A book made me ask myself: am I autistic? It turns out that the answer didn’t matter as much as what I learned from the question.

Last year, in 2024, I was asked to sponsor the Neurodiversity Week at Vinted. At first, I wasn’t sure what I could meaningfully contribute, but I felt it was essential to be involved. So, I wrote a Slack message to the whole company. Here’s what I promised in that message:

I want to improve and broaden my understanding. In addition to participating in the initiatives, I also decided to (this won’t be surprising to those who know me) read a book on the topic. I’ve selected Unmasking Autism, but I’m open to other recommendations (please message me). I hope, with time and effort, to become more aware and conscious.

(reading a book is my default first step when learning about something new)

I ended up reading the aforementioned book by Devon Price the next month after I made that promise. Last week, a conversation reminded me of this book and my reflections after reading it, so I decided it would be valuable to share my thoughts.

Overall, I liked “Unmasking Autism”, even if the latter chapters felt too US-centric and too steeped in the language of culture wars (e.g. “Refusing to perform neurotypicality is a revolutionary act of disability justice. It’s also a radical act of self-love.”). Here’s an excerpt of what I wrote in my review:

Before reading this book by Devon Price, I had only a very, very shallow understanding of autism. I appreciate that this book made me understand autism and neurodiversity more deeply. It made me think about the differences between gender/racial diversity and neurodiversity. The biggest one is that you can more easily consciously notice and adjust your behaviour with the former. It made me think about my biases and preconceptions when engaging with people and how there might be better choices than those.

I hoped for this outcome when I decided to read a book on neurodiversity - I wanted to become more aware and conscious. But then, something unexpected happened while reading it. Quite a few of the experiences described felt familiar, even if not to the extent people described in the book underwent them.

Experiences

In “Unmasking Autism”, there are many examples of what autistic people experience and how those experiences feel to them. Even if some examples felt extreme (e.g. “detached from the world, with no trust in others or my potential”), I still could relate to them at some level. Below are a few patterns I recognized in myself. None of these are new, but the book gave me a different perspective.

• I need order, both physical and mental. If the environment around me, like my desk, is in disarray, I must create order to enable me to focus on other things. I must unpack my bag when I come home from a trip, even after midnight - I can’t just leave it until morning.
• I plan things; I’m not spontaneous. It can be difficult for me to adjust when the plans change. I manage this by preparing for a mix of scenarios. Of course, there are still situations that require me to acclimate. My awareness of how I function helps me cope with those situations, but it is still challenging sometimes.
• I process situations and experiences deliberately, preferring logic and reason, deep diving into pros and cons. Writing this blog post is an example of deliberate processing.
• I have routines, and I don’t get bored with them. I have eaten the same breakfast every day for half a year. When I listen to music at work, I usually run albums on repeat for a while. During the last couple of months, it has been the Severance soundtrack.
• I’m introverted and socially most comfortable when there’s an activity (my go-to being board games). I avoided social situations in my youth. Sitting and chatting for over an hour can become tough unless an interesting debate engages me intellectually. It’s also difficult for me to keep eye contact for extended periods. It requires conscious effort.
• I do stimming - repetitive movements or behaviours that help regulate sensory input. One example of that in my childhood was biting my clothes, ruining them by leaving holes in them. These days, it’s mainly limited to playing around with a pencil or pieces of paper during meetings.
• My hobbies include chess, board games, reading, cooking, running, and writing. Many of these activities involve planning and structure (and some repetition). I can imagine that cooking might look like the odd one out for some - I approach it by ordering ingredients in advance, knowing which recipes I will make, and editing those recipes to improve them.

These aren’t new revelations. They’re just how I am. But reading the book gave me a different framing: maybe these aren’t just quirks. They may be patterns. So I asked myself: Am I autistic?

(multiple friends were surprised that I’ve only asked this question now instead of much earlier in life)

Am I?

I took two online tests. Online tests can’t give a diagnosis, nor should they be fully trusted, but I wanted to see whether my question has a basis. Overall, self-assessment has limits, and I’m not trying to co-opt a diagnosis. Both tests came out “borderline autistic” - not a strong yes, not a firm no.

I didn’t have a strong emotional reaction to these results. That’s partly because they were what I expected and partly because I already considered and reflected on the possibility while consuming the book. I also understood that I don’t have any strong feelings toward the label itself - I won’t think of anyone else as worse or better if they are autistic.

Having this answer, I’ve contemplated whether I want to take any further steps. Ultimately, I decided that’s enough of an answer for me now, and I don’t need a more thorough assessment. Either way, I’ve figured out how to live in a way that works for me. I accept my identity, and my preferences, habits, and coping strategies serve me well.

Going deeper into this topic helped me reflect and understand my experiences better and allowed me to find more resources.

But even more importantly, it gave me a much deeper appreciation for how people experience the world differently. As another step towards understanding others better, I plan to read a book about ADHD, something that I only have a cursory understanding of. I’m lucky that I had a very supportive environment during my life, especially my childhood, where my preferences, habits, and strategies worked. Not everyone is as lucky.

Empathy matters. Empathy isn’t just being nice - it’s realizing that what feels easy or comfortable to you might be a struggle for someone else. And the inverse is true, too. People you admire - who seem focused, driven, even brilliant - might be masking huge parts of themselves just to fit in.

Some people need noise-cancelling headphones in the office, not because they’re trying to be difficult, but because it’s the only way to concentrate. Some people need unambiguous communication because ambiguity causes real stress. Some people might seem “cold” in social settings, but they’re overwhelmed inside. Others might appear overly chatty when they’re trying to mask their anxiety. What people are navigating is not always obvious.

We can’t know everyone’s full story. But we can create spaces where people don’t have to mask as much.