Masking
by Katelyn Mase
In the spirit of October, let’s talk about masking. I’m not talking about dressing up and putting on your spookiest Frankenstein’s Monster mask to go trick-or-treating. I’m talking about engaging in inauthentic social behaviors and forgoing helpful/needed accommodations to meet more “socially acceptable” behaviors expected in a neurotypical society. This can take many forms including making eye contact when it is uncomfortable, going to loud, overstimulating places/events with friends, observing and attempting to mirror body language and conversation, forgoing helpful accommodations, the list goes on. For some who identify as neurodivergent (I use identify and not diagnosed because diagnosis is a privilege, and we're not gatekeeping here), these masking behaviors are seen as helpful in allowing them to make social and intimate connections, and indeed, it can. This can come at a cost, inauthentic connection is a lot of work; decreased energy when attempting to complete daily tasks (Spoon Theory, y’all), increased sensitivity to the environment, heightened stress levels, anxiety, depression, etc.
It is important to acknowledge that the discourse around labels such as “neurotypical” and “neurodivergent” is divided. Some argue that using this language can be “othering” and perpetuate stigma around simply having a different experience. Others, like myself, believe that this language creates power. In a world designed for those who just “get” how to socialize, who aren’t startled or upset by loud noises or bright lights, who can sit perfectly still and upright in a variety of seated situations, etc., it may be daunting to show up authentically and ask for what you need. Being able to say “I am neurodivergent” may be easier and safer than ignoring your needs or reciting a list of your experiences. Being neurodivergent does not mean there is anything wrong with you, it simply acknowledges your brain works differently than the people the world was built for, the default being “neurotypical”. Whether you ascribe to a label or not, your experiences are valid.
My name is Katelyn and in the spirit of masking, I am taking mine off. I am neurodivergent. Growing up I dealt with significant guilt and shame because I thought I was manipulating the people around me by observing and adopting their social behaviors when, in reality, I was trying to connect with them. When I showed up authentically, I was frequently misunderstood or embarrassed for saying or doing the wrong thing, I just didn’t “get” it. I was told to stop fidgeting nearly every day. I participated in activities that were too much for my sensory needs and as a result, I was always exhausted. I’m sharing this for four reasons; I want to avoid speaking for others and speaking for myself helps me to do that. I hope that being open and honest about my own experience can help to empower others. If this resonates with you, I hope you can feel validated and supported. If this doesn’t resonate with you, I hope you can go into the world feeling a little more informed and ready to support those who may feel the world is not designed for them.
With support, a balance can be found between practicing helpful social skills that feel within your comfort zone and stepping into a place of power where you feel you can advocate for your needs and show up in the way you feel most comfortable and authentic. If you identified with this article or know someone in your life who might and want to learn how to support them, I encourage you to reach out. We would love to hear from you.