I don’t tell people I’m autistic. I’m trying to change that.

By Griffin Mancuso

When I was 14 going into my freshman year of high school, my mother enrolled me with a new therapist shortly before school started. My parents were concerned about the transition to high school and wanted me to have a support system. I also went to my hair stylist right before so that I’d look presentable for the first day of school.

Just after getting my modernized Karen cut trimmed and getting in the car to go to my appointment, my mother turned to me and told me I was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD) at four years old. She didn’t want to confuse me when I was younger and didn’t want the therapist to tell me first.

I was livid, but somehow relieved. I finally had a reason for the continual failure to connect with my peers as a child; I had an answer to the “why?” that had plagued me since I started my education. I had a reason, which meant I had a path forward.

Besides telling the entire campus I am autistic before even getting into this article, it’s normally something I don’t bring up. I had witnessed how neurodivergent people were treated throughout my childhood, and my greatest fear was being associated with them. I didn’t want to be “special.” I hated being talked down to by adults and peers. I was infantilized and dismissed until I eventually figured out how to pass as neurotypical.

When I tell people I’m autistic, I’m usually met with surprise. I’m ashamed to say that I feel a bit relieved when I’m told that I don’t seem autistic or that they never would have guessed I was. Internalized ableism is a hell of a beast. I want to embrace my autistic identity, but I also want to blend into neurotypical society. Letting myself unmask means less built-up stress and being able to get things done, but blending in means having friends and job opportunities.

With the life experience I have now, I have found that there is a lack of education on ASD among the general public and the medical field. I have been assessed for ASD twice because a therapist I had a few years ago didn’t believe I was autistic. Since autism assessments are based on outdated research, I was genuinely afraid that the psychologist doing the test wouldn’t believe me either. I’ve been met with hospital staff declaring me neurotypical after two minutes of knowing me.

An autism assessment is almost traumatic in and of itself. There is no established test for older children and adults. The current test is made for young children and involves playing with toys and reading picture books. Having to play pretend with Barbies at 17 years old to prove you’re autistic is a little humiliating. I stomached the preschool voice that all adults use with autistic people and whatever juvenile task I was given to prove that my experience was real.

I don’t want my autism to be defined by suffering and shame. I try to make connections with other neurodivergent people and allow myself to use resources that will help me. Being a part of a community has helped me cope with the stress of blending into neurotypical society. I still put on the mask when I go about my day, but I now have times when I can unwind with people who understand my experience.

Autism has become much more visible in mainstream media since I was younger. There are autistic social media influencers and shows with autistic characters. While we aren’t quite there yet as a society, I have seen monumental progress in the normalization of autistic people. We now see a wider diversity of experiences and, with new social media platforms, we can see those experiences in everyday life.

Our society was not made with neurodivergent people in mind. Being neurodivergent can look different for every person, and who are we to decide who gets to have the label and who doesn’t? Neurotypical people haven’t taken me seriously even with a diagnosis. 

One of the biggest contributors to internalized ableism is worrying about what the majority thinks; worrying that the autistic community won’t be taken seriously because of your individual experience. You don’t have to prove to anyone that you are autistic, nor do you have to tone yourself down to make everyone else comfortable. You are allowed to put a label on your experience so you don’t have to continue asking yourself, “Why?”