The concept of masking and unmasking autism continues to surprise me. Just when I think I’ve cracked it, just when I think I understand masking in relation to myself… I have a revelation that disrupts my concept of what it means to be masked and unmasked.
Capitalism treats us as cogs in a machine, workplaces and managers want us to be well oiled, faultless and assenting. It has always been in my nature to curiously question, to need a ‘why’ behind everything I commit my energy to, to push back on things that don’t make sense to me. I’ve never been a sycophant and, when my curiosity, need for information and direct communication style combine, I am perceived as less than positive in many environments, no matter how much work I produce, the calibre of its quality or the results it yields.
Above all else, capitalist workplaces value compliance.
When I look at my behaviour compared to my co-workers, compliance is a major difference. They would often stay quiet at times I would speak up, even if they also felt confused, intrigued or had criticisms.
It makes me wonder if neurotypical people are happy to be compliant because life is easier or if they are quietly compliant at the expense of their inquisitiveness, logic and joy. Perhaps it’s a mix of both but, in my early professional experiences, I wasn’t willing to submit and forgo these things.
Over time, I can see all the ways I slowly gave up these parts of myself to masking as a response to how I was treated for values that dissect and oppose blind compliance. Eventually, I stopped asking as many questions.
To combat negativity towards me, I started explaining how my brain works and being vocal about the struggles I was experiencing. I honestly thought that just by identifying myself as autistic and ADHD, rather than hiding it, I was unmasking.
Reflecting on who I am right now and the ways burnout and my work experiences have shaped me I realise simply voicing my struggles does not equal unmasked. I now see that I actually masked my communication struggles more by overcompensating for them in order to appear more complaint.
I had shutdown mid-meetings and I forced myself to smile through them, broke down at my desk the moment a video call ended, plastering a smile back on for the next meeting. I scripted conversations and scenarios near constantly in preparation for meetings because I was scared I would say the wrong thing and be met with hostility. I minced and fluffed up my words because I was worried my naturally direct communication would make me unworthy of accommodations or recognition. And, I avoided whole conversations and speaking up for fear of how people would react to what I had to say.
To realise I have been increasingly masking has demystified the burnout I’m experiencing… it makes a lot of sense now. But, not only have I been masking, I was more unmasked pre self-diagnosis.
I’ve seen countless stories of autistic people describing the relief of finally being able to rip their masks apart once they knew they were autistic, and there’s a part of me that relates to that. I did mask parts of myself and I have been able to unmask them.
But, there are also parts of myself I became conscious and ashamed of and I started hiding them by over-compensating. We talk less of this experience, the doubling down on post-diagnosis masking.
Pre-diagnosis there were parts of me that I accepted because they were modelled to me by my parents, in particular my mom, who frequently demonstrated that it was ok to speak your mind, question authority and to only give respect where its mutually given. This was reinforced by my partner, who would tell me they were drawn to my blunt attitude of saying exactly what I thought or felt. I upheld these traits as part of being a strong working class woman.
The years of workplace communication issues and negative feedback around my communication style really converged when I discovered my neurodivergence. I extended empathy for parts of me I had previously held in contempt, but I withdrew that empathy from the parts I was once proud of. Suddenly, the world didn’t dislike me because I was opinionated, or a women, or working class… they disliked me because the way I communicate isn’t ‘normal’. This new information takes time to process and while I processed it I worked hard to mask those traits.
Many of us spend our lives trying to fit in, so it’s a hard pill to swallow when you pin point something that marks you as different and unlikable. It’s understandable that our response might be to try and hide the things that brought us pain. I spent months trying to ‘correct’ my communication so people could understand me better but it didn’t work… because even when I try… I can’t communicate in a neurotypical way. I am autistic, I communicate in an autistic way and any negativity towards that traits is nothing short of ablism.
With spooky season upon us, I’ve been mulling over a halloween where I took part in office fancy dress. At the time, I was brain deep in a special interest of climate activism against oil companies so, naturally, I turned up to the office dressed as an oil spill without even thinking it might be deemed inappropriate or that I may be judged negatively. The HR manager told me my outfit was ‘too political’ for the office. My reaction… I laughed in her face. Not in a mean way, in a ‘your rules are so silly I can’t take them seriously’ kind of way. I didn’t register till much later than she was probably serious and very annoyed.
It hits a tender nerve to look at this person and realise I see so little of her in me now, to realise I don’t recognise myself in that brave, forward, and audacious young woman. She had an unwitting courage and I want to be her again. Acknowledgement of how much I’ve been masking and the reasons why is the start of the coming home to her.
She was perceived negatively sometimes and that was hard, there’s no denying that. But, she was also undiagnosed. Diagnosis have given me language for and understanding of my neurodivergent traits and I want to guard them like the sacred gems they are, not mask them. I am also now armed with the knowledge that unhappiness and burnout follows when I comply with neurotypical ideals and erase parts of myself. I can firmly say I am not willing to risk the essence of who I am for money, for someone else, for a business, and for a system that ultimately doesn’t value an unmasked and authentic me.