Not going to lie: people out there can still be very mean, and stereotypes are still going strong. Your worries are not unwarranted. But many of the people around you have probably already noticed something is “different.” And that’s not just an educated guess on my part.
People already notice more than you think
A 2017 study by Sasson and colleagues found that neurotypical peers are less willing to interact with autistic adults after split-second judgements, even when they know nothing about the person’s diagnosis or condition.1 Autistic adults were consistently rated as more awkward, less likeable, and less approachable based on thin-slice impressions alone.
The study tested what was driving these snap judgments by separating different channels of information. When observers could only read a transcript of what the person said, with no audio and no video, the differences between autistic and non-autistic participants disappeared entirely. Presentation style drove the negative impressions, independent of what the person actually said. The specific cues the research identifies include facial expressivity, gaze patterns, vocal prosody, gesture timing, and body posture.1
These judgments held for adults as well as children, and did not soften with repeated exposure.
When you lay those cues alongside what mainstream society tends to read as signs of deception, it can be easy to see why. Because what are the “tells” of someone lying? Inconsistent eye contact, fidgeting, unusual body language, looking at the floor, and atypical vocal tone. Oh, yay, thanks! 🙄It seems that many of the signals that trigger social suspicion in neurotypical settings are everyday neurodivergent traits being filtered through expectations that were built without neurodivergent people in mind.
The studies were conducted with autistic adults specifically, but the mechanism they describe — snap social judgments based on visible behavioural differences — applies wherever non-verbal presentation departs from neurotypical norms. Many ADHD traits are visible in exactly this way: restlessness, inconsistent eye contact, fidgeting, or emotional reactivity readable on the face. Snap social judgments are triggered by visible behavioural differences, and many ADHD traits are just as visible. For people with both ADHD and autism, both sets of traits are in play.
What happens when you tell them
The same lead researcher followed up in 2019 with a study that tested what happens when diagnostic information is actually shared.2
First impressions of autistic adults were less favourable than those of non-autistic controls across the board, consistent with the 2017 findings. But when observers were accurately told the person was autistic, their impressions improved. The improvement was specific to accurate disclosure: mislabelling someone as neurotypical, or labelling them with an unrelated condition, did not produce the same effect.
The strongest predictor of more favourable impressions wasn’t age, IQ, or whether the observer had autistic traits themselves. It was how much the observer knew about autism. People with greater autism knowledge rated autistic adults more positively.
What the research tells us is that the biggest factor in how you’re perceived is how much the other person understands about neurodivergence, not anything you’re doing wrong.
So what is the masking actually buying you?
To me, the whole research brings up a question that I grappled with a lot after getting my own diagnosis. If people are reading your traits within seconds, regardless of how hard you try to pass, the cost-benefit calculation shifts. You are exhausting yourself to maintain a performance that may not be landing the way you think it is.
My inner rebel looks at the 2017 data and thinks: if you think I’m weird when I’m trying hard not to be, I might as well just allow myself to be myself. Honestly, it makes me want to give a big middle finger to conforming and just let all my raccoons out.
Of course, masking can be a useful tool when used consciously and with self-awareness. In many situations, it remains a necessary tool of self-preservation. A job interview, a tense meeting, a context where safety depends on passing — nobody should feel pressured to unmask in situations that feel unsafe.
But in the spaces where it doesn’t actually matter? Where the stakes are low, and the only thing driving the performance is habit? Sometimes knowing that the mask isn’t working as well as you thought gives you permission to put it down.
The world needs to catch up, too
The 2019 study tells us that the biggest shift in how people perceive autistic adults comes from understanding and knowledge, not from anything the autistic person changes about themselves. That kind of understanding needs systemic work, not something you can create one person at a time in every room you walk into.
Screenings and assessments being more accessible is the entry point, but the deeper change happens after awareness. Creating a society that accepts neurodivergent ways of being takes education, workplace policy, service design, and a shift in what people consider “normal” behaviour.
Inclusivity shouldn’t stop at sensory rooms and accessible toilets. It needs to include not firing employees for inconsistent eye contact or for walking around during a meeting, because it helps them think. Awareness has to extend to acceptance, action, and adjustments.
That work is already happening. It is slower than anyone wants, but it is happening. The main thing is, t it means the burden of changing every interaction is not yours to carry alone.
Find your people
While the world catches up, one of the most effective things you can do for yourself is find spaces where you don’t need to perform at all.
Peer groups of fellow neurodivergent adults offer something no amount of disclosure strategy can replicate. Fellow late-identified adults especially, people who understand what it means to receive this news as an adult, know what you’re carrying without you having to explain it.
In those spaces, you can relax into being yourself. The traits that get you clocked in a neurotypical room are just how everyone communicates. You don’t need to earn your place there.
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“Do I have to tell people about my diagnosis?”