Taking the mask off

Why Autistics Mask

Masking, also known as camouflaging, is a strategy used by autistic individuals to blend into neurotypical society. It involves suppressing natural behaviors and adopting neurotypical ones, such as forcing eye contact, mimicking facial expressions, and hiding stimming behaviors. Autistic people may mask to avoid stigma, prevent bullying, succeed at work, attract a partner, make friends, or simply feel a sense of belonging.

Why Masking is Harmful

Masking is an exhausting and unsustainable effort that can lead to a loss of identity and a feeling of being disconnected from one’s true self. It has been linked to adverse mental health outcomes, including stress, anxiety, depression, and even increased suicidality. The effort to constantly monitor and adjust one’s behavior to fit neurotypical norms can lead to burnout and a range of psychological disorders.

Benefits of Not Masking

Not masking allows autistic individuals to express our true selves without the pressure to conform to societal expectations. It can lead to better mental health outcomes, as the stress and anxiety associated with masking are reduced. Unmasking can foster a sense of community and belonging within the neurodiverse population, as individuals can connect with others who share similar experiences and understandings.

A World Without the Need for Masking

If masking were not necessary, autistic individuals could live more authentically and comfortably within our natural behaviors. Society would benefit from the unique perspectives and contributions of autistic individuals who are not weighed down by the pressure to hide our true selves. There would be a greater acceptance of neurodiversity, leading to a more inclusive and understanding community for all.

The theme “Taking the Mask Off” is a powerful call to action for both the autistic community and society at large. It encourages autistic individuals to celebrate our authentic selves and challenges society to create environments where neurodiversity is not just accepted but valued. By reducing the need for masking, we can work towards a world where everyone can thrive without the pressure to conform to a single standard of normalcy.

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Sources referenced in the preparation of this blog post include:

• Understanding Autism Masking and Its Consequences – Healthline
• Autistic masking – Wikipedia
• Why Unmasking Is Critical for Autistic People | Psychology Today
• Masking when you have autism can help you blend in, but you might not be doing yourself any favours
• Autistic people and masking
• Masking and Self-Advocacy
• Masking in Autism: The ‘Why’ Matters
• Masking | AutisticSLT
• Autism Masking And How It Can Affect A Diagnosis
• Behind The Mask – A Guide to Autistic Masking

Discovering Autism at 60: A Lifetime of Masking

Today, 18 June, is Autistic Pride Day, and this year’s theme is “Taking the mask off“. As much as I would hope that masking could be abandoned today, society is yet to embrace neurodiversity, and for many of us masking is still an everyday necessity. This is my masking story:

It wasn’t until I reached the age of 60 that I discovered I was autistic. Looking back, I didn’t realise the extent to which I had been masking throughout my life. The fear of being perceived as “different” or odd, and the subsequent risk of bullying or assault, drove me to remain as inconspicuous as possible. This was particularly challenging as I struggled to comprehend or mimic the facial expressions and body language of my peers.

Despite a desire for social contact, my attempts were often seen as clumsy. More often than not, this led to rejection, and at times, ridicule, bullying, and even violence. At the age of 50, I fell seriously ill, yet doctors couldn’t pinpoint a specific cause. Overwhelmed by exhaustion and mental confusion, I was forced to cease working for four months. Upon my return, the same symptoms resurfaced, leading me to take early retirement six months later, as I could no longer meet the demands of my job.

A decade later, the revelation of my autism cast my previous illness in a new light. Health professionals now suspect that what I experienced was likely autistic burnout, a consequence of a lifetime spent masking. Now at 75, I’ve learned to lower my mask around family and friends. However, with strangers, I still find it necessary to mask, albeit not as intensely as before. Without it, I’m often viewed as simple, met with suspicion, or worse, ignored and treated as less than fully human.

Disturbed dawn

By nature, I’m a night owl. I’m seldom ready for bed before midnight, and even then it make take a few hours before sleep overtakes me. During that time I find myself replaying conversation scenarios – sometimes recent conversations, occasionally long past conversations, but mostly I find myself rehearsing potential conversations. These fall into two very distinct groups: those that are necessary, and those I would like to pursue should the opportunity arise.

In the necessary category are items of small talk which for neurotypicals seem necessary to normal social interaction. Also in this category are those conversation threads one undertakes in commerce, and routine conversations with friends and family. Even much of the conversation with the wife falls into this category.

It’s not sufficient to rely on the bank of scripts I have stored away that can be recalled more or less on demand, as these can be used only in short bursts: comment, reply, comment, reply. Beyond that they’re not likely to be particularly fruitful. So in the hours I’m awake and every sensible person is sleeping I rehearse the many possible ways a scenario might develop. I practice being serious, flippant, casual, precise, vague, humourous, so that I can call on the appropriate script when needed.

And so it was at 5:00 am this morning when I realised I had spent most of the night rehearsing a range of conversation threads that might pop up when the wife and I join with family and friends to celebrate the (secular) festive season on Christmas day. The dawn chorus was just commencing so I made a conscious effort to cease rehearsals and instead bath in the glory that is dawn – even if the sun didn’t shine.

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As a male autistic, I was less aware of social norms than many females on the spectrum seem to be. I was in my early twenties before I learnt the hard way that I needed to make a more conscious effort to appear “normal”. Violence is a very “effective” teacher in that regard.

Although it would be some forty years later before I discovered I was autistic the effort of masking has had an impact on my health and that of my family. Here is a post from a female perspective about masking, although a lot of it applies to everyone on the autism spectrum to varying degrees.

This topic was requested by two different people in two different ways. One friend wanted me to talk about masking, and another asked what seemed to me to be a really challenging question: “How large is the area within the spectrum which is better treated by teaching coping skills and social conformity? Thinking of hyperactive […]

via Masks! — K807