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Key points

• Many autistic people camouflage—or “mask”—their neurodivergent traits in order to achieve social acceptance.
• This process of masking, though often useful or necessary in the short term, can be harmful to mental health and alienate autistic people from their authentic identities.
• Unmasking can be difficult, but you can work on this in safe spaces through experimentation, professional support, and pursuing what brings you joy.

As an autistic teenager, I taught myself to manage social interactions using a “small talk” cheat sheet I invented based on the conversations I transcribed during school lunchtimes. For example, when someone commented on the weather (e.g., “It’s a beautiful day today!”), I learned to repeat back what they said, except I’d replace their adjective with a new one (e.g., “It is a lovely day!”). 

While the other kids were having sleepovers, experimenting with dating, going shopping, or doing whatever it was they did (I really don’t know; I wasn’t invited), I worked on my cheat sheet so that, one day, I would be invited. Determined to end the loneliness and the bullying, I taught myself to copy others’ social behaviors and pretend to be “normal” (aka neurotypical). This is what we call “masking” in the autistic community.

Masking is a privilege, but it takes a toll

I consider myself fortunate to have learned how to mask. Not all autistic people acquire the same level of this skill, and some may not mask at all. As a teenager, when someone asked me how I was, I might do something like yelp, “SINKS!” and scurry past. (I wish I were exaggerating.) So I’m grateful that I can now walk into a job interview, shake my interviewer’s hand, look them in the eye, and manage to hold myself back from telling them that their tea tastes like feet.

But masking is a privilege that takes its toll. It’s not a tool you can easily pick up and put down. If you’re able to mask in one scenario, you’re likely to be met with critical comments in the future by those around you, such as:

• “You can sit still in school; why not at home?”
• “I know you can make eye contact; you did it yesterday.”
• “The lights can’t be too bright; you were fine up until now.” 

After years of feeling compelled to mask—and being rewarded for it via greater social inclusion and approval by authority figures—it can become impossible to distinguish who you are from who you’ve learned you “should” be. 

“Even when I’m alone, I’m never alone,” says Sarah M., an autistic graduate student at The University of Aberdeen in Scotland. “When I walk past a mirror, I see the performance of someone I do not know. It is impossible to evade the experience of being perceived. I am so used to my natural self being judged that I play a character, whether I’m actually being watched or not.” 

Masking is linked to poor mental health 

The emotional cost of masking is high—and it’s exhausting. Many autistic people who are particularly good at masking are not diagnosed as autistic until adulthood, when the efforts of camouflaging their true selves become too much for their brains and bodies. The result is sometimes autistic burnout—a debilitating neurological state of long-term fatigue, heightened sensory processing difficulties, and reduced functioning capacities, according to a 2020 analysis published in Autism in Adulthood. Later diagnosis may also be linked to a higher risk of mental health issues and suicide. In one sample of 364 adults who were recently diagnosed with autism, 66 percent reported they had contemplated suicide, compared to 17 percent of the general population at that time, according to a 2018 study. 

“Masking can lead to some dangerous habits and symptoms that can greatly affect the life of an autistic person, especially if the person is not formally diagnosed with autism,” says Letonia F., a fifth-year student at College of Western Idaho in Boise. “I was diagnosed at around 19-20 years old, and it takes people who are assigned female at birth a longer time to become diagnosed than it does for people who are assigned male at birth.” 

Masking is about finding social acceptance and safety by copying others and meeting their expectations while simultaneously disregarding your own discomfort. This may leave autistic people more vulnerable to abusive relationships and extremist groups such as cults, according to the book Unmasking Autism by social psychologist Dr. Devon Price. In essence, this happens because we have become adept at overriding our own needs and feel safer when there are clear rules we can follow for social acceptance.

How to lower the mask

Many autistic people are now seeking to unmask where possible, embracing their authentic neurodivergent identities and behaviors for the benefit of their well-being. This is often a slow and challenging process. As a mentor to other autistic people, I find that many of my clients are past the point where their camouflaging behaviors are a separate identity they can put on and take off like a mask. For these people, unmasking may feel almost impossible. 

My primary advice for unmasking is to enter into it with self-compassion. If your masking has led to a betrayal of your authentic self, it’s because it was safer to do that than to face the very real societal consequences of meeting your own needs. It is also not physically or psychologically safe to unmask in every situation, so we need to practice in places and situations where we can comfortably be our true selves. 

1. Find spaces that support your unmasking

Given the societal consequences, finding supportive spaces in which to practice unmasking is crucial. These might be:

• Neurodiverse social groups 
• Online autism groups, such as the Embrace Autism Community, and advocacy pages such as NeuroWild and Hvppyhands 
• Trusted and accepting friends/family members
• Campus and local clubs that have a positive neurodiverse outlook 
• While alone in a safe home environment

These spaces will allow you to experiment with behaviors that make you feel comfortable and happy, without negative feedback. “Socializing [with my neurodiverse gardening group] for an hour each week, without the pressure of being ‘normal,’ helps me actively practice unmasking and being myself,” an autistic acquaintance told me.

2. Seek help in how you understand and cope with masking

Outside of those safe spaces, you might benefit from looking at your masking as a pragmatic choice. Noticing when you are masking is a useful first step in doing this. Therapy, counseling, or mentoring—particularly from autistic or neurodiverse-affirming practitioners—can be valuable in helping you:

• Identify where you are masking and why
• Find manageable steps toward unmasking
• Address the traumas or experiences that have necessitated masking
• Cope with the negative mental health effects of habitual masking

The UK’s National Autistic Society has developed an excellent Good Practice Guide for mental health professionals who work with autistic people. It may be beneficial to provide this to anyone supporting you and perhaps highlight sections relevant to you.  

For self-help tips, the book Unmasking Autism (Harmony, 2022) is an excellent starting point. It provides practical exercises for exploring your mask and its origins and finding the authentic parts of your identity. 

3. Tap into your authentic self-expression

In my own experience, returning to the hobbies and habits of my childhood that I learned to abandon through masking helps me to discover my original autistic joy. “By pursuing what genuinely delights us with curiosity and openness, we can begin to peel back the layers of masking,” says neurodivergent psychologist Dr. Megan Neff in Portland, Oregon. “Play and pleasure offer a journey back to your true self, guided by the things that bring you genuine joy and fulfillment.” 

These have been key elements in my own ongoing journey of unmasking. Now, unlike before, I will blow soap bubbles over a river with my bare feet dangling into the water; I rock and flap and chew a silicone wristband after meetings; I echo what my housemate says instead of thinking up words of my own. All these things, done in safe, comfortable spaces, allow me to feel both happy and wholly myself. 

It is counterintuitive, after years of masking, to aim to do things that bring you joy and comfort rather than things that have brought you social reward. It can even be painful, making you feel guilty or selfish for unmasking when you’ve learned that socializing differently or embracing your autistic behaviors is wrong. But with the prize of reclaiming your own identity and health, it’s an investment that can literally save your life.