Article
When it comes to autistic representation, it’s kind of rare that we focus entirely on the good parts of being autistic. As an advocate, I spend a lot of time focusing on the hard parts—the parts we need to change. And it can become quite difficult always focusing on the challenging parts of our experience, in a world that often makes us feel like we don’t belong.
But the truth is: being autistic can be such a joy, especially when we feel safe—when our needs are accommodated, and our differences are celebrated. And it’s that joy that I want to explore and highlight—especially when so many in the world still see being autistic as a bad, shameful thing.
I didn’t know I was autistic until I was 27, a little under two years ago. I always felt different. But getting a diagnosis was such a life-changing thing for me. Sure, there were parts of it that made me sad: that it had taken me so long to realise, that I’d been forcing myself to fit into these non-autistic boxes for so long, masking to the point that I didn’t even know myself. But this revelation also made so much sense: and it allowed me to connect with this part of myself, and make space for it like never before. Whether it was discovering what sensory environments or stim tools worked best for me, or deeply exploring my interests (and realising why it thrilled me so much). After a lifetime of masking, stigma, and internalised ableism, it can be such a joy to be your authentic autistic self—being unapologetically you. And I’m certainly not alone in this feeling.
Writer and disability advocate Ashleigh Meikle said that learning she was autistic had a massive impact on her self-understanding and confidence.
It has allowed me to embrace things more—embrace what I like unashamedly, without feeling like I have to pretend to like something to fit in. It’s been so good to get back into my love of research and embracing things I love that are not popular—because now I understand that I don’t have to fit in to please people. I feel like my passions are coming back to life. It gives me a better understanding of myself. And it’s meant I have been able to start advocating for myself more, in a better way, because I know what my limitations are, and why . . . it just makes me who I am.
Ashleigh Meikle
I certainly don’t think I’d be who I am today if I wasn’t autistic. And despite the fact that a lot of people reacted poorly around me when I got my diagnosis, I am so grateful to know myself more, and to be able to look after myself better. Plus, because autism, disability, and writing are some of my favourite topics, it’s made an excellent base for my writing, speaking and advocacy career. And I love how deeply passionate we can get about the things that interest us.
In fact, it’s that immersion that’s writer and advocate Jacinta Dietrich’s favourite part about being autistic—something that’s also been exceptionally helpful for her career, particularly when it comes to problem-solving and world-building.
"I love I can fully immerse myself in things I’m passionate about, which for me often means I feel like I’m in a different place—whether that’s reading, writing, building book nooks, or whatever is hitting that dopamine spot for me at that point."
But it’s not just being autistic that creates joy: it’s connecting with the autistic community. I mean, there’s a reason we use the word “neurokin” to describe our brain family—because it really does feel like we are a family: a culture and a community that is thriving, despite all attempts to cut us down. It really is so magical to connect with people who just understand you and your experience in the world. That acceptance, kindness, understanding and love—particularly when so many of us have been met with discrimination and unkindness—is just so incredibly powerful.
As a late-diagnosed autistic, arts worker and writer Arty Owens says the journey to discovering more about themselves and the community has helped them feel whole, particularly connecting deeply with autistic friends.
The more I lean in, unmask, and live life on my own terms, the more enriched my life has become. There are parts of being autistic that are so vibrant and joyful that words feel too dull to express it. I can’t imagine being any other way. Nor do I want to. I’m proud of who I am. I like who I am
Arty Owens
I feel that deeply.
I truly believe the autistic community genuinely makes the world a better, more accepting place—just by existing. And when we challenge the negative stereotypes that are so often thrust upon us, that in itself can cause joy, too.
For disability and diversity advocate William Ward-Boas, challenging neurotypical assumptions has been an incredibly powerful part of being autistic.
You get to bring different lenses to rooms full of people who assume our support needs—this is so important, because there is often an assumption by neurotypicals that one size fits all, when it really doesn’t
William Ward-Boas
William says it’s helped him feel more comfortable in his own skin, including making sure his support needs are met.
“This has taken me years to do, but my capacity can fluctuate a lot, and I communicate this openly now in my job interviews with potential employers, and more. It’s because of other advocates that I’ve been able to formulate my own strength and self-neuro affirmance.”
While our experiences may differ, we are such a powerful, passionate, creative community—one I am so proud to be a part of. And it’s such a power move to proudly embrace your autistic (and disabled) identity, and take up space in a world filled with stigma. Especially knowing that it makes a difference—because proudly taking up space might help someone else do the same.
And knowing our work—our very existence—can make a difference in the world, or to someone’s world . . . well, that for me is true joy.