10 Prejudices that lead me to believe I couldn't possibly be autistic

I was diagnosed with autism in my late twenties. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about the possibility that I could be autistic long before that. While seeing my younger brother and cousins (all boys) getting diagnosed, being a trained inclusion responsible for autistic kids on summer camps and having an autistic boyfriend, I couldn’t ignore the fact that I seemed to connect better with those people despite them being supposedly hard to connect to. And what about my difficulties fitting in, my inability to speak sometimes and my panic attacks? Were they really just adolescence and some weird anxiety disorder? I knew about autism. I knew autistic people. And yet, I had also adopted some hard core prejudices based on which I rejected the possibility of being autistic each time it crossed my mind (which happened often enough).

Prejudice 1: I can do sports.

Well, not all sports: fast moving objects and close interaction were (and still are) a no go. But I was never the worst of my class in PE and I even enjoyed being in a sports club (more on that in the next point) and participated in competition. I thought autistic people were supposed to also have dyspraxia, and while my fine motor skills aren’t the best, I’ve never felt motorically disabled or even out of norm. Yes, I knew that the comorbidity of autism and dyspraxia is just that, a comorbidity, not a necessary condition. But dyspraxia was very present in my limited reference group. So although I knew that being able to do sports doesn’t rule out being autistic completely, it was on my list of things that made it less probable.

Prejudice 2: I had lots of hobbies.

Some involved other people, and most changed over time (surprising, isn’t it? #sarcasm).

It is still a common belief that having a special interest defines autistic people, and I didn’t have one. Reading and writing were maybe my most stable hobbies over time. But instead of reading books about dinosaurs and computers, I read mostly normal girls books (and tried to apply them to my own social life). Yes I had phases where I wanted to know everything on a certain subject, but it never took very long for a different subject to attract my interest. I also was a member of different clubs. Their fixed meeting times structured my free time, and they provided me with a more guided forms of interaction, while also giving me the possibility to concentrate on the thing this club was about and not having to talk at all.

Rope skipping is a good example. It was my favorite sport by far. I practiced it for over 10 years (being part of 2 different clubs for 5+ years each). We trained once a week minimum. Trainings consisted of a good mix of single exercises and group training. The most amazing thing about it though is that I got to be part of a 5 people team. Most teams stayed quite stable over the years. We trained together, talked during the breaks, went to competitions… This being part of a group that didn’t overwhelm me was one of the most valuable experiences of my childhood.

Prejudice 3: I was good in school.

Although I knew that being autistic doesn’t have anything to do with intellectual capacity, I still believed autistic people were supposed to have more problems in school than I did. I had taught myself to read in kindergarten by memorizing books that had been read to me and studying them later. I had good marks on most subjects. I didn’t have trouble understanding the questions on the exams as I deducted their meaning from the ones we had in class (and when in doubt chose the answer with the highest probability). I didn’t talk a lot, and I would refuse doing certain things I considered unfair or unnecessary, despite the consequences. But being shy and stubborn doesn’t make you autistic, does it?

Things got a lot more complicated after primary school. I developed serious anxiety problems. I hit puberty. Those were not easy years, but thanks to the premise that I was smart (which meant most teachers would let me pass despite awful behavior and numerous missed tests) and my parents having my back at all times (they dealt with the other teachers), I survived. So I went on to university.

I graduated without having fallen one year behind. Although I am still convinced I got lucky at times, and it cost me great effort at others, the fact that I got this far occurred to me as a reason to believe that I probably wasn’t autistic. On top of that, I had been lucky enough to not have been targeted by systematic bullying throughout my whole school career. I can only guess as to the reasons why I escaped this terrible fate shared by many autistic people, but it was probably a combination of things, one of which certainly is luck.

Prejudice 4: I had less problems than my brother.

My little brother has been my number one reference person concerning autism for a long time. He had been diagnosed much earlier than I have, and even before that, there had been a general consensus inside our family that he had Aspergers. The words mild and high functioning were of course (as in this is very common, not as in I approve) on the table, so that in my eyes, he soon represented the threshold of autistic. Everything I could do better or more normal than him would be a reason I couldn’t be autistic. Doing better in school, motor skills, fitting in, being left alone by bullies, … When thinking about me possibly being autistic I ignored how similar we were, I failed to see that there were also things he did better than me, and that he was not by definition the threshold of autistic.

Prejudice 5: I went on a cultural exchange.

If being on the rope skipping team was one of the most valuable experiences of my childhood, living abroad in a host family and learning about a new language and culture certainly was my most valuable experience of adolescence. This is something I had really wanted to do for a long time, and I had to overcome a lot of problems to make it work. I didn’t have a diagnosis at the time, so I didn’t get any extra help.

There are so many things I can tell about being autistic and doing an exchange that I will write at least one more blog post on this topic. For now let me just say this: It was a great experience. It was me who wanted it, and I don’t regret it for a second. I wanted to understand the world, to absorb the differences of another culture. And I was prepared to leave my familiar environment for that. Not because it was easy, but because my inquisitiveness was stronger than my fears. (Well, at least on average it was.) And for a long time I was convinced this would certainly be in contradiction to an autism diagnosis. (I could almost hear the imaginary diagnosing psychiatrist in my mind saying: “You went on an exchange!? Next please…”)

Prejudice 6: I like traveling.

This one is very similar to the previous one. I am writing it separately because I want to mention how very surprised I was after getting to know more and more fellow autistics, to discover that quite a few of them like to travel as well. Of course traveling can bring people to the limit of how much change they can endure in order to discover new things, but autistic people also seem to be very good at finding a way…

Prejudice 7: Social engagement.

This is the one I am most ashamed of. Of course autistic people are socially engaged. The only difference between me at the time and most diagnosed autistics is that they know they have to look after their energy levels, and I didn’t. My misconception was confirmed to me by the same people who had already failed to believe that someone who is socially engaged can study physics or engineering voluntarily at university, so that should have got me thinking… But whereas the university thing had shocked me beyond measure, I had silently adopted the autism part.

This is related to a general problem of mine: if I am not 100% sure of something (I knew I was voluntarily choosing my subjects at university so that one was bullocks, but I didn’t know I was autistic so there I was not so sure), I take the things other people say as if they are facts way to seriously.

Prejudice 8: I cry a lot.

Maybe it was just a coincidence, but at the beginning when I was reading up on autism, I used to come across phrases like: “They expected me to cry but my facial expression didn’t change.” As to prove that autistic people have difficulties expressing their emotions. Turns out I as well do often not express my emotions according to the general expectations. (But I only found out about that after my diagnosis.) Nevertheless I do cry a lot. If you ask my family who cries the most you will find all fingers pointing at me, and I am afraid my family is big enough to be representative.

I cry about little things that go wrong sometimes, because they go wrong too often, and it is so frustrating. I also cry about bad things happening to people I don’t even know, but have just heard of, seen in the news or read about in books, because what happens to them is often so unfair. Sometimes I cry about the ignorance of the world towards environmental issues or social injustice. Emotions and empathy are part of the deal, independent of how they are expressed. Anyone who claims otherwise is harming autistic people. I’ll cry about that too, yes…

Prejudice 9: I lie.

I can’t judge how good I’m at it. I don’t remember when I did it for the first time. I haven’t measured if I do it more frequently than others. But I’ve definitely lied.

The thing I lied most about in my life is probable the reason why I can’t do something: attending a party, staying a little bit longer or spontaneously come along shopping on a Saturday afternoon… What should I have said? I am tired of smalltalk for the day. I can’t stay awake past ten as social interaction is so unbelievably exhausting, I wanted to finish my book, and yes I think that is more interesting than your proposal? Lying was an important part of my fitting in strategy.

And so I said: I need to babysit my younger siblings, I have an important appointment tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to be hung over, I don’t feel so well today, but I’d love to come next time… I had a huge catalog of acceptable excuses in my head. I rolled a dice and decided. Sometimes I had to go, other times I was allowed to lie.

Autistic people don’t lie is a long disproven prejudice. And yet every time neurotypicals want to sell other neurotypicals into valuing autistic people it’s there: They don’t lie, they are the most honest people in the world. And I feel like a fraud each time I read it. I do think I’m honest most of the time, although I wouldn’t know how to measure and prove it. But I also do lie.

Prejudice 10: I am not an animal lover.

This is the last one, also chronologically. While I was reading more and more about autism, I noticed lots of autistic people have a good relationship with their pets (mostly cats or dogs, not dolphins #sarcasm) and with animals in general. I on the contrary get super panicky when I am in the same room with animals. I am not really scared of the animals as such, it is just their unexpectedness stressing me out. It is the stress of having to be alert all the time because I know I will be startled by the animal suddenly moving into my field of view or touching me unexpectedly. It could be that I would get used to this, but I never got the chance to find out.

However, the way relationships between autistic people and their pets is often described made me feel that even if all the other things were just details, in order to be autistic I would need this special connection to animals which I don’t have.

Conclusion

None of those characteristics make me any less autistic. Better even, in the meantime I have met other autistic people disproving that any of the above makes one less autistic. Sadly there are still a lot of prejudices about autism that are deeply anchored in our society, making it harder for autistic people to be accepted the way they are.

Which misconceptions about autism have you faced? Did you believe in some of those yourself?