Masking Autism, race and culture

 

by Helen Said, Autistic advocate, Melbourne Australia

As the Autism rights movement evolves, people are exploring the impact of Autistic masking. 

Autistic masking is often described as hiding behaviours, personal tastes or interests that might "out" us as Autistics, or copying other people's behaviours, personal tastes or interests in order to "pass" as neurotypical. Masking is often linked to suicidality or mental ill health and vigorously opposed by Autism rights advocates. I often hear people talking about heavy masking and the impact this has had on their lives - people becoming exhausted from the effort of masking and not knowing who they are beyond the mask. 

As an Autistic, I have never been a heavy masker, and I think this is because I grew up in a proudly multicultural household. At the time of writing, there has never been any research into the needs or experiences of Autistic adults from Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CALD) backgrounds. This is something I try to address through my submissions, blogs and advocacy - I try to encourage a narrative about the CALD Autistic experience.

I migrated to Australia as a young child in 1962. Unlike most postwar migrants from non-Anglo backgrounds, my parents could speak English and had professional jobs. We quickly moved into a new, well kept home and we stood out in our working class neighbourhood as clever kids from an aspirational family. This was at a time when many people openly opposed multiculturalism and immigration and often assumed darker skinned migrants were less intelligent. I was much darker skinned than most children in my suburb and had a typically Mediterranean stocky body type. I stood out for my mixed ethnic background, strong mathematical abilities, social quietness and my difficulties with sports. Nothing was known about Autism back then.

While growing up, I faced a great deal of questioning and unpleasantness because of these differences, and I desperately wanted to change many of my attributes to gain more social acceptance. But being so visibly different from other children, in so many ways, made it impossible to "pass" as a more average kind of kid. Whatever I did to try and blend in, I just stuck out. 

No matter how hard I tried, I could rarely catch the ball and often ran last in a race. I couldn't hide the fact that I more easily understood maths and spelling, which earned angry comments like, "Why are you so brainy? The Greeks are supposed to be dumb." Growing up, I often wanted to go out at all hours like most other local kids, and copy their social norms, but my strict migrant parents said No. Then there was my ticklishness and other strong reactions to games and sensory shocks, which were interpreted as signs of weakness by other children. There was also my shyness and inability to speak up in situations that perplexed me and others.

I went through childhood often dreading social situations, in the knowledge that I would likely have to field a kaleidoscope of reactions to my dark skin, high maths, mixed ethnic background, the way that I walked or some other attribute, without the knowledge of why I was different and without the social know-how to answer back and assert myself. An ability to mask would have seemed like a life-saver to me at the time, but I learned very little about how to live behind a mask, for which I am now grateful.

Instead, I learned from my high achieving parents that our differences made us smart. They were well aware of the prejudices we faced as they worked in Anglo dominated professions and faced similar issues themselves. Dad taught us that the ancient Greeks had myths and the ancient Egyptians built pyramids. They were good at maths like I was. Dad worked hard and earned promotions at work and he taught us that we could do likewise. My parents taught us that we were different but worthy. I learned young that you can be different from the crowd and have your own intrinsic worth, that there would be a time and place where I could use those differences and also earn promotions. I think this is what saved me from a life of hiding behind a mask.

At the time that Dad was getting his promotions, he started reading self-help books like "How to win friends and influence other people" and "Your Erroneous Zones". Obviously he found them helpful to his career goals. I would often borrow these books and read them too. 

I reject the notion that reading self help books, and taking their advice, is an act of masking. Autistics have as much right to engage in learning and act upon advice as anybody else. At the same time, it is necessary for Autistics to be aware of our innate differences and reject advice that contradicts our life goals or identity. All learning takes effort and creates initial discomfort. We can only find out what works best for us through openness and experimentation. By seeking out skills and know-how that allows us to utilise our Autistic passions and strengths, we can gain the type of social learning which will help us, not harm us.

Another life lesson came when my dad started multicultural community work. He would come home and speak excitedly about the changes that were happening under the Whitlam government and I would take it all in. I sometimes accompanied him to his multicultural community meetings. Through this involvement, I learned that when groups of people had a problem, it was often because society was not accommodating them and needed to change - this reinforced the idea that being born different was not in itself problematic. 

This learning went further when I started university in the 1970s. Studying in the male dominated sciences, I bucked up against the elitism and sexism I encountered and joined the feminist and socialist movements. I was very aware of society's prejudices towards intelligent women. Some people in my ethnic community made the burden of prejudice worse by expecting me to be an ornamental clothes horse and to embrace traditional customs. 

These intersectional discriminations made me see-saw between being an out and proud rebel and trying to hide behind a mask to reduce the bullying and discrimination. I tried to find a place to fit in within the progressive movements of those times, but these were dominated by an Anglo drinking culture that I had not grown up with. If there was ever a time that masking race, culture and (undiagnosed) Autism was going to cause me mental health problems, then this would have been it. Yet somehow I hung onto the faith that there was a place for me and for what I had to offer.

I was forced to give up my activism to escape the Anglo social drinking scene and to beat the biological clock and start a family. Back then, women having babies and activism didn't seem to mix. Being a wife and mum again created masking pressures, but something else was happening. I had been doing voluntary social learning over the years. I had enjoyed breaking the silence of shyness, and learning to articulate issues through my activism, and becoming a mother gave me new life experiences and exposure to new forms of productive social learning. 

Eventually I found out about Autism, and I was diagnosed along with one of my kids. I am grateful for the Autistic advocacy movement in exposing the problem of masking and the consequences of burying your authentic self. This has helped me articulate my needs and identity and find a niche advocating for CALD Autistics. I support others in exposing the wretched masking pressures that have buried their identity, however I do not consider all forms of social learning to be masking. I found that being exposed to diversity and  multiculturalism at a young age can make us stronger in maintaining our individualism, more resilient to masking pressures, and more confident about delving into social learning without losing our sense of self.