The Uncomfortable Truths About Autism That the World Wants to Ignore

Dr. Scott Frasard is an autistic autism advocate who is a published author and an outspoken critic of operant conditioning approaches to change natural autistic behaviors to meet neuronormative social expectations.

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Society loves to talk about autism awareness—but what happens when autistic people start talking about the reality of our lives? Suddenly, the conversation shifts. People get defensive. They tell us we’re being negative, that we should focus on the positives, that we should be "grateful" for progress.

But here’s the thing: awareness without action is meaningless. And "acceptance" without listening to autistic people is just another way to silence us. So, let’s rip off the mask and talk about the truths no one wants to hear—the truths that make the neurotypical world squirm.

You Don’t Want Us—You Want a Version of Us That’s Easier for You

Society doesn’t actually want autistic people. It wants convenient, compliant, and quiet autistic people. The kind that learns to mask their traits, endure overwhelming environments, and socialize the "right" way—at great cost to our mental and physical health.

The moment we unmask, the moment we take up space, the moment we demand accommodations that require real effort, we become a problem. We’re "too much." We’re "difficult." We’re "not trying hard enough."

You don’t want autistic people. You want performative neurodivergence—a polished, softened, marketable version of autism that makes you feel good without challenging your world.

"Acceptance" Is a Lie

Autism "acceptance" is one of those feel-good buzzwords that make neurotypical people pat themselves on the back. But real acceptance would mean:

✔ Accommodating our needs without resentment.

✔ Listening to us without dismissing our lived experiences.

✔ Challenging ableist systems instead of forcing us to survive within them.

That’s not what’s happening. Instead, autistic people are told to "work on their social skills" while neurotypicals make no effort to meet us halfway. We’re told to "push through discomfort" instead of being given accommodations. We’re told "you’re not autistic enough to need support" or "you’re too autistic to function here."

This isn’t acceptance. It’s conditional tolerance and it vanishes the moment we inconvenience you.

Masking Is Killing Us—But You Demand It Anyway

Many autistic people don’t even know who they are because they’ve spent their entire lives pretending to be neurotypical just to survive. This isn’t just "difficult"—it’s a form of trauma. It leads to burnout, anxiety, depression, and even suicidal thoughts.

Yet, society demands masking in nearly every space:

🔹 Workplaces value "good communication skills" over actual competence.

🔹 Schools punish autistic children for stimming or not making eye contact.

🔹 Social circles reward compliance and shun authenticity.

The message is clear: To be your authentically autistic self is unacceptable. Instead, it's change or be cast out.

You Treat Our Pain Like an Inconvenience

When autistic people say we are overwhelmed, exhausted, or in distress, society doesn’t respond with empathy. It responds with annoyance.

We are told:

🗣 "You just need to toughen up."

🗣 "It’s not that bad."

🗣 "Other people deal with this too."

No. Other people are not experiencing the same thing when they walk into a room and are hit with overwhelming fluorescent lights, background noise, and the crushing demand to engage in small talk. Other people don’t experience meltdowns or shutdowns because their brains process sensory input differently.

The world hears our suffering and does nothing—because fixing the problem would require neurotypicals to change, and they won’t.

Society Is Fine with Our Exploitation

Autistic people are frequently underpaid, undervalued, and overlooked in workplaces. Our ideas are stolen, our labor is exploited, and when we ask for fairness, we’re "not team players."

Even within advocacy spaces, neurotypical-led organizations profit off of autistic experiences while excluding actual autistic voices from decision-making. Autistic people are expected to educate others for free, while neurotypical "experts" build careers off studying us like lab rats.

You want our insights, our creativity, our labor—but you don’t want to compensate us for it.

We Are More Likely to Be Abused—and Less Likely to Be Believed

Autistic people, especially those with communication challenges, are at significantly higher risk of abuse. And when we speak up, we’re ignored, discredited, or gaslit into believing it didn’t happen.

In legal situations:

⚠ We are more likely to be misinterpreted as "suspicious" or "uncooperative."

⚠ We are less likely to have our reports taken seriously.

⚠ We are at higher risk of wrongful institutionalization or police violence.

People only care about our well-being when it doesn’t disrupt their comfort. Otherwise, we’re disposable.

We Are Mourning the Lives We Could Have Had

Many autistic people carry a deep, silent grief—one that isn’t recognized by the world.

We grieve:

💔 The friendships and relationships that never formed because society wouldn’t meet us halfway.

💔 The careers we never got to pursue because workplaces weren’t accessible.

💔 The energy we wasted trying to be someone we’re not.

💔 The childhoods where we were misunderstood, punished, or traumatized for just being ourselves.

This is not self-pity. It’s a real, collective grief that autistic people experience in isolation, because society refuses to acknowledge its role in our suffering.

Most Neuronormative People Will Never Change

Here’s the real, raw truth: the reason autism advocacy is stuck in performative "awareness" campaigns is because real change would require neurotypicals to make sacrifices—and they won’t.

✔ They won’t give up their rigid, exclusionary hiring practices.

✔ They won’t redesign cities, schools, and workplaces for accessibility.

✔ They won’t challenge their own biases or admit they contribute to the problem.

Instead, they’ll keep throwing us empty words.

So, What Now?

Autistic people are tired of pretending everything is fine. We don’t want your "awareness." We want action.

🔴 Listen to autistic voices without speaking over us.

🔴 Challenge ableist policies in workplaces, schools, and public spaces.

🔴 Stop forcing autistic people to change while excusing neurotypical inflexibility.

🔴 Hire autistic people—and pay them fairly.

🔴 Advocate for legal protections and real accountability for abuse.

The truth is uncomfortable—but change begins with discomfort. If you care about autistic people, you need to do more than just say the right words.

A Personal Reflection: From Misunderstanding to Unshakable Advocacy

I was 48 years old when I finally had the language to describe myself. Forty-eight years of thinking I was just "too sensitive," "too intense," "too rigid," "too much," "not enough," and "not a fit." Forty-eight years of forcing myself to move through a world that never made sense to me, believing the problem was me, rather than the system that was never designed for people like me. For 22 years, I worked in the medical field as a Paramedic, immersed in a world that viewed autism through a purely clinical, deficit-based lens. I thought I understood autism. I thought I knew what it meant. I had been surrounded by textbooks, medical professionals, and the prevailing belief that autism was something to be managed, treated, or accommodated.

And then, I met autistic people—real autistic people, across the entire range of support needs, lived experiences, and identities. I listened. I learned. I also unlearned most everything I had been taught. I discovered an autistic community full of brilliance, depth, resilience, and raw, unfiltered truth. I learned that we are not broken neuronormatives; we are complete autistic people. I learned that the greatest barriers we face are not our traits, but the systemic forces that devalue, dismiss, and erase us. I learned that every single one of us, no matter our life circumstances, has faced a world that would rather make us disappear than truly change for us.

I grieved. I grieved for the years I spent masking, exhausted, feeling like an alien among humans. I grieved for the autistic children today who are still being forced into compliance-based therapies instead of being given the support they actually need. I grieved for the autistic adults who, like me, spent decades believing they were simply "defective" because the world refused to give them another story.

But I refuse to stay in grief.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this community, it’s that we are not passive victims of the neurotypical world—we are powerful, and we are reclaiming our narratives. Every autistic voice that speaks out chips away at the lie that we are less-than. Every autistic person who demands accessibility, dignity, and autonomy is reshaping the future. Every act of defiance in the face of systemic oppression is an act of revolution.

I am here now, fully and unapologetically autistic. I will never again let the world define me by its standards. And I will fight like hell to ensure that the next generation of autistic people never have to go through what so many of us have endured.

If the neurotypical world is uncomfortable with our truths, good. Maybe it’s time they finally start listening.

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Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you enjoyed it, please do click LIKE and click SHARE to share it with your network. Be sure to check out my book, "A Reflective Question to Ponder: 1,200+ Questions on Autism to Foster Dialogue" available in paperback and eBook. My newest book, "Autism Advocacy Unleashed: A Socratic Journey to Social Justice" is also available in paperback and eBook.

Thank you!