As Autistic people, we feel mortified on a daily basis. Our social differences mean that we regularly encounter communication barriers where we are misinterpreting others, being misinterpreted by others or simply confused as heck. In times like these we often ask ourselves “what does that facial expression mean?” “Did I do something wrong?” and “how on earth am I supposed to read their mind if I wasn’t born a psychic?!”. People often don’t innately clue in to the fact that at times we are clueless and since many discreet social cues are discreet for a reason, it can be incredibly awkward for us to ask “what are you trying to tell me through your facial expressions/body language/tone of voice?” So as not to feel even more mortified than we already do, we remain silent whilst our unanswered questions torment us to no end. But why do Autistic and non-Autistic people experience breakdowns in communication so frequently? This is an important question to answer for both individuals on the spectrum and our allies if we truly want to help ourselves and our Autistic friends, romantic partners, family members etc. navigate the confusing world of cross-neurotype communication. As we will see, these mutual communication breakdowns are rooted in a difference in processing style. 

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Top Down Vs. Bottom Up Processing Styles

When you look at the picture above, what do you see? If you are a top down processor, your answer is probably something more abstract such as “a beach” or “a tropical island”. However, if you are a bottom up processor, your answer will probably be much more specific. You might say “I see a palm tree, the ocean, sand, a dock and a mountain in the distance”. The majority of people are top down processors, this means that their brains automatically recognize the big picture. Autistic people such as myself tend to be bottom up processors. This means that our brains have to manually add up all the little details in order to understand the more general concept which they make up. That’s great Caitlyn, but what does a random picture you took in Colombia have to do with communication? I thought you’d never ask, let’s get into the nitty gritty. 

Examples of How Our Processing Style Affects How We Interpret Communication:

Facial Expressions

If you aren’t Autistic or are a person on the spectrum with a certificate in face reading, I would love for you to tell me what on earth the person above is trying to communicate by moving around their facial muscles because I honestly have no idea. In fact, that’s exactly why I chose this picture. Most everyday facial expressions are complex because we as human beings are confusing creatures with mixed emotions. We sometimes try to mask our guttural reactions but when we are not particularly good actors (or we want to be passive aggressive) it can look like wide eyes with a tight closed-lip smile (my interpretation of anger masked as happiness). For top-down processors, translating the movement of facial muscles into coherent communication is easy as pie because their brains automatically de-code the big picture. However, for us bottom-up processors, reading faces can be an absolute nightmare as we sometimes have to manually decode each element separately (i.e. lips, eyes, nose, eyebrows) before we can even begin to understand the underlying message. If we ever do decode the facial expression, it could take us anywhere from a few minutes to a few months (and no, I’m not exaggerating). 

Vocal Cues

Generally speaking, communication is 90% nonverbal and 10% verbal. This means that when we are talking with someone on the phone, we rely heavily on vocal cues such as changes in tone of voice and vocal gestures. A vocal cue I have found particularly challenging to interpret is the use of intentional silence. I have noticed that sometimes after I’ve finished a sentence or a joke, it is met with crickets. When I am physically present, the silence is often accompanied with wide eyed glares. It has taken me thirty years to realize that when this happens, it is usually because I have either offended someone or made them feel uncomfortable. The fact that it has taken me my whole life to clue in to this is not because I am dumb, cold or careless but rather is a direct result of being a bottom-up processor. As an Autistic person, I have had to analyze every experience I have ever had with intentional silence in order to detect the common thread uniting each interaction. 

Indirect Speech

In many parts of the world, indirect speech is frequently used in casual conversations to communicate wants, needs, ideas and feelings. For instance, here in Canada when we want a visitor to leave our house, we usually ask them “what are your plans for today?” The purpose of this question is to subtly signal to the other person that our time together is coming to a close. Similarly, when I was in Colombia, I noticed that whenever a street-side vendor would try to sell their products to someone, the other person would say “gracias” with a smile as they walked away. I eventually realized that in Colombian culture, it is rude to just say “no” to someone, even if they are an aggressive sales person you want to shoo away. For Autistic people, indirect communication can be difficult to navigate because it requires us to manually add up the many environmental and social cues and combine them with the literal words being spoken. 

Examples of How our processing style affects our communication style

Literal Language

Indirect communication does not come naturally for most bottom up processors because it requires us to manually think about the meaning we want to convey along with the symbolic nature in which we will do so in order to be received well by those around us. When we are not masking our neurotype, we will most likely express our wants, needs, ideas and opinions in a more direct fashion, relying less on nonverbal cues to get our point across. For instance, if we are upset at someone, we are less likely to use sarcasm or other forms of passive aggression and more likely to say word for word what the other person is doing to bother us. We are also more likely to express our thoughts and opinions outright as opposed to providing subtle hints regarding our viewpoints. 

Differences in Conversation Flow

Since our brains tend to process one thing at a time, it comes more naturally for us to talk about a single, highly focused topic as opposed to a few highly generalized topics. Our tendency to speak in great detail about something in particular is often referred to as info dumping. Many of us spend hours engaging in our special interests and have a robust knowledge in specific things we find fascinating, and as a result, we can have much to say when these topics come up in conversation. Furthermore, our processing style lends itself better to taking long turns sharing and listening to one another as opposed to the quick, back and forth banter common in neurotypical social groups.

Literal Application of Social Norms

As Autistic people, understanding the complex and at times contradictory nature of social norms can be daunting since our brains must manually decode and interpret each norm to understand how it applies to a particular context. As a result, we tend to interpret and apply these arbitrary rules as either always right or always wrong. Let’s take interrupting for example. As an Autistic person, I had been taught from a young age that you should never interrupt anyone. What the alistic people around me did not realize is that such a lesson did more harm than good for my Autistic brain which does not innately grasp the nuances of what this norm meant in the real world. Realistically speaking, people constantly interrupt one another (especially in group settings) but they have to do so at the right moment, using the right voice volume etc. in order to not be perceived as rude. Since I was told that interrupting=socially inappropriate, I spent years avoiding it at all costs and, as a result, struggled to enter group conversations where people have to speak over each other in order to be heard.

Examples of Microaggressions Experienced by Autistic People

As Autistic people, we are on the receiving end of microaggressions on a daily basis, especially as it relates to our social differences. Over time, the constant judgement we face simply because our brains process information differently often leads to debilitating social anxiety, masking and shame. Below are some examples of judgmental comments we hear in everyday social interactions.

“Wow, that was rude!”

We are just as capable of being mean as the next person and must take responsibility for our actions when we are in the wrong. That being said, we are often heavily judged for our more direct communication style, which many neurotypical people misinterpret as rudeness. Being accused of meanness when we are simply expressing our thoughts, concerns and opinions can lead us to avoid sharing our own perspective altogether so as to guard ourselves from being misinterpreted as cruel or unempathetic. 

“Read the room!”

When our processing differences lead us to act in ways which the majority of people consider socially inappropriate, we are often met with eye rolls and passive aggressive comments such as this one. It can be incredibly distressing and shame-inducing for us to be framed as clueless, careless or socially inept simply because we do not have the same capacity to communicate in a way that others deem acceptable. 

“You’re so full of yourself!”

Our tendency towards direct communication and info dumping is often misinterpreted as arrogance. In some neurotypical people’s minds, we share in great detail about our special interests to show off our extensive knowledge and we provide our opinions and suggestions outright because we think our perspective is inherently superior. It’s highly likely that some of us are in fact arrogant (we have personalities after all!). That being said, being Autistic doesn’t make you full of yourself, it just means that you process information differently which in turn affects your communication style. 

“Stop using Autism as an excuse!”

When others are made aware of our diagnosis, they sometimes treat us as if we use our diagnosis to receive special treatment when in fact it is often the exact opposite.  Due to the discrimination we face when others find out we are on the spectrum, many of us would prefer not to disclose and will practice masking to protect ourselves from social, emotional and physical danger. Disclosing therefore is something which requires a lot of courage on our end and is almost never a manipulation tactic.  

Mindblindness vs. The Double Empathy Problem

Before the double empathy problem was theorized in 2012, the most accepted view of Autistic communication was called mindblindness. As people on the spectrum, this meant that everyone from professionals to ordinary folks believed we did not possess a theory of mind, and as result, were blind to what those around us were thinking and feeling. This misconception contributed to the stereotypes of Autistic people being: egocentric, emotionless, unempathetic and/or socially inept. The double empathy problem revolutionized the way we view and treat Autism by addressing the fact that both Autistic and non-Autistic people struggle to understand each other. The differences in how we process information affects our communication styles which in turn causes us to experience mutual breakdowns in communication where we misinterpret one another and are misinterpreted by one another.  

As an Autistic person, how can I accommodate myself in cross-neurotype interactions?

Know your limitations

As Autistic people in a largely non-Autistic world, there are areas which we will struggle with when communicating with alistic (aka non-Autistic) people. For me personally, recognizing that I struggle with interpreting certain facial expressions and unpacking complex social rules has helped me be less hard on myself when I commit social faux pas and when I feel safe, to ask for help and guidance from those around me. 

Ask for clarification

As an Autistic person, it can feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable to ask for clarification. Especially when we’ve been heavily judged for our communication differences. However, in times when we feel safe enough, doing so can help us understand more readily what the other person meant by their facial expressions, verbal cues, symbolic language etc. Something I have been practicing is asking for clarification at a later time to give myself time to process what I want to say. 

Set boundaries

Sometimes, even after we have clearly established our limitations, microagressions can persist; this is especially true in cases of bullying and when individuals view us as inferior as a result of our differences. For our own peace of mind, it is helpful to set boundaries with those who persistently treat us in a triggering way. This could look like only interacting with certain individuals in group settings and/or around your safe people. It can also look like limiting your sharing to more superficial topics with said individuals, saving more meaningful/personal conversations for those you can trust. 

As an ally, how can I accommodate my Autistic friend, family member, significant other etc.?

Give background context (when appropriate)

If a mutually trusting relationship has been established, giving us background context can help us make sense of complex social cues and norms. To make it clear that you are not infantilizing us, use a neutral tone of voice and communicate your perspective in a casual way (i.e. less like a teacher giving a social skills lecture and more like a friend giving advice). If you are unsure if we want to receive feedback from you, ask us! 

Ask for clarification

Our more direct communication style can confuse many non-Autistic people. Instead of assuming the worst of us, remember that our brains work differently and just like we might need your help to understand you, you might need our help to understand us. Yes, there are times where we are genuinely in the wrong and we must take responsibility for our actions when this is the case. That being said, we also have unique limitations which can make us vulnerable to being misinterpreted. Asking instead of assuming is the start to a relationship where both parties feel safe.

See the good in us (and help us see it, too!)

As Autistic people, we experience a lot of shame surrounding our social differences. It can be incredibly frustrating and alienating to constantly misinterpret others and be misinterpreted by others. Knowing that somebody appreciates our Autistic traits can make a major difference in how comfortable we feel taking off our masks. Train your eyes to focus on how our communication style can be beneficial. For instance, you might notice that our directness can be interpreted as sincerity as opposed to just being blunt. Complementing us on these neurodivergent qualities can in turn help us understand that our differences are of value and don’t make us inherently defective.

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to read my Substack! If there was something you found interesting, relatable and/or helpful, leave a comment below or message me directly. I always love to hear my readers’ thoughts and opinions. Also, if you haven’t already, subscribe to my page to receive notifications when a new post is out. Have a lovely day 💖

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Who They Think He Is

His skin is the colour of the milk 

He pours into his plain Cheerios 

Every morning at seven

His eyes are glazed over 

Like the porcelain dolls

Lining the shelves in his mother’s living room

His lips are screwed shut 

Until someone mentions that five letter word 

PLANE 

Then God help him keep quiet

He had only ever fallen in love once 

It was at an airport with an inanimate object

All I can say is she really was fly 

He wanted to take off with her so badly

But security wouldn’t let him 

Said getting close to a girl like her

Would be dangerous for a guy like him

She quickly became the object of his obsessions 

As he memorized every inch of her

Mesmerizing frame 

From head to tail

A year later he got his pilot’s license 

Now he can ride her whenever he wants

Who He Really Is

His skin is the colour of the chocolate cake 

He’s making for his son’s fifth birthday 

And his wife says that his eyes were the selling point for her

Before his Autism diagnosis

His eyes were a mess of bright red veins 

Thanks to the drinking habit he developed 

To keep people from discovering

Who he really was

A sensitive guy who couldn’t hide 

His feelings to save his life

Or in his case

His relationships and his job. 

Now he is 15 years sober 

10 years married 

And 5 years a father 

The corners of his eyes are creased 

From a decade of laughter

Who They Think She Is

She is a short haired

Face full of freckles

With a grimace so grim

It would scare away a goblin. 

Her voice is cool and sharp

As the icicles lining the rooftop

Of her family house 

Where she sits at 

The grand piano playing 

Beethoven on repeat

Her parents fret that

She will forever be untouchable

Literally, when they 

Try to touch her shoulder

She flinches so hard

You would think they were

Shoving her body off that

Shiny black bench

And sometimes, her mother

Feels it wouldn’t hurt for her to 

Develop other hobbies

Such as ballet 

Or choir

Or anything that

Would require her to make

Direct eye contact

With someone besides

Her beloved Bechstein.

Who She Really Is

She studies her powdered

Face in the lit-up mirror

With one eye opened

As she brushes golden 

Glitter on the other

With a shaky hand

The other ballerinas

Make applying makeup look so easy

Why can’t it be like that for her?

She thinks as she glances over 

At her dance team 

As they somehow manage 

To glue their lashes in place

While gossiping 

About the new girl at school

Letting Out full-bodied laughter

Unproportionate to their petit frames

Why can’t she look like them?

She asks herself silently

As she stares down her

Muffin top in the mirror

Maybe if she lost 10 pounds

They would finally

Look at her

The way they’re looking at each other?

She fights back tears to preserve

Her gold eyeshadow but its no use

She’s useless at keeping her cool

She tells herself  

Maybe if she wasn’t Autistic

They would want to be her friend. 

Autistic Joy:

I move my hips to the beat of the room

I don't even need music

The voices around me are rhythm enough

As I whirl effortlessly

My mind glowing like a disco ball

Smile shining like strobe lights.  

Autistic people often have comorbid dyspraxia and I was not spared of this condition which affects every type of movement from pen strokes to peddling your bike to moving and grooving your body to the beat. Many motor skills which my peers mastered in no time would take me years of effort to even grasp the bare basics. I was (and still am) the most clumsy, the messiest eater and the one you would never want to entrust with a fragile object. As a girl and later as a woman, this has been a source of embarrassment and shame for me as we are expected to move through the world with care, grace and etiquette. 

I didn’t learn how to ride a bike until I was fourteen years old and to avoid being the only ten year old with a tricycle, I stuck to my trusted Razor scooter, which I also tumbled from many times, collecting bruises, scars and shark gills galore. I think I could have learned to ride a two-wheeler a lot sooner if 1) I wasn’t so embarrassed of being caught in the learning faze and 2) the “expert” who diagnosed me with Autism had not predicted that I would never be capable of riding a bike. Though my dyspraxia has made many everyday activities twice as challenging, my true enemy has always been fear of the unknown. When learning a new motor-related skill, the what if’s flood my mind. What if I embarrass myself? What if I’m bullied? What if I try and try and try only to find out that I’m simply not able to do it? It is very easy for me to let these thoughts hold me back from even giving something new a chance.

The combination of ADHD and Autism meant that I had and continue to have an endless supply of nervous energy and a desperate need for an outlet. Though I wasn’t particularly good at it, I loved to dance and unfortunately for my parents, my favourite song as a kid was My Hump by The Black Eyed Peas. I even sang it at my tenth birthday party while I danced rather inappropriately. Kind of funny to think about the weird things we do in childhood. My friend who was in hip hop classes was teaching me dance moves in her backyard one day when she noticed that I struggled to follow the choreography. “Caitlyn, you have noodle arms.” She told me “My teacher says that when someone has noodle arms, they will never be good at dancing”. Since I had already felt incredibly insecure about my ability to coordinate movements, it was easy for me to internalize this statement as an infallible truth. 

Though I am naturally a highly expressive, outgoing person, the constant bullying and rejection taught me that the only way to protect myself from social and emotional danger was to make myself small and avoid doing things in public I was not particularly skilled at. This meant no full-bodied laughter, no talking to boys and most definitely no actual dancing. In my teen years to my early twenties, I presented as a terribly shy, introverted person. I rarely went to school dances and when I did, I would make my movements as small as possible to avoid drawing unwanted attention to myself. The insecurity I felt in my own body made dancing in most public spaces rather unenjoyable. Though I might have liked enrolling in dance classes, I decided against it out of fear of being bullied. As an Autistic girl, pretty much any extra curricular activity I did resulted in me being harassed by my peers to a point where I had no choice but to abandon ship. Dance class would be even worse, I thought, the fact that I struggled with coordination and following verbal instructions would make me the weakling holding everyone back. Heck, even the instructor might get fed up with me after a while and ask me to leave.

Though my childhood trauma had led to debilitating social and performance anxiety, I did tend to feel more safe being myself in specific spaces surrounded by specific people. I used to love dancing up a storm at church banquets and was almost always the first person to stand up and bust a move. This was not because I didn’t fear how others would perceive me but rather because I actively chose not to listen to the voice at the back of my head. Sometimes, people would make judgmental comments towards me after the fact, but I tried my best to brush these off. In these rare moments of unadulterated self-expression, I experienced something people in the neurodivergent community refer to as Autistic joy. 

Autistic joy is an intensely positive state which we experience through things like: unmasking, engaging in our special interests and being around our safe people. When I am in a state of Autistic joy, it feels as if my whole body is smiling, not just my face. Dancing has become a special interest of mine. I love how it makes me feel to move my body to the rhythm of not just the music but of my inner thoughts and emotions as well. I especially love to dance surrounded by other people. I think of dancing as not just an activity but a form of communication. The way we move our bodies says something about who we are, how we are feeling and what is important to us. The dance floor is one of the few places where I feel completely present in my own body. It’s as if everything else disappears and it’s just me, shaking my stuff with a massive smile. What I don’t like is when people interpret my joyfulness as “cute”. For me, my choice to be completely joyful is an expression of resilience and self-empowerment if anything. It is me telling myself and everyone around me that though I have been labelled, bullied and rejected, I am choosing not to let my past experiences define me. 

My mom has always told me that I have never been one to follow the crowd and that not being a quote-on-quote follower can sometimes feel lonely because it often means there are less people on your path at any given moment. As someone who has always felt out of place in the proverbial flock, I tend to gravitate towards what many people here in Canada would consider “different”. If you look at my Spotify playlists, you will see that I don’t have a single song from my part of the world. Similarly, when I did finally build up the courage to take dance classes, they were not the typical jazz, lyrical or hip hop.

I started my dance practice on You Tube where I found a few channels dedicated to Latin dance styles such as salsa, merengue and bachata. Given my special interest in Colombia (and the fact that my significant other is Colombian), I also tried my hand at more regional dances such as champeta. I would watch these videos on repeat until I mastered every step and on the rare occasion that I got to dance in public here in Winnipeg, I would use these dance moves in every song they played. When I was in Colombia, I would regularly dance with Jhonier and his family and friends. I particularly liked porro: a partner dance from the country’s Caribbean coastal region which Jhonier’s friend (who happens to be a dance instructor) introduced me to.

I eventually enrolled in bachata and salsa classes at a nearby studio back home in Winnipeg. These sessions taught me an essential element of dance which I will refer to as catching the flow. This happens when you transition from mechanical movements to embodiment. At first, I felt frustrated at not being able to follow my partner due to my difficulties with coordination and following verbal instructions. At times, the person I was dancing with would even get frustrated at me as well. However, after a few weeks I found my body moving smooth as butter. Catching the flow felt similar to obtaining fluency in language learning: you reach a point where you understand intuitively, not just mechanically. As an Autistic person, I have an interesting relationship with the flow. Being a bottom-up processor means that I naturally focus on one movement at a time as opposed to the overall choreography. On one hand, my hyper-focus can help me achieve fluency in very specific steps which I can later apply to other sequences. On the other hand, the fact that my brain wants to master movements in a sequential manner can make catching the flow of the choreography as a whole more time-consuming. 

Though I do enjoy dancing with a partner, I find myself more gravitated to free-style as I am able to be more expressive and less controlled with my movements. For about a year now, I have been teaching myself different African and Afro-Caribbean dance styles such as: Afrobeats, Dancehall, Azonto and Amapiano. I have a long list of dance moves on my computer which I have either mastered, plan to learn in the future or am currently working on. Though it can take me about a month or more to catch the flow for specific steps, when I finally do, my brain floods with light and I feel empowered. Every step I master is a stepping stone which I look back on when I am feeling discouraged. Remember, you taught yourself to dance happy feet. You most definitely can teach yourself twshala bami. 

For the past few weeks, I have been taking Naija Fusion dance classes at a local studio. I treat these sessions less like a boot camp and more like a moving meditation. Every time my mind drifts into frustration and fear of failure, I close my eyes and center myself. Caitlyn, you are here. Enjoy the process and catch that flow. I find the less I allow myself to be fixated on mastery, the more masterful my movements are. I love how my intense focus can actually work in my favour when I direct it towards being fully present in my mind and body. 

In my childhood and adolescence, I had a love-hate relationship with dance and though having dyspraxia means that coordinating movements is still more of a challenge for me compared to other adults, I can honestly say that dancing has become a source of Autistic joy. It can take me longer than most to catch the flow, but when I do, it is both magical and empowering. Every dance move I master reminds me that I am not limited by the boundaries “experts” had imposed on me. Though my Autism and dyspraxia has resulted in much frustration, shame and childhood trauma, the fact that I have had to work harder than my peers meant that I developed greater resilience which I have benefited from as an adult. I have faced many setbacks and still came through the other side, and as a result I have continuously growing evidence that I can do so again and again and again. Therefore, when I hear that little voice saying “you’re Autistic, you can’t do that” my response is “try me”. 

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This poem illustrates my experience being spoken to in a high pitched voice as an adult (a form of infantilization)

From Soprano to Tenor

My blood pressure rises 

Every time I hear “hi Caitlyn”

Sung in that high-pitched voice

Reserved for infants, pets and the Disabled

LOOK AT ME! 

I want to yell

I am an adult whose ears are 

Ready to listen.

Whose mind has so much wisdom

To share with you.

If you really knew me 

You would know that 

I am just as capable of helping you

As you are me

And if you really cared to show me 

The respect I deserve

By looking past the label

Your voice would drop an octave.

What is infantilization?

Infantilization happens when individuals or groups of people are perceived and/or treated as if they were much younger than their physical and mental age would indicate. By perceiving someone who is not mentally and/or physically a child as if they were, one can more easily convince themself that they know the other person better than the other person knows themself. This gives people the supposed permission to stereotype us, make decisions on our behalf and treat us in ways which would be considered inappropriate if we were not on the spectrum. 

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Why are Autistic people prone to being infantilized?

History: Autism used to be considered a childhood condition and though we now know that it is present for the course of an individual’s life, the history of this neurotype has greatly impacted the way we perceive and treat people on the spectrum to this day.

Fear of our own vulnerabilities: being around our Autistic peers can remind us of our own vulnerabilities, this can be very uncomfortable. To create an artificial barrier between our vulnerabilities and their’s, we may choose to mentally categorize them as “less human” or “childlike”. Though we may not verbally state how we are perceiving the other person or even consciously recognize our ignorance, it will inevitably manifest itself in the way we interact with Autistic individuals.

The Media: Autistic and Autistically-coded characters in popular media are often given qualities such as: egocentrism, dependence on caregivers/non-Autistic people and a lack of empathy. Since a lot of people learn about Autism through movies, TV shows and novels, these depictions have a major impact on how we are perceived by those around us. 

Examples of how Autistic people are infantilized

Baby talk: As I illustrated in my poem From Soprano to Tenor, Autistic people are sometimes spoken to in high pitched voices that are normally reserved for children and infants. This is more likely to happen when we act in ways that are stereotypically Autistic or our diagnosis is made known to others by word of mouth. 

Trivializing our struggles: Autistic meltdowns are sometimes perceived and/or treated as toddler-like temper tantrums or other attention-seeking behaviours when they are in fact an expression of profound distress. Additionally, the difficulties we experience are often reduced to: speech, social skills, coordination, sensory challenges and independence, when in reality, some of us are also at an increased risk of struggling with less “innocent” things such as: suicidal ideations, substance abuse and eating disorders.

Assumptions about romantic attraction/attractiveness: Autistic people are often perceived as being unsuitable options for romantic partners, being asexual or both. Additionally, the fact that Autism is classified as a developmental disorder can lead others to assume that our desire for romantic intimacy is delayed.

Being viewed as a burden: Like children, Autistic people are often viewed as a burden to their families. Comments like “it’s hard raising kids on the spectrum” are commonly made to caregivers. Though it is true that those who support us have their own challenges, it is patronizing when these remarks are given in our presence and when there is no acknowledgement of the challenges we face. 

Pitying: On the flip side, some people make our challenges out to be much greater than they actually are to the point where they are unable to see our strengths. When others pity us for being on the spectrum, it is just as condescending as when they view us as a burden.

Not-so-implied consent: Having others make decisions on one’s behalf is a common experience for many Autistic people. In my last post, I wrote about how I experienced this in the school system when they had taken me out of French class without consulting me. 

Pet-projecting: People sometimes use Autistic individuals to bolster their reputation by “befriending” or “helping” them in public settings. On the surface, their actions might appear innocent, but when the intention is self-seeking in nature, it is patronizing to us.  

Assuming incompetence: Many non-Autistic people will give advice, feedback and background context on interactions without asking us if we want or need their help. In cases of bullying and/or emotional abuse, this can also come in the form of passive-aggressive comments about Autistic traits such as: difficulties keeping organized, social differences and challenges with gross and fine motor skills.

Some personal examples of how infantilization has impacted my life

Learned helplessness: Being treated like a child meant that I struggled (and continue to struggle) with feeling incapable of doing many adult things such as driving a car and going on dates. I have had to work very hard to change my internal narrative of incompetence in order to be where I am today.

Increased sensitivity and defensiveness: My trauma with being infantilized has led me to be on high alert for patronizing behaviours (i.e. comments, facial expressions and tones of voice). When I get the tiniest sense that somebody is infantilizing me, my reflexive response is to engage in masking behaviours.

A profound sense of not belonging: Infantilization is similar to dehumanization in that it serves to alienate the individual or group of people in question by making them out to be not fully human. Having been on the receiving end of infantilization for most of my life, I struggle on a daily basis with feeling like I don’t belong. 

Feeling misunderstood: People often assume that as an Autistic person, my primary struggles in life are sensory overwhelm and a lack of social skills when in reality, they have more to do with being stereotyped, alienated and patronized. The fact that many people don’t associate these experiences with being on the spectrum means that I fear others will minimize or misinterpret how my life experiences have impacted me.

As an Autistic person, what should I do if I am being infantilized?

Trust your gut: We are often taught from a young age not to trust ourselves due to our social differences. This belief is dangerous in that it can lead to being compliant when others treat us in unacceptable ways. If you think somebody is infantilizing you, trust your gut. 

Ask & Self-Advocate: when a person you know well and trust (i.e. close friend, romantic partner or family member) does something that seems infantilizing, it might be a good idea to ask them what their intentions were. Once they have elaborated, proceed to let them know how what they did made you feel and how you would prefer to be treated in the future.

Stand your ground: Bullies and pet-projectors often intentionally infantilize people and therefore, when given the opportunity will be likely to justify their actions to avoid being exposed. When dealing with these individuals, simply let them know that you don’t appreciate the way they are treating you and how you would prefer to be treated in the future. 

Educate them: Most people learn about Autism from sources which are known to infantilize Autistic people (i.e. movies and TV shows). As an Autistic person, you have the unique opportunity to give people a more accurate and less romanticized picture of what it means to be on the spectrum; one which could lead them to treat the Autistic people in their lives with greater respect and dignity. 

Set boundaries: If even after you have advocated for yourself the person continues to treat you in an infantilizing way, set boundaries with them. For example, if they are a part of a larger friend group, you might choose to only interact with them in group settings and around people who you know will have your back. 

Talk about it: Infantilization can be a very traumatic experience, especially if it is done repetitively over the course of your life. Share your experiences with people you trust so they can support you in your healing journey. 

Don’t mask: it can be tempting to mask our Autistic traits when they lead others to respond in a stigmatizing way towards us. However, when somebody infantilizes us, it is the result of their ignorance; they are the one who needs to change, not us. 

As an ally, what should I do if I think my Autistic friend, partner, family member etc. is being infantilized?

Let us be the first to know: our social differences can at times pose a challenge for recognizing infantilization (especially when it’s done discreetly). Letting us know when you observe somebody infantilizing us can help us be more aware of these behaviours in the future so we can be better equipped to advocate for ourselves. 

Stand beside us: if you notice somebody is infantilizing us in a group setting, actively decide not to participate in it or encourage it. This lets us know that we can trust you to treat us with respect and dignity even when others are not.

Support us: If we are experiencing infantilization on a regular basis, we will most likely need people to go to who will listen to us and validate our experiences. Being a supportive person in our lives can make a major difference in helping us feel less alone.

When appropriate, stand up for us: when we are present and capable of speaking for ourselves, standing up for us can itself be infantilizing as it communicates to us that we are not seen as capable of advocating for ourselves. That being said, when we are either not present or in a compromised state (i.e. experiencing a meltdown/shutdown) it can also be a sign of support and solidarity.

Note: I will be using the terms normal and special needs in this post to illustrate the language I and those around me used to speak about neurodiversity at the time. Nowadays, I view these categories as outdated and harmful and would prefer to use neurotypical and neurodivergent in their place. 

Below is a poem I wrote about my first experience learning a language:

The Day I Learned to Not Use the A-Word
I sat in the front row
Marveling at my bilingual dictionary
As if it were a portal to another world
While Mrs. Sexsmith (yes, that was her name)
Gave us the coordinates to map it out
She might have asked
“What word does love intersect?”
Amour I would have answered
As I flipped through the pages
Letting the old book smell fill my nostrils
Et j'aime apprendre la langue.

Un petit problem: I was Autistic
And the school decided for me
That because of my diagnosis
I was not capable of learning a language
Other than the one I already spoke.

Without warning, I was told the next day
That I could not take French class
With the neurotypical girls and boys
And that instead, I should find my way
To the resource room where all the other
Disabled adolescents were.

I probably spent that period staring into
Space, dreaming about what it would
Be like to be an NT
Fantasizing about what it would be like
To have autonomy instead of Autism.

When the bell rang
I sunk into the passenger seat
Of my mom’s car balling
Because they shut the doorway
To the world which I longed to inhabit
One which should have been mine to discover.

The first and last time I attended French class felt like a dream come true. Learning a new language seemed akin to entering a portal to another world. One where maybe, just maybe, I belonged. The next day, I came back to school excited to immerse myself in this world, only to find out that the portal had been shut in my face. This is when I learned that being Autistic meant being treated like a child: a person without autonomy. A person who supposedly doesn’t know themself as well as the adults (or in my case, the normal people) in their life do. I was instructed to go to the resource room with the other special needs kids. This devastated me. Walking to the room felt like a walk of shame, especially given the fact that it was literally across the hall from where all the normal kids went to learn our country’s other official language. When the bell rang, I sunk into the passenger seat of my mom’s car, balling my eyes out. The next few days, I waited until my peers had all filed into French class before sneaking into the resource room in hopes that they wouldn’t notice, but soon enough they did and started calling me C-Tard in the hallways. I began to believe that I actually was intellectually disabled. Why else would I not be allowed to take French class? I thought. In high school, I was given the opportunity to take Spanish as an elective, but decided against it out of fear that I would be bad at it. Though I now knew that I was not intellectually disabled, I still suffered from learned helplessness. People like me just aren’t cut out for languages, I concluded.

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My mental narrative changed when I was in Bangkok, Thailand in 2018. While there, I noticed that many of my Autistic traits such as my sharp pattern detection skills, vivid memory and intense focus actually worked in my favour for picking up the local language. Simply by reading the stops on the metro while listening to the automated voice on the speaker, I was able to connect a few of the sounds to the symbols which make up the Thai alphabet. Upon realizing this, I began to feel that same intense joy I felt years ago sitting in French class. The portal had reopened, and this time, nobody was there to stop me from entering. I got back home with a new special interest as my souvenir. While taking the bus to work, I would memorize the Thai alphabet and when I got home, I would watch You Tube videos on repeat on conversational Thai. Although I did eventually decide to part ways with Thai, I did not give up on language learning all together. 

That particular year, I was going through some major mental health challenges which eventually led to me being let go from my job. As a way of giving myself a sense of direction, I decided to embark on a new (or rather re-visited) language-learning journey. I found myself at the bookstore in the language aisle, searching through the books in the Spanish section until I landed on a bright yellow number titled “Margarita Madrigal’s Magic Guide to Spanish”. As I marked up and doggy eared the pages, It became clear that Spanish was the language for me. 

My dad passed away in 2020, and as a way of coping with my loss, I became more immersed than ever before in the world of Spanish. I started watching a Colombian TV series on Netflix called La Niña and developed a special interest in Colombia. While studying the country’s geography on Google Maps, I took notice of the city Medellín and decided that one day, I was going to travel there. 

I connected online with a few ladies in Medellín to practice my Spanish and build relationships with people in my dream city. One of these ladies introduced me to Jhonier who is now my significant other. I also developed friendships with latinos in Winnipeg. As somebody who has always felt different from my peers, I tend to gravitate towards those who feel similarly such as people of colour and people from diverse cultural backgrounds. Learning to speak a minority language in my home country has helped me relate on a deeper level with individuals who, like me, struggle to fit in with those around them. 

In 2022, I decided to do a bachelor’s degree in Spanish Studies at the University of Winnipeg. This along with the fact that I was speaking regularly in Spanish with my latino friends had helped me obtain a high level of fluency. It was empowering to know that I could write essays on classical literature in a language other than English and do it well. Throughout my degree, I read many books including: Cien años de soledad, Don Quijote de La Mancha and La vorágine. 

Since 2023, I have travelled to Colombia three times and am planning to go back again soon. On my first visit, Jhonier and I decided to start dating and are together to this day. As a language enthusiast himself, he encouraged me to start learning French, and has helped me along this new language learning journey. Although I have not been as dedicated to French as I am Spanish, I’m hoping one day to be able to speak and write fluently in it as well. 

On one hand, my story exemplifies the consequences of making decisions on behalf of someone else based on a label. Being taken out of French class had taught me that being Autistic meant not having the right to make my own life choices. It also caused learned helplessness to take root in various areas of my life, one of those being my ability to learn languages. At the end of the day, the belief that one can make a decision on our behalf simply because we are on the spectrum is a consequence of the wide-spread infantilization of Autistic people. If we are to be given the same right as our peers to be treated as autonomous individuals, our society needs to first recognize that we are.

On the other hand, my story is evidence that even when we are held back by people who think they know best, we are still capable of thriving later in life. The positive experience I had in Thailand served to change the way I viewed myself from someone who was limited by their disability to someone who had unique abilities which they could harness as a way of helping them learn something new. This newfound confidence emboldened me to take up Spanish, a decision which has enriched my life with meaningful experiences, cross-cultural relationships and a degree in something that I am passionate about. Thanks to my significant other, I have also been taking up French. It is empowering to know that as an adult, I am legally entitled to immerse myself in any world I want. The portal is wide open, and this time, nobody can stop me from entering.  

Thank you for taking the time to read this week’s post. Please feel free to comment, like, share and subscribe for more. Have a lovely day!

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While I was still heavily masked, I regularly heard a small voice telling me “Caitlyn, it’s time to let your guard down” but the whisper was usually toppled over by the anthem of my fear “Caitlyn, once people know, there’s no going back.” My mask was more than just an ornate face covering, it was my shield and armour, and though it was designed to protect me, the sheer weight of it was wearing me out. I made the decision to practice unmasking not because I thought it would be cool or fun, but because the pain of suppressing my Autistic traits and all the trauma surrounding my diagnosis had become unbearable for me. At first, I was not very optimistic about what would come of my newly founded unguardedness. However, the more I practice letting my guard down with people who make me feel safe, the more confident I feel that I am making the right choice by listening to the whisper. Although there have been some hiccups along the way, I can honestly say that unmasking has had a positive impact on my mental-health, relationships, authenticity and self-confidence.

Mental Health

One of the major steps in my unmasking journey has been allowing myself to stim when I am distressed. Although engaging in stereotypical Autistic behaviours such as rocking and hand flapping makes me feel self-conscious, not suppressing my stims has made me more effective at regulating myself out of a pre meltdown/shutdown state. It also helps me be more in touch with my body so I can notice signs I might be escalating. I find myself resorting less frequently to maladaptive coping mechanisms such as self-isolation, angry outbursts and people-pleasing to protect myself from harm and manage my overwhelm.

Relationships

Ironically, being open about what supposedly makes me different helps me better relate to those around me. Although my friends may not be Autistic, they can identify with being othered, stigmatized or feeling like they don’t fit in and we use our shared experiences to support and empathize with each other. I have noticed that since I started being more open with my friends about being on the spectrum, they have felt more comfortable sharing their own struggles with me and coming to me for advice. This surprised me as I always thought speaking to my friends about being Autistic would cause them to lose respect for me and assume that I would not be capable of providing them emotional support.

Authenticity

My words, thoughts and actions are becoming more in line with my core values and beliefs. The fact that my energy is not consumed by suppressing my autistic traits means that I have a greater capacity for: empathy, kindness and integrity. Although being authentic requires courage and bravery, practicing being vulnerable with those I trust when I need help, offering my opinion when I disagree with someone and letting my friends know when they have done something that hurt me has been a liberating experience for me.

Self-Confidence

Lastly, I am realizing that confidence is not so much a personality trait you are born with as it is a muscle you can exercise. The more I practice letting my guard down, the more evidence I collect that it is safe to do so, the more secure I become in who I am as a person. It is empowering to know that even when I experience bullying, stereotyping and infantilization as a result of my unmasking, I am able to stand up for myself and even educate others on what it truly means to be Autistic.

Some Closing Thoughts

Overall, my experience so far becoming a visible autistic person has been empowering. I used to feel jealous when I witnessed people opening up about their vulnerabilities. The idea of experiencing such liberation seemed impossibly dangerous for me, especially given the fact that I am not a part of a larger Autistic community and know very few people who are on the spectrum. My past experiences being bullied and infantilized led me to believe that if those I cared about learned I was Autistic, they might reduce me to a diagnosis as opposed to seeing me as a human being with my own unique life-experiences, interests and personality traits. Although disclosing my diagnosis has led to some dehumanizing experiences, the majority of people have responded with love, respect and dignity. Having evidence that I can be visibly Autistic and still feel that I belong has helped reshape my internal narrative from one of fear and insecurity to one of courage and confidence. Every now and again, I hear that loud voice warning me of the irreversible nature of letting my guard down, but with every positive encounter I have, the anthem becomes quieter and quieter, allowing the whisper to take centre stage in my conscience. I can never go back, and really, I don’t want to do so.

A goal of mine moving forward is to be open about my diagnosis when it comes up in conversation with acquaintances. My immediate reaction when I meet new people is to tell them that I have anything but Autism; I have been making an effort to self-correct when I do this with the hope that one day, my natural response will be the truth.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. Please feel free to like, share, comment and subscribe :)

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What is Masking?

Masking is a technique which neurodivergent people use to appear neurotypical by consciously or subconsciously camouflaging the traits that others associate with their neurotype. The fundamental reason behind why we learn to mask is because our life experiences have taught us that our being different causes us to be unsafe. Our masks are essentially shields which protect us from real and perceived social, emotional and/or physical danger.

How I Mask

When I am masking, I become hyper aware of the: body language, facial expressions and voice volume of those surrounding me. I use my observations as a guide for how best to mirror other people in the room. Mirroring is the practice of imitating other’s behaviour to build rapport, and in the case of many Autistic people, to avoid being stigmatized. For neurotypical people, this is a practice as natural as breathing or blinking, but many Autistic people like myself have to consciously adjust their behaviour to imitate those around them. One of the many ways that I mirror others is by being cognizant of their voice volume and consciously changing my own to match theirs.

In addition to being observant of what is going on around me, I am also hyper aware of the way in which I behave around others. When I am interacting with someone, I am often consciously thinking about how much direct eye contact I am making and adjusting it if I sense the other person is feeling uncomfortable.

When I am home alone, I frequently get lost in planning conversations I want to have in the future or rehearsing past conversations to figure out if I did something wrong and if so, what I could do differently for next time. This process of practicing and critiquing daily interactions is known as scripting and is very common among masking Autistic people. Although we all occasionally map out what we want to say to someone or look back at past conversations to see where they went wrong, scripting for me has become a toxic trait. I can easily spend hours in what I would describe as an all-consuming virtual-reality-esque state rehearsing past and future conversations on repeat. The pull to script is usually driven by the fear I have of committing a social error which could put a relationship of mine in jeopardy.

Experiences That Taught Me To Mask My Autism

Being inherently different from my peers meant that I was an easy target for bullying long before anybody knew that I was Autistic. When I received my diagnosis in grade 3, I was frequently taken out of class to receive “special education”; I also was not allowed to participate in French class with my peers as the school had decided on my behalf that I needed a resource period. The social distress I experienced around my peers along with the unsolicited special treatment I received in elementary and junior high school led me to believe that if others found out that I was Autistic, I might risk being bullied, infantilized or passed up for future opportunities. Disguising my Autism then felt like the only option if I wished to lead a fulfilling life where I felt: accepted, autonomous and appreciated for who I was. Later life experiences in church, work and social groups had reinforced this belief to the point where I felt I could never tell anyone about my disability, not even those I was closest to, and I most definitely could not allow myself to unmask my Autistic traits in public.

The Anatomy of My Mask

In the book Unmasking Autism, Dr. Devon Price refers to the different elements which make up our camouflage as the anatomy of our mask. I particularly like this term as it reflects the scientific way in which we approach the creation of our neurotypical persona. The anatomy of my mask consists of elements such as: hyper-independence, agreeableness, and suppressing my stims.

Hyper Independence:

Autistic people are often thought of as immature or childlike. In an effort to avoid being infantilized, I would often practice hyper-independence by avoiding asking for help when I needed it or being vulnerable about things which I found challenging.

Agreeableness:

Another common stereotype of Autistic people is that they are overly opinionated know-it-alls. In an effort to be viewed as agreeable, I would over-compensate by choosing not to offer opinions, advice or corrections even when I thought they could be valuable for the other person to hear.

Suppressing My Stims:

Last but not least, nothing says “I am Autistic” like rocking in your seat or flapping your hands. Although these self-regulatory behaviours (aka “stims”) help me get back to my baseline when I am feeling distressed, they put me at risk of being stigmatized when I do them in public. The fear of being treated differently has led me to suppress my stims at work, at school and around my friends and family.

How Masking has Hurt Me

Ironically, though the purpose of masking is to protect yourself from harm, the act of camouflaging aspects of yourself can itself be harmful. Masking has led me to feel: stressed, isolated and insecure.

Stress:

When I am masking, I find that I experience more meltdowns and shutdowns. This is especially true when I am suppressing the very behaviours that help me regulate myself. The distress I experience from having to consciously change the way I communicate has led me to act and speak out of anger and hurt those I care about.

Isolation:

Although the very point of masking is to make your disability invisible, it can feel very isolating to know that nobody else sees the distress you are experiencing when you are hiding it behind your mask. Furthermore, the fact that I avoided things like asking for help and offering advice meant that even my closest friendships lacked depth and authenticity.

Insecurity:

When I was heavily masked, I often doubted that the people in my life would still treat me with love, respect and dignity if they saw that I was Autistic. The fear of what would happen if I was exposed reinforced my masking which in turn led to a vicious cycle of insecurity. Since I didn’t know what would happen if I unmasked, I had no evidence to prove that I was wrong to be afraid.

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Please feel free to like, comment, share and subscribe for more. I’m going to try to publish a new post every Monday so stay tuned :)

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What are Autistic Meltdowns & Shutdowns?

Autistic meltdowns and shutdowns are two different reactions to high levels of distress. A meltdown is the equivalent of the fight response and may look like: outbursts of anger, screaming, crying, self-harming behaviours and/or aggression. It is important to note that a meltdown is not manipulative, it is a release of the stress that has built up in the body. On the other hand, a shutdown (aka “silent meltdown”) is the equivalent of the freeze response. When we experience a shutdown, we may become non-verbal or communicate using minimal words. We may also lose the ability to mask our Autistic traits and so appear more “disabled” than usual. While the purpose of a meltdown is to release stress, the purpose of a shutdown is to reduce stress by temporarily “shutting down” the nervous system. This can cause us to feel physically and emotionally numb. In both cases, we have very little control over our reactions and may feel embarrassed during/after experiencing a meltdown/shutdown. 

What Causes Them?

A meltdown/shutdown is usually caused by one or more of the stressors listed below: 

Sensory Overwhelm

Autistic people often have sensory differences and as a result, we may be more or less sensitive to certain sensations than neurotypical people. Things like bright lights, physical pain, loud noises and/or strong scents could cause us to feel distressed more or less easily than those around us. Furthermore, we often struggle with selective attention or the ability to filter out irrelevant stimuli. This means that in environments where there are lots of different stimuli, we may experience all the sensations at equal magnitude. 

Emotional Distress

Things such as the death of a loved one, a breakup, past trauma and pre-existing mental health conditions can make Autistic people more susceptible to experiencing a meltdown/shutdown. There is a common misconception that Autistic people do not experience the world through their emotions. This can lead to emotional distress being overlooked as a contributing factor to our meltdowns/shutdowns.

Change 

The fact that our brains tend to focus on one thing at a time (called monotropic thinking) means that we are more likely to experience higher levels of distress when presented with change. Some real life examples of this could be: learning to navigate a new city, transitioning from eating dinner to doing the dishes and adjusting to a new work schedule. 

Social Stressors

Being an Autistic person in a largely non-autistic world often means experiencing regular communication breakdowns where we are misinterpreting others, being misinterpreted by others or both. This can be deeply distressing for us as we want so badly to understand and to be understood by those around us. Furthermore, our fear of being othered may lead us to mask our Autistic traits in order to appear neurotypical. Although masking may help us to avoid being stigmatized, it can be harmful to our nervous systems and our sense of self as it requires us to act like somebody we are not. 

As an Autistic Individual, How Can I Support Myself? 

Self-Advocacy: If you haven’t already, start letting the people you feel safest around know that you’re Autistic and be vocal about what is and is not helpful when they are supporting you during a meltdown/shutdown.

Unmasking: masking can contribute to a great deal of social stress, practicing being a visible Autistic person in safe environments can help eliminate some of the distress that could eventually lead to you experiencing a meltdown/shutdown. 

Ask for help: When I feel my stress levels rising, something that helps me is to let somebody know that I might need their support. If I have reached a point where I struggle to communicate verbally, I may communicate this through my body language. If you are by yourself, it might help to call somebody safe so you feel less alone. 

Be Proactive: If you know you are going somewhere where you might feel distressed, use the tools that you have at your disposal to come up with an action plan. If somebody who you feel safe around with will be joining you, let them know in advance how they can support you if you start escalating. Also, if the things that are likely to trigger you are external stimuli, bring along items that might help you bring yourself back to baseline (example: sunglasses, headphones, etc.)

Don’t Self-Sabotage: Unless we are in a place that is harmful to our: emotional, social, physical and/or spiritual wellbeing, we should not flee. If abandoning environments that cause us stress becomes a habit, we might end up isolating ourselves from those we care about and miss out on meaningful life experiences. Instead of running away, we should practice adapting our environments to make them safe for us. 

As an Ally, How Can I Support My: Friend, Partner, Family Member etc?  

Be Discreet: Having a meltdown/shutdown in a public space can be embarrassing for us. To help us preserve our sense of dignity, it is preferable that you communicate your desire to support us discreetly. For instance, instead of asking from across the room “are the lights too bright?” In a loud voice, go close to the person and ask them quietly. This not only helps lessen our fears of being stigmatized, it also makes it clear to us that your intentions are not self-seeking. 

Avoid Open-Ended Questions: Questions like “what happened?”, “what’s wrong?” or “how can I support you?” Can be overwhelming to hear when you’re in a distressed state. Instead, try to use more yes/no questions. Examples could be “is it too loud for you?”, “Would it help if I gave you a hug?” Or “do you want to go to a quiet space?” 

Find a Private Place: When we experience meltdowns/shutdowns, it is often helpful if you can take us to a private space. This allows us to self-regulate without fear of onlookers observing our Autistic behaviour. 

Reduce External Stimulation: You may not be able to take away everything that is triggering our distress, but you can help us get back to our baseline by reducing external stimulation. This may look like: dimming the lights, providing us headphones/sunglasses, or only speaking to us when necessary. 

*note: it is preferable that you ask us before adjusting the environment. Not doing so could make us feel we are losing our autonomy. 

Listen, Listen, Listen: Last but not least, remember that we are the experts. If we tell you what we need, listen to what we have to say.