In 2024, the answer to the question “what is a man” is expanding. Society is slowly (but surely) embracing manhood in all forms. Manhood in relation to race, sexuality, and gender are continuously being dissected. But, there is another sphere of men that are being left out, one I am personally connected to: autistic men (and disabled men at large).
I was diagnosed when I was three years old. I presented it as a standard, DSM-following case (meaning I met the criteria for “high-functioning autism” in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), which led me to ABA (Applied Behavioral Analysis) therapy, which many consider a highly controversial practice. I don’t remember specific details of my time in it, but it certainly did its job in conditioning to suppress my autism. What my ABA therapist didn’t realise was that not only did I suppress my autism; I suppressed my whole manhood.
Manhood Villainized Autism
I remember always questioning my every move as a kid. Most kids grow up not wanting to do or say something embarrassing since they’ll more than likely be made fun of for it. In my own brain, I came to the conclusion that childhood is an extended period of “trial-and-error.” Some kids are lucky enough to get a cheat sheet. Others - like autistic children - are never given one and get left behind. For example, one of my favorite TV shows of all-time is The Twilight Zone with Rod Serling. There was a day in middle school where I brought my copy of the second season to share with the class. Needless to say, my old interest didn’t resonate with a 2012 audience. It was that day where I consciously learned to suppress my autism for the first time.
Growing up, I was certainly picked on for my “weird” habits. I remember vividly a boy in my class made fun of me for stimming (self-stimulating behaviour) in the car on my way to school once. It struck a chord with me given it was something I did to put myself at ease. I would rock back and forth listening to music to soothe myself. It felt embarrassing to be called out like that and, since then, I haven’t stimmed that way. Moments like that would make me feel isolated. I let those moments define me as a man, telling myself I was inferior to everyone else because I have a disability. So, to combat these feelings, I searched for inspiration.
Manhood Required Me to Mask My Autism
Masking, in my opinion, is the most misunderstood concept regarding autism. Masking is something I learned in ABA therapy, and it’s taken me years to realise how much I let it shape my opinion on my autism. Given my manhood, the mask I was forced to wear made me see autistic people who can’t mask as inferior. “If I can mask, why can’t you?” I would ask myself. I believed that the world is a place we can all thrive in as long as we leave ourselves at the door (an oxymoron I now realise). I never saw my mask as a bad thing. I went and put all of my energy into theater, another special interest of mine (ridiculed by the men around me). It was a perfect form of escapism that only fueled my desire to “not let my autism define me.” But, it eventually caught up to me.
In 2021, I experienced strong autistic burnout for the first time. It felt like my mind was paralysed, unable to pursue any of my career endeavors. I came to the crossroads of choosing whether to “be a man” or “be autistic.” My black-and-white thinking made me believe I had to choose which identity to lean into. Because society puts us in boxes, I struggled to make up my mind. One of the most common beliefs held by men is that we can’t show our emotions. It’s a heteronormative idea, explained away through arguments such as “women think it’s unmanly” and “men are supposed to be providers.” With that, I was raised to think I had to follow the traditional path of manhood: get married to a woman, have a family, be successful in the workforce. I followed none of those rules. Instead, I came to the conclusion that “manhood” wasn’t for me and that being a man goes beyond these old school ideas. You can go on social media and see that.
Autistic Men Can Rewrite Manhood
In the age of social media, autistic men are able to create platforms to shine light on their experiences. Fritz Johnson is one of them, who speaks candidly of how difficult living with autism is (his Instagram bio even reads “Autism sucks. I’m going to win anyway). He posts reels sharing his opinions on various things, such as how “masking” (hiding your autistic traits) is a good thing. In the video, he explains how masking is a sort of necessary evil in order to survive in a world not made for us. To be fair, he’s got a point. Many of the late-diagnosed/self-diagnosed crowd would say autistic people should be able to live without a mask and stim freely. Trevor Carroll is another autistic influencer. He was diagnosed as an adult after waiting a year to receive a diagnosis. Now, he uses his social media to talk about how he lives with it today, including how fitness has become a special interest of his.
Social media has many pros and cons (and the autistic influencers I mentioned here certainly don’t represent all autistic men). For me, all of my experiences have made me realise that being a man is subjective. The social constructs we’ve created based on sex are man-made, which makes them innately objective. So yes, I will indulge in The Twilight Zone. I will indulge in theater. I will indulge in my queerness. I will indulge in whatever I please because that is what being a man is.
Being autistic has given me the tools to deconstruct manhood, and that is something I, as a man, would encourage other autistics to do.