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| A person wearing a fluffy black mask. Image source. |
What is masking? Basically it's when autistic people pretend to not be autistic, in order to fit in. So in a sense it's necessary, we need to do it for survival, because if people notice we are autistic they might exclude/mistreat/abuse/bully us. But masking isn't really *good*- it means we're hiding our true selves, and it's exhausting to keep doing that all the time.
Here are some of the articles people have posted about #TakeTheMaskOff:
An Autistic Perspective - What is Autistic Masking? #TakeTheMaskOff
Autistic Burnout, “Regression,” and Identity Crisis – #TaketheMaskOff Week 4
#TakeTheMaskOff Week 1: What Is Masking?
When Masking Leads to Mental Health Misdiagnoses. #TakeTheMaskOff
So... I'm autistic, and I mask... Or rather, I know that I mask, but it's hard to think of examples, or estimate the extent of it, because it's just a thing I do subconsciously, I guess. I was diagnosed in my early 20's so I already had a whole 20 years of acting like a "normal person" and not knowing I was autistic. When I read about the concept of masking, intuitively it sounds like something I can very much relate to, but I'm not really able to specify exactly how.
So I'll go ahead and share a bunch of anecdotes from my life, which may or may not be examples of autistic masking. I don't know.
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From a young age, I was aware that the things my family talked about at home were "weird" and I couldn't talk like that to kids at school, or play with kids at school the same way I played with my sister. For example, one time when I was in elementary school, my sister and I cut open an empty cereal box so it was one big flat piece of cardboard, and drew a map on it. Then we pretended we were traveling around the different places on the map. I remember there was a mountain and some other different kinds of geography.
My parents said it was so great how creative we were, and I should take the map to school for show-and-tell. But I didn't want to; I thought the other kids would think it was "weird." Like that's not a "normal" game that kids play. But I did end up taking it to show-and-tell, and it went fine.
Another time in elementary school, our class did a "secret Santa", where we each were assigned a random classmate and at some point we had to secretly sneak a gift into their desk. Then at the end of the week, we had to make a card that revealed our identity to our secret gift recipient. My parents were like "you're so creative! you should make a card with a puzzle in it" because I actually did use to make cards with puzzles for my cousins or other family members- people I felt safe sharing my "weirdness" with. But I didn't want to bring a puzzle card to school- the other kids would think it was weird.
But I did end up making a pop-up card with a puzzle in it. As I recall, there were several different flaps you could lift, and under one of them was my name, revealing my identity to my secret-Santa target. I assumed we would be secretly, anonymously giving the cards to our classmates, but instead the teacher had us hand them to them in person, so it didn't work like I expected- my target would know it was me because I handed him the card, instead of by solving the puzzle and lifting the flaps in the card. And also when I gave it to him, one of the flaps ended up folded in the wrong direction, so the front of the card wasn't facing outward, and so it wasn't clear to him how he was supposed to read the card, and I was trying to show him and everyone was looking at me and I tried to explain it really fast because I felt embarrassed, why couldn't I just make a boring card like a normal person.
Now I have the confidence to pull that off and not be flustered by little minor things not going according to plan. I could totally make a pop-up card now and give it to any of my friends and be so proud of how cool it was. But back then, at 9 years old, I worried so much about being good and following the rules, and I was so scared of people looking at me like they didn't know what I was talking about.
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I remember one time, probably in my early 20's, when I was talking to my family, I mentioned how "some things we're not allowed to do because they're too awesome." And somebody was like, wait wait wait what do you mean by that? But that's how I really felt, and I assumed other people felt the same way- as if there was some Law of the Universe that says we really shouldn't do things that are really really awesome.
Maybe because all my life I felt like I had to hide my obsessive nerdy interests. Maybe because there were a lot of times where I suggested some INCREDIBLY COOL idea and people responded with, uh, not the enthusiasm one would expect for such a cool idea... and I assumed they were hesitant over the fact that it would just be too much fun. Like, it was easier to believe there was a rule against things that are too awesome, than to believe people were actually legitimately not interested in my AWESOME suggestions.
At any rate, I learned that it's not socially acceptable for me to show that much enthusiasm for those things.
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In high school I made the decision to stop trying to be a "normal person" and identify as a nerd instead. This was a really really big important decision, and it was really good for me. Before this, I was trying to walk a fine line... feeling like I should wear makeup and shave my legs because that's what high school girls are supposed to do, even though it all seemed like a giant waste of time... showing off that I was the best in math class but feeling uncomfortable when my classmates looked at me like a genius freak... I decided I didn't have to do any of that any more, because there was a social category called "nerd" and I could be that and it would be acceptable.
It was really good for me, but at the same time, it put limits on how femme my gender expression could be. I thought nerd girls shouldn't look too feminine. If I wore pretty things, people would think I wasn't a nerd. (This is internalized sexism.)
In college I decided that since everybody knew I was an engineering major, I could dress more feminine without hurting my nerd cred. And a few years later, I quit believing in "modesty" so now I want to wear all sorts of "immodest" clothes to make up for lost time. Basically I'm now confident in my identity as a nerd and as a woman and I wear whatever I want.
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In middle school I bought orange pants. At the store I was so happy with them because I love bright colors. But then, at home, reality set in- I can't wear these to school. Because nobody else wears orange pants. Everyone is going to look at me and think I'm weird.
I think that happened to me several times- where I would pick out something so cool at the store, forgetting that I "couldn't" wear it to school because it was, ahem, too awesome.
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Normally, I have to filter what I say so it fits the format of what the person I'm talking to would expect to hear. But sometimes, when someone asks me a very open question about how I really feel about something... I fall for it. I tell them how I really feel, without first curating it into the kind of answer they were expecting. And they take it the wrong way.
Like the first year of middle school, when each of us students had to meet with the school guidance counselors so they could see how we're doing with the transition from elementary school to middle school. He asked me what I've noticed that's different from elementary school.
Such an open question, right? About how I feel. You'd think there's no "wrong answer." And actually, I did have an answer. See, in the first week of classes, I had noticed that every single one of my teachers said they don't accept late homework. Wow, interesting, right- every single one! Whereas in elementary school, the teachers generally had a policy about how if it's late 1 day you lose 10% of the grade, etc. What a fascinating pattern middle-school Perfect Number discovered! Let us speculate as to the reasons why this might be the case. Like, I can understand in general they want us to be more responsible in middle school, but would that really account for LITERALLY ONE HUNDRED PERCENT of my teachers saying they don't accept late work? Is there some other factor at play besides a vague sense of "kids are old enough to take responsibility for their homework"? What a cool thing to wonder about.
So I told the guidance counselor, "teachers here don't accept late work" and he was like ".................... do you .... usually hand in late work?" He took it completely the wrong way. Because, see here's the thing: He asked what is different about middle school and elementary school, but that's not what he actually wanted to know. He wanted to know what was different and affected my life. Ugh, but I thought since he asked such a broad open question about how I felt, I thought I could really tell him how I felt. I thought it meant he was willing to indulge with my esoteric wonderings about the reasons behind trends in homework policies, so that's what I answered. Instead of the usual filtering I do so it's an answer in the genre that the other person would expect to hear. I always fall for that.
Another time, I was at a job interview for a summer internship during college... yeah, interviewers always come across like they just want to get to know me, like they're so open and ready to listen to whatever I say- so I have fallen for this problem A LOT during job interviews. (It took me A LONG TIME to realize job interviews aren't about answering the questions correctly; they're about presenting myself as a person that one would want to offer a job to.)
Anyway, the interviewer asked me to tell about one of my strengths and, as it happened, I had recently been thinking about how I'm really really good at picking just the right word when I'm writing something. Like, uh, I don't even know how to describe this ability that I'm SO PROUD OF- it's not being good at communicating, it's more like, I have such a good grasp of English vocabulary and, like... using a word... I ... haha well it's quite funny how I'm not even able to really describe what I mean about my supposed ability to perfectly describe what I mean... uhhhh I'll just say it doesn't work 100% of the time... But anyway, you know how job interviewers look at you like they genuinely want to listen and understand you- it made me feel like I could really tell him whatever bizarre thing came to my mind. And there I am, trying to explain my uh, ability to choose the exact right English word... ugh yeah I wish somebody had told me that's not what you're supposed to do in a job interview. You're not supposed to just answer the questions; you're supposed to tell them why you are the kind of person they want for that particular job.
And another example: A few years ago I was seeing a psychologist for depression, and I later I ended up needing a copy of my medical records, so the psychologist sent me the notes he had taken during our appointments. And I read some of them, and ... a lot of things he wrote down were like, a slight misinterpretation of what I said. Like... you know, you're at a therapy appointment and it's all about you, the doctor just wants to ask you about how you feel and they're so open and ready to listen and, ugh, I fell for it. I told him how I really felt, unfiltered, and he misunderstood a bunch of things because I skipped the adaptation processes I usually do to get my thoughts into a format that other people will *get*.
The therapy was still really good and helped me get rid of depression; I don't think the slight misunderstandings led to any problems. But it made me realize, ah crap, in the future I'm gonna have to filter myself when I'm talking to doctors.
Gotta make sure I remind myself of that; otherwise I'll fall for it again.
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And, related to that, there have been times when I told someone something really deep and emotional, but when they didn't get it, I just passed it off as a joke. Usually related to sensory pain. Something along the lines of "isn't it terrible how people [something that causes me extreme sensory pain]?"
And then people tell me I have a great sense of humor. And I don't know what to do with that.
Well, back then I didn't know that other people experience sensory stimuli different from me, and what I'm feeling is ACTUAL PAIN and it's RIGHT for me to take steps to protect myself even if no one else is bothered.
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Back when I was in grad school, I got sick, and I ended up having surgery to have my gall bladder removed. Even though the surgery helped me feel a lot better, I still felt nauseous every day, and it was hard to find food I could eat that wouldn't make me feel sick.
Pretty soon after that, I was diagnosed with autism. And I remember back then, how my health problems made me feel so autistic, if that makes sense. Because suddenly, because of my stomach problems, I knew that "regular people" rules didn't apply to me and I would have to make my own decisions about what I needed, and I just had no idea how to do that. Like if I was out somewhere and felt really nauseous, I could make the decision to leave and go home and lay down- even if it wasn't really "socially acceptable", it was an okay thing to do because I was sick and wouldn't it be much more "socially unacceptable" to throw up in public. If people gave me food, I didn't have to eat it- even though the rules of politeness dictate that you must at least eat a little bit, if someone gives you food. But because I was having stomach problems, I was free to break those rules, and it was all my decision, nobody else is able to tell me how nauseous I feel.
Basically, I realized that my whole life I had always tried to do what other people do and trust that I would be okay, instead of actually paying attention to my needs. A lot of times, I didn't feel safe- like when I was in an environment with bad sensory stimuli. Or I didn't understand how to talk to people, so I just tried to learn the rules and fit in. But when I had stomach problems, I knew that I couldn't do that- couldn't just do what other people do and trust that I would be okay. I had to know my own needs and make my own decisions about what I could or couldn't handle. Maybe it was the first time I ever thought in those terms.
But I say "I felt so autistic" because without the "normal people rules" I had no idea how to act, and I felt so lost. I remember at one point I went to an amusement park with some friends and I didn't ride most of the rides, which is fine, except for that bit where I was just stuck there, just staring at a ride and totally unable to make a decision, just NO IDEA if it would make me feel sick or not, and feeling so lost and confused and anxious because I didn't know how to make a decision.
I didn't know how to take care of myself. My whole life I just copied other people, even when that meant I had to tolerate things that hurt me because I'm autistic.
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I'm white and I live in China now, and maybe that means I don't have to mask as much because if I come across as "weird", people will just assume it's a cultural difference.
Maybe it's been good for me to be in a situation where it's obvious that I'm learning a foreign culture, so people help me out when I'm confused and don't really judge me for it. Whereas, in the US, as an autistic person I was also "learning a foreign culture", in a sense- trying to figure out the social rules for how to interact with people. In my own country, I'm expected to just *get* it automatically, but here I'm not.
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Last week at work there was a loud sound- I think someone dropped a heavy box on the floor or something. And I didn't cover my ears, because the first thought that went through my mind was "I don't want them to know I'm autistic."
But there have been other times at work when I've communicated about my sensory needs related to sound (ie, loud sounds are painful for me so I need to avoid them). Fortunately it's not that much of an issue, sounds loud enough to be painful are pretty rare, but it is a big deal that I now believe I have the right to take care of my needs related to this, instead of just pretending to be "normal." I don't tell people I'm autistic; I only tell them whatever practical things they need to know about my sensory needs. That's all. The rest of my autistic traits they don't need to know.
But nowadays, I usually do cover my ears if I think there's going to be a loud sound. It makes a huge difference- if I cover my ears, I can still hear pretty much everything, but it won't be painful. And I reassure myself that I'm allowed to do that. Because when I was a little kid, adults told me I shouldn't cover my ears, that I was "overreacting" and the sound "isn't that bad." And I still feel guilt... I feel like I am being bad when I protect myself from sensory pain instead of pretending to be "normal."
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So. There you have it, a bunch of stories from my life that might be examples of autistic masking. Intuitively, I feel like masking is something I do all the time, but it's hard to know how much of an effect it has on me because this is just my normal life and I don't have any other standard to compare with.
I guess I am pretty good at masking and that's why I was undiagnosed for so long. But being good at masking didn't mean I was okay, even though to other people I might seem okay. Finding out I'm autistic and finding people putting words to these experiences has been really really good for me.
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Related:
How Are Autistics Supposed To Know Which of Our Pain is Socially Acceptable To Express?
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