April 29, 2021

Living with an autistic neurodivergent brain in a world dominated by neurotypical brains is often difficult. Our intense interests, our ways of thinking, and our behaviour are often interpreted under a neurotypical lens, which at best means that our behaviour will be misinterpreted and often leads to psychological harm (Robeyns, 2016). Internalized ableism is that intense flash of shame that crashes through my nervous system every time I notice that my behaviour might be interpreted as odd, rude, or socially naïve. I am generally aware that my intention was not to be offensive, nor to say something that will make me the object of ridicule by others, but it still occurs, because it seems that many of the ways that I most naturally seem to communicate cause offence or provoke ridicule.

One really good example of this is my constant tendency to jump into a conversation before the other person has finished speaking, a characteristic that is shared by many neurodivergent brains like mine. Yet, despite others' tendency to interpret this behaviour as rude or uncaring, I often find myself unable to stop – at least not as often as I would like. Recently, a TikTok video created by Sari Rachel (2020, February) sparked a lively online discussion about how communication styles vary across groups and cultures (Borresen, 2021). Drawing on the work of sociolinguist, Deborah Tannen (2005), they suggest that my communication style could be characterized as ‘cooperative overlapping,' which they define as “occurring when the listener starts talking along with the speaker, not to cut them off, but rather to validate or show they’re engaged in what the other person is saying” (Borresen, 2021, para. 2). This is such a small change in how my behaviour is framed and understood, but it has such a huge impact on the story of who I believe myself to be.

I learned very early on that it was important to try to be like everyone else in order to fit in and belong. The use of compensation and masking strategies, also known as camouflaging, are often used by individuals with and without autism to blend into their social surroundings by mimicking the behaviour of others and, in the case of autistic individuals, suppressing autistic traits. We may mask our autistic traits to navigate social interactions more successfully, to avoid discrimination by appearing different, to secure employment, and to achieve academic success. However, trying to maintain this constant ‘façade of normality’ can come at a high cost, because none of us maintain our masks all day long every single day. We all need to be able to be our true, natural selves more of the time, rather than less. Thus, spending too much time camouflaging and masking can result in exhaustion, feelings of worthlessness, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation (e.g., Cage & Troxwell-Whitman, 2019; Hull et al., 2017; Livingston et al., 2019) as illustrated in the quotation below by an autistic blogger and self-advocate, Rhi (@autistrhi).

“I became my own worst enemy. I controlled any stimming in public, I mocked myself in private. I criticised myself for any reaction outside of the norm. I told myself how useless I was for experiencing the world wrongly. I did my best to see it the right way.” (Rhi, 2016, para. 12).

Neurodiversity proponents rightfully assert that achieving a high-quality of life would be much easier for autistic people if society were more willing to value, accept, and make accommodations for our brain-based neurological differences. But currently, society is not this accepting, so we often need to seek outside support to mask our more obvious autistic tendencies in order to be more successful at work or school. However, when an autistic person asks for support, the role of the helping professional must be to help us learn a variety of new skills and strategies, so that we can continue to pursue personally meaningful dreams, goals, and ambitions. Yet, at the same time, the helping professional should always make it clear that there is nothing inherently wrong with our natural autistic traits and behaviours. Furthermore, the neurodiversity movement implores helping professionals to remember that we must not judge the success of any form of intervention by whether or not the autistic individual is now able to act just like everyone else (e.g., Ne’eman, 2010). Instead, a successful intervention should be judged by whether or not the autistic individual is now able to experience greater overall happiness and well-being than ever before.