Autism shouldn’t have to be concealed

PEOPLE with autism are often praised for concealing their condition but that’s hiding who they really are, writes Madeleine Ryan.

AN essential part of creating harmony in our community is respecting each other’s differences.

Researchers from the University of Surrey have observed that when there is a lack of acceptance around the needs and preferences of autistic students in mainstream learning environments, they feel “limited” and “different”.

They internalise the negative attitudes and reactions of others and unrealistically compare themselves with students who are neurotypical — as distinct from developing a sense of what they’re capable of.

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I’m autistic, and the fear of not being accepted has shaped the person I’ve become. Wanting to seem “normal” often takes precedence over what might be better and safer for me. Rather than saying no, I’ll act like I’m enjoying brunch out at a restaurant, even if a quieter space would make it easier to connect with friends and family.

If I feel besieged in a crowd, rather than slowly finding a way out or meditating to stay calm, I’ll spend most of my energy ensuring that I don’t appear to be affected. Which doesn’t mean that I’m not.

It just means that I’m pretending not to be. And doctors have congratulated me for that. They have commended what they describe as my “adaptation skills” and the ability I have to not seem autistic.

People with autism shouldn’t have to adjust their behaviour to suit others.

The problem being that I am autistic, and being praised for acting otherwise is painful because, effectively, it means I’m being praised for not being who I am.

I often feel a fraud because I do and say things and my feelings aren’t part of the equation. It’s like I’m a robot and once I find the courage to express myself, people are shocked: I didn’t think you cared if I copied what you wore! And made fun of you in front of everyone. You used to find it funny!

I recently watched myself ordering a takeaway coffee and even though I felt frightened by how tense the barista became at the sight of how many customers there were waiting at the register, I chose not to say anything. Then I stopped myself from laughing at the girl doing the dishes who was avoiding eye contact to ensure that she didn’t have to deal with the customers, either. Then I made sure I didn’t stare at the couple arguing over who was going to foot the bill and I restrained myself from rocking back and forth to the sound of Chris Isaak as he crooned over the speakers, before I tried to ignore how low the ceilings were and the way they seemed to be caving in and I wondered how to make sure that the walkway wasn’t blocked as I stood there hoping my boyfriend wasn’t in a rush — and whoops, a dude bumped into me and I didn’t make eye contact because then he would’ve been able to tell how rattled I was; and another guy was looking for a newspaper, or a menu, and the newspapers were next to me and would it have been best to indicate that they were there? Or not?

Getting a takeaway coffee is such a mundane and basic thing and yet it felt so overwhelming. I thought: “How does everyone else do this? How are they OK with it? Maybe earplugs would have helped. Or maybe I’ll just never leave the house again and buy an espresso machine.” I felt so at odds with people and with society before I looked around and realised that everyone else did, too. I saw that what unites us as a community is the desire to be accepted for who and what we are.

Ordering a coffee shouldn’t be overwhelming.

Whether we need to meditate in a crowd, or read the newspaper with a latte, or wish customers were more patient, we all want to be seen and we all want to feel accepted and safe. And if we’re too busy labelling things as “normal” or “different” there’s no room to see that, in essence, we’re all the same.

No one needs to change and no one needs to act like anybody else because, together, we must find a way to accept ourselves, and each other, just as we are.

Madeleine Ryan is a freelance writer