In 1943, Autism was first identified by Leo Kanner, and a year later, Hans Asperger described a similar condition. At the time, both were viewed as distinct disorders, almost like diseases, and it was decided they should be documented and diagnosed as such. Since then, individuals on the autism spectrum have faced stigma and marginalization from a society that often fails to understand these conditions. In this article, I aim to offer a glimpse into what it’s truly like to live with neurodivergence. I believe that through understanding, we can create a world where people like us are not marginalized, but embraced for who we are.
I was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified (PDD-NOS) at age three, which led to many early challenges that required intervention. At 13, I was sent to a boarding school that provided me with the tools to navigate the world and overcome the limitations often associated with my diagnosis. By the time I graduated high school, I had become high-functioning enough that my original diagnosis no longer seemed to fit. PDD-NOS was considered the highest-functioning form of autism, but in my case, it was becoming clear that I could function in ways that went beyond what people typically expect from someone with autism.
This brings me to a crucial point: there are many different forms of autism. Unfortunately, in 2013, the medical community made a significant mistake by combining all of these forms under the single diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). While their intention may have been to simplify the classification, this decision has created significant challenges for people like me.
When potential employers learn that I’m on the spectrum, I am often passed over for jobs, presumed to be incapable of functioning in a work environment. The same happens in dating. People assume that because I am on the spectrum, I must have major deficits, despite the fact that I may have only minor challenges, or none at all. This assumption extends to all of us—whether we are “high-functioning” or not. The label “autism” is so often associated with severe impairments that many people simply don’t see beyond it.
If my original diagnosis, PDD-NOS, still existed today, I believe I would face less discrimination. Those with similar profiles were once diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome, but this, too, was absorbed into the umbrella diagnosis of ASD. Interestingly, Asperger was a Nazi collaborator, which led to the eventual reclassification of the disorder, perhaps unintentionally blurring the lines between different forms of autism. Had the conditions been kept separate, people with mild autism, like me, might not face the same levels of misunderstanding and stigma.
Media portrayals haven’t helped. Take Netflix’s Love on the Spectrum, for example. While it offers a glimpse into the lives of people on the autism spectrum, it largely focuses on individuals with moderate to severe autism, leaving out those of us who might be more “high-functioning.” As a result, the public perception of autism often revolves around a narrow, distorted view, leaving people like me and my friends invisible.
Academically, people on the spectrum are frequently overlooked. Educational systems are often not equipped to teach us in ways that we can learn, perpetuating the false belief that we lack intelligence. In higher education, the likelihood of being denied scholarships is higher due to the stigma surrounding autism. Socially, we often find ourselves isolated because we don’t adhere to typical social norms. We are seen as “other” rather than simply different.
The harsh reality is that society often treats people who are different as inferior. There is a fear of what people don’t understand. Instead of embracing neurodivergence as just another variation of the human experience, we are often treated as though we have a disease to be separated from the rest of society.
I envision a world where such misconceptions no longer exist—a world where all people, regardless of neurotype, are treated equally and without discrimination. In this world, we wouldn’t have to hide our abilities or potential. But that remains a distant, optimistic dream—far from the painful, distorted reality we face today.
Those of us on the spectrum often have a deep understanding of what is right, just, and fair. Yet, we are constantly treated unfairly. In a world that is unjust, we remain steadfast in our sense of fairness, but we are too often the ones left behind.
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SimonB writes 