Unmasking Autism

Think of the most socially adept, charming, and successful person you know. The one who navigates every conversation with ease, who seems to have an innate understanding of unspoken rules, and who effortlessly climbs the social and professional ladder. Now, consider this: what if that person's success is the result of an exhausting, lifelong performance? What if their social grace is a meticulously constructed mask, built piece by piece from years of intense study, imitation, and painful trial-and-error? The truth is, the very people we celebrate as masters of social interaction are often the ones working the hardest to conceal a profound sense of difference. This relentless effort to perform 'normalcy' is a hidden burden, and its cost is far greater than anyone realizes.

This exhausting performance of normalcy is something Dr. Devon Price knows intimately. As a social psychologist and professor at Loyola University of Chicago's School of Continuing and Professional Studies, he spent his life achieving conventional success—excelling in school, building a career, and maintaining a wide social circle. Yet, he lived with a constant, draining sense of anxiety and alienation, a feeling that he was always playing a part he hadn't been given the script for. It was only after his own autism diagnosis that he began to understand the mechanics of this performance, which he calls 'masking.' He wrote "Unmasking Autism" to dismantle the cultural expectation that autistic people must suppress their true selves to be accepted, revealing how this pressure to conform harms everyone, neurodivergent and neurotypical alike.

Module 1: The Hidden Cost of the Mask

We all adjust our behavior to fit in. But for many Autistic people, this is a full-time job called masking. Masking is a survival strategy. It involves consciously suppressing natural Autistic traits to appear more neurotypical. This performance is a response to a world that isn't built for them.

The first thing to grasp is that masking is a cognitively draining, full-body performance. It involves camouflaging and compensation. Camouflaging means hiding natural behaviors. Think of someone suppressing the urge to stim—a repetitive motion like hand-flapping that helps regulate their system. Compensation means actively building a neurotypical persona. This could involve studying social scripts from movies or memorizing acceptable conversation topics. Crystal, a woman in the book, faked sickness in school to escape overwhelming social events. This was both camouflaging her distress and compensating with a socially approved excuse.

Here's the problem. This constant performance is exhausting. It leads to a state Price calls Autistic burnout. This is a state of chronic exhaustion, increased stress, and a loss of skills. The author himself experienced this in grad school, leading to a breakdown. He describes it as feeling "imprisoned" by solitude and losing the will to live. Many masked Autistics face severe mental health crises. These include anxiety, depression, and eating disorders. They are performing functionality on the outside while crumbling on the inside.

So, what drives this intense need to mask? It's often rooted in deep-seated fear. Specifically, internalized ableism and fear of stigma fuel the need to mask. From a young age, many Autistic people are shamed for their natural behaviors. They are called "weird," "childish," "rude," or "robotic." They learn to associate their authentic selves with these painful labels. The mask becomes an overcorrection. It's a desperate attempt to avoid judgment. The author recalls witnessing a visibly Autistic peer get bullied. He then consciously built a tough, aggressive persona to distance himself from any perceived weakness. He was masking to survive the social hierarchy.

This creates a vicious cycle. The better you are at masking, the less support you receive. This leads to a key insight: masking creates a "double bind" where appearing capable prevents you from getting necessary support. A child who successfully hides their struggles is seen as "high-functioning." Their internal suffering is ignored. They are denied accommodations. Yet, they are expected to maintain this high-functioning facade indefinitely. This is reinforced by therapies like Applied Behavioral Analysis, or ABA. The book critiques ABA for training Autistic children to perform neurotypical behaviors, often through punitive methods. It teaches compliance over comfort. It builds a better mask, not a happier child. The result is a generation of adults who are experts at hiding their pain, but strangers to themselves.

Module 2: The Myth of the "Typical" Autistic Person

Now, let's turn to a major roadblock in understanding Autism. When you hear the word "Autism," what comes to mind? For many, it's a stereotype. Perhaps it's a socially awkward boy who is a math genius, like the character in Rain Man. This narrow view is incredibly damaging. It makes countless Autistic people invisible.

The reality is that Autism diagnosis is historically biased toward white, wealthy, and male individuals. The diagnostic criteria were built around this specific profile. Hans Asperger's early research, for example, focused on "high-functioning" white boys to appeal to the eugenicist views of his time. This legacy persists. As a result, girls, people of color, and LGBTQ+ individuals are systematically underdiagnosed. A quiet, sensitive girl like Crystal is seen as having personality quirks. A similar boy might be assessed for Autism. The diagnosis ratio is still around four boys for every one girl.

This bias forces many people into a lifetime of masking. For instance, masked Autism is especially prevalent among women, gender minorities, and people of color. Their experiences are often misinterpreted. An Autistic woman's flat emotional expression might be labeled "bitchy." A Black Autistic man's directness might be perceived as "aggressive." Catina Burkett, a Black Autistic woman, describes this exact experience. She had to constantly code-switch, shifting her behavior to survive different cultural contexts. This is a cognitive burden layered on top of the already exhausting work of masking.

And here's the thing. The concept of "female Autism" is itself misleading. It suggests a distinct subtype of Autism. But the traits associated with it—like social chameleon behavior or intense anxiety—are common in any late-diagnosed Autistic person who has been forced to mask. Laura Kate Dale, a transgender woman, had traits that aligned with "female Autism." But because she was assigned male at birth, they were overlooked. This shows masking is a response to social pressure, not biology.

This brings us to a crucial point about language. Harmful "functioning" labels oversimplify Autism and equate human value with productivity. Terms like "high-functioning" or "low-functioning" are deeply problematic. "High-functioning" often just means "good at masking." It erases the immense hidden labor and suffering involved. Boo, an Autistic nurse, is seen as highly capable at her job. But this label ignores the days she cannot speak and needs help with basic tasks. Conversely, "low-functioning" is dehumanizing. It denies agency and ignores potential. Ido Kedar was considered "low-functioning" because he is non-speaking. Once he got an iPad to communicate, he excelled academically and wrote books. Functioning is about support and accommodation, not innate ability. These labels simply tell us who is better at appearing "normal" in a capitalist society that values productivity above all else.