When I was 27 and finally diagnosed as autistic, the first thing I thought was: How did no one see this sooner? I spent most of my life quietly struggling, pretending, and masking my way through a world that felt foreign. But looking back, the signs were always there—they just didn’t look the way people expected them to.
The Myth of the “Autistic Stereotype”
Autism in women is often invisible because the world is still stuck on outdated stereotypes. The classic image of an autistic person? A young boy who’s obsessed with trains, doesn’t make eye contact, and struggles with social interactions.
But here’s the thing: I did make eye contact—when I remembered to. I was never obsessed with trains, but I could tell you everything about medieval castles for three years straight. And while I had friends, I was always on the edge of every group, observing more than participating.
The problem isn’t that we don’t fit the mold; it’s that the mold was never built for us.
Masking: The Art of Disappearing
Girls learn early how to blend in. Society teaches us to smile, nod, and say the right things, so we do—at a cost. I call it “social survival mode.”
In middle school, I had a rulebook for every situation. Smile when people look at you. Laugh at jokes, even if you don’t get them. Say “thank you” even when you’re overwhelmed. I studied my classmates like a detective, copying their behaviors until I could pass as “normal.”
But masking isn’t sustainable. It’s like running a marathon every day without training. By the time I got home from school, I was drained—emotionally, mentally, physically. I’d collapse on my bed, close the door, and rock back and forth to decompress.
Masking is one of the reasons women are often diagnosed later in life. We’re so good at hiding our traits that even doctors don’t see them. But hiding doesn’t mean we’re not struggling—it just means we’re struggling in silence.
The “Good Girl” Trap
For years, I was praised for being quiet, polite, and well-behaved. Teachers loved me because I didn’t talk back, and friends’ parents called me “such a nice girl.” What they didn’t see was the anxiety bubbling under the surface, the hours I spent rehearsing conversations, or the sensory overload that left me exhausted by the end of the day.
The “good girl” label is a trap. It rewards us for masking, for suppressing who we are, and it punishes us when we can’t keep up the act. It took me years to unlearn the idea that being “good” meant being invisible.
The Diagnosis That Changed Everything
When I was finally diagnosed, it felt like a revelation. Suddenly, my entire life made sense. Why I hated loud parties. Why I preferred reading to talking. Why I could spend hours organizing my bookshelves but couldn’t remember to pay a bill on time.
But it also brought a wave of grief. I grieved for the girl I used to be, the one who thought she was broken because she couldn’t keep up with her peers. I grieved for the years I spent masking, pretending, and pushing myself to fit into a world that wasn’t built for me.
What I Wish People Knew About Autistic Women
- We’re not less autistic—we’re just better at hiding it. Masking isn’t a lack of autism; it’s a survival strategy.
- Special interests aren’t always obvious. Mine have included Victorian tea sets, Celtic mythology, and color-coding spreadsheets.
- We’re not “too sensitive.” Sensory overload is real, and it’s exhausting.
- We might not “look autistic,” but that doesn’t mean we’re not struggling.
Autistic women are everywhere—your coworker, your friend, your sister. We’re just harder to spot because we’ve been taught to hide in plain sight.
Visual Snapshot
I’m writing this from my favorite corner of the library, tucked behind a row of dusty biographies. The air smells faintly of old paper and lemon-scented cleaner. A small desk lamp casts a warm glow over my notebook, and I’m surrounded by stacks of books on medieval history (my current special interest).
Outside, rain streaks the windows, creating a soft, rhythmic pattern that makes the space feel even cozier. It’s one of the few places where I feel truly at peace—quiet, predictable, safe.
FAQ
Q: Why are women diagnosed with autism later than men?
A: Many reasons. Autism research historically focused on boys, so the diagnostic criteria are skewed. Women also tend to mask their traits, making them harder to spot.
Q: What is masking, exactly?
A: Masking is when autistic people suppress or hide their traits to fit in socially. It’s exhausting and can lead to burnout. Learn more from Autism Research Institute.
Q: Are there signs of autism unique to women?
A: Some include intense focus on social relationships, subtle stimming behaviors, and a strong desire to “blend in.” Check out Autism in Women and Girls for more.
Final Thoughts
Autistic women aren’t rare—we’re just invisible. We’ve been taught to mask, to mimic, to survive in a world that doesn’t see us. But the more we share our stories, the more visible we become.
If you’re an autistic woman—or think you might be—know this: you’re not broken, and you’re not alone. There’s a whole community of us out here, peeling back the mask, one story at a time.
And if you need me, you’ll find me in the library, lost in another stack of books. It’s where I’ve always belonged.
