Open Letter to Professionals #2: Masking Isn’t Always As Harmful As You Think
Why Conforming to *Some* Group Norms Can Be Advantageous, and How Masking is Wrongfully *Sometimes* Demonized
Masking is a term that has swept the realm of autism and services treating autistic populations, pertaining to the purposeful hiding of self-stimulatory behaviors in an attempt to mimic “socially appropriate” or “neurotypical” etiquette. From an evolutionary perspective, masking can easily adopt the synonyms of blending, conforming, or simply tailgating a group in order to ensure the chance of their survival (i.e., “standing out” from a tribe would increase the likelihood of being seen and becoming prey). In modern days, this is clearly advantageous in certain social contexts, such as following a group that has formed a line if we’re unable to find the line ourselves, frantically scurrying behind a crowd that is making their way towards an exit after hearing a fire alarm, or waiting for others to cross a busy intersection if we’re fearful of doing so on our own. While blind conformity and even excessive conformity at the cost of originality are harmful to individuals, there are surely aspects of obedience (read: assent) that secure our safety.
The primary reasoning behind masking obtaining a sinister label was when therapies for autistic populations targeted self-stimulatory behavior for reduction or for complete elimination, despite the behavior being non-injurious to the individual or to others. Clinically benign behaviors, such as rocking back and forth, hand flapping, or repeating the same words or phrases at a moderate to low volume, were argued to be left alone when an autistic person engaged in them; to interrupt these self-stimulatory sequences would be interrupting self-soothing. This is a fair point, as adults without disabilities engage in self-stimulatory behavior likely without their conscious awareness and often display irritation if/when interfered with. When clinicians began recognizing how “stimming” interfered with learning and development of meaningful relationships, a new wave of interventions targeting reduction of stimming were met with seemingly immediate backlash and threats of ableism labels. While masking can be harmful if we’re doing so with forceful intent and an elemental God complex, it has social and societal benefits that serve to keep us safe and guarded from the many threats of the “real world”. If we apply masking to common adult scenarios, it’s abundantly clear that we behave differently depending on the people within the environment and the context of the environment itself. Different words and phrases are interchanged, tone of voice is manipulated, and topics of conversation adapt to the unwritten social rules of the particular group. Can we honestly say that this form of social filtering is harmful? At worst, it may be annoying or somewhat exhausting to conversationally tiptoe around forbidden speech and conduct. But at what point did teaching individuals how to act reasonably in certain settings, with the intent to best equip them with skills necessary to succeed, become traumatizing?
Our existence is bound by rules. Without such rules and social norms, our relationships would likely dissolve, our careers would become a twisted interpretation of Squid Game, and society would regress to a time period in which violence and sacrificial rituals were routine. If we are going to consider making the argument that rules imposed upon autistic people are harmful, perhaps that, in and of itself, is the harm: believing they cannot handle being told what’s appropriate vs. inappropriate. And these points are often refuted with statements along the lines of autistic people being held to “neurotypical norms”; if we are fighting the good fight against ableism, isn’t that what we want? To not discriminate against people because of their disability? Allowing an individual to stim, whenever they want, wherever they want, and for however long they want, implies that their learning and ability to adapt is not prioritized by the practitioner; the practitioner’s ego and feel-good sense of self holds center stage. This, of course, is in the name of “compassionate/trauma-informed care”. A similar plotline would be sitting in the Pearson center, taking the Board Certified Behavior Analyst board exam, and having to listen to another test-taker click their pen at light speed and tap their fingers emphatically on their desk throughout the entire 4-hour time allotment. Would this be distracting? Do you believe it would interfere with the concentration, focus, and learning of other individuals who are also determined to pass the exam? How would we hope awkward situations as such to be handled?
It's imperative to put forward the propriety of stimming behavior when an individual is not in the context of a social interaction or instruction-based setting. The plea is certainly not for abolishing stimming altogether, or that we should relapse into a period of treatment in which this behavior was outlawed and met with disdain. To reiterate, if this form of self-soothing behavior occurs during periods in which attention, perseverance, and focus are not required, we would suggest letting it rip. But we’ve succumbed to the idea that deterring any behavior that qualifies as “stimming” is both harmful and traumatizing, and the interruption of it would be an act of ableism. And this is where we find ourselves in a bit of a double-bind: if some clinical circles believe stimming is interfering with learning or meaningful social interaction, the most sensical action to take would be to either prevent stimming from occurring or block and redirect it if the cycle has already been initiated. The new rebuttal, though, is that interrupting stimming apparently is just as disruptive to learning as the distracting stimming behavior itself. In an attempt to remain open-minded and play the devil’s advocate, it could be contested that the anger or frustration caused by denied access to a stimming “ritual” may make it more difficult to learn, as heightened emotional states are often times not conducive with learning. But what exactly is the alternative? How can we speak to someone that is clearly inattentive to our words and has not been taught the pre-requisite skills to connecting with others? How can we effectively teach any important skill if stimming interferes so tremendously with learning that instruction is only able to occur in spurts of a few seconds at a time?
Much of having a meaningful life means having meaningful relationships, in which both parties give their undivided attention to the person they care for in an attempt to demonstrate how actively they’re engaged in their perspective. You can imagine the dilemma of reasoning or conversing with someone who outwardly appears to be uninterested, distracted, and inattentive. While this may not be the case or objective for every person who is overcome by physiological sensations and urges, it at a minimum poses a critical question: at what point do we draw the line? If stimming is repelling opportunities to engage in valuable conversations and purposeful instruction, when is it acceptable to attempt to reduce it? Regardless of “autistic brains being structured differently than neurotypical brains”, it is our responsibility as practitioners to instill functional life skills that advance an individual forward. In the examples of masking that are floating around the bowels of Safari, many pertain to the human population as a whole, not only those with autism and related disabilities: learning cues from various forms of media, monitoring our facial expressions and body language, practicing appearing interested, or adjusting the cadence, volume, and tone of our voice to match the social circumstances. These are fundamental skills for any one individual to learn if we’re to obtain employment, cultivate friendships and romantic relationships, and respectfully advocate for ourselves when needed.
It’s a valid defense that masking can occasionally be more costly than beneficial if the individual finds themselves overly preoccupied with copying another rather than engaging in suitable behavior for their own personal development. Additionally, conformity to group behavior and entwining our identity too closely with what we believe to be a morally superior category has its obvious dangers, as evident by cancel culture and modern day tribalism. However, the mutual understanding that modifying our behavior and exercising self-control will only serve to enhance us is a belief that would be laughable to consider malignant. One of the most depraved ways we can behave towards people with disabilities is to believe they are fragile beings who cannot tolerate the most basic misfortunes and frustrations of everyday life. A few autistic advocates who believe disruption of stimming is truly traumatic do not speak for an entire group of autistic people, many of whom think nothing of being told they need to adjust their demeanor (e.g., being quiet in settings where silence is the norm). The evil comes not from robbing people of a soothing experience, but convincing them, and every single other person, that any attempt to help people better adapt to their surroundings is endangerment or encroaching on their spirit. In a clinical atmosphere where dogma is taken as fact and we’ve ditched science in favor of a “just believe everyone” mindset, clinicians might consider daring to be the disliked community that questions what it is we’re actually advocating for.