13/11/2025
I still catch myself doing far too much emotional labour when I see autism myths being mindlessly repeated—or worse, by professionals who market themselves as autism experts. Part of that is because I value deep, research-based answers that are fair, leave no room for error, and fully address the issue. Add in a strong sense of social justice and the fact that autism is my special interest, and it feels almost impossible not to jump in every time misinformation shows up. I literally start drafting so many responses, but then have to force myself to walk away so I don’t waste yet another afternoon deep-diving into how to address a careless comment made by someone on the internet.
Because here’s the truth: yelling into the void of systemic ableism doesn’t change the system. It just drains me. Those myths exist because of entrenched structures, not because I failed to explain autism well enough. And every time I pour energy into correcting strangers—or professionals I am paying—I’m spending spoons I could use for things that actually make my own life better.
Silence can be protective. Choosing not to respond isn’t complicity—it’s self-care. It’s okay to step away, save my energy, and invest it where it counts. Because my wellbeing matters more than trying to fix a system that was never designed to listen or to educate people who people who are not taking responsibility for their own ignorance.
That doesn’t mean I should never respond to addressing myths. But I want to make sure that I invest in people who are actually interested and invested in learning (like those coming to my upcoming workshop on this topic), or in those who recognize their own privilege and engage in self-reflection and growth, sparked by information they actively seek from the Autistic community.
[Image description: a woman standing under a rainbow umbrella in heavy rain. The text says: Silence can be protective. It does not make me passive, complicit or a bad Autistic.]
