When I was 14, my English teacher handed me back an essay with a big red “A+” scrawled across the top. Beneath it, she’d written: “Your writing is brilliant. You should share more in class!”
I never did.
You see, intelligence—especially the kind that comes naturally—can feel like both a gift and a curse. For me, it’s a secret I’ve learned to hide, like a superhero afraid to reveal their powers.
Why I Hide My Intelligence
- Fear of Being Dismissed: As an autistic person, I’ve often heard, “You’re too smart to need help,” or, “If you’re so smart, why can’t you figure this out?” Intelligence doesn’t erase my struggles, but it’s hard to explain that to people who see it as a shield I should always carry.
- Social Survival: Nobody likes a know-it-all. I learned early that people respond better to me when I downplay my abilities. Being “too smart” can make you a target for ridicule or exclusion, so I leaned into self-deprecating humor instead.
- Imposter Syndrome: My intelligence feels like a fragile, fleeting thing. Sure, I can write an article like this in an hour, but ask me to cook dinner without burning something, and I’ll panic. Being good at some things doesn’t mean I’m good at everything—and that gap makes me feel like a fraud.
The Cost of Hiding
Keeping my intelligence under wraps has its downsides.
- Missed Opportunities: I’ve avoided speaking up in meetings, pitching ideas, or sharing my writing for fear of being judged.
- Loneliness: It’s hard to connect with people when you’re constantly editing yourself, pretending you don’t know the answer or care about the topic.
- Exhaustion: Masking isn’t just about hiding autistic traits—it’s about hiding anything that might make you stand out, including intelligence. It’s draining.
A Memory That Still Stings
In college, I joined a study group for organic chemistry. During our first session, I casually corrected a mistake someone had made in their notes.
The room went silent. One of the group members laughed and said, “Wow, you think you’re the smartest person here, don’t you?”
I shrank back into my seat, mortified. From then on, I stayed quiet during study sessions, even when I knew the answers.
What I’ve Learned About Owning My Intelligence
- It’s Okay to Shine: Hiding my intelligence doesn’t make me more relatable—it just makes me invisible. I’m learning to embrace the things I’m good at without feeling guilty.
- Smart Doesn’t Equal Perfect: I can write a killer essay but struggle with basic small talk. Intelligence is multifaceted, and it’s okay to have gaps.
- Find Your People: Surrounding myself with supportive, curious, and non-judgmental friends has made all the difference. They don’t see my intelligence as a threat—it’s just part of who I am.
Why It Feels Like a Superpower
When I lean into my intelligence, it’s exhilarating. It’s how I solve problems, navigate my passions, and create things that feel meaningful.
Like any superhero, though, I have to learn how to wield my power responsibly—balancing confidence with humility, and using my abilities to uplift others rather than overshadow them.
Visual Snapshot
I’m sitting at my dining table, surrounded by open notebooks, half-filled coffee mugs, and a stack of books on neurodiversity. My cat, Miso, is curled up on a pile of flashcards I’d meant to organize two weeks ago.
Outside, the rain taps gently against the window, and a candle flickers beside me, casting soft shadows across the room. It’s the kind of quiet, reflective moment where my brain feels most alive, connecting dots and sparking ideas.
FAQ
Q: Does being smart mean you don’t struggle with autism?
A: Not at all. Intelligence doesn’t negate sensory overload, executive dysfunction, or social challenges. It’s just one part of a much bigger picture.
Q: Why do people equate intelligence with success?
A: Society often values measurable skills like academics over less visible traits like empathy or resilience. But intelligence alone doesn’t guarantee happiness or achievement—it’s just one piece of the puzzle.
Q: How can I support someone who hides their intelligence?
A: Encourage them to share their ideas without judgment. Celebrate their strengths while acknowledging their challenges.
Final Thoughts
Hiding my intelligence has been a defense mechanism for years, but I’m starting to realize it doesn’t serve me anymore.
If you’ve ever felt like you had to dim your light to fit in, know this: you’re allowed to take up space. You’re allowed to be brilliant, quirky, imperfect, and unapologetically yourself.
And if you need me, you’ll find me here—writing, dreaming, and finally learning to own my superpower.
