’re overloaded, we become irritable, or filled with despair; we might even start self-harming to get an endorphin rush or ground ourselves.

What non-Autistic folks often don’t realize is that Autistic people experience intense sensory input as if it were physical

Understanding the physical, sensory, emotional, or psychological needs that you’ve been trying to meet with your substance use may help you identify other, more beneficial coping strategies.

I didn’t want people to know I was having a hard time. Ever. I wanted to be an otherworldly creature, free from silly human needs.

Alexithymia may arise, in part, because Autistics aren’t given the tools to understand how emotions feel in our bodies, and because we are taught to prioritize others’ feelings above our own.

Today I’m sometimes able to notice in the heat of the moment that I’m uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, for instance, or the way someone is pushing me to do something I don’t wish to do, and I can tell them to stop; other days I simply feel panicky and frantic, and can’t figure out what’s wrong until hours or days later.

When we spend too much time online, it can limit how much practice we get interacting and communicating out in the world, contribute to feelings of loneliness and depression, and further the detachment so many of us feel from our bodies.

Hiding our struggles away from the world is not a productive means of gaining acceptance, and there’s a difference between using the internet as a way to develop a sense of fluency and competence, and retreating into it because we feel we have no other choice.

Walker notes that by never revealing their own needs or discomfort with other people, fawners spare themselves the risk of rejection.

Many masked Autistic adults struggle to balance full-time work with social lives or hobbies at all because maintaining a conciliatory mask for eight hours per day is just too labor intense to have energy for anything else.

When you’re trapped under the mask, all love feels conditional. It’s hard to know which needs are acceptable to voice.

Autistic people sometimes find it challenging to negotiate sexual consent as well, because we can’t always tell the difference between wanting something, and wanting to want it in order to make someone else happy:

“Sensitivity,” despite being a sign of attentiveness and discernment, is frowned upon when you’re good at detecting things people would rather you not see.

some Autistic folks cycle through new special interests every couple of months and become polymaths in a variety of subjects.

In studies that examine the lives of Autistic adults, engaging with special interests is positively associated with subjective well-being.[13] When we get to appreciate our hyperfixations, we feel happier and more satisfied with life.

disability podcast The Chronic Couple.

Self-stigma is a liar; you’re not cringey, “too much,” a baby, or a cold-blooded creep. 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.

Unmasking doesn’t happen in one big burst of confidence; it’s a gradual process of relaxing your inhibitions, trusting your feelings, and letting go of compensatory strategies that no longer suit you.

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.

When we trust ourselves and get in touch with our values, everything from how we dress, to how we lay out our homes, to how we conceive of time itself may change.

“When designing an interior space,” Marta writes,[1] “design for how you actually live, not how you aspire to live…your space must be designed to accommodate the reality of your life, without shame or judgement.”

Divergent Design Questions What are some textures that ground you or your senses? Do you enjoy a minimalistic, spare space, or a cozy space filled with familiar objects? What smells do you find relaxing? What smells invigorate you? Do you enjoy dim light, colorful lights, or bright, white lights? What objects do you enjoy holding or having near you? Do you need background noise in order to focus? Is there ambient noise in your surroundings that you need to block out? Do you hold on to any objects or furniture out of a sense that you “should” appreciate them? If you could let go of those things, what might you want to put in their place?

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

Marta encourages neurodiverse people to think of progress not as approaching a fixed point that lies ahead of us, but as movement and adaptation, slowing down and speeding up as our situation requires.

Many Autistic “life hacks” involve using subtle accessibility tools that don’t mark us as disabled. We trade notes on which earplugs look the most subtle, which noise-canceling headphones are the most stylish, or how to use hobbies like crocheting or knitting to process social anxiety and avoid eye contact in classrooms.

Radical Visibility: A Queercrip Dress Reform Movement Manifesto.

A masker gets their needs met in private, through a serious of apologetic half measures and veiled coping mechanisms; a radically visible person openly declares who they are and what they require, because it’s what they deserve.

Carly Newman, a visual artist and jewelry designer, has made a line of earplug earrings for Autistic folks.[34]

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 controlling what messages your facial expressions or body language is giving off. Ask for something you usually feel too guilty to request. Go through an entire conversation without faking any reactions or emotions. Sing along to your favorite music while walking down the street. Bring a stim toy with you to a social gathering or public space, and use it without shame. Wear a fancy outfit or costume you absolutely love, instead of waiting for an event or an “excuse” to wear it. When a friend asks you how you are doing, give them an honest answer. Take action without running it past anyone else for approval. 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.

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]

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.

Learning to tolerate the distress of upsetting someone is crucial to developing reliable self-advocacy skills.

I’ve been in that position myself, so profoundly inhibited I had no idea what my genuine preferences were, unable to recognize someone had crossed a boundary or made me uncomfortable until hours after the fact, when I was alone and had space to reflect.

They can step in and help you manage sensory overwhelm or remind you to check in with your body for signs of distress. It’s much easier to believe that you deserve accommodation when you have people around you who act as though that is true.