What is Masking in Autism?
By Rose Lauren Hughes, Bened Life Neurodiversity and Disability Consultant
From Masked to Unmasked
For many late-diagnosed Autistic women, unmasking is more than just a process, it’s a revelation. After being diagnosed in early adulthood, I’ve spent years untangling my deeply ingrained habits of masking, only to find that unmasking is as much about grief and loss as it is about freedom and authenticity. This isn’t a simple journey of self-acceptance; it’s a multifaceted process shaped by societal norms, workplace expectations, and personal survival mechanisms.
As is often the case for many late diagnosed Autistic females, I had been mis-diagnosed – with BPD, Bipolar, Histrionic Disorder and more. It took a lot of self advocating, and a paid diagnostic team to finally be seen, and heard as I needed to be. Already diagnosed with ADHD before the age of 13, it seemed really strange that the least likely diagnosis was in fact autism, but boy did it all make sense when I finally did get it.
Before my diagnosis I spent years in and out of the mental health system, self sabotaging, with really complex big feelings that as a young girl, I should never have had to be burdened with. I cannot recall exactly how many medications were prescribed to try to control what I now realise was in fact AuDHD.
Masking isn’t exclusive to women, nor is it limited to autism, but its unique expressions and impacts, especially for late-diagnosed women, highlight a critical conversation that’s just beginning to take shape.
What is Autistic Masking?
Masking is the conscious or unconscious suppression of Autistic traits to fit into societal expectations. An Autistic person may mask in social interactions ranging from rooms full of people to being alone with their partners. Masking may include camouflaging Autistic traits like suppressing discussion of special interests or stimming. It may also include consciously mirroring the facial expressions or mannerisms of those around you.
Autistic people mask most often for the benefit of those around them. Social situations are often perceived as smoother by the other party when someone suppresses their Autistic identity.
Unfortunately, masking has side effects. Feeling that you have to hide your Autistic identity is exhausting. It can also cause stress and other mental health issues, including Autistic burnout.
Why Do Autistic Women and Girls Mask More Often?
For many women, masking starts early, molded by heteronormative norms, gendered upbringing, and societal pressure to conform. From a young age, girls are often taught to prioritize social harmony, emotional labor, and self-sacrifice, creating an environment where masking becomes second nature.
For example, consider an Autistic girl who naturally speaks her mind to adults and children alike from a young age. She might be labeled as "bossy" rather than assertive, and in order to be accepted, she may continuously soften her words or stay quiet.
As she grows up, her natural forthrightness may cause her to be perceived as “too direct” or even rude, and work colleagues may see her as unlikeable. The cost of not masking in these situations can be social exclusion, workplace repercussions, or being perceived as "too much"—risks that can make the effort of fitting in feel necessary for survival.
Not every woman or girl who masks is Autistic, but the inability to directly differentiate between a masked Autistic and others who “fit in” means her extra emotional labor goes unseen. She may look the same on the surface, but she is actually working much harder than her allistic peers to achieve this illusion.
Masking takes an emotional and psychological toll, as Autistic women and girls navigate a world where their authentic selves may not always be welcome. It requires constant self-monitoring: adjusting tone, suppressing natural reactions, or performing emotional labor to ensure others' comfort. In addition, however, because she is Autistic, she may have to work much harder to achieve this masking than someone who understands intuitively how to play the part that is expected of her.
Personally, I remember moments in childhood where I consciously mimicked others—from speech patterns to body language—not as an instinctive social response, but as a learned survival strategy. While neurotypical people often mirror others unconsciously, I was actively studying and replicating behaviors to fit in, unaware that I was camouflaging my true self.
For late-diagnosed Autistic women, the realization of how deeply masking is ingrained can be both shocking and illuminating. Only after my diagnosis did I understand why I felt so exhausted in social settings: I wasn’t simply engaging, I was performing.
Masking can interfere with getting an earlier diagnosis. Adding to this challenge is the historical underrepresentation of women in autism research. Diagnostic criteria have long focused on male-presenting traits, leaving many women undiagnosed or misdiagnosed until adulthood. This late diagnosis often means years of masking have taken a significant toll on mental and physical health.
Acknowledging Diverse Experiences in Masking
While masking is a common experience among Autistic individuals, it intersects with other identities in complex ways. People of colour, LGBTQIA+ individuals, and those with disabilities often navigate additional layers of societal expectation and discrimination, further amplifying the pressure to mask. I myself am part also of the LGBTQIA+ community and spent a lot of my life dancing in and out of a closet.
As a person also living with rare diseases and a physical disability, I am highly aware of my own internalised ableism and how I have grown up masking on varied levels. This is all relative and worth noting.
As a mostly caucasian woman (my grandfather was Indian), I’m mindful of the privilege I hold in certain spaces. It is widely understood that people of colour already understand the act of masking in order to hold space in a less than inclusive environment, which obviously furthers the issues faced when trying to unmask.
I can’t speak for all experiences, but simply nod to the intersectionality of masking. Every reader is encouraged to reflect on how their own identities may shape their masking journey and seek out voices from diverse communities for a broader understanding.
Unmasking: The Emotional Toll
Unmasking is often described as freeing, but it’s rarely a straightforward or entirely positive experience. For me, it began in small, safe spaces—with trusted friends, a workplace where the target audience was neurodiverse employees, in therapy, or during moments of solitude. However, as liberating as it felt to embrace my true self, it also brought waves of grief and loss of identity. Oh, so many identity crises.
Grief is an essential but often overlooked part of unmasking. It’s mourning lost time, missed opportunities, and the realization of how much energy was spent on performing rather than living. It’s forgiving yourself for how you coped with life.
For me, it also meant confronting internalized ableism and homophobia (literally only toward myself—I was always accepting of others) and unpacking years of conditioning that told me my authentic self wasn’t “enough.” In fact, all I knew was that it was "too much."
But unmasking isn’t just about grief—it’s also disorienting. After spending a lifetime shaping yourself to fit expectations, suddenly being told you don’t have to can leave you wondering: Who am I underneath it all? What parts of me are real, and what parts were survival mechanisms?
The process of peeling back those layers isn’t instantaneous—it’s an ongoing, nonlinear journey. Some days, it feels like stepping into the light. Other days, it feels like being completely exposed, unsure of how to move forward.
Unmasking doesn’t mean abandoning all forms of self-protection, though. In unsafe environments, aspects of masking can be a necessary survival tool. Recognizing when and where unmasking is feasible is a deeply personal decision, influenced by privilege, workplace culture, and family dynamics.
And no matter where you are in the process, it’s important to remember: The unmasked version of you is a beautiful thing. You deserve love—not just for how well you’ve adapted, but for who you truly are.
The Pros and Cons of Masking
Masking isn’t inherently “bad” or “good”, it’s a tool, and like any tool, its impact depends on context. I’d also note that a heck of a lot of masking is subconscious. Autonomic. We don’t always know we are even doing it, but we know something isn’t quite right.
In some situations, masking has helped me navigate social and professional settings where authenticity might have put me at risk of exclusion or misunderstanding. That said, over the past years—especially working for a neurodiverse-inclusive company—I’ve become less patient and more passionate about being myself. If that’s not okay, I won’t change myself to conform. But that takes years, and it takes knowing you are safe to do so. I wouldn’t recommend running before you walk!
On the other hand, the long-term costs of masking are undeniable. Chronic exhaustion, anxiety, and burnout are common among those who mask for extended periods. The mental toll of constantly monitoring one’s behavior, suppressing stims, and interpreting social cues can lead to a profound sense of disconnection from oneself.
It’s also denying you the joy of being yourself. It can starve you of the life you deserve. The right people will love you as you are.
It’s crucial to recognize that everyone’s experience with masking is different. While some may find it beneficial in certain scenarios, others may feel an urgent need to shed it entirely. There’s no universal “right way” to navigate masking and unmasking, only what feels sustainable and authentic for you.
What Unmasking is NOT
Unmasking isn’t about abandoning self-awareness or consideration for others. As an ex-people-pleaser, I know the difference between setting boundaries and being dismissive. There’s a huge gap between "not forcing myself into small talk if I don’t want to" and "being rude to someone who tries to engage with me."
Unmasking means allowing myself to put my elbows on the table at dinner, leave an event if I’m overwhelmed, or opt out of social norms that feel unnecessary—but it doesn’t mean ignoring how my actions impact others. I don’t get to verbally abuse someone, but I can say “I’m not able to communicate that right now,” and leave.
The goal isn’t to use “that’s just how I am” as an excuse for harmful behavior, but rather to stop apologizing for simply existing in a way that feels natural to me. I also think there’s a healthy line between nurturing everyone around me and constantly overthinking if I am ‘too much’, therefore carrying their baggage; and nurturing myself where who I am isn’t an insult to those around me.
An example where I’ve navigated socialising with friends and expressing my needs over theirs, is when my neurotypical group want to sit inside a loud, busy restaurant. I cannot do this if I need to hear, speak, or avoid burning out. I often ask to pick a location with outdoor seating with heaters, so we are all comfortable, but I can actually participate. Now, again, this indeed means the people around me need to be empathetic to my diverse needs, and accommodating, which isn’t always the case for people.
How to Support and Unlearn Masking
Tips for Unmasking:
- Start Small: Begin unmasking in safe, supportive environments, such as with trusted friends or within neurodivergent communities.
- Seek Professional Guidance: Work with therapists or counselors who have experience with neurodivergence. They can provide tools and validation for your journey.
- Find Your People: Surround yourself with those who celebrate your authentic self. Safe relationships are key to building confidence in unmasking.
- Practice Self-Compassion: Unmasking is a process, not a destination. Be kind to yourself as you navigate setbacks and breakthroughs.
For Allies:
- Educate Yourself: Learn about neurodiversity and the challenges faced by those who mask. Awareness is the first step to creating supportive environments.
- Foster Inclusivity: Create spaces where authenticity is valued. This includes advocating for workplace accommodations and promoting neurodiverse representation.
- Offer Grace: Understand that unmasking is a vulnerable process. Be patient and affirming as your loved ones navigate this journey.
Freedom in Authenticity
Unmasking isn’t just about shedding layers; it’s about discovering who you are underneath. For me, the most rewarding moments have been those where I felt truly seen and accepted by others. Being surrounded by people who value authenticity has been a transformative experience, reinforcing that the risk of unmasking is worth the reward.
Even just the little things, like how dramatically I react to food when it arrives, doing my happy dance and flapping my hands and feet, and not being met with strange looks by the person across from me. That’s a love language to me- and not something I had growing up.
As you embark on or support someone through their unmasking journey, remember that it’s a deeply personal process. Celebrate the small victories, hold space for the challenges, and embrace the beauty of authenticity because the world is brighter when we’re all free to be ourselves.
I conclude…
This piece isn’t just for late-diagnosed Autistic women. It’s a call to all readers to examine how societal norms encourage masking across all diversities. Let’s challenge these systems, create safer spaces, and build a world where unmasking is no longer a risk but a right.
About the author:
Rose Hughes is 31 years young, and an AuDHD female. You can find her on social media at @rose.llauren.
Recommended reading:
Late Diagnosis of Autism: Is an Official Diagnosis Worth It?
Post a Comment!