Some autism parents detest when people say things like, “He Doesn’t Look Autistic“ or “I never would have known she is autisticyou can’t tell.”
I am not one of those parents.
I actually liked it when people said they couldnt tell Ben was autistic.
To me, “He doesn’t look autistic” felt like confirmation that all the speech therapy, social skills practice, and behavioral therapy was working.
I told myself this meant he might have an easier time in life. That people would treat him better. That he would belong.
And if Im honest, I also thought:
- Maybe he wouldnt always need so much support.
- Maybe he would grow out of itor at least parts of it.
- And maybe that would be a good thing.
In any case, we were on the right track.
So when people stopped saying “he doesn’t look autistic,” I noticed.
And when people figured it out on their ownwithout me having to explainit stung.
I remember the first time that happened.
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in June. We spent the morning on a quiet hike in a nearby town and stopped for lunch afterward. The restaurant had outdoor seating, and we were lucky enough to get a table in the sunshine. It felt like a normal day.
But after a while, the mood shifted — where was the waitress? People were getting impatientchecking their watches, glancing around. Parents were bribing toddlers with I-Phones.
When the waitress finally appeared with only drink refills and a few condiments, you could feel the disappointment in the airbut no one said anything.
Except for Ben.
He got her attention politely, but without a filter.
Excuse me, he said. Will the food be ready soon? Its been a long time.
She looked a little surprised, then said it would be out shortly. Ben thanked her, then got up to use the restroom.
The couple at the table next to us was chuckling. The man looked over and said, Im glad someone said something.
I wasnt sure what to say, so I replied, Yeah, I just hope she doesnt think he was being rude. He has autismhe just says things the way they are.
Cue the usual response: Really? He doesn’t look autistic?!
But thats not what he said.
He nodded and said, Yeah, I figured that.
Thats when I felt the heat rise in my face. My heart started pounding.
Really? How could you tell? I asked.
He said, Most people arent that direct. Also, I could just tell by the way he speaks. He reminded me of someone I know with autism.
The way he speaks, I thought. Isnt the fact that he speaks at all supposed to make you think he isnt autistic? Thats how it had been up to this point.
And what exactly is it about the way he speaks?
- Is it that he speaks a notch louder than most peopleespecially when theres background noise?
- That he talks quickly, like hes trying to get all the words out before they disappear?
- That he interruptsnot to be rude, but because holding onto his thoughts and waiting his turn is hard?
I didnt ask these questions out loud. But they swirled in my head as Ben returned to the table, excited that his food had arrived, and began to chow down like he was in an eating contest.
He had no idea that, sitting right across from him, his mother was in a downward spiral of guilt and fear.
I Wasnt Trying to Hide His Autism
The fear was something else.
I was afraid of what it meant that people could tell right away.
Yes, I know– cringe.
But from the moment Ben was diagnosed, every effort was about helping him improve the areas of life impacted by autismlike his speech.
So if someone could just tell after hearing him say three sentences, what did that mean for him?
Cue: This is your fault! You did not do enough. Maybe we can find a private therapist.
This is the part where I tell my clients to pause.
Take a breath.
Because this is where it all collidesthe love we have for our kids exactly as they are, the drive to help them in every way we can, and the deep awareness of how the world sees them.
It’s not one emotion. It’s all of them at once.
Awe. Pride. Guilt. Fear. Determination. Grief. Love.
We want to support them, protect them, and prepare them
while also just letting them be who they are.
And its a lot to hold all at once.
So in that moment, I took my own advice.
I told myself to clock this for later (Im always thinking about how to turn my own experiences into something useful for autism parents).
Right then, I chose to enjoy the moment with my sonwho was happily devouring his wings.
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