I think I've run across a good writer who thinks on my wavelength in terms of the "gentrification of mental illness / neurodivergence", and he wrote an excellent essay criticizing a recent book of Devon Price (a blogger/writer/activist I've run across and felt critical of for years; once known as "E. Price", they wrote that famous "Laziness Does Not Exist" post which I made an effortpost about way back in my days of Wordpress blogging and going on about low-agency vs. high-agency goggles). To be fair, I should say, Jon Machnee's post is an excellent review of Price's book modulo the fact that I haven't read Price's book.
Here is a passage I find particularly striking, even if it's purely anecdotal:
Recently, I attended a BBQ at my sisterās house. She knew I had nothing on that weekend and wanted me to work the grill so her and her friends could hang out in peace. I obliged, as any good brother would, and was surprised to learn that her whole friend group had autism. I have spent the better part of 12 years talking with, studying, and researching autism, and while I know you canāt diagnose or undiagnose someone at a party whilst also grilling hotdogs, I would bet my entire life savings that not a single one of them had an actual autism diagnosis or would get one if they were assessed. At one point, they told me that my sister, who does not have autism but does have ADHD, was the most autistic of the group. One of them even asked me what I thought of Priceās book and expressed how much it meant to them. This is particularly funny in hindsight because a few month later my sister reported that not only did they not have autism, but when they went to talk to a professional about it, they became distraught upon learning that they werenāt even remotely close to meeting any of the criteria. Apparently after the BBQ, some of my sisterās allegedly autistic friends asked her what was wrong with me, and she had to inform them, and I quote, āOh, he has, like, real autism.ā
Reading this review made me realize that apparently I have completely misunderstood what people mean by "masking". Or maybe everybody but me has misunderstood.
I was having trouble putting my finger on what exactly seemed off until I got to this part:
Most āmaskedā autistics still show obvious, visible signs of autism that are either just slightly muted or channelled into a less obvious and more socially acceptable form. I could be accurately described as a high-masking autistic, but anyone who knows what autism looks like will immediately clock me.
And I thought,
"Wait, why would you think that masking would make it harder to detect autism?"
What I had assumed the term meant was...
Okay I keep trying to come up with the perfect analogy because I find that allistic people have an incredible amount of difficulty reasoning about what it would be like to have serious deficits in social understanding, so here's another attempt:
I'm writing in English, so I imagine most of my readers have only the vaguest knowledge of what a Japanese tea ceremony entails beyond "fancy" and "tea". If you do know a ton about tea ceremonies pretend I'm talking about, I don't know, initiation into an undocumented Etruscan mystery religion.
Suppose that suddenly you are informed that you have to attend a tea ceremony tonight.
And suppose that, for whatever reason, attending this ceremony and doing well at it was incredibly important for your career, your social circle, and your romantic prospects. Your success in all those realms depends heavily on how well you do at the tea ceremony tonight.
So you ask the friend who brought you the invitation what you do at a tea ceremony, and he says,
"Uh, it's not like there's some script that you follow, it's just etiquette and politeness."
But he does tell you that asking direct questions of your host about what you should do is offputting and inappropriate.
What would you do in a situation like that?
Well, if there are a lot of people you might stay towards the back out of sight of the host.
You might watch what other people did and copy them as closely as you could.
You might try to make sure that any specific tasks for guests were assigned to somebody else rather than you.
And I don't think you would adopt those strategies because they would make you look like an expert in tea ceremonies;
I think you would adopt strategies along those lines because what the fuck else could you possibly do in that situation?
Until now I have assumed that this is what people meant by "masking"; strategies such as avoidance, ceding decision making to other people, and rote copying are things that I adopted quite early on in life, not out of some attempt to stop people from noticing I had autism, but from a desire to minimize negative attention.
I had thought that the analogy was like, If I draw a crude smiley-face in crayon on a paper plate and wear it as a mask, maybe I'm not trying to fool you into thinking that it's my real face, maybe I'm just trying to keep you from seeing what my real face looks like.
To go back to the tea ceremony analogy, maybe another person there was raised by a master of the tea ceremony, knows all the subtle ins and outs, but just thinks it's morally stupid that so much success depends on this arbitrary ceremony. If it was important to success he might go along with the tea ceremony anyway, and you could also, I suppose, call this "masking" as well, but it seems to me that it is only similar to the coping strategies I outlined above in a very broad way.
Yes, both you and he are in some sense attempting to come off as ordinary participants in the tea ceremony and hide the fact that, deep down, you'd prefer not to be, but I think the psychological effects of these strategies on both the self and others are so different that it's worth drawing a distinction.






















