Autistic Pride Day 2025: My Autistic Perspective on Masking
"To mask, or not to mask, that is the question."
"The time has come at last (secret, secret, I've got a secret)! To throw away this mask (secret, secret, I've got a secret)! Now everyone can see (secret, secret, I've got a secret)! My true identity!" - Styx, Mr. Roboto
For Autistic Pride Day 2025, I thought I'd share my autistic perspective on, "masking," which is the current term for what I once referred to as, "being in the autism closet." Basically, the practice of suppressing our autistic quirks, stims, traits, and eccentricities while out and about in public, pretending to be "normal" so we can "blend in" amongst the cool "normal" kids. Many of us within the autistic community engage in this behaviour, be it as a survival technique against bullying, to avoid being pre-judged by our shared disability rather than our unique personalities, out of embarrassment or shame for being "different", etc. Is attending an invisible masquerade ball helpful or harmful for those of us on the spectrum? Given how neurodiverse we all are, I imagine you'd receive different answers from different people. The following is my personal account on masking, so I speak only for myself from my own experiences when attempting to answer this question. I might as well start at the beginning...
As a young boy, I never hid my true self from the world, as I didn't think there was anything "wrong" or "weird" about me. I enjoyed the same cartoons, toys, and video games as other kids my age. Granted, I had to cover my ears when exposed to loud noises, I didn't like getting my face wet, and I'd rock back and forth and bump my head at night. Still, I never thought such traits made me stand out anymore than people who favour one colour over another. My childhood years were pretty good. Then, came middle school and early adolescence. This was the point when bullies took notice of my unique traits and decided to make my life a living hell. After surviving this ordeal, receiving counselling, and coming to learn more about my disability, I began masking in public. I stopped rocking in front of others, I learned to make eye contact when speaking with people, I began tolerating exposure to water and loud noises. Throughout the remainder of my teenaged years, I became pretty good at, "blending in."
Still, there were certain aspects of my autism I couldn't suppress. For example, my difficulty with math, which made finding part-time work tough, as many minimum-wage jobs require employees to work cash. My difficulties reading facial expressions and body language, which made it hard for me to tell if somebody was joking, being sarcastic, or expressing sincerity. Because of this, I'd sometimes put my foot in my mouth and fail to realize when I'd unintentionally offended or weirded somebody out. I'm also pretty sure I scuttled some opportunities at finding romance, either on account of my eccentricities or failure to recognize when a girl was expressing interest in me. To compensate for these challenges, I began disclosing my learning disability to potential employers and bought self-help books to better read people's facial expressions and body language. I'd then push myself to approach strangers on the street with a smile and ask them for the time, a simple exercise in interacting with people.
While masking, I'd made some friends, and forced myself into experiences I knew weren't for me, such as, "clubbing;" the practice of dressing up in stylish threads and hitting various Toronto night clubs on Friday and Saturday nights, with each one being extremely noisy, crowded, smoky (smoking indoors was still legal at the time), and filled with flashing, strobing lights that would legally require seizure warnings today. I suffered in silence at these night clubs, wondering why "normal" people enjoyed dancing, drinking, and smoking so much. I never could fathom what the Roxbury Guys adored about the clubbing scene.
Around this time, I also found part-time work as an usher at a historic Toronto theatre. While I disclosed my autism to my employer for an accommodation to avoid working cash, I nonetheless continued masking in front of co-workers and patrons, alike. I remember the intense social anxieties I suffered while scanning tickets or seating patrons, which manifested in excruciating stomach pains that were initially mistaken for GERD/hiatal hernia. I worked at the theatre for about three years but eventually had to move on to a more solitary job as a newspaper verifier, which was much better suited for my autistic needs.
This was about the point in my life when I realized I was better off not masking. Engaging in such behaviour had proven to be a detriment to my mental wellbeing. I was exposing myself to unhealthy situations and bottling up so much stress, and for what? So people wouldn't pity me? So I could make tons of new friends? So girls would want to date me? None of those things happened for me while attending this self-imposed masquerade ball. Having finally arrived at this epiphany; I learned to embrace the traits that made me me and threw away the mask to reveal my true identity to the world. All these years later, I still don't regret my decision to unmask. In fact, I only wish I'd done so sooner. For the record, I don't go out of my way to appear "weird" in public, though I also don't deny myself access to the coping mechanisms I've developed when overwhelmed.
For example, I remember my mother and I once treated my father to a birthday dinner at a popular local restaurant in this small town we currently live in, only to become highly stressed due to the large number of flies buzzing all over the establishment, our table, and the food. While stimming myself through the ordeal, our rude waitress pointed to me and asked my parents, "Can you please get him under control?" as if I were a barking dog. Well, I looked the waitress in the eyes and politely responded, "Sorry, but I'm autistic. I can't control my disability." Her jaw hit the floor, and the colour drained from her face. It felt hugely satisfying to respectfully put an intolerant individual in their place. She later had the audacity to return to the table and ask, "Is everything okay?" I replied to her, "No, there are too many flies!" As you can probably imagine, we never returned to that unpleasant and gross restaurant again (it should be renamed, "Beelzebub's Pub," on account of their fly infestation, yuck).
Well, that about wraps up my autistic perspective on masking. As mentioned earlier, I speak only for myself and from my own personal experiences. While masking clearly wasn't worth my while, it may be a beneficial exercise for other autistic individuals. Everybody's different. As they say, "you do you." Thanks for reading and Happy Autistic Pride Day! Do you have any thoughts on this post? If so, feel free to reach out by leaving a comment, dropping me a line, or signing my guestbook to share your opinions on this or any other topic. Also, feel free to press the "like" button if you enjoyed this post, as "likes" help me gauge audience interest in the content I post. After all, I don't want to bore anyone, ha-ha. Until next time, love, peace, and chicken grease!
Posted in "Autistic Perspectives" on Wednesday, June 18, 2025.